#like time and time again she follows only the logical route and even actively avoids the cruel route

[hella1975]

tams azula is sooo fascinating bc while canon azula doesn't really show her age at all like she's completely desensitised to so much shit 'she is fourteen' is not a justification for ANYTHING both in her own mind and in other people's, in tams she has zuko. and yes the world has been abundantly cruel to her but zuko hasn't. he's basically raised azula and he's done so in a way that she's allowed to show her age, but she still only shows her age in very azula-esque ways. there's no reluctance to see violence like you'd expect from a fourteen-year-old, and like ive said before, that means zuko can't play on that reluctance in order to shield her, but he still wants to shield her from that violence because regardless of what SHE feels about it, as the eldest he knows fundamentally that she shouldn't be seeing certain things no matter how well she can handle them. and seeing zuko effectively PLAY azula in order to protect her is so interesting and complicated and fun

[abarbaricyalp]

hi. you still taking prompts? sambucky meet cute: the lobby of some kind of really tall building and they both have to get to the to top floors. bucky gets to the elevator first, pushes the "door close" button cause he's in a hurry even though he sees sam rushing towards it, but sam gets there just in time. he saw what bucky did so in retaliation he just pushes every single button to make bucky late. now they're stuck in the longest elevator ride, having to stop at every floor

Friend, this is not a meet cute. This is full on meet ugly 😅

AO3 link in the reblog

Push All My Buttons

Bucky was being haunted. That was the only logical explanation for how someone followed him from Brooklyn to Manhattan, mostly on foot. He’d seen the same guy on two trains, across approximately a thousand city blocks, and in the dumb cafe that Bucky squeezed into five seconds after it opened.

And now, the same handsome young black man was standing in the middle of the Stark Tower lobby, looking lost. Bucky quickly hit the close door button of the elevator that he blessedly had to himself. Apparently, he hit it too loud because the guy’s gaze snapped over to him and recognition lit on his face.

Bucky hit Close Door again.

“Hey! Could you hold that!” the guy called, jogging across the lobby floor and avoiding milling people. The fucking tourists on the ground level were killer.

Bucky was not letting a stalker into the elevator with him when he had 91 floors to get up. He hit Close Door for a third time.

Finally, the guy seemed to realize what Bucky was doing and he scowled before tossing his army bag towards the closing doors. They hit the bag and opened up just in time for the guy to jog over, grab his bag, and step inside.

“You’re kind of an asshole,” he said as he slung the duffle over his shoulder again.

“I’m late to a meeting,” Bucky said, which was true. Mostly what he wanted to say was ‘don’t kill me and wear my face as a mask’ or whatever someone who’d followed him over three boroughs would want to do.

The man looked over at him from the corner of his eyes, looked at the highlighted 91 and then reached over to smooth his hand up every single button on the machine. 2-93 lit up.

Bucky stared.

The man crossed his arms. “Now we’re both late.”

92 and 93 unlit themselves. Those were Stark’s personal suites. 2-91 remained lit.

“You fucking asshole,” Bucky groaned and dragged his hands over his face. “Why would you do that? I’m meeting with Stark. I’ve got his-his-his fucking coffee. Jesus.”

“Because I’d rather be late and piss you off than be on time and let you get away with trying to close the door in my face.”

“What was the point of following me all the way around the city? Are you trying to make my life difficult?”

Now the man fully turned to look over at him. The elevator stopped on the second floor and no one was waiting. “I’m not following you. I don’t even know who you are.”

“Are you kidding?” Bucky asked. “You’ve been on my ass since Lloyd’s, in Brooklyn.”

The man frowned. The elevator eased up to the next floor. “Why would you stop at Lloyd’s if you were coming all the way in here?”

“I like to eat on my commute, that’s not the point! You followed me!”

“Pal, I dunno how to tell you that anyone coming from Brooklyn to Stark Tower’s gotta take a pretty similar route.”

“It’s Bucky, pal.”

“Sam,” the guy said and then honest to God offered his hand out like he wasn’t actively ruining Bucky’s life.

On the fifth floor, someone stepped into the elevator, looked at the buttons and stepped back out. Bucky shook Sam’s hand with a resigned sigh.

“Where’d you get that piece of machinery on your arm?” Sam asked around floor eight.

“It’s not on my arm,” Bucky answered. “It is my arm.”

Sam rolled his eyes and punched the door close button. “Fine, where’d you get that piece of machinery on your torso?”

“It’s not Stark tech,” he answered because he knew that was actually what Sam was asking about. He let his eyes slide over Sam’s body quickly, trying to discern if Sam was here for a prosthetic. The bag on his shoulder and the silver ball-chain around his neck gave away that he was military. Stark Industries had a veterans program, so there was a good population of soldiers walking around the building at any given time. Sam was wearing pants, so Bucky couldn’t be totally sure he didn’t have a bad leg, but he hadn’t clocked any limp or awkward gait since Brooklyn. “You here for a prosthetic?” he asked anyway.

Sam snorted and shook his head. The door opened again and someone got on before reaching to press the ground level button.

“Shit,” the woman said, upon seeing everything else lit up. She quickly hit the door open button and jumped back out. “You know, if you two wanted extra time together, having the doors open on every floor was probably a bad idea.”

“That’s not what we--” Bucky started to argue, but the doors slid shut in front of him.

“Anyway,” Sam started again. “I’m not here for a prosthetic. I’m here with Colonel Rhodes.”

“Wow, big man on campus,” Bucky said drily.

“Oh, right, you’re so unimportant, going up to the 91st floor,” Sam shot back.

“I work here,” Bucky said. He held up the quickly cooling coffee in his hands. “Glorified secretary most days, but I’m supposed to be an engineer.”

“What kind of machines do you work with?”

“Not the planes or the suits. Military tech, mostly. I try to stay away from weapons when I can.”

“Did you serve?” Sam asked.

Wish I hadn’t, Bucky wanted to say. “Nah, actually I lost my arm when Stark flew into an uncaffeinated rage and threw a saw at me.”

“Whatever, man. There’s a thousand ways to lose an arm. It ain’t gotta be out in the desert.” His cheeks didn’t quite color, but he crossed his arms and stared ahead.

“Mountains,” Bucky corrected. “Special OPs.”

“Oh, right, but I’m the big man on campus,” Sam said, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“Rhodes is a big deal around here. You think Stark’s letting him out of his sight for just anyone?”

“The Air Force is testing a new gadget. Rhodes is involved ‘cause Air Force. Maybe you worked on it.”

“Yeah, maybe. It’s a big program. Stark’s got a lot of things going on all at once. Lots of engineers and designers.”

The elevator stopped on the 25th floor and Sam and Bucky both said, “We’re going up,” at the same time to keep the group of suits from crowding into the elevator with them.

Sam kicked his bag into the corner and sat down heavily in front of it, leaning back and closing his eyes. “So you’re a soldier who works for Stark Industries but didn’t get your prosthetic from him, even though he’s the cutting edge of prosthetics and has a full-paid program for those injured in duty.”

Bucky gave up and sat down too. He cradled the coffee cup between his legs, which was probably a bad idea, but this whole morning had been bad. “My story’s a little more complicated than that,” he said. “A lot more twists and turns. My arm is still high tech, though. I asked for a flamethrower, or at least a saw hand but I didn’t get it.”

Sam laughed and, for the first time all morning, Bucky thought maybe he wasn’t so angry at him anymore. Sam laughed like nothing had ever hurt him before, which made it feel like maybe nothing had hurt Bucky either. “Well, there’s your problem. Stark would’ve definitely given you that, from what I hear about the man.”

Bucky grinned over at him and dropped his head back against the wall. It was uncomfortable and the jostling of the car every few seconds rattled his brain, but it beat standing up, or keeping his eyes on Sam for too long. “You’re still in the service?”

“Well, not all of us are so lucky to get a medical discharge on our first tour.”

“Oh, yeah, real luck of the Irish, me. And it was my second. I wasn’t SpecOps until I finished my first stint in the army.”

“Right, right,” Sam said. Then, “You joined up young.”

“So did you. I mean, I assume you’re on your second or third tour too, if you’re being asked to work with Rhodes.”

“Second. I took a long leave to do some school stuff.”

“Oh, so working with Rhodes and you’re smart. You really are the whole package.”

“I’m working with Colonel Rhodes because I’m smart,” Sam corrected. “I could probably take your job. I’m real techy.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t. I’m fond of my apartment and I definitely can’t afford it without being here.”

“Right, I assume you make buck working for Stark.”

“Eh, he’s still a multi-billionaire, he could pay us more.”

“What’s that say about the military then?”

“I’ll drink to that, bro.”

Sam chuckled again and opened his eyes to glance over at Bucky. “How does someone go from losing their arm in a SpecOps mission to working for Stark Industries.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. It’s at least a three course discussion.”

The elevator dinged on level 39 and paused, though there was no one there.

“Almost halfway up,” Sam pointed out.

“You are good at math,” Bucky joked just to see Sam roll his eyes again, which he did. “Why Air Force?” he asked when the doors decided to shut again.

“It’s gonna sound so stupid, but I’ve been dreaming about flying since I was a little kid. I wanted to be an astronaut and a lot of astronauts were in the military. So, air force. Figured if I never got to space, at least I spent years in the air anyway.”

Bucky didn’t think that was stupid at all. “You’re right, that’s pretty dumb.” Sam flipped him off with a laugh. “Are you a good pilot?”

“Pal, I’m one of the best out there.”

“God, you chair force guys are all the same,” Bucky said. He squawked as Sam leaned over to tackle him down. “Coffee, coffee! Sam, if you spill Stark’s coffee I’ll make you explain it to him!” he threatened as Sam pulled him away from the cup that had managed to remain upright by an unlikely bout of luck and physics.

Sam was fucking strong, wrangling Bucky down and holding him still. Sure, he was on his knees and Bucky’s legs were mostly trapped under him, but still. Bucky wasn’t a small guy and the prosthetic wasn’t light either but Sam had tugged him out of the corner anyway.

“Oh my God, seriously?” a guy asked on the next floor.

Bucky took the moment of distraction to dig his knee into Sam’s ribs and flip them over as the doors shut again. He locked his fingers around Sam’s wrist and held it to the floor. Sam tugged at the hold futilely.

“Shit, what’s that made out of?”

“That’s another three course answer.”

“At this rate? No chance,” Sam said and got his foot braced against Bucky’s shoulder before shoving him off. Bucky sat back and made sure the coffee was still standing. Sam leaned up against the wall by the doors. They both took in heavy breaths.

“What are you doing with Rhodes?” Bucky asked at floor fifty, when he was pretty positive they weren’t about to leap at each other again.

“Maybe that’s a three course answer,” Sam responded with a small smirk.

“I didn’t know Stark was working on planes with the Air Force.”

“Did I say plane?”

“Helicopters, whatever,” Bucky amended with a wave of his hand. “What do you fly?”

“I’m pararescue.”

Bucky let out a low whistle. “Shit, that’s more impressive than working with Rhodes, maybe. You a doctor?”

“I’ve got triage training, but I’m not, like, ready to walk into an E.R. as soon as I get home or anything.” Sam ran his hand over his buzzed hair and Bucky suddenly wanted to know what it looked like grown out, or if he’d ever kept it long. How he styled it and if he had facial hair and what he was hiding under his shirt and Jesus Christ, he needed to think about anything else.

“Well, from what I’ve seen, your beside manner probably sucks.”

Sam kicked out his foot lamely, missing Bucky’s by a mile. “You ain’t hurt. I don’t gotta give you no bedside manner.”

“What floor do you want off on?” Bucky asked after a glance at the rapidly dimming lights on on the button panel.

“85.”

“Right, yeah, Rhodes works there. We’re at 70 now.”

“What’s it like? Just offices?”

“Nah, he’s got a whole training floor. There’re a few offices, a reception area, but there’s also a gym and some space for simulated battle, sparring rooms. It’s pretty cool. You’ll have a lot of room for whatever he’s doing.”

Sam nodded and looked over at the gaping doors with the first look of unease he’d had all morning.

“You nervous?”

“You would be too,” Sam answered. “If you knew what I was doing. But, hey,” he looked away as the doors shut, “my partner’s already up there, so I can’t make any more of a fool of myself than he probably already has.”

Bucky grinned and shrugged. “I dunno about that. You seem pretty incapable,” he said sarcastically.

Sam kicked out his leg again and then stood up and grabbed his bag from next to Bucky. “You work here every day?”

Bucky nodded and took Sam’s hand when he offered it down to him to haul himself up. “9 to too late.”

“Well, I’m around for a few weeks. Maybe we could walk together instead of around each other next time,” he suggested.

Bucky ignored the swooping of his stomach. “Yeah, if you can keep up.”

Sam jostled his ribs with an elbow. “I can keep up. You’re the one with the machine on your arm.”

“Yeah, and what about it? I could hand-walk faster than you could run.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Sam snorted. The door opened on floor 80 and Sam’s mouth screwed to one side briefly before he looked at Bucky. “Maybe you’ll get my number out of all of this eventually.”

“Maybe I don’t want it after this stunt.”

Sam placed his hand on Bucky’s metal shoulder solemnly. “You want it.”

With a grin, Bucky shrugged Sam off and shoved him forward. “Get outta here, Wilson.”

“How’d you know--?” Sam asked, taking half a step back to the doors.

Bucky reached over to trace his fingers over the name patch on the other side of the bag. “I’m just a good guesser.”

“Hey, that’s not fair. What’s your--”

The door shut between them and Bucky sagged back against the wall with a sigh. His heart was racing like he was a teenager again and his head felt cloudy. This meeting was not going to go well at this point. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to focus on anything but Sam’s smile or the way he looked in boots or the weight of him above Bucky’s body.

When the elevator dinged on 91, he grabbed Stark’s coffee and let himself off and then almost immediately ran into Rhodes.

“Oh, hey, sorry. Hey, I was just on the elevator with your meeting,” he said. “Sorry he’s late. I hit a bunch of buttons on accident when I got in,” Bucky lied as he passed the coffee to Stark.

“No harm, no foul,” Rhodey said easily. “Clearly I wasn’t even down there. I was actually waiting on you.”

“Me? What for? I’m not working on anything military.”

“You’re not?” Stark asked around a mouthful of coffee. “You assigning yourself projects now?”

“You didn’t say anything about the wings being military. I mean, how would that even work? It’d put a soldier in the air bare.”

“Yeah,” Stark agreed sarcastically and clapped a hand down on Bucky’s metal arm. “What kind of soldier runs around without full body protection.”

“What are you calling the project?” Rhodey asked, guiding the discussion back to where it was supposed to be.

“EXO-Falcon,” Bucky said. “I was modeling it after some of Stark’s EXO-skeleton suits, but it’s much more compact, situated on the back with all support sitting around the chest and ribs.”

Rhodey nodded. “Can I see them?”

Bucky quickly dashed to his work bench and came back with the wings in their case. “They’re carbon fiber, which makes them a little more flexible and keeps them a little lighter weight. I had thought about doing interlocking plates like my arm, but it wasn’t working. I took some of the more basic structures of my arm and modeled a folding mechanism out of it instead. The wings retract into and out of the case.”

He pulled the jetpack on and stepped away from the other work spaces before clicking the wings open. They snapped out behind him, grand and proud. Not unlike how Bucky was feeling at that moment.

“And the jetpack? Is that ready to go?” Rhodey asked.

Bucky shifted from foot to foot. “Well, in theory. I haven’t tested it out yet ‘cause I’m not trained to do things like that, but I’ve put DUM-E into the air and nothing blew up.”

“Well, the Air National Guard guys here today will be thrilled to hear that,” Stark said. “Shall we?”

“You don’t wanna test the jets before you put it on someone?” Bucky asked, a little strangled. He trusted his design. But he really, really hadn’t put as much time into the whole human safety element as he did the ‘up and running’ element.

“We’ll strap a crash test dummy to them in over the mats. It’ll be fine. The fire suppression system on 85 is better than up here.”

“No it isn’t. It’s just further from your suites,” Rhodey said.

Stark shrugged and tossed a piece of pastry in his mouth. “It’s my building. I say we go down to 85.”

“Well, that’s where I left your trainee or whatever too,” Bucky said as he shrugged off the pack and packed it all back up. “Do you want me to grab the other pack?”

“No worries, I’ve already moved it,” Stark said. “I knew Rhodes was coming by. You’re welcome, those things are heavy.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t have DUM-E move it,” Rhodey teased. He made his way over to the elevator and Bucky followed with Stark on his heels. The ride down to 85 was much faster than the ride up to 91. It was a miracle what not hitting every button could do. They stepped out onto the floor and made their way to the training mats, where two other people were already standing.

“Barnes, I’d like to keep you on the Falcon project,” Rhodey said. “No one knows the wings like you do. That being said, you’ll be working with live test subjects now, so it’s a little more critical.”

“Hey, you don’t have to say it that way!” the blond man in the middle of the room said. “Call us, like, Top Guns or something.”

“You don’t get to choose your nickname around here,” Stark called over, propping himself up on a stack of sparring mats to watch from afar. “Ask Manchurian Candidate. He definitely didn’t choose his.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Barnes, this Sergeant Wiatrek and Sergeant Wilson.”

Fuck.

“It’s Barnes, huh?” Sam asked, smugly crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, Sammy, you didn’t hook up with this guy already did you?” the blond asked in teasing horror.

“Screw you, no. I met him this morning.”

“Ah,” Rhodey said with a grin. “This was the meeting you made late,” he said to Bucky.

“Yeah, we met this morning,” Bucky confirmed with a raging blush. How was this his life?

“Well, good, you can get right to work on the wings,” Rhodey said. “Let me go find a crash dummy.”

“DUM-E,” Stark called as Rhodey started away.

“I’ll find that doll first,” Rhodey challenged.

Bucky turned from their bickering and looked at Sam, then the blond next to him.

“It’s Riley,” the other man said and offered out his hand. “I’m better conversation than this one.”

Bucky doubted it. He shook the guy’s hand and then held out the briefcase like a shield between him and Sam’s teasing gaze. “Do you wanna see the wings?”

Riley nodded eagerly and Bucky moved to another stack of mats to open the case. Riley and Sam stood on either side of him. As Riley pulled the jetpack free, Sam pulled out his phone. Bucky thought he was going to film his friend inevitably crashing, but instead he turned on the auto-help.

“Hey, where’s the nearest three-course restaurant?” he asked without looking away from Bucky, without his grin faltering.

Bucky dragged his hands down his face as he looked at Sam. Riley yelped behind them after the tell-tell whoosh of the jet pack, but Sam still didn’t look away. Bucky couldn’t either.

[umbralstars]

General Info

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Race: Human

Ethnicity: Faerghal

Age: 21 (Academy); 26 (War)

Birthday: 12th day of the Etheral Moon, IY 1159

Height: 6'2

Family:

- Rufus Cassius Blaiddyd

- Darya Artemi (deceased)

- Katya Artemi Blaiddyd

- Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd

- Others not listed

Crest: Major Crest of Blaiddyd

Starting Class: Mage

(More info below!)

Basic Backstory

Emyr was born to Grand Duke Rufus Blaiddyd and Dutchess Consort Darya Artemi in 1159.

While not the oldest of Rufus' children, due to his mother rising to the status as Dutchess Consort, and his bearing of a major Crest, Emyr was named by Rufus to be his hier to the Grand Dutchy of Itha. In his youth, Emyr devoted himself to his studies especially in the realms of magic, natural science, law, poetry, and other pursuits. However, he was rather isolated as a child because of his status as the favored and made little connections among his half siblings (if he even knew them). He always had a rather combative relationship with his father, who's expectations Emyr felt he could never reach or satisfy. His relationship with his mother fared better for the little time he had her as she would pass away when giving birth to Katya when he was 8.

As he got older, he began sneaking out of the palace to cause havoc with the local kids much to his fathers' chagrin. His closest relationship by far is with his younger sister who Emyr would do practically anything for. Part of him had wished to simply give up his status as hier for years because he felt it was more a strain on his life than a boon, but he didn't want to abandon Itha or Faerghus so he remained. He knew his Uncle Lambert scarcely, but always respected and looked up to him far more than he did his own father.

Emyr's life was completely changed by the Tragedy of Duscur in 1176 when he was 17. When news of the tragedy reached Itha, Emyr made the choice to leave Faerghus all together with his younger sister in tow. A combination of fear for his own and Katya's safety, Rufus going to assume the throne as regent, accusations of his father potentially being involved, rumors of Rufus' desire to potentially replace Dimitri with his own son going back years all lead to him deciding to simply vanish. He does consider it to be a cowardly action on his part, but after he ran there was no going back.

He would meet Jeralt and his mercenary company in Remire while on his was to Abyss (originally he had planned to just go to Garreg Mach but rumors of the under city seemed trustworthy enough). He was able to prove himself a capable fighter when he assisted the company in a job near the area and officially joined them after that. He grew close to Byleth as the two were barely months a part in age. While their relationship seems somewhat combative on the outside the two do enjoy being around each other. He remains a member of the company by the start of the game and goes with them to Garreg Mach in 1180.

Emyr is a skilled fighter who prefers magic and bow due to his propensity to break other weapons.

Basic Personality

Rational - Emyr is a rather rational and pragmatic person at his core. He doesn't like to be uninformed on a subject or situation nor go into something using only half-baked assumptions. He cares a great deal for the truth and places great respect in honest people.

Independent - Doesn't like to conform to social expectations and always strives to do things his own way. If rules and conventions are standing in the way of his success, rules and conventions be damned.

Determined - Extremely goal oriented. He can dedicate himself to mastering specific subjects or skills if he feels he's lacking in an area or another. Rather ambitious and passionate when an idea or movement captures him.

Curious - Strong desire to learn everything he can and open minded to new ideas as long as said ideas are based on strong logic. Enjoys finding new hobbies or goals to explore just so he can keep learning.

Combative - Do not try to get him to follow anything or anyone blindly. Can be rather blasé and sarcastic towards others which can cause offense even if he doesn't mean to. He will defend his ideals and principles relentlessly and has to be proven conclusively wrong to budge. He does apologize when he realizes he has overstepped and reflects to make sure he doesn't breach boundaries again.

Humble - Doesn't treat people as being lower than him and is respectful towards his elders (not his father however). Feels that he always has much to learn and will take sound advice from wherever he can get it.

Loyal and Dedicated - Emyr does really care about the friends and family and is fiercely protective of them. He'll leverage his social position to help others if the option is available. When he says he'll do something he will keep his word.

Likes: Poetry, nature, his homeland, learning, combat, high-quality weapons, hunting

Dislikes: His father, deception, gossip, bitter foods, people who treat others as if they're lesser

Other Notes

He's a brunette with blue eyes. His eyes are the same Blaiddyd Blue as Dimitri's cause of his Crest.

Doesn't like Axes or Brawling because he feels he can't control his strength when doing using either of those weapons. Heavy Armor makes his feel too constricted so he prefers much lighter armors.

Does regret abandoning Dimitri after the Tragedy especially after seeing how much everything affected his cousin. Actively avoids Dimitri for awhile at the monastery before finally confessing the truth at some point before the war begins.

Will be aligned with Faerghus no matter the route. Straight up will not join on CF and will die during the route if not spared by Byleth. Becomes the Grand Duke of Itha in Azure Moon post-war and helps Dimitri with his reforms.

Actually religious but not in the way you think. Prefers to follow older Faerghal polytheisic beliefs after connecting with them as a teenager and talking with Mhara.

Spars with Byleth to get better with his swordsmanship. Goes about as well as you think, but he's gotten better at controlling his Crest thanks to Byleth not reacting poorly to broken weapons.

He really does mellow out and change because of the war, but I haven't figured out how yet.

Hiding his name and dropped the "Blaiddyd" part all together. Only starts using it again during war phase.

On Azure Moon he has to hide in Abyss due to Cornelia tracking down the rest of the Blaiddyds. He sends Katya to Derdriu with Arash and tells them to flee to Almyra if the situation grows more dire. He's organizing a rebellion against Cornelia and the Empire when Byleth awakens.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Night Dream Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Disney Dates Collection: Gavin // Kiro // Lucien

The date begins with MC in another city to attend a Film and Television Culture Summit

She hasn’t had the time to look around the city

A random woman who got along pretty well with MC during the Summit starts advertising for Disney:

Woman: Want to go to the famous amusement park? No matter who you are, you can find your own form of happiness there. 

MC refuses because she finds it too lonesome to go on her own

The woman responds by pointing at Victor who's standing at a corner

Woman: Don’t you have someone with you?

After the meeting has ended, Victor finally has a rare moment of leisure. 

MC: Would Victor really be willing to accompany me? 

I lower my head and mutter softly, not noticing that Victor has already walked over to my side. 

Victor: What are you mumbling about again? 

While I was originally hesitant to ask, I decide to give it a try after meeting his eyes. 

MC: Victor, do you want to...

Victor: Do you want to go to the amusement park? 

MC: Eh? 

Victor: I guessed you would be interested. 

MC: Mm! I’m going, I’m going!

I hurriedly nod, as though afraid he would change his mind. I pull him and we leave the venue. 

Victor: What’s the rush? 

MC: This is such a rare chance, of course we have to grasp it. Also, we don’t know how long we’d get to play since a lot of the incredible attractions would have pretty lengthy queues at this time. Basically - every second counts! Let’s go, let’s go!

~

By the time they reach the amusement park, it’s already sunset

It’s completely empty apart from a few staff members

MC wonders if the park has already closed, but Victor just holds her hand and walks to the entrance

Ticketing staff: Welcome! This is an amusement park handbook specially created for you. We hope you can enjoy today’s dream journey to your heart’s content!

Upon seeing us, the ticketing staff enthusiastically greets us and allows us to enter the park. He also gives me an amusement park handbook.

Before I can make sense of what’s happening, a line of staff members walk towards us with an enthusiastic welcome. 

Before the last staff member leaves, he even helps me put on a delicate necklace with a heart-shaped pendant.

As far as I can tell, the two of us are the only visitors in the entire park.

The attractions, which always have long queues of visitors, are now waiting for us to enter and experience. 

MC: Am I dreaming?!

With a bend of his finger, Victor flicks my forehead gently. 

Victor: Does it hurt?

I cover my forehead and give it a rub.

MC: So it isn’t a dream! But there isn’t a single person here at this time... is there a special activity today? 

Victor: I rented the park.

The way Victor casually mentions this fact leaves me with no idea how to react. I’m frozen to the spot. 

Victor: Didn’t you say that the amusement park is very interesting, and that you wanted to play? Since we’re already here, why not ride your favourite attractions instead of standing dumbfounded? Who was the one who just said that every second counts? 

MC: You’re not wrong to say that... but this is too sudden, and since we don’t have to queue, I really don’t know where to start...

Victor: Dummy. There’s still a lot of time, so you can decide slowly. 

My mind still blank, I open the amusement park handbook to decide on a route. 

The handbook has meticulously marked out a suggested route. There is a strange sentence on the title page --

“The key to entering the dream is in the hand of the dragon. Adventurers who dare to embark on this journey may even find the dragon’s lost treasure.”

MC: Eh? Did you plan this?

Victor leans over to look at the handbook in my hands, then thinks for a moment. 

Victor: No. But the staff confirmed the prize for this small game with me beforehand. 

Hearing this, my interest is piqued.

MC: Does this mean you’re the “dragon” in the handbook? 

Even though the “evil dragon” is Victor, I, as the “Adventurer”, will do my best to see what exactly awaits. 

MC: I won’t be soft-handed. I’ll definitely find that treasure!

Victor: ...

Victor looks at me resignedly, as though he wants to say something. In the end, he actually doesn’t call me “childish”.

Victor: Since I've already brought you here, you can do what you want. 

~

The first place marked on the handbook is the Fountain Square

The hint: “Touch the stars and follow the river of light to take the first step.”

MC decides to walk through the water columns (the ones that spray water from the ground every few seconds) since they reflect light

MC finds a box

When she tries to go back, she realises the water columns have become more difficult to avoid

She almost gets hit by a water column and Victor steps in, taking her wrist and leading her out of the Fountain Square

Victor: Where else have you gotten wet? 

Victor helps me tuck damp hair behind my hair, then signals to me to take off my drenched coat. 

He’s always so prepared and at ease. 

Since this is an amusement park, can I do things that I wouldn't normally do? 

Emboldened for some unknown reason, I shake my head with force. As expected, water droplets splash onto Victor. 

Victor: You...?

MC: This is an amusement park. You’re not allowed to say that I’m childish. You’re also not allowed to say that I'm a dummy after I've been serious with my work and learnt a lot over the past few days. Rest and relaxation are necessities for a human.

Without waiting for Victor to speak, I’ve already spouted a ton of odd logic in a single breath. 

He watches me with knitted brows. After a long time, his expression smoothens slightly.

Victor: Sophistry.

Even though he says this, the corners of his mouth are curled upwards more than usual.

Opening the box, MC finds the next hint: “To ensure your safety, bring a present to meet the dragon.”

While MC is wondering where to get the gift, she spots a smaller hint: “I’m definitely not telling you that the present is in the souvenir shop at the next spot!”

In the souvenir shop, MC is struggling to figure out what she should get

She suddenly recalls the Donald Duck doll she bought a few days ago - she has been bringing it around because his expression looks exactly the same as Victor’s - 

Eyebrows furrowed, but with an incredibly tender gaze and touch. 

MC is about to hand the doll over to him but hesitates.

MC: I predict that you’re going to call me childish again...

I mutter softly, wanting to retract my hand. 

With a gentle laugh, Victor takes the doll from me.

Victor: It suits you more. 

He hooks the doll onto my bag. Even though he didn’t directly accept the gift, the smile on his lips is obvious. 

Perhaps due to the unique magic of the amusement park, everyone is able to immerse in its gentle, lively atmosphere. 

Come to think of it, even though Victor doesn’t look like he suits an amusement park, he has already cooperated with my “childishness” from the start. 

Victor: Look around more carefully?

He points to the merchandise shelf at the side. With this, I realise that next to the dolls, there is a card, as well as a box the shape of a golden apple. 

MC retrieves the card. In the golden apple box, there’s:

MC: Pudding?

Whether it was intentional or unintentional by the staff, this “meeting gift” is the thing that best hooks the sweetness in my heart. 

Victor: If you like it, eat it. It’s fine with me.

Guessing my thoughts, Victor releases an amused breath. 

MC: What about the gift for the dragon? 

He points at the doll from just now.

Victor: This is enough. 

I relax, using the spoon to give it a try.

The pudding is silky and tender, drizzled with just the right amount of sweet caramel. Coupled with the unique golden apple packaging, it is very delicious. 

MC: Even though your pudding is number one in my heart, this one is not bad... it tastes very good! Do you want to try? 

I ask with a smile, taking another scoop.

Victor holds my wrist lightly, leans over, and brings the spoon into his mouth.

Before the sudden heat from my wrist dissipates, the spoon trembles slightly. 

Eyes half-lidded, his eyelashes cast a faint shadow. 

I watch as he opens his mouth slightly, holding onto the spoon.

For some reason, watching his bobbing Adam’s apple makes my face turn red involuntarily.

Even though we aren’t standing very close, the surrounding air turns hot and dry. 

I tear my eyes away and force myself to think about something else. 

MC suddenly has a realisation

If I’m the “Adventurer” who is supposed to challenge the dragon, why has Victor been by my side all this time, even giving me hints from time to time?

Aside from containing a new clue, the small words on the card in my hand seem to be giving me a hint. 

“The mighty black dragon’s most prized possession is perhaps not the golden treasure, but the thing he cherishes the most in life.”

Victor: What’s wrong? Have you thought of something? 

I can only blink, continuing to share the pudding in my hand with him.

MC: Shall we go to the next location? 

Even though I have a rough guess, I decide to wait till I’m more certain before telling him. 

This guess makes me feel as though the temperature has risen by several degrees.

 ~

The final location is the Ferris wheel, which is lit up but not moving

The hint is: “Under the rotation of time is the treasure trove of the immortal black dragon.”

There’s a locked fence separating them from the Ferris wheel, but MC is unable to find the key

MC: I’ve lost this time, Mr Evil Dragon. Looks like I won’t be getting your treasure. 

I pretend to pat Victor “magnanimously”, a sense of disappointment in my heart. 

It’s so rare that we get to come to the amusement park together. I wanted to have a complete experience with him.

Victor laughs softly. 

Victor: Dummy. 

Victor comes closer to me, His forefinger, which has a temperature slightly higher than mine, trails along my collarbone and hooks the necklace the staff member had helped me put on just now. 

He flicks the pendant gently. With a soft click, the pendant opens. 

In it, there’s a small golden key.

MC: This is...

He hands the key to me. 

Victor: To make things equal, I should give this to you. 

The doll he hooked onto my bag earlier swings along with our movements, as though expressing its excitement and blessings in its own way.

The small golden key glistens faintly in my hand.

“The key to entering the dream is in the hand of the dragon.”

So this is what the handbook means. 

With the final obstruction removed by the small golden key, the treasure is closer than ever before. 

The Ferris wheel plays lively music and begins moving. 

Victor: Not bad. 

Victor pulls the door to the Ferris wheel open, and does a gesture of invitation.

The lights that are more beautiful than a dream, the gradually ascending Ferris wheel, and the final treasure box paint a full-stop on today. 

MC: Is this the treasure? 

I look at Victor. He simply lifts his chin, signalling that I should open the box. 

An adorable doll sits obediently inside it. There’s also an invitation card which reads: This is an invitation to Miss MC to enjoy tonight’s firework display, specially customised for you.  

The small font at the bottom leaves me feeling slightly confused.

“The Brave One has not yet appeared. The treasure is once again under the dragon’s wing: The end of the dream is a new beginning.”

MC: “The Brave One has not yet appeared”?

These two short sentences are the answers to the guess I had before. 

If I’m not the Adventurer...

If my appearance has made the treasure return to the dragon’s nest once again...

And since the key has always been with me from the start...

MC: If I’m not overthinking all of this, could the dragon’s treasure be...?

I hold onto the invitation card, unsure if I should ask. 

Victor doesn’t say a word, and seems to be waiting for me. 

MC: Did someone tell you about this game?

Victor: Yes. 

MC: You also know the final prize. 

Victor: You’re right. 

MC: So the “treasure”...

Victor: Is the dummy who walked right into the trap.

In a moment, his breath invades my senses. 

The Ferris wheel gradually makes its ascent, and the firework display is about to begin.

The steady movement of the capsule brings us to the border between reality and fantasy, and we enter a most magnificent dream. 

At the highest point, we don’t welcome the descent.

The Ferris wheel halts where the scenery is the most vast, and is facing the nearby castle. 

Our eyes soak in the night colours of the entire amusement park. 

The fireworks are like shooting stars, blooming around us, dyeing the sky in dazzling colours. 

I hold the doll up, putting it close to Victor’s ear. 

MC: I’ve been found by the two of you! Thank you~ MC wants me to tell you that she hopes you can find eternal happiness!

Victor: That’s all you want to say to me? 

I put the doll down. Although I feel slightly shy, I try my best to look at him seriously. 

The night colours in his eyes are a hundred times deeper and more magnificent. 

MC: Thank you. I’m really very happy today. I hope I never have to wake up from this dream.

He releases a light breath. He shifts the doll away slightly, and hugs me more tightly.

Victor: Didn’t you already confirm earlier that this isn’t a dream?

MC: I want to do something for you, and hope that today is a very happy day for you too.

I give my entire focus to Victor, wrapping my arms around his neck. 

MC: Even if it’s just by a little bit, I want to increase your happiness meter. 

My voice is very soft, and I’m not even sure if he can hear me. 

Victor: I already have everything I want. 

His silhouette looks especially tender under the sparkling lights. 

The midnight bell sounds, but the magic does not disappear. Everything in our surroundings halt. 

We’re the only ones left in the entire world. 

Victor tugs my hand lightly towards him, and plants a kiss on the back of it. 

This light touch is akin to a burning seal. 

I seem to have forgotten how to breathe. 

Victor: You’re really a dummy. 

He laughs, his warm breath brushing my fingers. 

In the next second, the soft touch is on my joints, between my fingers. 

The only thing I can see and think of are his eyes - they are calm, yet contain a faint flow of emotions. 

The black dragon protecting its treasure since the beginning of time, and who has left a mark on my soul, is the most important person to me.

This amusement park, where all fantasies are allowed and fulfilled, weave the most romantic magic to all who visit.

-

Victor’s Post: Looks like a certain person is very satisfied with this trip to the amusement park. 

MC: You were very happy too!

Victor: I don’t deny that.

-

Victor’s Post: Looks like a certain person is very satisfied with this trip to the amusement park.

MC: If there’s a chance next time, we have to come back again!

Victor: There will be many chances - it depends on your performance. 

-

Victor’s Post: Looks like a certain person is very satisfied with this trip to the amusement park.

MC: Satisfied! Very satisfied! What about you?

Victor: Seeing you running here and there was quite interesting.

[blue-mood-blue]

Some thoughts about Sebastian Debeste:

Sebastian can play the piano. It’s one of the few things his father couldn’t dissuade him from; it was the one thing that was always just for him. He hoarded sheet music like a guilty pleasure, and played whenever the house was empty.

Sebastian has always had a habit of conducting while talking. It doesn’t matter what’s in his hand - a pencil, a straw, a twig - anything nearby is at risk of being picked up swung around a bit. When Justine gets to know him better, she gives him a genuine conductor’s baton as a gift. He carries it everywhere; it’s the best gift he’s received in a long time.

He wondered about the grades. Nothing seemed to click the way it did for his classmates, and he passed anyway. He didn’t feel like he really understood what the teachers were talking about, and he passed anyway. A steady thread of anxiety hummed under everything he did, hand in hand with the worry in the back of his mind that if he questioned too much, his constructed happiness would fall apart.

He doesn’t go back to school. He takes correspondence courses and shadows Miles Edgeworth in court. He relearns everything he thought he knew; he takes the bar exam again, and when he walks out of the test, there’s a feeling of real accomplishment that’s unfamiliar and exhilarating. He doesn’t learn the way most people do - his needs are different, something about himself that he never had the chance to know before and would have buried in shame if he did. 

(He ignores that little hint of sadness Miles and Justine have behind their eyes when he explains the way he understands things now. They think he deserved better, and he did, but it’s too late for that. He has better now.)

Sebastian hates fire. He hates the smell of it, the look of it, the heat of it. He hates matches and lighters, he hates the smell of gasoline, he hates the toomuchtooquicktoofast feel of it licking on his skin.

Sebastian grows out his hair. It’s long, and he likes to wear it in a ponytail over one shoulder. He likes to wear coats with long sleeves and gloves, even on hot days. It’s the look he prefers, and it has nothing to do with the complications surrounding his father’s arrest. Only a handful of people know any different.

There was a collection of old cds under his bed when he was younger. Another guilty pleasure, a few memories he wasn’t ready to let go. Sebastian has a lasting fondness of music from another era, loud and happy and fun.

He still gets words wrong in court. He still has strange turns of logic. But he follows his own logic, and while it may take an unusual path sometimes, it’s still a path towards the truth. He doesn’t seem to mind being proven wrong in court - instead, he takes great interest in the arguments of his opponents. When they correct him, he listens with careful attention. He’s easy to underestimate - plenty of unsuspecting defense attorneys have left the courtroom in a daze, having spent most of the trial assured of their victory and only having it pulled out from under them at the last minute.

Logic doesn’t go from Point A to Point B by the shortest route like a map in his mind; the points are all there, a mess of possibilities that seem as likely as the others until the whole starts to come together into something greater. It’s like an orchestra, and only when he knows the whole song, every instrument, can he pick out the sour refrain or find the instrument responsible for a missed note. The words are that way, too - sometimes there are so many, so close, so many possibilities that he lands on the wrong one. But the cases, at least, he can lay out like a song and pick out the melodies he needs.

He still flinches sometimes. If the movement is too swift or two close or too sudden, he still sometimes raises an arm to protect himself. He’s getting better about that, though.

After the arrest and everything that followed, Sebastian insisted on being the one to go through his father’s papers and records. He wanted to reveal the truth of every ghost in his father’s, and his own, past. When he stopped answering phone calls, Kay was the first to do something; she broke into his house and refused to leave until he left with her. The rest of the papers were distributed between Miles and Justine to handle, and they carefully avoided discussing what they found.

Sebastian’s office is relatively small, which was his preference. He never wanted to give anyone any reason to accuse him of special treatment again. It’s usually cluttered, but in a controlled-chaos way. There’s a window seat, which makes Kay’s preferred mode of entrance easier, and a small, upright piano that Miles insisted he should have. When he needs a break from whatever case he’s investigating, music can be heard coming from Sebastian’s office; so far, no one has requested sound-proofing.

It’s harder to play the piano, after everything. Sebastian still does; his father could never take that from him before, and he can’t take it from him now.

Kay is usually the detective helping Sebastian with his investigations. The only exception is when Franziska is in town, which leaves Sebastian with Gumshoe or Ema. Ema will tease him or slip him snacks, depending on his mood. Sebastian and Gumshoe is a combination that has required Miles’ intervention on more than one occasion.

Sebastian has met the Wrights. He’s a regular fixture there, absorbed along with Kay into family dinners and activities. He’s the only one who has never asked Trucy to explain a trick, and sometimes Phoenix worries that he believes she’s actually magical. He’s offered to teach Phoenix to actually play, which is always met with a grinning Phoenix insisting he already can. Sometimes, Sebastian wishes he could tell Trucy that a father who would leave her behind isn’t worth missing - but he thinks maybe she already knows, behind that smile.

Justine reaches out a lot - the mother in her can’t see him alone and not want to help. It’s hard at first, to remember that her goal of seeing his father put away and her affection for him can and does exist in the same person. It’s hard to remember that she’s not a parent like his parents, that he’s not just something to be used and then put aside in her mind. Getting to know John helps - John has no reason to like him, but eventually he does anyway.

Sebastian notices the way any conversation about Gregory Edgeworth or Byrne Faraday is carefully cut off around him. He tells him he doesn’t mind hearing it. He doesn’t; it doesn’t hurt the way people might think it would. Instead, it makes him wonder what a world where Blaise Debeste loved his son might have looked like. He’ll never see it. He thinks he’s okay with that.

After looking at the papers, Sebastian knows all the things Blaise Debeste meant by saying a person "disappeared.” He doesn’t know which of those happened to his mother. He doesn’t know when he’ll be ready to find out. It’s a question for another day, when he feels steadier on his feet.

He doesn’t like being called Debeste. He doesn’t like being called “the best” either. Kay starts to call him “nightingale,” then “lark,” and finally just “songbird.” He needs a new nickname, she explains. And he’s always listening to music she can’t hear, and if he’s a bird they can be birds together.

Sebastian is never alone if he doesn’t want to be. Miles is several floors up, and Kay is a phone call away. Justine, Phoenix and Trucy, Franziska, Gumshoe, and Ray have all kept him company on bad days. It’s a revelation and a gift, to be surrounded by people who want to be around him. He holds the feeling close.

[catflowerqueen]

Okay, I finished Hiveswap 2 in... basically all one go. I will definitely have to do multiple replays to get all the Steam achievements, but that can wait until I do all my actual work and projects. Thoughts and major spoilers below.

Well Hiveswap 2 was certainly interesting! I can see why it took so long to make, and why Friendisms had to come first. That game certainly gives some more background lore to certain situations, though it also kind of… gave me certain character expectations that I feel were left unfulfilled. Like… given it is Alternia, and Doc Scratch admitted to messing around with everyone involved via his whatever-it-was making people more open to befriending the reader, I guess I’m not entirely surprised how certain situations ended up? Just… severely disappointed.

As far as gameplay goes, I think that the item management system was a little better than in part one, and it was cool that you actually got to switch between playing as Joey and playing as Xefros, and that they each had different commentary when you clicked on things. There is also a replayability factor, which is nice. The music was also really cool, especially how you could tell that the same melody was being used in every train car, just changed up a little to better fit the “theme” of the castes present in the cars. And that even held true when it got a lot darker/more depressing during the final quest! I’m also extremely glad that there was a functional hint system, because there were times when I really, really needed it.

But the bee minigame came pretty much out of nowhere, and the formatting for the directions was horrendous because it gave them to you after the game already started. Not in a tutorial fashion, either! Which meant that I couldn’t really read or understand what was actually going on until I’d failed the game two or three times, making the whole thing really tedious. Also… I’m kind of annoyed at how little actually got carried over when you use the “import Act 1 data” function? Like… inventory was the same, and maybe there were some things I missed, but it didn’t keep the name I gave Dammek’s lusus! It didn’t even use the default name for that option, either, or even throw in a line about Xefros telling you what it’s actual name was at some point while you were fleeing, which would at least explain the discrepancy.

Then there was the jade and teal car… and oh boy do I have a lot of complaints against that car. It’s honestly the one I had the most problems with, from both a gameplay and story perspective. For one thing, it dragged on way, way too long—especially for a middle section of the game. It would have worked a lot better as an endgame thing, I think, just in terms of the way games and stories are supposed to ramp up the action as you play, so things get progressively harder as you go. While there was some nice foreshadowing of how depraved the purple caste really is during that section… like the early game foreshadowing for it, it only really works effectively if you know the source material.

I mean. I guess Xefros’ discomfort in general works and gives it more of a wham/gut-punch for those who don’t know the source ahead of time, but… still.

Anyways, the length isn’t my only complaint with that section. The story was very interesting, I’ll admit, but the execution was not very good, especially when it came to the evidence. Now, I know this is apparently a common complaint with Phoenix Wright games, which that section is based on—that there is a specific order and place you need to use specific pieces of evidence, even when logic dictates that there is a far simpler solution to the problem. Like… at one point you need to come up with a motive for Tegiri to be hanging out by the Jade lockers. Considering that the entire trial has to do with the theft of a “forbidden book on rainbow drinkers,” this is something you find out during the evidence collection phase before the trial even begins, and another piece of evidence collected clearly states (or at least implies extremely heavily) that Tegiri is into rainbow drinker stuff, one would think that piece of evidence would be enough for a motive, right? Wrong. Instead, you have to use a broken action figure… and then you STILL use the other piece of evidence to show that he’s into weird romance stuff and would have been interested in reading the book! And that’s not the only time stuff like that happens!

Not to mention the section in the middle where the trial takes recess. The dialogue implies that what’s happening is you’re getting the chance to collect more evidence and statements… but, no, what’s actually happening is that you’re supposed to be taking this time to accuse other people of actually being the culprit by combining two pieces of evidence. The problem is, it doesn’t tell you this is what’s happening, give you any warning that you won’t be able to talk to the people you’re accusing again if you combine the wrong evidence, or let you use any selection screen aside from the evidence ones when it would be extremely helpful to be able to check on the timeline or suspect section again in order to get a refresher on where everyone was. And one of the pieces of evidence is a diary—but once you have it in your possession, you can’t check the relevant entry again! It only says who the diary belongs to and that some of it is censored. And since there is reason to believe that someone else messed with the diary to implicate the owner, it would be very helpful to actually get to explore that further in depth!

I really do hope that this is a case where there are multiple different endings, since the way it left off on my playthrough left an extremely bitter taste in my mouth, especially in regards to Tyzias’s character, who I actually really, really liked in Friendisms! But here… I got the “Scapegoat” achievement (which is why I’m hoping that there are other ways to complete this section), with the end result being that even though we got our client declared innocent, we also got an innocent (or at least, one heavily implied to be innocent afterwards) person declared guilty—in part because our co-counsel did not inform us of the fact that she witnessed evidence being tampered with and, in fact, knew who the true culprit was all along. And while her “Experiment” was deemed a success—and, I suppose, was technically successful within the set rules and did actually follow the whole “innocent until proven guilty” thing—it just highlighted that legislacerators still don’t actually care about justice. She could have, at any point, chimed in about what she saw, but was more interested in “keeping the peace” afterwards than actually getting the true culprit. And, yeah, baby steps and all, but…

I suppose thematically it does work well considering what happens at the end of the game when reaching the purple car, but…

I just thought better of Tyzias, is all. Friendisms implied that she was a real revolutionary for change, and, yes, I know that this wouldn’t be obvious to someone who didn’t play that game and some allowances must be made for that, but… even so, it just seems really out of character, and I don’t think it can all be blamed on forgetting lessons they learned while hanging out with the Reader/those things not actually happening in this continuity, for whatever reason (though, given how Fozzer was acting, and the fact that Chixie brings up the whole “Mask” persona, I’m pretty sure that we can assume they all remember some things that happened… just in a way that’s vague enough that those who played Friendisms can catch the references while those who didn’t won’t be lost on what’s going on)

…And, in hindsight, the whole thing was probably unnecessary to begin with since the book actually got found before the idea off a trial even came up??? I mean, part of that is because Marvus suddenly wandered in and seemed very interesting in holding one, and they didn’t want to upset him, but… yeah, it’s definitely a case of “this all could have been avoided,” especially since the book is apparently only forbidden for the jades to read. But I’m willing to give that one a pass, since trolls are weird and there were various circumstances escalating the situation.

I still think that Tagora had something to do with it, given what we know about his infatuation with Rainbow Drinkers from Friendisms… but that never actually came up in the game? I see where there may have been an opportunity for it, but it wasn’t a very clear-cut one and, at least the direction my playthrough went—would have required the player to actually have done his route in Friendisms.

(EDIT: Apparently there are some different ways to do this trial, according to some things already up on Steam, but they are dependent on some very early choices in the game--which would presumably affect some other choices in later games, and which means that i’m going to have to do many different playthroughs if i want to see everything available--and it still isn’t likely to remove the taint on my feelings towards Tyzias. After all, I’ll know that such capabilities for ruthlessness remain in her character, whether or not they’re actively showing.)

Also, hero-mode Xefros looks a lot older than I thought he was. And apparently joey is old enough to at least be a Freshman in high school??? I thought she was still in middle school!

As for other characters… some I felt were still in-character, some weren’t. Like… for what little we actually saw of Karako’s personality, considering he doesn’t really talk, I thought he was fine… despite being extremely surprised he was actually on the train at all considering his youth and, well, what little personality we saw indicating that he doesn’t really do “civilization” much. But the twins… while they were spot-on amongst themselves (resulting in an extremely chilling and heartbreakingly well-done scene near the ending), they seemed a lot more vicious in regards to their interactions with others. Wanshi apparently developed a real cruel streak in this game, and, ironically, Tirona was actually a whole lot nicer and not actually a suspect of that trial, despite being put on the stand as a witness.

I was also a bit disappointed that there weren’t more of those clever fight scenes we had from Act 1, where there was puzzle solving going on mid-fight—there were only two of them, one being so forgettable that I pretty much only remembered it existed just this second, and only the last one was really clever. There was at least one, maybe two other points where it would have been really cool/creative if Joey could have solved things with dance in a battling format… but her use of her dancing shoes was only plot important at two points in the game—and that first point wasn’t even her doing actual dancing, but, rather, as a buildup for the bee minigame. And then she never even got to use her “bee dance” skills again. At least Xefros finally got to use his bat—but, again, it was only once where it was actually a useful tool. He did get to use psionics more, though.

 And there was a plot point with Skylla that was pretty much completely dropped? I mean… they did bring it up as something that was still unsolved right at the end, but… well, hopefully this just means that they’ll actually solve it for real in Act 3, because otherwise there was a perfectly good opportunity for a solution that Joey had in hand, but which didn’t get utilized. The issue is that Skylla’s lusus is apparently sick. One would think that this means that, assuming you carried over from part 1 (and I would assume even if you didn’t because it looks like a lot of the problems would be game-breakingly unsolvable if you didn’t have certain items you would have picked up through a playthrough of part 1. I guess that’s something to test for next time), this would require you to use the bestiary and vet kit, right? Wrong: I tried that and nothing happened. Apparently, the solution is that you promise Skylla you’ll look for medicine further down, and use that as a reason that Marsti should move away from the door so that you can pass by. But there’s never actually an option for you to look for the medication.

 …Now that I think about it, though, this would be the prime opportunity for some inadvertent (or intentional, as the case may be) foreshadowing from Act 1. Two opportunities, even, with one being far more obvious than the other. One could be that Joey makes some commentary about knowing exactly what to do, having seen a similar problem in her own “lusus”—her pet dog back home. The other could be that Ladyy isn’t actually sick, but is instead pregnant and having little lusus puppies—which would be a callback to that Puppy Surprise doll from Act 1 where Joey hid her keys.

 Still. I don’t like the fact that it never got solved in this part. Also that Vikare didn’t really get to do much (despite how annoying and confusing I myself find him) and that we didn’t get to see Fozzer again on the train even though we got to see several others on the train who we first saw at the station.

I’m also wondering what’s going to happen in part 4? Obviously part 3 is going to be either the party or further attempts to reach the party (and the suddenness of what happened with the ending does lend some more seriousness to the whole “you only have eleven days before everything gets destroyed thing), but… I’d assumed going in that two parts would be dedicated to Joey’s story, and two to Dammek’s, but apparently that’s not the case? If Joey really does get four parts to herself… then what the heck is Dammek’s story going to entail? I mean… those monsters, obviously, and whoever Jude’s “friends” are, but… I don’t know. I feel like it’s going to be hard to top this.

 As far as lore goes… apparently the maturation trials are not the same thing as the exile, since Zebruh mentions already having gone through his, yet he is still on Alternia for what is implied to be… at least two sweeps, I think it was? I think he said he went through them at seven, and Chahut is approaching 9 or ten and mentions being only a perigee away from leaving. So that’s interesting. I guess the maturation trials are the equivalent of a career aptitude test or something?

 It does make me wonder what happens with the Jades, though. Unless there are more mothergrubs on other planets, what do they even do when they’re off world, since apparently they are specifically tested when they are a lot younger to see who actually is assigned to the caverns vs. just living outside with everyone else. I guess maybe they just get jobs that are slightly more prestigious than olives, but still under teals? That would at least make sense for the ones who weren’t assigned to work in the caverns. Though it does make me wonder about Kanaya a little bit—had there been no game involved, would she still be considered “special” like the jades from Hiveswap given what her lusus was, except that because of said lusus she had to live outside of the caverns? It was, after all, implied that virgin mother grubs and their matriorbs were extremely rare. 

Also, considering how full this train was, and the caste segregation going on, I’m wondering why the train from Sollux’s route in Pesterquest was so empty, and how he could apparently just get on any car he wanted. I mean—sure, he ended up in a car that only had an olive on it, but considering they were literally the only other passenger besides reader, that may have just been a coincidence. It can’t have been that there were separate waiting platforms for the different castes, either, since everyone was mingling together in Hiveswap before separating by car. Is it just that everyone was going to the party, but the train otherwise doesn’t get much use, or something like that? Or did it have more to do with whatever the ramifications were for Trizza’s defeat? …Or possibly the fact that the attack on the train at the end just made people still extremely wary about travelling by rail even sweeps after the fact?

 There’s probably some more lore I can touch on, but… honestly, the trial section left me so upset that I can’t really put much of that together right now. I think I was going to say something about how the Jades would also be a good source of keeping culture alive between heiresses, since apparently they’re actually charged with doing so… but it’s hard to tell how much of that culture is just jade culture specifically vs. the rest of Alternia. Or even how much of it was actually serious, rather than a thinly veiled reason to let everyone indulge in things like tabloids, celebrity magazines, and rainbow drinker books.

Oh, yeah, and I’m pretty sure that Diemen at one point implied that his hot dog was actually made out of someone specific, though I’m not sure at this point whether that someone was his lusus, or if it was a troll. Either way, if that’s true, then it definitely explains why he is so protective of that specific hot dog.

EDIT: I remembered what the other bit of lore I wanted to discuss was. Well. I mean, it might not be considered “lore” as such, but... it’s interesting that of the two major rebellions we know of, both were headed by bronzebloods--that being the Summoner and Dammek. At least, I assume Dammek is the one heading the current rebellion. I wonder it it’s just a coincidence, or if there is something in bronzeblood nature that makes them more likely to lean towards these sorts of reactions? We know Dammek’s breed of lusus apparently favors strong leaders, and given the blood color would only be seeking out other bronzes (except perhaps when they hit the “my charge just died/got culled” stage and go looking for someone else to adopt, given what is happening with Joey), but presumably the Summoner had the same lusus type as Tavros. I dunno, it’s just interesting to think about.

Anyways... Overall I did really like the game! I loved the tone, despite how depressing it got at times, and Xefros’ and Joey’s developing relationship is amazing. I look forward to part 3. Hopefully it won’t take as long to come out.

[sargeantwoof]

Don’t You Ever Tame Your Demons

There is a boy, awaiting her.

She knows it like she knows the scent of Fall, of the way change, twines within her soul. She can feel it, beneath her, the earth growing and stretching, brushing against her tiny senses. She breaths in once, sucking in the dirt and the rot in the moss under her small hands. She presses down, calling out a greeting in a language she does not know.

Instead of welcoming her, there is a moment of panic, the earth frenzied, before it all dies down. She hears a single note, low enough that she feels it moreso and then her eyes slip shut.

When she awakens, she knows nothing of the moments before she was asleep, just has a slight shift in her mind, an awareness that wasn't there before. Her mother comes over, gently running a hand over her curly hair and her awareness sinks beneath her consciousness, latching tightly into her being, hidden for now.

***

Friendship is nothing like what she thought it would be.

It wasn't that she was expecting anything groundbreaking - except, well, she had hoped. Instead, she was left to the sidelines, vaguely accepted for friendship but more useful for research and books. There were moments, though, moments when her eyes caught on her peers, specifically one. His eyes felt like more, felt like they were tracking over her soul, reaching into places she did not know.

She would blink and look away, her eyes catching on others, watching the way none would ever really look at her the way he would. She paused, fingering her vine wood wand, darting a glance to the left of her where he stood. He offered a small smile and she stared, uncertain with the potential until his smile slipped from his face and he left the common room, his small first-year body slipping from the crowd with ease.

She started, almost standing until a heavy grip landed on her wrist. Ron arched a brow at her, frowning, "I need help with this," he said, his voice rising to become a whine. "You said you would help."

"And I will," she said, slipping back into her place on the couch, the worn threads irritating her for once. She picked up a quill, forcing his exit from her mind. It would be fine, she would make sure of it.

***

She scurried along the hallway, keeping her head down. She had had enough taunts in her single year at Hogwarts to last her a lifetime, and still, hearing Malfoy call her mudblood had almost done her in. She didn't understand for a long moment why she was so upset on the Quidditch pitch until she had gotten back to her dorm room.

She hadn't been hurt so much as enraged. Something had called to her in the moment, to cut and sting and strip those who laughed at her of their very selves. She had wanted to kill them, and in the moment, the emotion had scared her so much that it had become palpable to those around her. Her tears were after her self, her sudden potential of destruction. She had no idea where it had come from, her sudden rush of violence.

She had followed Ron and Harry to Hagrid's hut, swallowing raggedly over and over again until the tears stopped falling and she felt centered. None of them had been of any help, with Ron too busy vomiting and Harry too caught on his own ferocity. She had felt tiny, swamped by the depth of her emotion, until she had suddenly felt completely empty, drained of anything.

When her head had nearly knocked itself against the table in her tiredness, she had excused herself, slipping deftly from the cabin with a small murmur. Harry had been concerned but she had waved him off, heading up the lawn, each stride of hers feeling as though she was walking a mile.

She could not remember when she had last felt normal.

***

He had heard the whispers before he understood them, and in those moments where understanding built, he felt numb, until it crested into a terror he had never felt before. The sudden emotion of fear took him by surprise, leaving him panting in the shared bathroom, curled in a ball.

"Alright mate?" Dean asked, pausing from where he had thrown open the door. Dean stepped closer, ignoring his nodding head. He heaved him up to his feet, splashing cold water on his face. He shivered in Dean's grip, wrenching himself back as soon as he got his feet underneath him.

"I'm fine," he gasped out, ignoring the water trickling down his face as he avoided looking at himself in the mirror, too aware of the disaster that he was. "I'm fine, Dean, thank you." He closed his eyes at the look in Dean's eyes, wiping his face with a random towel left hanging on a hook.

"Sure thing," Dean said after a moment of quiet. "Just be careful, okay?" He shook his head, pressing his face deeper into the towel, waiting until he heard the footsteps leave the room and the door shut behind him. Neville lifted his head, making eye contact with himself in the mirror for the first time in days. The whispers echoed in the back of his head, petrified, petrified, stone, stone, ceaselessly.

"Get it together," he whispered, taking in his red-rimmed eyes and translucent skin. Outside the bathroom, threaded into the stone, a vine shriveled and died, a line of black through striking the middle of the green.

***

"And you still think this is the best route for her?" Minerva said, taking a sip from her tea and watching as a flicker of darkness passed through Albus' eyes. She closed her eyes against the wash of rage that she felt from him before he smothered it.

"Of course my dear," he said, smiling at her. "What's the worst that could happen?" He extended his hand, gently dropping the time turner into hers. Each clink of the chain felt like another weight on her shoulders, another piece she had to carry.

"May I go?" she asked, clenching the turner so tight she was afraid it might break.

"Of course," Albus said, his voice full of smug satisfaction. She turned away before she had to see the look of satisfaction on his face, her shoulders tense, rising to leave. "I would so hate…" he said, trailing off as she reached the door. Minerva stood, her back to him, waiting for him to finish his sentence and counting down in her head until she could leave without causing an issue. He cleared his throat, taking a long sip before continuing. "I would so hate for Miss Granger to not succeed."

"Indeed, sir," Minerva said, pushing open the door and stepping through, forcing back a shudder at the change in tension. "I imagine you would."

***

"…There is nothing that can force the awakening on earlier than 17, though many have tried. Forcing the body through varied stresses and complications can only hurt the potential and as such, all those who are suspected of being an Awakened are told to not do anything too serious…"

   -The Awakened: Guides to Knowledge by Salazar Slytherin

Underlined by three separate quills, in a well-worn book sitting in the Hogwarts library on the Northernmost shelf of the 'Awoken' section. Chapter 2, Page 37, Second Paragraph.

"…Those who have awakened often speak of their urges to do something which had only become clearer when they awoke. Not following those urges had no real ill intent, but many who don't have been heard to wish that they had. This is especially clear for those who follow repeated paths. Rarely will partners be torn apart or disgusted by each other, and reincarnated twins will follow each other through their lives though they may not be born to the same family…"

   - Patterns and Problems by Minister Artemisia Lufkin

An accidentally dogeared page, with smudged ink from the batch of misprinted books from 1932, sitting in the Lovegood library underneath a three-week-old cup of tea. Chapter 5, Page 87, Third Paragraph.

"It is whispered about, what the uncompromised and steadfast chosen are like, said that they are cruel and vicious, unrelenting in their rejection of mortality even as they stride among those who are mortal. There are those who choose to remain on the earth and do not visit the Parthenon remain stuck in an increasingly toxic mindset. Being a God but not returning to Godly soil taints the current manifestation in ways still not understood…"

   -Shaken Faith by Hestia

The burned original, held in the Black family library under lock and key which has not been touched since 745 AD. Page Unknown, First Paragraph.

***

He was watching her again, with a stare that she suddenly felt no matter where she was. She shifted, trying to listen to Professor McGonagall without letting him know how unnerved she was.

She didn't know what he wanted, she didn't know why he suddenly was so interested in her. Unless, she thought, suddenly struck by inspiration, maybe he knew about the turner. She frowned, dragging her hand over her wand, the familiar pattern of leaves soothing to her as always. She knew logically that she shouldn't say anything to him, her secret was only suspected unless she said something and it would do nothing but cause problems if she confronted him.

But.

But if she confronted him, she would have to be near him, and maybe that would soothe the ever-growing ache that she felt when they were apart. She didn't understand it, having gone to Madam Pomfrey the first time she had felt the ache. She thought it was simply a part of growing up, the strange hollowness. She had been checked over, the invasive search yielding no results, her ache still present.

Since then, she had worked in ways to get close to him, helping him with homework when Ron and Harry were busy or walking with him to the Greenhouses when she was on her way to Hagrid's. It was only recently, only this past week, that she had become increasingly aware of just how many times he stole looks at her. His gaze was unending and made her feel strange, like a jolt of caffeine to the system.

"We have a third-year meeting this weekend," Professor McGonagall called before she dismissed them. "It is absolutely necessary, and it concerns the Awakening." At her words, the class stilled, before bursting into a flurry of activity at the toll of the bell. Hermione followed Ron and Harry out the door, sliding away from them as they became absorbed into the larger group of Gryffindors heading to their dorms.

She stood outside the door, waiting for him to appear, only the tapping of her fingers on her bag betraying her nervousness. A shadow slid over her, the sudden change in light causing her to jump. She whirled around, finding Headmaster Dumbledore behind her.

"Miss Granger," he said, smiling at her. "Just the student I was hoping to see. Would you mind terribly if we took a walk together?" He nodded towards where the time turner chain was concealed against her neck, stepping away from the doorway and waiting for her to follow him. "I have some questions about how you're holding up."

***

"Wow," Ron said, falling backward onto his bed, their dorm empty for once. "I can't believe one of us might be a God."

"Or Goddess," Harry mumbled, his face smushed into his pillow. He turned his head, cracking open an eye to take in Ron's disgusted expression, before rolling his eyes and sitting up. He frowned down at his hands. "It  makes me wish that my parents had survived."

Ron arched an eyebrow at him. "What?"

Harry shrugged, interlocking his fingers over and over again, clenching tighter each time. "It just would've been a nice thing to know."

"Oh," Ron said, floundering for something to say. "I suppose."

***

Hermione stared at the flames in the common room, slowly absorbing the information Professor McGonagall had told them. She hadn't realized that some of the Gods were still out there, still waiting to be awoken. She shivered at the thought. It had been a lot to take in when she had been new to the Wizarding World and was being told that the Greek and Roman Gods were able to be reincarnated within their society. To now be told that some were missing, that some had chosen to be returned to a semi-mortal cycle? That the power in the Parthenon was incomplete?

She shivered again, flinching when her arms brushed up against something solid. She tore her eyes from the fire, flinching back again when she made eye contact with Neville. He sighed, scooting over, giving her space. They sat there for a moment, him studying her as intently as she was studying him.

"You okay?" He finally asked. She shrugged, her face softening from the tense lines it had been in and her hair aglow in the setting sun. He nodded, turning away from her. "Yeah, me too." He felt more than saw her turn back to the flames. They sat together, sliding closer every so often until darkness fell outside. By the time the moon had risen, the two were asleep, heads tilted together as though they were telling each other secrets in their dreams.

***

"Oh, I knew that already," Malfoy said interrupting, after having listened in on the conversation that most of the third-year Gryffindors were having. At their upset faces, he smirked. "Malfoy House secret," he said, turning and flouncing away.

"One of these days…," Seamus said glowering at his back and letting his threat trail off. The others nodded in solidarity. Hermione stood still, watching as Malfoy faded in the distance. Neville stayed with her, the others in their group sweeping off towards the tower. "Is something wrong?" He asked when they were alone in the corridor.

Hermione shook her head before turning to face him, curiosity flashing across her face. "Why does he think he's so much better than everyone?" she asked.

Neville shrugged. "Probably because of who his family is," he said, watching her. "When your mother is the Queen of the Gods you tend to get a big head."

"I thought she would've been married to the Headmaster," she said her nose scrunching up in thought. "Aren't they bound for life forever?"

Neville shrugged again, looking back down the hallway where Malfoy had disappeared. "I guess after so many years the sanctity of marriage doesn't mean so much anymore."

***

She knocked on the door of Professor McGonagall's office, waiting for a welcome before stepping through. She fidgeted with the coiled up necklace in her palm, careful to not turn the hourglass too far in either direction. As she entered, she took in the small changes to the room from when she had been there last, at the beginning of the school year.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said warmly, gesturing to the seat in front of her desk. "What can I do for you?"

Hermione sat down on the edge of the seat, balancing on the edge, ready to spring up as soon as she needed to. "I'm here to return this," she said, extending her hand. For a moment Professor McGonagall didn't move, staring at her. Hermione forced herself to unclench her hand, letting the time turner drop. Professor McGonagall, reached out, gently pulling it from her hand.

Hermione snatched back her hand as soon as she was free, sitting on it to fight the urge to grab the turner back and run from the room. Professor McGonagall gave her a long look, before dropping it into a drawer. As soon as it was out of sight, Hermione sagged forward, her tension leaving her frame.

"Miss Granger," the Professor exclaimed, getting up from behind her desk. Hermione waved her off, taking in a deep breath. Professor McGonagall stopped, leaning back against her desk as she waited for Hermione to regain her composure. She took another deep breath, smiling for the first time in ages.

"Thank you, Professor," she said, getting up from her seat and offering no explanation. Before Professor McGonagall could say anything she turned and left, a skip in her step.

For a long moment, Minerva stood at the edge of her desk, thinking. She could not remember giving Miss Granger the time turner. In fact, she could not even remember approving more than the usual classes for her.

***

"It is in the height of summer that certain Gods are said to be strongest, and others are said to be weakest. As with each turn of the year, new seasons heighten powers. The only one rumored to be unaffected by this power is the mighty and unstoppable King of the Gods: Zeus…"

   - Power Dynamics in Gods by Bathilda Bagshot

Albus Dumbledore's private annotated copy, stored among countless other books at the private Dumbledore cottage.

Prologue, Page xi, First Paragraph.

"…Hidden underground is said to be a realm of wealth, accessible by only one God, Hades. Allegedly used for the whims of Persephone, these riches are untouched six months of the year, though even if they were touched every day of every year, the wealth is essentially inexhaustible, with more being churned out. The nonstop growth has many calling Hades the Lord of Riches, though no one knows how much that is…"

   - Powers of the Gods by Unknown, translation attributed to Merlin

The show book in the 'P' section of Flourish and Blotts which is permanently broken on the spine from being held open to the entry of Melinoë, Goddess of Nightmares and Madness.

Chapter 8, Page 134, Third Paragraph.

"..coiled within, the darkness can sing, voices have called, none more appalled, the God of night, the bringer of fright, those who fear, never been more near…"

   - Luna Lovegood's Journal

Tossed underneath her bed at home, the top half of the page is ripped out, with this line written through underneath the tear and a field of flowers drawn underneath. It is unclear if the two are related.

Page Unknown, Paragraph Unknown.

***

"Gods can come down from the Parthenon, right?" Harry asked, not making eye contact with her as they sat underneath an apple tree in the Weasley family orchard. She had to restrain her immediate flinch at the mention of the Gods, instead, turning and cocking her head inquisitively in an unspoken invitation for him to continue. He swallowed, fiddling with a piece of crabgrass in his hands. "I just…" He flicked his eyes up, taking in her face quickly before dropping them back to his lap. "Last year, when Professor McGonagall said all that stuff about how the Parthenon was still looking for some who had been reincarnated and how if we had any they'd be awoken at 17 with the onset of adulthood and whatever, she also said that we could all stay friends." He swallowed hard. "We could all stay friends because we could come and go from the Parthenon."

She reached out, stopping him from ripping up more crabgrass. "And?" she asked. "None of us are 17, we still have like three years - if any of us even are one."

Harry nodded, flipping his hand up so that their fingers tangled. "And so I realized that I use to have two of the Gods in my life but," he paused, making direct eye contact with her. "But when my parents died they left." He frowned, the sorrow and anger deepening his normal scowl. "They bloody left."

"Who left?" Hermione asked, frowning back at him. "Because that might've played a part in it."

"Sirius Black and Remus Lupin." He said, his voice almost a growl. "And I looked up who they are, and they're both important, yeah, but they could've come to visit at least once, you know?"

Hermione nodded, looking away from him so she wouldn't be tempted to ask which of the Gods they were. She could always look them up later, she supposed, which was better than making Harry angrier than he was. Harry sighed beside her, his tension seeping out of him with each quiet moment. "You can ask," he said rolling his eyes.

She shook her head, "If it bothers you…"

"It doesn't," Harry said, "At least not with you."

"Oh," she said, fighting a smile. "Then who…?"

Harry sighed again. "Aphrodite and Hermes," he said. "Which is so weird to me."

She hummed absently, her mind whirling over the possibilities. "Did you ask Headmaster Dumbledore?" Harry nodded. She frowned, her lips twisting. "Ah."

Harry shrugged as though it didn't matter to him, but the expression on his face belied that. "He said that Tom Riddle was closing the barrier to the Parthenon." Hermione nodded slowly as he continued. "He told me all about how he was trying to overthrow him and how he wanted to change everything." He shook his head, a dark look on his face. "Riddle's causing a lot of issues for him."

***

The announcement of others to join them was unexpected. She swallowed down her momentary uneasiness at the thought of foreign Parthenon's joining them at Hogwarts. She knew why it was happening, as it was always good to have friends in high places, but she was confused as to why they would invite Durmstrang and Beauxbatons to their halls if they were incomplete.

She had mapped out the missing Gods and Goddesses, tracing through book after book, stumbling across knowledge she would have thought that Headmaster Dumbledore, or Zeus, would have hidden. Apollo, Artemis, Tyche, Nemesis, Hades, Persephone, Deimos, Phobos, Morpheus; other Gods and Goddess were still missing. She didn't understand why either. For all intents and purposes, they had no reason to become reincarnated.

Rowena, Godric, Salazar, and Helga had remained the same year after year since the founding of Hogwarts. She knew it was a bad sign when Godric, Ares, and Salazar, Athena, were still friends. In the early years of the Parthenon, neither could stand each other. She frowned, tracing over her notes again. Why would they be so close now?

Something was wrong.

There was something rotten in the core of the Parthenon, and try as she might, Hermione could not stop until she found the source.

***

"Miss Granger," Professor Snape called over the ruckus of the exiting students. "I need you for a minute."

"Yes sir," she said, making eye contact with Neville and blushing. She headed to the front of the class, waving off Harry and Ron who tried to wait for her. Harry caught her eyes, raising his eyebrows expectantly. She rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement, she would fill them in later.

"Miss Granger," Professor Snape said, watching her. "Are you aware of who I am?"

"Yes, sir," she said, ducking her head from his piercing gaze. "Professor McGonagall explained just who certain staff members were last year."

Professor Snape said nothing for a moment, steadily trailing his gaze over her. He took in her frizzy hair, the semi-permanent ink stains splashed across her fingers, the way her tie was sharply knotted and placed precisely in the correct spot. "Yes," he finally said, grimacing. "And unfortunately, that means that I am here to offer a word of warning from my other half."

"Oh," she breathed, raising her eyes just in time to catch the flicker of other that he rarely let loose.

"Yes," Professor Snape said again, breathing in. He held it for one moment, and then, "I hope you will listen," Janus said, the haze of mortality lifted for a brief moment. He too studied the girl, watching for her choices and options to come before him. "Trust yourself," he said abruptly. "There is no one who knows yourself more than you."

Hermione nodded, a flash of fear sliding down her spine. "Yes sir," she said again, watching as Janus nodded once before subsiding into Professor Snape once again. "Thank you."

***

Hermione's quiet no was a surprise to everyone in the dorms, Neville reflected. The moments after she said that she had a date, it had almost felt as though time had slowed, her word shaking through the ground until everyone had known. Neville had nodded, offering her a smile, brushing past Ron, whose face was growing redder with every moment that she didn't say she was joking.

He stumbled through the doorway, brushing past Fred and George, ignoring whatever it was they were saying. He walked through Hogwarts, letting the shadows creep over his shoulder as the darkness grew. He left the well-traveled paths, wandering down the stairs, heading for the dungeons. He walked until he was lost, turning corner after corner until he was dizzy, sliding down the wall to sit, the gentle Lumos from his wand the only source of light.

He flicked his wand, extinguishing his light and letting the absolute darkness seep into his bones. He closed his eyes, revisiting the flicker of sadness through her eyes as she said no. He replayed the memory over and over until he felt nothing, blinking open his eyes.

He blinked again, rubbing his eyes to check to see if he was seeing what he thought he was. In the stone before him, a tiny speck of something was glowing. He stood, uncaring of the dig of the rough stone wall into his hands. He reached out, gently prodding the glow, before glancing around, and taking another two spots in opposite directions.

He picked a direction and walked to the spot, peering further down the hallway to see if he could find another. He could, so he moved forward, shuffling awkwardly forward with his hands out, praying he didn't run into anything too hard. He followed the spots, noticing that they grew brighter as he did, before eventually reaching the last one.

The last glowing spot was roughly the size of his fist and as he peered closer, he realized it was in the shape of a door handle. He extended his hand, gripping his wand tight in his other. His palm covered the majority of the glow, which felt vaguely warm to him.

He turned the handle, stepping through into the wide room. The glowing lights were everywhere in it, illuminating the area so he could see without any needed help from his wand. He walked further into the room, his mouth dropping open in amazement as he took in the depth of the room. Behind him, the door swung shut, it's heavy thud heralding change.

He wandered down the rows, taking in the raised beds and the strange plants growing from the walls. He cocked his head, hearing a rush of water. He smiled, a feeling of satisfaction settling into his shoulders as he spun once more, taking in the whole room.

It was perfect.

***

She frowned, taking in the set of his shoulders as he turned away from her. Her lack of desire to go after him only further cemented what he had been whispering in her ear as they stood in the shadowed alcove. Victor was simply not for her.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping as she considered her options. She could leave, go back to her dorm, have the peace and quiet that it would afford her before the rush of her roommates came back. She could stay and be visibly alone, and deal with the various rudeness that she would get from her peers. She sighed again, her exhale shaky with tears.

She turned, brushing under her eyes once, careful to avoid the mascara and eyeliner as she stepped out into public view once more. No one was around, something she was grateful for, as she took another deep breath.

"Granger," a boy said, appearing at her elbow. "What's the matter now?"

She glanced up, taking in the pale hair and fair skin before dropping her gaze once more. "Victor decided he was better off without me," she said after a moment of consideration. After all, it wasn't like Malfoy wouldn't know the story anyways in the morning.

Malfoy frowned, awkwardly placing a hand on her chin to raise her eyes back up to his. "I didn't take you for someone who would be swept into Tyr's games."

Hermione flinched back, pulling from his grasp. "I didn't realize he was Tyr and not Victor tonight," she said bitterly, glaring at him. "I just thought that he was being Victor."

"He is," Malfoy said, staring at her. "Victor is Tyr and Tyr is Victor. They're the same person." He reached out again, his hand dropping at her twitch away from him. He sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair. "Did no one explain to you-"

"They did," she said, cutting him off and glaring at him. "And I know that even though I'm a mudblood, I can still keep up."

Malfoy sighed again, frowning. "I don't think they did, Grang- Hermione," he said, avoiding her stare at her name. "And don't call yourself that," he muttered, turning from her to head back into the Great Hall. "Happy Yule," he called over his shoulder as he pushed through the doors, the warmth and light spilling out into the corridor she was standing in.

She shivered, frowning at his words. The silence behind Malfoy's exit was too much and she turned, hiking up her dress and beginning the lonely trek up the stairs to the tower.

***

"…I don't understand, Albus. You tell me it's too much for me to come back. You say that it's dangerous. And yet, when I tried to leave this morning, simply to stretch my legs on Earth, I'm unable to leave at all? Not only does that cross so many lines it isn't even funny, but you've gone to the length to restrict me from my duty. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

   - Sirius Black's Letter to Albus Dumbledore

Sirius's eighth letter to Albus in the past week. It sits unread underneath three others in Albus's study.

Third Page, Final Paragraph.

"…Hogwarts is rumored to be directly descended from the Parthenon, as in it is directly taken from the Mount and was put on Earth as a way to connect to the Gods at all times. Who wouldn't get a kick out of that? Now, readers, I know what you're thinking, how is that possible? And I do not know how it is, but I do know that under the guidance of Headmaster Dumbledore, also known as Parthenon Leader Zeus, that there is nothing the Gods can't do…"

   - Questions for the Gods, Answers for the People by Rita Skeeter

The 1982 article sits among the stacks of other newspapers in the Hogwarts Library, in the News Archive Section in the Eastern shelving unit.

"…Poseidon, Ares, Athena, and Hestia have not been seen since the founding of Hogwarts, leaving many feeling as though something was going wrong. Zeus has been seen every century since, often unchanging and instead simply taking on a new name as he wished. When Hogwarts was founded, Zeus was known to the common folks as Merlin, a title which is often distant from his current name of Albus Dumbledore today…"

   - Where Have They Gone? by Valentina Slughorn

Hidden in Hermione Granger's trunk, under three interlocking wards covered by a blood ward. It is one of the last copies within the British Isles.

Chapter 11, Page 256, Second Paragraph.

***

Neville hummed to himself as he left his cavernous room. It had been months since he had first found it and in that time, he had put so much effort into the room that it was almost unrecognizable from when he had first stumbled in. He no longer brought out his wand to find the room, wandering around until he found the glows. He had finally nailed the turns, memorizing the path to the room. He smiled to himself. He probably could do it blindfolded, and that was a nice surprise.

He paused, hearing a strange noise up ahead. He slid into the closest alcove to him, his fingers tight on his wand as he balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to spring out at a moment's notice. He peeked around the corner, blinking at the lights emanating unexpectedly from someone's wand. He pulled back, moving deeper into the shadows and casting a small notice-me-not charm across himself.

"Are you sure he went this way?" a voice hissed lowly. "I don't want to be down here all night."

"I'm positive," Malfoy responded. Neville flinched further back, his back scraping against the stone. Why was Malfoy looking for him? He gripped his wand even tighter, the wood pinching the skin of his palm. Malfoy sighed, coming around the corner. "He can't be coming down here like this." Behind him, Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass stood, their wands equally bright, but lowered.

"We know," Greengrass said, frowning. She huffed, exchanging a look with Nott before turning back to Malfoy. "How far down do you think he went?"

Neville thought for a moment, his face twisting before he slipped from the shadows, stepping directly in front of Malfoy. Malfoy jumped back, a shout cut off as he clenched his jaw. Nott flinched, bringing his hand up and Greengrass flicked her wand, casting a stunner that Neville neatly dodged.

"Good god, man," Malfoy said, his face whiter than usual with fear. "What would possess you to do that?"

Neville shrugged, leveling him with a look. "What would possess you to follow me here?"

***

Fred knelt on the cold stones, ignoring the aches in his knees as he slid the last piece into place. The runes spiraling around him flared, glowing intently. George tilted his head from where he stood, studying the dizzying array.

"I think you were right," he said. "The runes wouldn't look like this if we weren't-" He cut himself off. "If you weren't one of them."

Fred rolled his eyes, rocking backward to his heels, the sudden rise of his body snapping himself from the runic sequence. The glow disappeared, the room muting in color. "It's going to be the two of us," he said confidently. "Otherwise, I'll have to do something drastic."

George sighed, nudging him out of the way as he took his place in the center. He paused, steeling himself for disappointment before slowly lowering himself to the floor. The glow began again immediately, lighting up the room just as brightly as they did for Fred. George swallowed a laugh, glancing up at Fred whose eyes were shining with glee. "Well that's that, then," he said softly, reaching out and touching a rune.

"Uh-huh," Fred said, scrunching his nose. "Now all we have to do is figure out who we are." He smirked at George. "I think I know who we can ask to help us."

"Oh," George said, a sly grin sliding onto his face. "I bet she would be delighted." He stood, brushing his knees and striding to the door. "Let's go find her now." He swung the door open, hearing Fred follow him through. "Oh Miss Granger," he called, as he walked through the doorway into the common room. He caught sight of her sitting by the window, Neville at her side. He smirked, winding his way over to her through the usual ruckus. "Would you be so kind-"

"No," Hermione said, not looking up from her book. Neville stifled a smirk, hiding his face in his book.

"You haven't even heard the offer love," Fred said, sitting on the armrest beside her. He tugged a curl, taking care not to pull too hard, chuckling when she swatted at him without glancing. "I think you might like this one."

"The last offer you made me involved me letting you charm me for twelve hours and when I said no, you did it anyway."

"But," George said, dragging out his word. "The charm lasted for only one." He smiled at her, prodding Neville over until he was able to slip in next to her. She glared at him. He lifted his hands in supplication, a pleading look on his face. "No charms this time?"

She narrowed her eyes. "No charms?"

"No spells even," Fred answered. "Just a little research." Her expression didn't change. He huffed, "On my honor." She arched a brow, looking between the two of them before glancing over at Neville who shrugged.

She sighed, rolling her eyes and snapping her book shut. "Fine." She ignored them high-fiving over her. "What do you want me to look up?" George leaned over, whispering their discovery into her ear. She nodded once, surprised. "I'll get on that tonight."

"Thanks, love," George said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her cheek, Fred mirroring him. She blushed and rolled her eyes again, punching him on the shoulder. George cackled, getting up from the couch, waving goodbye to them as he tugged Fred away.

Hermione sighed, her face content even as her blush remained bright on her skin. "So it's like that, isn't it?" Neville teased, smiling at her. He held his hands up as she threatened to punch him too. "Just a joke! Just a joke!"

***

"He said what?" She frowned, staring at him. "And we should believe him why?"

He stared at her, blinking. "Did you not hear a single thing I've said?"

She waved her hands at him. "No, I did. I'm just finding it hard to believe." She sighed. "Let me go over it one more time, just to make sure I have it down. Mrs. Malfoy is Hera, and so Malfoy has known about a lot of this stuff before he was supposed to. Mrs. - Hera, has felt something shifting and told Malfoy to look out for unusual things. He has been and noticed that you've been slipping off and followed you to warn you because - not only is Hera worried but she thinks that Zeus is building up to potentially destroy new Gods?" At the end of her spiel, Hermione was panting, her curls bouncing with every vigorous nod.

Neville nodded, fighting the urge to reach out and pull a curl. "And," he said, his face twisting in a frown. "He thinks I might be one." He paused, before adding. "And you."

"And- Hades?" Hermione said, shifting in her seat. Neville nodded his head. Hermione huffed a laugh, Neville smiling at her. "Well, that's… something."

He grinned. "It is, isn't it?" Hermione rolled her eyes. He gave in to his urge, tugging a curl. "You're taking this awfully well."

"It's bullshit," Hermione said, staring at him. She arched a brow at his look. "There's no way," she held up a hand at him, pausing what he was going to say. "There's no way that's true." She laughed, her voice uncertain in ways she didn't let herself think about. "You- you being an awoken, I can understand, no really," she said, her voice earnest in a way Neville didn't expect. "You're good and kind and you're so smart." She breathed for a moment before continuing. "You could be any of the remaining Gods or Goddesses and it makes sense. Me?" she asked. "Me? You want me to believe that I'm reincarnated, that I'm waiting to be 'awoken' in a few years?" She shook her head. "That's not- I'm not… just no."

"I think you're wrong," Neville said, watching her so intently she had to look away. "I think that Malfoy is wrong about parts too, but," he swallowed. "You're wrong too." He tugged another of her curls, grabbing her hand when she tried to brush him off. "There's something more to us," he said, peering at her. "You can't say we haven't always been drawn to each other, or at least interested in each other in ways that were more than we expected."

She sighed, brushing her other hand over his cheek, "I'll admit to the fascination," she said, blushing lightly. "I don't think you're right about the other stuff."

Neville smiled, tightening his grasp on her hand. "All I needed was one concession."

***

She paused, staring at the greenhouse. The glass room was familiar to her, as beloved as the library. She had taken to following Neville in, working on her homework as he puttered around. By now, the smell of growth and soil was as soothing to her as the scent of inks and parchment. She tilted her head, absentmindedly thinking over the past few months.

She couldn't remember the last time she hadn't sought Neville out. She blinked, stunned at the sudden revelation that she was closer with Neville than Ron and Harry. That wasn't to say that she didn't see them just as often as she had before Neville had really come into her life, but that she would go to him instead of the library when she could which was increasing at the stress of OWLs rose.

It also helped that he was willing to know her. He would listen, really and truly, willing to be all ears for her, just as she was willing for him. With Neville, it was easy, from the flow of conversation to the silence. She felt no pressure, no need to morph herself into something else. She could simply be, accepted and known, completely at ease.

"Are you coming?" Neville said, bumping the door open with his hip and offering her a smile. "I've been waiting for you."

Hermione smiled at him, joy blooming across her face in the way that only he could bring. He smiled back, running a hand through his hair and offering her his other. She skipped forward, gripping his hand tightly. "Of course," she said. "Wouldn't miss seeing you for the world."

***

"There is an issue," Headmaster Dumbledore said, watching the crowd of children in front of him intently. His voice had muted the entire room but the sobriety of his words silenced all of them. He sighed, offering them a small smile. "I know that those in the government wish for me to be cautious with my words, to hold them back in hopes that there will be no spilling of blood, no fight." He paused for a moment, his eyes steady on them. "That is not how this world works," he said. "And even as a God, I know better than that. War will always find its way in, even when Ares is not leading the charge."

"There is another God who seeks to challenge the current positions we hold." He said, making eye contact with various students throughout the crowd. "Tom Riddle, or as we Gods know him, Nike, has been raising issues within our community for many decades but only recently has he gained enough followers to actually pose a problem."  He paused again, letting the tension build. "The Parthenon and I believe that he is going out of his way to seek Hades."

The name of the longest missing Council God sent whispers spiraling through the crowd. He waited a moment before clearing his throat to continue. "Hades is thought to currently be walking among you." At that news, the students erupted into noise, people throwing accusations and pointing fingers. Hades had been missing for so long that the thought of his incarnation walking the halls had people up in arms. No one knew why or how he had gone missing, and everyone wanted to.

Headmaster Dumbledore cleared his throat again, silencing them once more. "As you know," he said, staring down at the Gryffindor table. "Hades is often, though not always, accompanied by his bride, Persephone." He made eye contact with Hermione, a prickle creeping down her spine at his look. "And we at the Parthenon are looking forward to welcoming them home." He dragged his eyes away from her, offering a smile at the crowd. "If you think you know which students are them, please, come forward."

He leaned across the table, his voice darkening as his power of Zeus shined through. "And, if you or anyone you know, have heard of the power this Tom Riddle is attempting to gather, come to me immediately." He smiled, the twinkle in his eyes absent. "I would be most delighted in what you had to say."

***

"…Lord and Lady Potter perished last night in an unfortunate freak accident, leaving their seat on Wizengamot able to be accessed by Lord Zeus, as per usual. Today our hearts are with the remaining Lord Potter, a child of one, who Lord Zeus has assured us has been placed in the appropriate care of family…"

   - Radio Transcript from November 1st, 1981

Stored neatly in the Wizarding Network Radio storage shed in Diagon Alley. Obituary Section, Second Page, Third Entry

"You have gone too far, Zeus. This has become a point of issue for all of us. You know that I was chosen to send this letter because there was the hope that I could appeal to your brotherly nature. However, they do not know what I know, which is that even when we were young Gods, you were paranoid and selfish, filled to the brim with ideas of power…"

   - Poseidon's Seventh Draft Letter to Zeus

It sits in Rowena's private office, full of scribbles and cross-outs, the paper is torn as though the writer had been furious. It and all of the others will never be sent. First Page, Initial Paragraph.

"…keep your eye on them, darling. Even though I am not with Zeus in this life, and I haven't been for centuries, I know what he is like, jealous and fickle, unrelenting in his quest for more. If Mr. Longbottom and Miss Granger are who I suspect they are, then Zeus has known for years. Make no mistake, he will kill them, just as he has in every incarnation since…"

   - Narcissa Malfoy's Letter To Draco Malfoy

It burns in a fireplace. Draco sits, waiting for the letter to become ash, which he will then scoop up and take with him, sprinkling a little bit across every place he visits this year until there is no hope of it being reformed. This is the 16th time he has done this, this year. Third Page, Second Paragraph.

***

"I'm afraid," Hermione whispered, sitting next to Neville in the slowly darkening greenhouse. Professor Sprout had come through, gently closing off the glass windows until the only one that remained was the one in front of them. She hadn't come over to close it or told them to head back to their dorm, instead, she had offered them a small sad smile and left, the vines of plants attempting to cling to her. "You'd think there would be more than this," she continued. "That in the world of Gods and Goddesses that more would be figured out. That more would be known."

He shifted beside her, pulling her closer to him so he could whisper into her hair. "Maybe more is known." She stilled, resting her cheek against his collarbone. He continued, lowering his voice even more. "I think there may have been a sweep of information."

She hummed lightly, thinking over his words in her mind. "I just wish we could have faith in everything," she said. They fell quiet again, content to stay tucked in close together. The sunset passed, darkness falling across them as they watched the sky. Hermione ran her eyes over the stars, mulling over the gaps in her knowledge, the sudden changes in Malfoy's relationship with her and Neville, the fact that Fred and George were set to turn 17 and their badly kept secret of awakening.

"Hermione?" Neville said, breaking the silence in the softest way possible, his voice a mere hint against her skin. She tilted her head back, looking up at him. He blushed, flicking his eyes at her, before looking back out the window. "I just-" he paused, starting again. "I really like you," he whispered. He looked down, watching red bloom across her face. "Would you-" he swallowed hard. "Could we- maybe- labels?"

She smiled at him, reaching out to touch his face. "I've been waiting for you to ask forever," she said, her hands cool on his burning face. He smiled back, before reaching out and twining their hands together. She pulled back, tilting her head up, Neville dropping his down.

Hermione shuddered at the touch of his lips on hers. She had kissed others before, Victor once, Ron, Harry, Lavender, random others on dares in the common room. Nothing felt like kissing Neville, that there was something more, something delicate that felt like coming home. She smiled into the soft kiss, feeling him smile in return.

He pulled back, snapping open his eyes to see her. She reached up, touching her smiling mouth before opening her eyes. Neville swallowed hard that the glint of other that slid through them, his heart pounding at the knowledge that it was true, what Malfoy had told him, that she was more. He knew she would never believe him, so he kept quiet, vowing to tell her as soon as she would be receptive to it.

"Oh," Hermione said, glancing around her. "Oh, that's different." Neville looked around them, taking in the sudden blooming of flowers in shock. Every plant that had a flower had one, their petals open and unfurled, the scent of pollen suddenly heavy in the greenhouse. Neville reached out, rubbing a hand over the flowers, shivering at contact. When he glanced over at Hermione, he was surprised to see how pleased she looks.

At his glance, she shrugged. "I'm just glad - I'm yours and you're mine," she said, a sly look in her eyes. "You're quite a catch." Neville sputtered, his face going vibrantly red as Hermione began to laugh. He sighed, rolling his eyes but his annoyance softened as she settled back into him, the two sliding together as though they were made for each other.

***

"I am concerned," Minerva said, frowning at Filius, Severus, and Pomona. "If he gets worse than this, the Parthenon will fall."

Pomona nodded in agreement, her cup of tea set aside as she busied her hands with the growth of the ivy on the walls of the staff room. "I am concerned for you," she said, expectantly looking at Minerva. "Magic has felt strange recently, are you sure that you are doing well Hecate?"

Minerva shuddered at her name, rolling her eyes. "I am, Dionysus," she said pointedly, ignoring the scowl of displeasure on Pomona's face at her older name. She shook her head, getting back to the issue at hand. "My concern is that he will do something drastic and the Parthenon will fall and we will fall with it."

Filius hummed, sitting in front of the fire, his hands fiddling with his wand. "He has done something drastic, and we all are aware." He looked at Severus, watching the younger man. "We have all made choices."

Severus huffed. "Say what you will, then."

"I mean that we are aware that he has sought out Hades and Persephone each incarnation," he said. "Is there nothing you can do?"

"Of course there is nothing I can do," Severus said, his voice sharp. "You think I have not stood before him asking time and time again to try to choose another option?" He shook his head. "He does as he wants, and damned the consequences." He smirked at Filius. "I thought you would've remembered that, as he stood next to Hera as she threw you from the Mount."

Filius glared. "You forget yourself too much Janus."

"Enough," Minerva snapped, exchanging a look with Pomona. "I do not have time for this, and unless you two forget - you do not either. He will be returning soon and this must be over and done with." The two men inclined their heads, their apologies unspoken. She scoffed. "Now, back to the issue, we all think that Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom are the two?"

"Yes," Pomona said, inspecting the vine to make sure it was to her standard before grabbing her tea and sitting down. "It's almost obvious in hindsight."

Severus shrugged. "We warned her fourth year." He glanced around the room, taking in the looks of surprise. He rolled his eyes. "I am not so much a complete bastard that the thoughts of one of my students being murdered in my care does not sit well with me."

"Right," Minerva said, a shadow passing through her eyes at the thought. "Nonetheless, we must shield them as best we can." She shuddered again. "I would not see them murdered on the eve of the awakening like last time."

***

He stood, pacing the halls of the Malfoy Manor, its sleek design of no thought to him as he wore down the centuries-old carpet. "Sir?" Bellatrix Lestrange said, cocking her head at him. "Severus has reported that it is almost completely confirmed that the two we suspected are Hades and Persephone."

Tom Riddle spun, smiling at her. "Well, that is excellent news." He walked past her, heading into the office which held Narcissa and Regulus Black. He set himself on the edge of Narcissa's desk, positioning his body so he could see the entire room before asking, "Any other news?"

Narcissa tilted her head, her eternal crown winking in and out of sight as she thought, watching at Bellatrix slid into a seat in front of her. "Well," she said, "Draco says that the twins, whom we have suspected for as long as we've known about them, are set to awake within this week." Narcissa smiled, her face bright and lovely, so much so that the others had to restrain themselves from beaming back at her as well.  "I am hopeful that they will see sense and not be quite so swept up in the usual Weasley support of Zeus."

"That is good news," Tom said, well aware of the fact that Narcissa didn't make such predictions lightly. He turned to Regulus. "Any news from you?"

Regulus nodded, a pained grimace slipping over his face. "Sirius has reached out." He pulled a note from his pocket, smoothing out the wrinkles. "He has been constrained to the Parthenon much like the others."

Tom frowned. "I had hoped that he would have been overlooked."

"No," Regulus said, sighing. "He was friends with James Potter."

"And that's still an unknown piece, right?" Bellatrix asked, her gaze darting from Narcissa to Tom. "Their deaths were sudden and so strange," she said, her brow furrowing in thought. "And then Sirius and Remus were recalled back to the Parthenon and Harry was whisked away."

Tom nodded, tapping his fingers on the wooden desk in front of him. He looked back at Narcissa. "Are the others at Hogwarts receptive to us?"

She nodded, taking a sip of her tea, the gentle clink of china the only sound in the quiet study. "Minerva, Filius, and Pomona would all work with us if they thought they could. Severus said that Minerva has been consistently confounded over the past few years, and the other two are wary of Zeus too, but also that we cannot expect them to assert themselves against him when he is so powerful in his castle."

"That's… understandable," Tom said. "Unfortunate, but understandable." The room fell silent, each contemplating their own thoughts.

"Why is Harry Potter so important?" Bellatrix exclaimed suddenly. "I have been running it over in my head, and Zeus has sought to isolate him from other Gods time and time again. Did he somehow manifest when he was a child and Zeus had to take him out? But why not kill him?" She got up from her seat, beginning to pace. "Which God would Zeus want on his side, to the point that he would not destroy him?"

Regulus shifted, frowning in thought. "If you weren't alive," he said, nodding at Tom. "I would've guessed Nike."

Tom blinked, his eyes widening in realization. "Zeus would love for nothing more than for me to fall on my sword, wouldn't he?"

"Oh no," Narcissa breathed, her thoughts following Tom's exactly. "You think that Harry Potter is Nemesis, don't you?"

Tom smiled a small weary smile. "If Zeus can fashion Nemesis into a weapon against me…" he trailed off, locking eyes with Narcissa. "If we fall, and Hades is unable to awake…"

"The powers will eventually go to Zeus," Bellatrix said, staring at them. "And the Parthenon will fall. For good."

***

The gasps woke George first, the heavy pants emanating from Fred's bed. He frowned, rolling over in the darkness, grabbing his wand and waving it, casting the date in low glow above his bed.

"Shit," he hissed, beginning to pull himself up as the 01.04 began to fade. He sat up, pushing his covers off, before slumping over as heat began traveling through his body. He clenched his teeth, his knowledge expanding, information suddenly slotting in. Across the room, Fred screamed, the sharp noise suddenly cut off as Lee swore, flicking his wand and illuminating their dorm.

"Fuck," Lee muttered, sliding from his bed. He strode over to Fred, asking him questions that he couldn't answer as he lost himself in the awakening. George attempted to stand, getting his legs under him before losing control and falling. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for impact, but instead of pain, he saw a flash of color from behind his eyelids and he knew no more.

***

"They're going to be okay, right, Professor?" she asked, suddenly nervous at the thought of what Professor McGonagall would say. She had never disliked the twins, in fact, she had always thought that they were brilliant, but she hadn't known how deep her affection for them went. It had only been when she had woken up to the utter madness that was the common room and heard what had happened, that she had suddenly realized how worried she was.

Professor McGonagall nodded, her face worn. "Awakenings are always different for each God, Miss Granger," she said, offering her a biscuit from her tray in her office. "Messrs. Weasley had a hard awakening because of who they are." Hermione nodded, her face attentive. "They are two sides of the same coin, but that coin is one for strife and pain." She sighed at the look of curiosity on her face. "They will tell you who they are when they awake, I am sure," Professor McGonagall said, well aware that Hermione would be able to find out who they were from that sentence alone. "And please, remember that because they are newly awoken they are sensitive to those also reincarnated."

"They are?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing. "I didn't realize that those recently awoken could tell that."

"It is typically kept quiet," Professor McGonagall admitted. "That way they are not overwhelmed." She sent a stern look over the rim of her glasses. "I trust you will keep that quiet between you and Mr. Longbottom."

Hermione flushed, dropping her gaze to her hands. "Yes, Ma'am."

Professor McGonagall hummed, her gaze steady. "Miss Granger, have you ever considered that you may be one of the Awoken?" She kept herself still and quiet as Hermione's head snapped up. When she gaped but didn't say anything, she continued. "I only ask because there have been some strange instances around you."

"Around Neville and I, you mean," Hermione muttered, her face going pale as she realized what she had said. "No disrespect of course," she said, stumbling over her words in the face of Professor McGonagall's arched brow. "I have thought about it," she acknowledged. "I know that Malfoy thinks that we are Hades and Persephone and that I am Spring reborn, here to soften the darkness."

"And you disagree?"

Hermione stared, her face flat and deadly. "I don't think I'm one to soften the darkness, Professor."

Professor McGonagall nodded her head. "So you think that you-"

She shook her head. "I don't know what to think." She sighed, clenching her fists before relaxing. "I think that anything is possible at this point." She shook her head again as if to clear it. "I think there is something wrong though," she said, her voice sharp and her glance pointed. "And I think you know it too."

***

"…All the Gods are powerful, each with their own domain and their own set of powers. However, it is the three original brothers, Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon who hold the biggest sway over the others. Many forget, however, that the power began with none of them, instead, burgeoning with Hestia, the original Goddess of the stomach…"

   - Power Dynamics in Gods by Bathilda Bagshot

Albus Dumbledore's private annotated copy, stored among countless other books at the private Dumbledore cottage. It has been recently moved. Chapter 7, Page 94, Third Paragraph.

"…There is a mystery surrounding the disappearance of all the Gods but none has been more intriguing than the sudden vanishing of Hades. Reincarnation is a piece of the godly powers bestowed upon them, but since Hades has gone, those who attempted to find a new vessel have been unable to. Those who left before him were able to come back, though in some cases it had taken centuries, and others still have yet to appear…"

   - Where Have They Gone? by Valentina Slughorn

Hermione Granger's copy. It is currently bookmarked and stored in Neville Longbottom's trunk. Chapter 18, Page 497, First Paragraph.

"…I'm worried, Albus. They haven't reached out or spoken to me since their awakening. I know that it is typical for a withdrawal to occur but they haven't even told me. I had to find out from Ron. I would just simply feel so much better if you were to check up on them for me, especially as there is the potential for them to fall into Tom's grasp. Oh! It's the burden of motherhood to worry, but I never expected to worry for any of the Gods."

   - Molly Weasley's Letter to Albus Dumbledore

It is opened, resting against a stack of books on the Headmaster's desk. Every once in a while, it is picked up and the last paragraph is reread. Final Page, Final Paragraph.

***

She hissed under her breath, pulling her head back from where it was resting against the couch. She blinked, rubbing her eyes to double-check that she wasn't hallucinating what she thought she was. Neville leaned over her, pressing his face to the glass window behind them. "Is that…?"

"Harry and Ron running off to do something incredibly stupid?" Hermione said grimly, pulling herself up and offering her hand to him. "Looks like it." She rolled her eyes, yanking him off the couch and turning, piling her hair on top of her head as she grabbed her wand. She turned back to him, smiling. "Ready to go kick some ass?"

Neville grinned back at her. "Always." They left the common room, ignoring the glances they got from the others. They strode through the halls, making their way out the front door. As their feet hit the grass he frowned, looking over at her. "What are they even doing?"

She shrugged before sighing and stealing a guilty look at him. "They may be convinced that Malfoy is going to be meeting up with Riddle tonight." At his look, she scrunched up her face. "I didn't think they would fucking leave the grounds," she said, picking up her pace as Harry and Ron's voices began to reach them. "I thought that they'd just use the map." She passed through the first few trees leading into the forest, skidding to a stop. "Where the hell are you two going?"

Ron jumped, whirling around, "Blimey, 'Mione, where the fuck did you come from?" He narrowed his eyes at Neville who came to a stop beside her. "What're you two doing here?"

"She's here to stop you," Luna answered, wandering over from where she had been hidden behind a tree. Hermione arched an eyebrow at her, flicking her eyes to the Ginny who had also appeared from the same tree. Luna waved to Neville, smiling when he waved back. "Isn't that right, Hermione?"

"Yes?" she said, glaring at Harry when he opened his mouth. "Where the hell are you even going?"

"Are you going to let me answer or are you going to bite my head off when I open my mouth?" Harry muttered back, a scowl on his face. She said nothing, tapping her foot and crossing her arms instead. He huffed, "we heard him talking about meeting Riddle in the Parthenon entry tonight." Harry shrugged. "If we go and catch him, we've solved the issue, right?"

"What issue?" Hermione said slowly, Neville steady at her back. "Riddle's not letting other Gods leave the Parthenon," Ron said, his face wane. "Dumbledore told us." When Hermione just stared at him, he shifted awkwardly on his feet. "If we stop him, Harry can see Sirius and Remus again."

"Are you sure?" Neville said, his voice low but carrying. "How do you even know that Malfoy isn't here?"

"Oh," Luna said. "He isn't."

"Luna's right," Harry said. "Also, he's not on the map."

"Nothing I say will convince you to do this another way will it?" Hermione asked.

"No," Ginny answered, speaking for the first time. She and Luna traded looks, something heavy in their gaze. "So I guess you're just going to have to come with us."

***

"What do you mean they're gone?" Professor McGonagall said, staring at Dean. He paled, his eyes wide, shrugging helplessly at her. She breathed in, holding it for a moment before nodding once. "Okay-"

"Professor, Fred and George are gone!" Lee said, barreling into the room with no regard for the meeting she was in. "I can't find them anywhere."

"Mr. Jordan!" Professor McGonagall snapped before his words registered. She pressed her hand to her head, pausing before rising from behind her desk. "Come," she said, ushering them from her room. She asked questions as they walked, heading towards Professor Snape's quarters, getting back nothing concrete from the two boys. She sighed, knocking on the door, hoping that he would be in.

The door cracked, Professor Snape's eyes widening minutely when he was the trio outside his door. "Minerva, Mr. Lee, Mr. Thomas," he said, opening the door and inviting them in. "What can I help you with?"

"Severus, I have been told that Gryffindor is missing students who have supposedly gone to confront Mr. Malfoy at the Ministry." His eyes flickered, the only part of him that changed, causing her to raise both her eyebrows. "I see," she said slowly to the confusion of Dean and Lee. "Well, if this is what I have been told, I must go to Albus." She nodded once to him, before turning to the other two. "Come, you two, I'm bringing you back to the dormitory where you will stay for the rest of the night."

The door shut behind her, cutting off the student's responses. Severus sighed, steeling himself for the dramatic and awful fight that was about to happen. He gathered himself, flooing into Malfoy Manor, where the others waited. He arrived with little fanfare, though the group quieted when they realized he had arrived. He walked through, heading straight for the study where Draco, Narcissa, and Tom were. He knocked, entering as soon as he was bid to. "Nike," he said, inclining his head. "I have bad news and good news. Bad news, Albus will soon be alerted. Good news, the others have been set up and are on their way to the Parthenon entry."

Tom grimaced, "I suppose we must make do." He glanced at Draco. "I insist you return to Hogwarts with Severus," he said. "Tie up loose ends where you can."

Draco nodded, brushing a kiss over Narcissa's cheek. "I'll find Father and let him know," he said, nodding once to Severus. "I'll see you in your office, sir."

He left, the tension in the study ratcheting up. Narcissa studied Tom, a small frown on her face. "Are you certain this is the best path? Won't Zeus' appearance make everything too difficult?"

"No," Tom said, rolling back his shoulders. "The best path to victory is never easy."

***

"This is the entry to the Parthenon?" Hermione said, surprise coating her words. "I expected something more." The room the six of them were arranged in was small, with pale grey stones. There was a runic array full of ancient runes burnt into the floor. She tilted her head, studying them. Every time she thought she understood one, the meaning slipped away as soon as she moved to the next.

"Yeah," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "What, none of your books have pictures?"

Hermione huffed but didn't deign to answer, instead exchanging a look with Neville. Luna and Ginny skirted the edge of the runes, Luna dropping down every so often to trace one. At the front of the room, Ron stood with Harry, both tense, gripping their wands.

They all tensed as the sounds of footsteps reached their ears, Luna rising from her crouch and walking over to stand beside Hermione, Ginny following. She swallowed, gripping her wand so tightly the etched vine leaves pinched her skin.

"Fred?" Ron said, staring at the figures who were striding down the hallway towards them. "George?" He frowned at them. "I don't think you're supposed to be here."

Fred snorted, sliding past him, ignoring the wands trained on him. "I'm fairly certain that out of everyone, you six aren't supposed to be here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry said, lowering his wand. "You two aren't-" He cut himself off, his face falling. "You're here to meet him."

"What?" Ron said, spluttering. "No, they wouldn't- right? Right?"

George sighed, glancing around at their group before shrugging. "We aren't here to meet you," he said. "In case that wasn't clear." He nodded to Neville, offering a smile to Ginny and Luna before raising an eyebrow at Hermione. "Wasn't expecting you to be here."

"Oh?" She said, raising an eyebrow. "What were you expecting?"

Fred smirked at her, "I think you know by now I can't tell you." She scrunched up her face, nodding.

"Okay, what the fuck is happening?" Ginny asked, frowning at the three of them. "What does she know that we don't?"

Hermione sighed, "I don't know anything that you all don't," she said. "I just know that they want plausible deniability, so they won't say anything that they can't deny."

"Quite right, Ms. Granger," a low voice came from the hallway. Harry and Ron whirled around, their wands at the ready, Ginny's swiftly following. Fred and George frowned, exchanging a look, while Neville jumped. Only Hermione and Luna looked completely unsurprised. "And look," the voice continued. "You were expecting this, weren't you?"

She sighed again. "Unfortunately yes Mr. Riddle." Tom slid from the shadows, flanked by Bellatrix and Regulus.

"Riddle," Harry hissed, his eyes narrowed. "You've gone too far this time."

"I have?" he said his tone mocking. "And just what have I done?"

"You've stopped the others from coming down!" Ron cried, his wand shaking in his grip. "And- And! You've corrupted my brothers," he said triumphantly.

"Oh, no," Bellatrix answered, her eyes glued to Hermione. "I'm afraid you're quite wrong on that one boys." Hermione met her gaze, only a slight head tilt giving away her unease. Bellatrix smirked, her face triumphant, the glint of other sliding through her eyes. "We were right."

"Right?" Harry said, his voice hard. "Right about what?"

"Nothing to concern yourself with," Tom answered, his lips curling into a predatory smile. He nodded once, Bellatrix and Regulus whirling into motion, the two of them casting at the runic array on the floor. The students flinched.

"I knew it!" Ron cried, casting a spell at them. "Harry they're trying to destroy it!" Luna and Ginny exchanged looks, backing up to move with more ease around the room to get a better angle. Neville and Hermione remaining where they were standing, wands lowered and stances tense.

Before the spell could hit, Fred grimaced, flicking his wand out and halting the spell. "Don't," he said as Ron turned appalled eyes on him. Ron spluttered. Fred continued, his voice deadly serious. "You don't know what you're interfering with."

"What are we interfering with?" Harry asked, swallowing hard, his eyes tracking the girl's movements towards Tom.

Behind him, Tom laughed, "You have no idea what you're even fighting for, do you?" Harry whirled, his face set in a mask of anger. Tom sighed, flicking his wand and stunning Luna and Ginny in quick succession. They slid to the ground, crumpling in place.

Ron let out a roar of anger, turning to Fred and George. "You're going to fight for a God who does that?" He said, his wand sparking. He twisted in place, casting towards Tom who stepped out of the way.

George's face fell at the sight, "I know this is a lot," he said, wincing at the look Ron shot him. "But you need to listen."

"I don't need to do anything," Ron cried, glaring at him. "Harry you need to help me take them down." He glanced over his shoulder, taking in Hermione and Neville who were standing to the side. "Figures," he snorted. "Brightest witch of her age - can't even do-" His voice cut out as he crumpled from the stunner Hermione sent towards him, her face murderous.

"Hermione," Harry yelled, staring at her as though he had never seen her before. "What the fuck?"

Hermione glared at him, panting, Neville reaching over to grip her hand. "You need to listen to him, Harry James Potter," she snapped, moving out of the way as Bellatrix spun past her, still casting spells in tandem with Regulus. "He's telling the truth."

"What truth?" Harry cried, his wand aimed at her but lowered. "All I know is that-"

"You know nothing but lies," Regulus said, cutting him off. He cast a final spell, the array glowing suddenly. The stones lit up, their vibrancy blinding as a faint hum pierced the air. For a moment every person fell quiet, the stones capturing all their attention. Harry shuffled forward, his face confused. The brightness grew until it blinded them all. Hermione flinched back, hiding her face behind Neville. When it finally receded, a figure was collapsed among the runes.

Regulus barely waited for the runes to stop before he was rushing forward, Bellatrix following, both of them kneeling and murmuring to the figure. The student's attention so drawn to the scene that they didn't hear the sounds of more people moving towards them.

"Oh Tom," Dumbledore said, entering the room, others following. Hermione shivered, sliding so she was more hidden before Neville than before. Harry frowned, his eyes going back and forth between her and Dumbledore. Dumbledore ignored the others, his focus entirely on Tom. "You have gone too far." He gestured around the room, his grip tight on his wand. Molly Weasley shrieked at the sight of Ginny and Ron collapsed, her glare landing on the twins who had clearly done nothing for them. Dumbledore tsked, the satisfaction of cornering him obvious on his face. "You've done - what? Poisoned bright minds against me? Brought them to a dangerous place, all to sate your need to be the ruler of the Gods?"

Tom raised his eyebrows. "I think you may be mistaken." He shook his head, frowning. "I did not invite any of these underage children here," he said. "I came here, as is my right, and found them here."  His eyes flicked to the side, watching as Regulus was able to prod the man into beginning to sit up. He snapped his eyes back to Dumbledores. "The stunners were an unfortunate side effect as they attempted to attack me."

"A likely story," Molly huffed out, her face set in a mask of anger. "We know what you want." She turned to the three children, her voice pleading. "He's lying to you all," she said. "He wants to use you to overthrow Albus!"

"That's - that's a lie," the figure said, coughing as he rose from the floor, an arm slung around Regulus' shoulders. He lifted his face, offering a pained smirk at the room. Molly stared at him, her face slack. He nodded at Tom, before glaring at Albus. "Now, then, Albus, are you finally going to answer my questions?"

Dumbledore blinked at him, "Sirius, I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"Sure you fucking don't," Sirius snapped, glaring harder. Beside him, Bellatrix slid to the side, her focus on Tom as she brushed past the trio, slipping a small note in Neville's pocket. She exchanged a look with the twins, the two of them slowly moving to flank the trio. Sirius coughed again, shaking his head. "I am not one to lie in the face of something like this and you know it." He slid his hand down, pulling out his wand.

"Sirius," Dumbledore said, looking pained. "Don't do this."

"Don't do what?" Sirius said, tilting his head. Dumbledore gestured around the room. Sirius shook his head again. "You brought this on yourself, Zeus."

"I was simply worried that you would be unable to see sense but I had hoped that with time you would understand," Dumbledore growled, his pleasant façade fading. "I see now that you too have been corrupted beyond measure." He spun his wand, the others behind him drawing theirs as well. "If we must fight, so be it."

***

Neville had never seen so many Gods fighting in one space, their power destructive and deadly. Fred and George had herded them back against the wall, conjuring a wall to hide behind as the adults attempted to destroy each other. They had accio'd Ron, Ginny, and Luna's unconscious bodies to keep them safe as well. He frowned up at them, taking in their steady positions and the grip on their wands.

"This was a part of the plan," he said, watching at they exchanged looks but ignored his words.

"What plan?" Harry said his face pale. "I'm confused about what happened in the last five minutes, and that's not even with me thinking about how we ended up here."

Hermione sighed, gripping her wand tighter. "It's… complicated to understand," she said. "But I think that I'm going to have to live at Malfoy Manor this summer, so I'll see if you can come too."

"What the fuck?" Harry said, staring at her. "Since when are you friends with Malfoy?"

"I'm not," she hissed, turning to glare at him. "But since I'm positive that Dumbledore wants to murder me, that's the safest place for me."

"What?" Harry laughed, his face growing more and more uncertain when she just looked at him. "That's not- that's not true, right Nev?"

Neville shrugged, looking pained. "Sorry, mate." The three of them flinched at the sudden screams that began, the shrill sounds taking the place of the continuous noises of stone breaking and taunting. They tried to rise before both Fred and George shoved their heads back down.

"Do not get up," George hissed, his grip tight enough that Harry's arm would be purple in the morning. "Dumbledore's gone and started attacking his own people."

Beside him, Fred froze. "Mum," he whispered, George, snapping up to turn around. The two exchanged a look, nodding before striding from where they were. Harry, Neville, and Hermione peeked up, watching as Dumbledore sent three spells towards the Weasley's one hitting Molly. The wall they were hiding behind disappearing as the twins fell.

Hermione sucked in a breath, "That wasn’t an accident." Bodies littered the room and she was uncertain if any were dead, her face pale. In front of them, Sirius and Tom stood, their wands pointing at Dumbledore.

"Give it up Zeus," Tom said his voice quiet.

Dumbledore smiled, shaking his head. "Oh Tom," he said, "What a mistake to make." He twisted, avoiding both spells that were cast at him, before spinning and casting one back. He smiled again, watching as the two of them dodged. "Did you really think that I wouldn't get what I needed tonight?" He said, casting another spell towards them. He paused, studying them before his voice hardened. "I always get what I want." He cast again, pulling back at the last moment to flick the spell at the corner of the room. The foundation shook, the room rattling, as he stepped forward and turned, whirling from the room.

"Is that it?" Neville said, frowning at the space. "It seems like-"

A scream cut him off. Turning to Hermione beside him, he froze, watching as she convulsed once, her hands flying to her throat, her wand falling from her fingers as she tipped backward, her face set in pain. She screamed again, her voice high and piercing before she collapsed, taking Harry down with her.

"Fuck," Tom hissed, his calm façade fading for the first time all evening. He strode over, grabbing her body, ignoring Harry and Neville's cries. "Take care of this," he snapped at Sirius before turning back to the two boys. "Which of you is her chosen?" He said, before shaking his head at the looks of confusion, "Nevermind, both of you, grab onto me." Neville moved first grasping his hand with Harry quickly following. The four of them whirled away, leaving Sirius alone in a room full of stunned bodies.

"Goddammit," Sirius said, frowning at the sight. He sighed, and began awakening those he could, starting with Regulus. At the sight of his brother, Regulus launched himself at Sirius, clinging to him as he hadn't since they were children. "It's okay Reggie," Sirius soothed. "We're going to fix this - I promise."

***

"You can't go in there," Tom said, pulling Harry back from his attempts to get into the room Tom had set Hermione in. Inside Narcissa was tending to her, attempting to cure her before she fell under the depth of the spell. Neville sat, his hands twined, his face in a mask of pain, at her bedside. Harry glared at him and Tom shook his head. "I'm sorry Harry," he said. "You can't."

"Why- not?" Harry panted, glaring even harder at him. He punched Tom on the shoulder, scowling when he didn't even flinch. "Fine," he snapped, slumping in his grip. "You're explaining all this to me then."

Tom nodded once, his tension fading as Harry stopped fighting. "We'll go to the study," he said, leading Harry down the stairs. Harry pulled his arm from his grip, fingering his wand as they walked through the manor, his gaze studying the corridors they passed through. "In here," Tom said, gesturing him through a doorway. Harry leveled him with a suspicious look before following him through. Tom pointed at an armchair, the door locking behind them. "Sit." Harry opened his mouth and he held up a hand. "I'll tell you everything you need to know. Just- a minute."

The two sat in silence for a moment, Harry dragging his gaze away from Tom to study the room. The office was opulent, with heavy velvet drapes, a sturdy oak desk, and plump armchairs. The fireplace smoldered, the main source of light coming in from the windows. Harry twisted in his seat, his eyes catching on a painting of the Parthenon. He tilted his head, studying the people moving among the open-air marketplace, their faces bright and happy.

"That's from 2,000 years ago," Tom said, following his gaze. He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "It was a much simpler time." He paused his eyes on Harry's. "What questions can I answer for you?"

"What happened back there?" Harry said, questions exploding from him. "Why does Hermione trust you? What were the twins doing? Was that Sirius Black? Why did Dumbledore curse Mrs. Weasley?" He panted, his face red from the force of his questioning.

"Those are all important questions," Tom said, his face serious. "I'll give you the best answers I can, but understand that some of these are speculation." He sighed, getting comfortable, gesturing for Harry to do the same. "Understand that this was not always how things were run. Before Hogwarts, before Zeus became too twisted, there was peace and understanding. We had moved on as Gods from the petty squabbles that had established our power structure in our youth. We had joined together, becoming more cohesive, more of a family."

"There were, of course, smaller issues that sprang up from time to time. But for the most part, things were good. Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, the others in charge, they were good." He sighed again, looking pensive. "We had established this issue of reincarnation though, that some Gods wanted to try to be mortal. They wanted to try - not remain mortal. So, there was a trial run, with a smaller minor Goddess attempting it."

"Hecate made it through the reincarnation, completely smoothly. She was able to grow under her parents, keeping relative magical power until she turned 17 and awoke. And once she was back on the Mount, she was full of stories. She had learned and grown in a way that we as Gods were unable to when we were stuck in our whole and complete form." He smiled, the soft look wistful. "It was such a revelation. We, as Gods, had a way to know more than what we held, we could experiment in ways we wanted too, free of the issues that came with our powers."

"So began the mass movement towards reincarnation. We had no idea what we were doing," he said. "We just thought it was a grand old time."

"What were you doing?" Harry questioned, concentration clear on his face.

"We were giving parts of our Godliness over to Zeus," Tom said. "It's hard to explain to those who aren't Gods, but essentially, it's as if every time we became someone new, in the 17 years before we came back, Zeus held our powers-"

"He didn't ever do it?" Harry asked. "Like not at all?"

"No," he said. "Zeus thought it was beneath him, that he didn't need to change, and as Gods began choosing mortal lives for themselves, he began to grow accustomed to the power. He realized what was happening and kept it to himself, seeking ways to make it a larger and larger power grab for him."

Harry shook his head. "I'm confused - did he have the other Gods' powers?"

"Not exactly," Tom answered. "More like he got boosts to his own. He was able to be more powerful, do more on his own without relying on anyone else. It got to a point though, where he was searching for a large boost. And then he realized that the bigger the Godly power, the bigger the boost. So he began a campaign to convince the Council Gods to try it."

"Poseidon, Athena, Ares, Hestia - they had all gone and become the Founders as you know them. So since it had been so close, Zeus gave up on them, instead focusing his attention on the others - Demeter, Aphrodite, Dionysus, Hermes, Hades, Persephone, Hephaestus, Hera, Apollo, Artemis. He only had minimal success, with a few choosing to go at a time, but there was a limited boost to his powers."

"How do you know all this?" Harry interrupted, his eyes narrowed. "You seem to have this pretty well known."

"A lot of it came from Hera," Tom admitted. "She has access to his every room until she became who she is today and awoke to find all of Zeus' plans in motion. He offered to let her join him, but she knew he would kill her as soon as she let her guard down so she stole away, finding and collecting like-minded individuals since."

"But-"

"Harry," Tom said, exhaustion coating his words. "I will get there when I can." He sighed, waiting for Harry's reluctant nod before continuing. "Eventually Zeus somehow convinced almost all of the council to go at once, with only Apollo and Artemis withholding, aside from the four founders who wouldn't budge on any of his points. They all choose to go, ending with Hades."

"One by one, they dropped, each one adding to Zeus' power. However, what they didn't consider was the fact that while Zeus collected the power, Hades had kept them on track to be reborn. Without Hades - those who had chosen to go didn't appear after the 17 years that they were expected to. Instead, they seemed to disappear - with some appearing every so often afterward. None of us know what Hades did to keep us on track, but what did become apparent was that the older Gods took for longer to return, with some only returning in the same Hogwarts class as your parents."

"However," Tom said, "We do know that Zeus murdered Hades and Persephone, who always appear together, at least twice."

"How do you know that if he should have taken the longest?" Harry asked.

"I don't know why Hades was able to come back quickly - and I suspect that only Hades can answer that. I just know he was." He held up a hand at Harry's mulish expression. "Keep asking questions and this explanation will get longer." Harry rolled his eyes but subsided. "We're going to fast-forward to the fall of 1980. In early September, Hades awoke, briefly, for under a literal minute, but he awoke in such a way, that the others who were hidden awoke as well." Tom shook his head. "I don't know how it happened but it did."

"The flare caused seven other children to awake as well; Persephone, Nemesis, Tyche, Deimos, Phobos, Morpheus, and Iris. Two were hidden from Zeus' sight, but the sudden drain on his powers alerted him to the fact that he was about to lose everything. He tracked the power down where he could, unable to find Hades because of the muggle world, but gaining access to the others. Deimos and Phobos were in the Weasleys, a family he already had under his control, so he was unafraid of their Godliness. The others, however-" Tom cut himself off, scrubbing his hands over his face. "The others were unknown anomalies, so the parents ended up killed or tortured if they refused to give up their children."

Harry nodded slowly, taking it in. "So you know who the others are?" He frowned. "And I'm confused, why wouldn't Zeus kill them if he killed their families already?"

"Well," Tom said, watching Harry closely. "He needed Persephone to find Hades, and he desperately wanted Nemesis to aid him in the fight against Hera and I. The others I suppose he left alone because they weren't a big enough boost. If Apollo or Artemis had appeared, I suspect he would have killed them."

"Wait," Harry said, "I thought they didn't choose to go with Hades originally."

"They didn't," Tom said. "They went about 15 years after the big group with Hades. They haven't appeared since." He sighed. "To answer your questions from the beginning of this as best I can, in the years since Hades' brief flare, Zeus has become even more paranoid, taking to locking in the Gods on the Mount when he could, luring them up and trapping them. Ms. Granger trusts us- or well, she knows we won't kill her because she's been in talks with Draco since the beginning of this year." Harry scowled at him as Tom laughed. "I expect she didn't tell you because of that reaction."

"The twins have been wary of Zeus for a while, but they waited for their awakening to offer to help us. Tonight was supposed to be their way of proving themselves to us, but that was evidently ruined. We were attempting to open the Parthenon because it's been locked down since 1981 per Zeus' order. We wanted to try to get an open pathway for Gods again, but we were only able to pull Sirius through before we were interrupted as you saw. And as for your final question?" Tom shrugged, "I have no doubt that Zeus will spin that one on me."

"Say I believe you," Harry said. "Now what?"

"Well," Tom said, standing, "Now we get you situated and check up on the others."

***

Neville sat as still as he could manage, his hand clenching Hermione's. Her body was still, the convulsions that had wracked her frame for the past hour had finally faded. Across from him, Narcissa sat, her eyes closed, though Neville could tell that she wasn't asleep. He sighed, gently adjusting his position so he could lay his head down. He closed his eyes, slipping into sleep, waking only when Hermione was moved by Narcissa once. She smoothed a hand over his forehead, her face kind. She whispered something to him, but he had fallen back asleep before her words registered.

He woke up slowly, his arm numb from holding Hermione's hand the entire time. He lifted his head, grimacing at the fuzzy taste in his mouth, glancing around the room. Narcissa was across from him once again. He offered a small smile, yawning.

"Good morning," she whispered, smiling back. "You slept for almost twelve hours." Neville blinked at her in surprise. She laughed softly. "We believe it was partially the bond and partly the fact that you had had an exhausting day yesterday."

"Is Hermione going to be okay?" Neville asked as soon as he processed her words. Narcissa nodded. "When will she wake up?"

Narcissa frowned at the question. "Unfortunately, for as much as I was able to heal her, she still needs time to heal. She was hit by a spell Zeus had made specifically to strip Hades of life, and to take you out as well." He arched an eyebrow at her and she grimaced. "She had been hit by a slightly different but no less targeted spell in her third year if the tests I ran on her were true."

"Then why-"

"I can answer these questions over breakfast," Narcissa said, interrupting him. "Harry is still here and Draco also arrived this morning." She rose, ignoring his glower. "I know you wish to remain here Neville but Hermione would be most upset with me if you were to wither away at her bedside." She smirked, "And I have no desire to have an awoken Hades after me."

Neville sighed, reluctantly unlinking their hands as he stood, the blood rushing into his arm. He grimaced, nodding at Narcissa to lead the way. "But after…"

"After breakfast and a shower, yes, you can return to your vigilance." She ushered him through the door, shutting it with a soft thud. "I have monitoring spells on her if her pain spikes. I promise nothing will happen to her in the hour you are gone." She turned to him, meeting his gaze head-on. "As, Hera, Neville. I promise."

He nodded, his eyes wide. She nodded back, turning away and leading him through the manor. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice they had entered the dining room, only coming back to awareness as a body slammed into him.

"Neville!" Harry cried, pulling him into an even tighter hug when Neville hugged him back. "Thank God you're here."

"What?" Neville said, his anxiety skyrocketing. "Why, what's happening?"

Harry shot him a look, pulling him over to a chair. "I just know you wouldn't leave 'Mione unless you were positive she was okay and on the mend." Harry looked him over, frowning. "Though you look awful."

"Thank Harry," Neville muttered.

"Honestly, Potter," Draco drawled, "That was rude, even by my standards." Narcissa's chiding Draco, doing nothing to curtail the smirk he sent Harry's way.

Harry rolled his eyes, sitting next to Neville. "How is she?" He asked, biting at his nails anxiously. "Tom said I wasn't allowed in to see her until she was more stable."

"She's okay," Neville said, taking a sip of water. He smiled at Narcissa. "It was only thanks to Lady Malfoy that she's as stable as she is."

Harry heaved a sigh, sinking even lower into his chair. "Thank fuck."

"You're taking this way better than I expected," Neville said, nibbling on a piece of toast. "I would've thought you would be long gone."

Harry shrugged. "Tom explained a lot of stuff - like about Zeus and the awakening and stuff." At Neville's arched eyebrow he shrugged again. "It makes sense to me."

Neville snorted. "It barely makes sense to me and I'm the one living it." He put the toast down, his stomach rolling. The room was quiet for a moment, the only sound the clinking of cutlery.

"I always knew 'Mione would be one of the awoken - she's too powerful to not be," Harry admitted quietly. "She didn't believe me when I brought it up to her but, now she has no choice." He was silent for a beat before adding, "You two make the most amount of sense to me. She was always drawn to you. Like in a more than a crush way," he said, blushing. "In a 'love for the ages' way."

"Of course she was," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Persephone is always drawn to Hades." Neville set down his water he was sipping, exchanging a look with Harry. Draco furrowed his brow. "What?"

Neville turned to Narcissa. "You didn't tell him?"

She shook her head, a slight smile playing around her mouth. "I figured you would like to do the honors."

Draco scowled at her, before glaring at Harry and Neville. "What?"

"Hermione's not Persephone," Neville said, a grin growing at Draco's dawning look of horror. "She's Hades."

***

Hermione blinked, her eyelids sticking together for a moment before cracking open. She shifted, taking in the absence of pain, before tipping her head to the side. She was in a bedroom, which she assumed was in Malfoy Manor, as she wasn't dead or still being harmed. She twisted again, pushing herself up and wincing as her muscles groaned in protest. She sighed, slowly reaching over for her wand resting on the bedside table next to her.

She flicked her wand, taking in the glowing numbers of 09:37 before shifting again. She was suddenly aware that she could sense that Neville was somewhere close to her. She slid her legs to the side, contemplating how bad it would be if she put any actual weight on her feet. Shrugging, she decided it was worth it, standing gently. She stepped forward, staggering for a moment before getting her balance. She slowly walked to the bathroom, her burning urge to pee the largest issue in her mind.

While in the bathroom, she caught sight of what she looked like in the mirror, grimacing at the streaks of dried blood that someone had missed while she was unconscious. She spun, smiling at the massive shower that was behind her.

As she showered, she realized that she had no idea what had happened last night. She vaguely remembered burning pain, the awful feeling of convulsions running up and down her spine, her throat raw from screaming, the sensation of someone gripping her hand, which had been the only part of her that hadn't hurt. She swallowed hard, wincing at the sensation, before stepping out to towel off. Her clothes that she had been in had been taken by elves as she had been in the shower, leaving behind the softest pair of pajamas she had ever felt and a thick robe.

She dressed slowly, taking care not to strain her muscles any more than they were. By the time she was fully clothed, her stomach was growling in hunger. She paused for a moment upon entering her room, debating between slipping back into bed or attempting to find the kitchen or dining room by herself. She sighed, knowing that she should stay in bed, but the urge to find Neville and food was too strong to resist so she left her room, leaving the door cracked so even if she got lost she could maybe find her room again.

She walked slowly down the hallway, her eyes catching of portraits and paintings, many of them turning to whisper to others as she wandered through. She paused at the top of the stairs, uncertain if her legs could take them. "Hermione!" a voice called, causing her to jump, her muscles groaning in agony as she landed. She turned to see Fred and George striding towards her down the hallways, their faces concerned. "You should be in bed," Fred said, frowning at her.

"Ne- Neville," she croaked, wincing at the pain. "Ple- please."

The two exchanged a look, before Fred nodded slowly. "I'm going to carry you though," George said, raising an eyebrow at her irritated expression. He shook his head. "It's either I carry you or you go back to bed." Hermione huffed, before nodding, extending her arms to let him lift her.

He picked her up gently, carrying her down the stairs as softly as he could, Fred hovering anxiously around them. "Neville," George double-checked, feeling her nod against his chest. He exchanged another look with Fred, the two of them worried but not voicing it.

Hermione patted his chest, reaching out to Fred to hold his hand. "Do-don't worry," she whispered, offering them both tiny smiles. "Stron-stronger than I l-look."

Fred sighed, his voice fond. "I know, 'Mione." He opened the door for George, hiding a smile. "I think everyone in this house knows it." She grinned at him, squeezing his hand as they entered the dining room. The laughter cut off immediately.

"Hermione?" Neville said his focus on the girl in George's arms. As soon as she heard his voice, Hermione turned in his arms, squirming out of them and throwing herself at Neville, ignoring the twinges of pain in her body. "I was so worried," Neville breathed, wrapping her in his arms, unable to keep the tears at bay at the sight of her awake. He nodded to Fred and George, who were avoiding Narcissa's glare.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Narcissa said, staring them down. Beside Neville, Harry reached out, softly whispering to Hermione, with her reaching out to hold his hand.

They shifted, exchanging looks before they both began to talk.

"Some portraits told us-"

"-And she was just wandering around-"

"-Looks like she's going to fall down the stairs-"

"-Couldn't-"

"I-I was go-going to walk down the sta-stairs, with or without-t them," Hermione said, her vocal cords growing less strained as she spoke. "My choice." Draco watched her the recent revelation clicking several things into place for him.

Narcissa looked at her, trailing her eyes up and down her body, taking in her wet hair, and her change of clothes. "Yes," she said. "I can see that." She sighed. "And it's not like they would've been able to leave you there."

"What does that mean?" Harry said looking up from Hermione. She patted his hand, sliding herself so she was sitting more comfortably in Neville's lap. She leaned back, letting him hook his chin over her shoulder as he gently pulled her back against him as if to reassure himself that she was real.

"They're Phobos and Deimos," Hermione answered, reaching out to pull a cup of tea and oatmeal towards her. "They're kind of like my bodyguards."

Harry gaped at her. "Have you awoken?" He said, looking sick suddenly. "That wasn't what was happening last night, right?"

"No," Narcissa answered. "That was torture." She eyed Hermione, taking in the steady way she and Neville leaned into each other. "I suspect it made somethings clearer for her though." Hermione nodded at her, swallowing down a small spoonful of food.

"I'm also confused as to how you're awake," Harry said, backpedaling at Neville's glare. "Not that it's a bad thing!"

Hermione shrugged, "I don't really know either." She looked at Narcissa who shrugged as well, though her shrug was far more elegant. She looked back at Harry. "Magic?" She offered, ignoring the groans it brought about. Fred and George winked at her, causing her to roll her eyes.

"Well," Narcissa said, rising. "I will be back to check on you, Ms. Granger." She smiled at the eclectic group sitting in her dining room. She inclined her head, towards her, ignoring the cut-off gasp Draco made as she left.

"What?" Hermione and Harry said in tandem.

Draco glared at Harry before swallowing and looking at Hermione. "She doesn't do that," he said, his voice so soft, she had to lean in to hear it. "It's a sign of respect and hierarchy in the Parthenon." Hermione nodded, her eyes steady on his. He grimaced but forced himself to say it. "You are Hades, aren't you?"

Hermione smirked, a mean look flitting across her face before she nodded once. She settled back against Neville, letting him take the majority of her weight as she ate, the smirk playing around the corners of her lips for the rest of the meal.

***

The next week settled into a routine. Hermione would wake each morning, entangled with Neville, rising to stretch and keep her muscles moving before showering. She would gain a hot flash of pleasure at the sight of him in her bed each morning as she left for breakfast. When Neville had the choice, he would sleep in, meeting her at the table later, brushing an absentminded kiss over her head as he sat beside her.

Harry and Draco would join them, always bickering and taunting each other. As the week wore on, Hermione noticed that the taunts became more friendly, their insults taking on a vaguely affectionate air. Draco remained wary of her, occasionally falling silent at her stare, though Harry would always tease him for it later.

Fred and George would shadow her most days, just appearing in the room she was in, checking in on her before going off to wherever Tom had asked or where Narcissa was. As Narcissa put it, Hermione was only in charge of getting better for now, though she looked forward to when she was cleared to help them with whatever they were doing. Harry would follow join her and Neville every afternoon, though he would often spend tea time with Sirius, getting to know him. She had met him at dinner after the first morning, and she had been pleasantly surprised at his kind and welcoming demeanor.

She hadn't known why she had expected the incarnation of Aphrodite to be a rude bitch to her, but she supposed that she had long thought of Aphrodite as just a worse version of Lavender. Sirius was brilliant in his own way, though he was far more heavily invested in getting to know her as Hermione, Harry's friend, than he was in getting to know her as the reincarnation of Hades.

Tom, Bellatrix, Regulus, and Lucius, Draco's father, also joined them each night at dinner. Draco had explained to her in the days after her initial recovery day, that Narcissa had fallen for Lucius before she had known she was Hera and had already decided to marry him when she awoke. Her awakening to the mess that was Zeus had only further confirmed her desire to escape and she had slipped away, marrying Lucius as soon as she could.

At her side the entire time, Neville stood, growing more and more into the man she knew he would become. They were quickly reaching new depths in their relationship, their ability to live and sleep together unhindered only enhanced their already strong relationship. Though she knew Neville had suspected for years that she was Hades, his unconditional support and love meant the world to her, and her love for him grew in return.

They were completely and utterly devoted to each other, two halves of the whole, soulmates; reunited at last.

***

HADES SIGHTED AT LAST - HEADMASTER DUMBLEDORE TELLS ALL

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, also known as Parthenon and Council Leader Zeus, has let the Daily Prophet know that he has at long last found Hades, not yet awoken sixteen-year-old Hermione Granger who was sorted into Gryffindor in 1991. He warns however that, "she has found her way to Tom Riddle's side" and has "let him blind her to the truth".

As worrying as that sounds, Dumbledore assures us that all is not lost.

"She is welcome back at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said at a press conference this past Wednesday. "In fact," he said, smiling at the crowd, "So is Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom." He sighed, his voice weary.  "All I ask is that you renounce Tom Riddle's views." He shook his head. "He wants to drag you down, using you until you have served your purpose." He sighed again, tear glistening in his eyes. "Just look at what he's done to your families."

***

"What the fuck," Harry said, ignoring Narcissa's glare at the dinner table. He tossed the paper further down the table, uncaring of the glasses he knocked over. Tom picked it up, his eyes glancing over the title of the article before raising an eyebrow. "Read it," Harry said tersely.

Tom picked up the paper again, skimming until he hit the third paragraph. "Ah," he said, handing the paper over to Sirius who paled as he read it.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Explain that."

Tom glanced around, taking in everyone's expressions before glancing at Narcissa. She nodded once, before rising. "Everyone out," she said, brushing a hand over Harry's head as she passed. The others, aside from Hermione rose, following her out quietly.

Neville lingered at the door, watching her. "Do you want me to stay?" she asked quietly. "I can go if you want." Harry shook his head, curling his hand around hers. He glanced up, taking in Neville, Tom watching the three of them interact. He sighed, jerking his head to the seat next to her, Neville giving him a small smile as he slid back into his seat.

"So," Hermione said, her eyebrow arching. "What's happened now?"

"Zeus has accused me of destroying your two families," Tom said, watching as Neville absorbed the news. "There is no doubt that he hopes that your rage would blind you to the truth, that you would've stormed in and cast first, asking questions later." He turned, facing Harry straight on. "Do you remember at the beginning of this, when I said that Dumbledore had gone, from family to family, and killed them or tortured as he went?" Harry nodded slowly, a look of horrified realization creeping over his face.

"Yes," Tom said, in response to the unasked question. "You are one of those children."

"What?" Harry whispered hoarsely, his grip on Hermione's hand tightening until she was wincing in pain. "That's not possible." He glanced at Neville, only to see the expression of sympathy on his face. He looked back at Tom. "Who- who am I then?"

"Nemesis," Tom said, his face clear of sympathy. "The one Zeus wanted the most."

"No- no," Harry said, his voice wavering. "That's- that can't be true."

Tom grimaced, "I'm sorry Harry. I thought Sirius had told you already."

"No," Harry said blankly. "He hadn't said anything."

"Hey," Hermione said, squeezing his hand. "We're doing this together, okay?" Harry nodded. "I'm serious," she said, locking eyes with him. "Together."

***

"What's the plan?" Hermione asked, on the morning she was finally deemed healthy enough. She bounced through the door, bringing Harry, Draco, and Neville with her, uncaring of the looks she received. She stretched, smirking at the adults. "I'm ready to kick some ass."

Narcissa rolled her eyes, having given up in her attempts to curb Harry, Hermione, and Sirius' mouth. "If you stopped moving ceaselessly, we would tell you." Hermione smiled at her, pulling Neville over to a chair and sitting on his lap, ignoring the snorts she garnered.

"Okay," she said, once she was settled. "What's the plan?"

"Well," Tom said. "As of right now, the plan is keeping you alive until your birthday in September."

"Oh," Hermione said, frowning as Neville tensed beneath her. "What happens after?"

"Up to you," Sirius answered. "We do expect those we know of will also awake with you." He elaborated at Fred's look. "The pull of Hades should be enough, and if it is, we can definitely overwhelm Zeus - he'll have expected a drop in powers but not one that is followed by everyone else awakening."

Harry shifted next to Draco, ignoring his irritated look. "Can we know the others who will awake?"

Tom and Narcissa exchanged another look before Tom sighed. "We can tell you who we suspect-"

"Good enough!" Harry said, grinning excitedly. He subsided under the looks he got. "Sorry."

Narcissa waved him off. "Well, there's you four," she said, Harry's mouth dropping open in astonishment as he glared at Draco who was pointedly looking elsewhere, a satisfied smirk on his face. "And then, we believe there's Theodore Nott and Susan Bones." She sighed, looking down. "And if we get very, very lucky, Apollo or Artemis might surface as well."

"You didn't tell me you were one of us too," Harry accused Draco. "What the hell?"

Draco shrugged, glancing around the room before looking straight at Harry. "You were the only one who didn't seem to know."

"Hey!" Harry said, glaring at Hermione and Neville. "You're supposed to tell me stuff like this."

"Sorry," she said, badly hiding her smile. "Won't happen again." Harry huffed, crossing his arms. Hermione rolled her eyes, before turning serious. "What happens if- when," she corrected, "when we kill Zeus?" The room instantly sobered, her question ratcheting up the tension immeasurably.

"He'll reincarnate eventually," Tom finally said, his expression pensive. "We'll just have to figure it out with the full council afterward."

***

The few months until her birthday flew by, tensions rising each day, as the adults in the manor began to grow more and more anxious. Earlier in the summer, they had come together and decided it was too risky for the four of them to return to Hogwarts, leaving them essentially trapped in the manor, though as they lived together, the four of them became closer and closer, each simultaneously dreading and looking forward to the return to normalcy. The day before her birthday, she awoke, feeling the tension immediately. She turned her head to meet Neville's eyes, a soft smile spreading across her face.

"Good morning," he whispered, pulling her close to him. She closed her eyes, tilting her head against his chest, pressing an absentminded kiss over his heart. They remained in bed far longer than they normally did, dreading leaving and facing the uncertainty that the day was set to bring.

Though none of the adults were certain, a theory had been floated at the beginning of summer that Zeus would save most of his power for the day before her birthday, attempting to kill her one final time before she awoke. He had taken to sending her curse mail items or mail pieces with portkeys embedded in the paper. Every attempt had been caught, though there had been a few which had almost succeed, leaving her exceedingly wary for the day before her birthday.

She sighed, reluctantly pulling herself from Neville as she rose. She smirked at him, a sudden playfulness in her expression. "Shower with me?" she asked, watching as he choked. He nodded slowly, his eyes intent on her as she slowly stepped from her clothes, leaving them puddled on the floor as she made her way into the shower.

She hissed, moments later, the sudden touch of his bare skin on hers a surprise, even though it was expected. She turned, peering up at him, rejoicing in the feeling of him near her. As each hour ticked closer to her birthday, she could feel him more and more, her senses becoming more attuned with him.

He smiled down at her, bending down to kiss her even as he hoisted her up. She smiled back into the kiss, wrapping her legs around him. He pulled back, a sly look in his eyes. "How do you feel about a pre-birthday present?" he asked, pressing a kiss over her heart.

She smiled back, her happiness clear in every line of her body. "Sounds like the best present possible," she answered, leaning down to kiss him again, more than willing to let him sweep her away.

After their shower, they skittered downstairs, where instead of the smaller breakfast group, the usual dinner crew was waiting for them.

"Surprise!" they cried, flicking their wands, as streamers and balloons erupted from them.  Hermione laughed, hugging each of them before pulling Neville to their usual spots. Around them, bright chatter erupted, though the tension of what could come remained. Hermione smiled at everyone, only her heart betraying her nerves. Neville squeezed her hand, exchanging a look with her before she shook off the vaguely foreboding air that surrounded her. It was almost her birthday, she reminded herself. She deserved this.

***

The day had been excellent in a way Hermione hadn't expected. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, everything progressing so smoothly that she kept glancing around, waiting for the atrocity the Zeus had set up to fail. Narcissa had confessed earlier that he had sent her some cursed birthday gifts, but that they were confiscated.

The hours were ticking down more quickly than she expected, until they were only a half an hour from her real birthday, all of them drowsy in front of the fireplace.

Harry shook himself, glancing around before clapping his hands. "Presents!" He said, pulling a gift from out of nowhere. He nudged Hermione, waking her from her doze, ignoring the glare she sent him.

Neville nudged her too, also immune to the narrow-eyed stare she sent him. "Sorry love," he said, holding in a smile, "Harry's right, we should do presents tonight since tomorrow's a big day." He waited for her to roll her eyes before offering her Harry's present.

She pulled the wrapping paper off, smiling at the sight of a new book. "You know me so well," she said.

"I know," Harry smirked, dodging from her gentle slap. He mock-scowled at her. "Hey, Neville's the one who put this all together." Hermione tried to scowl at Neville, but the look quickly dissolved into a smile. Harry mimed throwing up, rolling his eyes at their sappiness. "Open Neville's next," he said, bouncing in place.

Neville grinned at her, grabbing her present. "Okay," he said, his smile slipping at the feel of his present. "Wait," he said, panic rushing into his expression. "This-"

With a soft pop, Neville and Hermione disappeared.

***

Her and Neville's sudden disappearance stunned everyone in the room for a moment before they slid into action, weeks of prep work suddenly coming to fruition. Fred and George strode from the room to gather their supporters, their wands already out and casting patroni to summon them to Hogwarts.

Bellatrix and Regulus disapparated, immediately heading to the Parthenon entrance. Sirius locked eyes with Tom, waiting for his nod before grabbing Harry and Draco and heading to Hogsmeade.

Narcissa and Tom stared at each other for a moment.

"All or nothing," she said, watching for his acknowledgment before she left the room to go change into her armor. Tom clenched his fist at her exit. All those precautions, all those issues, completely for naught. He shook his head - it didn't matter now. Hermione was mere minutes from her birthday. She would be able to hold on, he knew it.

***

Zeus smiled as they arrived, the shackles snapping into place with two cries of pain. He had expected that they would fall for it. Focus on getting to Ms. Granger, and he would train them to expect threats for her. He shook his head, a smirk gracing his lips. What fools they were, he thought, to even believe that they could outsmart him.

He tsked, striding from the shadows. "Ms. Granger," he said, the smirk only growing at the look of absolute hatred she sent him. "How unfortunate that you couldn't join my side." He tilted his head, ignoring her petty threats of destruction. "I wonder," he mused, walking over to Mr. Longbottom. "I wonder if the bond has progressed enough for you to feel this?" He slid his wand down Mr. Longbottom's chest, shallow slices following. He flinched is his grip but made no sound. At her lack of reaction and continued threats, he frowned.

"No?" He pulled his wand back, stabbing deeply into his shoulder blade, the wound causing Mr. Longbottom to scream. Across from him, Ms. Granger paled, her fingers reaching back to touch her shoulder blade. He smiled. "I thought so."

He repeated the action, taking deep satisfaction on the pained noises the two were letting out. As he finally dropped the knife, letting Mr. Longbottom breathe for a moment, he crossed over to Ms. Granger, he watched her drop in the chains, her face slamming into the concrete.

He shook his head. "That's quite-" Cocking his head he paused in what he was saying, a slow terror sweeping through his body as he realized what he was hearing - the clock tower striking midnight.

***

As the bell tolled midnight, Zeus turned to her, his face suddenly crazed. Hermione smiled, the blood from her broken nose, dripping onto her teeth. In the darkness, he realized that she looked dangerous. He pushed the fear to the side, casting a dizzying array of spells at her.

"Oh," she whispered, feeling the welcoming grasp of power, suddenly feeling the slide of knowledge across her nerves, the stunning rush sweeping her up. She snapped her head up, shifting to the shadows to the left of her and pulling herself through them. She barely paused, sliding from her shackles a moment before the spells slammed into her, pulling herself to Neville.

Neville, who at the toll of the bell, had snapped his eyes open, staring at her. She felt their bond settle at the touch of their skin, needing no words to pull them and Zeus to the front hallway where she could feel the gathering of people beginning. They fell through the shadows, her and Neville landing far more gently than Zeus did.

Upon his realization of where he was, Zeus pulled himself up, doing little to hide his shock at the sight of the gathered Parthenon who was staring at him. "Friends," he said, attempting to smile. "I'm so glad you could join us."

"Shut the fuck up," Sirius said, striding through the room, his face murderous.

Zeus sighed, flicking his wand at the entrance to the Great Hall, which opened to reveal a large group of his supporters. "I did try," he said, offering another smile before narrowing his eyes. "But I guess that's what I get for trying."

***

The two groups collided, though it became quickly obvious that Zeus had done nothing to provide his followers with any sort of idea of who they were following. They were downed easily, but the sheer amount of them was stunning.

Hermione and Narcissa exchanged glances, Hermione quickly pulling Neville away to the sidelines even as he protested before heading into the thick of the battle.

She headed towards Zeus, only casting stunners towards others when the got in her way. "Zeus," she called, staring him down as he turned towards her. "We have some unfinished business."

"Oh," Zeus said, his expression mild. "I hadn't realized."

Hermione growled, launching herself at him. The two exchanged spell fire quicker and quicker, Hermione relying more on her luck and shadows than her actual knowledge of spells. Their fight built and built, with her growing more and more exhausted as time went on.

She shifted to the left, immediately realizing her mistake when it left her wide open. Zeus grinned whirling around, his wand aimed directly at her before freezing as a spell burst through his chest. Hermione stopped, panting harshly, as the last sounds of the battle faded at the sight of Zeus toppling. Narcissa grinned at her, expression fierce, from where she stood behind his body, her face coated in blood.

"Zeus has fallen," Tom said, appearing at her side suddenly. "Long live the queen." Slowly a cheer built up, those who had come down from the Parthenon yelling their support the loudest, until the entire room was full of cheers.

She turned, her eyes searching out Neville's in the crowd. He smiled at her, the two of them colliding with each other, with no regard for any of the attention they were receiving.

"We did it," she gasped against him, pulling as tightly against her as she could. He nodded against her head, gripping her just as tightly. "We fucking did it."

[venus-says]

Healin' Good Precure Episodes 21-30

Hope you're comfortable and have your reading glasses on because I'm about to rant.

It has been a long time since I came here and bashed my thoughts on this show for young kids, but you know? It feels like just a couple of weeks have passed.

And I say this because to my surprise, and maybe disappointment, not a lot happened in these 10 episodes. Does it mean it was bad? Not necessarily. Excluding maybe 2 or 3 episodes, I had a great time binge-watching these last episodes in the past three days.

Usually, in a Precure season, the episodes that follow the debut of the mid-season Cure are used to insert the new character in the team, create connections with each member, make us feel like the newcomer belongs here. In Asumi's case, these episodes also had the function of building her as a character since she's someone who literally just appeared out of thin air. And these episodes haven't done either of those things, in my opinion. I came out of these 10 episodes with the same basic information I had from last time, she's clueless, she's obsessed with Rate, as a Cure she is gorgeous and cool as heck, but maybe a little too overpowered. I know nothing about Fuurin Asumi.

One can argue "well, she was just brought to existence, it's obvious you know nothing about her because there's nothing learn", but that doesn't mean that they couldn't build her character. They decided that her whole thing would be learning about human emotions(?) and they could've chosen some specific points that would help her to build her personality and her character, give her goals and ideals, a reason for her to be a main character in this story. And while we see evidence that she has learned the meaning of those words and she can recognize them on herself and in other people, this is not a personality is just a computer recognizing patterns.

The feeling I had while watching these episodes was that she was a blank canvas just so that the writers could use her as a jack-of-all-trades for whatever situation they were trying to build in the episode. And this inconsistency with her is pretty evident, I mean in one episode she exhibits a lack of knowledge about basic human feelings, but then she suddenly knows what rap is even though we haven't seen a single instance of her having contact with it, and then later we see she giving Grace life advice.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed and had fun with Asumi in those isolated instances, it's because of them that even with all the problems I have I still like Asumi VERY MUCH, the thing is that this isn't an episodic show where each story is centered on itself and there's not a bigger picture to be seen, this is a continuous narrative so just isolated moments aren't enough. Imagine how much more meaningful it would have been if the words they decided to explain to Asumi were things that deeply connected with her, imagine how much more fun the rap gag would've been if we had seen before she going out on her own and meeting with random people on the street and we had a precedent of her knowing something that was weirdly very specific and seeing that being brought up in the future as her unique comedy gag, imagine how much more meaningful her words to grace in episode 29 would've been if we had seen her gain that level of understanding of human emotion in a way that wasn't by just explaining the definition of that word in a dictionary.

The reason why this "arc" feels so frustrating is that the basis for something great is all there, they just don't use it at it's fullest which makes her, who could've been the most interesting character the Precure franchise has ever seen, just another one, and that hurts. Because I freaking love this spirit lady and I wanted her to be more.

Overall rant is done, let's talk about each individual episode, shall we?

I know it doesn't seem like it, because I've written around 600 words of how disappointed I was, but I had a great time doing this mini-marathon to catch up with the show. I don't know if it was because it had been so long since I watched something Precure related, or if it was because my expectations were low since even though I try to avoid seeing other opinions before I write my own reviews since it has been so long I couldn't really avoid that and those comments weren't really that positive, or if it was because I was live-tweeting my impressions instead of taking my usual notes. but overall my experience was great. Even in the episodes I didn't like or had major issues with, it wasn't to a point where it made me regret the decision of getting back to this show so most of these are going to be very positive.

Except for the final three episodes, I'm not doing these in the correct order so I decided to leave the episodes I disliked for last. I'm probably going to go overboard with the negativity in those ones so if you don't wanna any of that you can leave before me going in the mean territory.

Anyway, Episode 21. That was a very fun one, it had a good combination of comedy with endearing moments and even bigger picture stuff. It was still early on Asumi's journey so her cluelessness was very fun and endearing and I had some great laughs with that one (that moment where she struggles with the chopsticks was my favorite bit. I also liked seeing Nodoka work her way around to let Asumi stay at her house, I like how straight-forward it was and how the lie developed after it, I don't know how Nodoka's parents bought the story but I loved it. The theme for Asumi this time was learning about empathy (I think?) and she and Nodoka had some great exchanges in the episode. Getting more development with the Mega Parts was also good, there were interesting bits of information like how to harvest them and that they can be injected in the Mega Byougens by anyone, it doesn't need to be the one who began the infection. Also, the group roll call was very cute, I love Rate touching paws with each of the healing animals, and the new eyecatches are cute as hell!!!! I also liked the special intro bit with Nodoka and Asumi, I wish they did things like that more.

Episode 22 was a bit weird. The lesson of the episode was about the word "like", but it was a bit confusing. It seemed that the point they were trying to make is that liking sometimes it's hard because is something you can't control, but it didn't connect very much with the conflict between Rate and Asumi? I think very valid and important points were raised throughout the entire episode, but in the end, to me, it felt more like a plot about empathy, because Asumi wasn't being considered of Rate's feelings and the resolution for the main conflict in the episode was about that, but I can also see the logic behind what they were doing it's just that they could've been more clear in that aspect. Regardless, this episode gave us the starting point for one of the relationships I enjoyed the most in this run that was Chiyuu and Asumi getting along so well, I honestly thought Asumi would be more connected to Nodoka and the animals, but she has a lot of chemistry with Chiyuu and it was a delightful surprise discovering this friendship.

Of the initial episodes to connect with each Cure, Episode 23 was probably the weakest. I think Hinata and Asumi didn't really click for me when they were together, and teaching her the concept of "cute" didn't seem all that useful to me, the impression it gave me was that they couldn't think of anything else meaningful Hinata could bestow on Asumi and they went with the easy route instead of putting in the work to make something bigger. With that being said, I really appreciate that in no moment of the episode the show tried to tailor Asumi for her to think that only one thing that follows a certain aesthetic pattern can be considered cute, I was very afraid of that happening and it was a huge relief to see that it hasn't happened. One curious thing about this episode was the Cures directly interacting with civilians, has that already happened and I just forgot about it? Or was this the first time? That got me really curious.

Episode 24 was a mixed bag, it introduced elements that I liked but it overall gets ruined by what I've mentioned at the start and also because it can be summed down to Spirit Lady Too OP. The thing I liked the most in this episode was seeing Asumi connect with another adult human, it was a nice interaction that I was really into it and that I hope keeps happening in Asumi episodes, to me it was an example of interesting interaction outside the Cures' circle that could be meaningful for building Asumi's character (if they were really concerned in building her one). I was also pretty excited for a new general and Nebusokku seemed to have enough to be a fun character, sadly he was defeated in the same episode which was kinda disappointing and it left me with the Batetemoda blues. There was also the portal stuff that was random and it never happened again and, I don't know, it just felt way too convenient. Spirit Lady is too OP and, sadly, that's a problem.

Surprisingly enough, Episode 26 was one of my favorites. I know it's just a clip show, but you can see that they cared enough to make this feel like a genuine episode and not just something that you can skip if you want. Maybe they could've put a little more of care into it since they made the big mistake of saying Asumi wanted to do a Rate Diary but all the questions and recollections Asumi got were from everyone BUT Rate, but I still really enjoyed the episode. I really like the journey of Asumi not being scared in the cold opening, to the group deciding to make something that is nice to her but that will also surprise her, and the cute moment at the end was a really nice payoff. I also like how Asumi stumbled upon the information about the festival and seeing her actively wanting to be part of the team and her being sad for feeling like she was being left behind without making a big mess about it, like she was sad but she also (miss)understands what's going on and that just makes her even sadder. This recap episode gave up more characterization about Asumi than the episodes that were meant to do that and this is both impressive and sad.

Speaking of episodes that characterize Asumi, Episode 27 was another great one at it. Again, Asumi connecting with another adult being determined to help, feeling frustrated for the Hot-Air-Balloon Team loss and wanting to actively do something about it. It was really great seeing her so assertive, and seeing her feel so strong about something, and even better, something that wasn't related at all to Rate. She felt like a real character, a real human, and I really liked that. This was a very straight-forward episode but I think it works completely in favor of the episode, I like the plot, I like the characters of the day, I like that even Nodoka's father got some characterization since now we know he was a Hot-Air-Balloon nerd, we even got a new element bottle. It was simple and it was great.

From this point on we're on Salty territory so read at your own discretion.

Going from the one I have the least to talk about, Episode 29 was boring I thought they were going to do something bigger, considering what episode 28 was, and if you disregard Cure Earth giving really mature advice about something she shouldn't have the know-how to talk about they had a nice bit of Nodoka going reckless and she realizing she shouldn't be so hard on herself, but that was pretty much the only thing this episode had going for it. I really couldn't care for anything else, the comedy felt very odd, and getting the final bottle for the shelf was very underwhelming.

Then we have episode 25, that feels disconnected from the rest of the storyline, and that is just here in the bottom list because of two factors. The first is the fact that is a very cliche plot and the show didn't bring in enough new elements to make it interesting, instead, they wanted to make it WAY TOO SAD for that little girl and it was just cruel to watch it because I knew all the time Pegitan would eventually leave her and I wanted that little kid to be happy because she seems like a good kid. My other problem, and my biggest one, is what started this whole plot. I hate the "I'm a boy, I'm not cute, I'm cool" line of thought, and while it makes sense that Pegitan, being as insecure as he is, would have a concern like that, I hate that the show makes Chiyuu feel guilty and blame herself for doing it, and I hate it even more that at the end the major message was "Yes, Pegitan, you're cool" instead of "It's okay for you, as a male, to be cute". From a franchise that two years ago was saying boys can be princesses, this feels like a step back and I hate it.

Episode 30 was one of the most boring things I've watched in this season. To begin, what the hell were they thinking of making Hinata, of all girls, to be the one to not know tigers and cats are related? She lives in a veterinary clinic, both her dad and her brother should've mentioned that at some point, and I'm being gentle here and not considering this as common knowledge for 14-years-old kids. Then there's the thing that completely ruined the episode to me that was that little boy and his friend. I really didn't care for this random character with the most white straight male thought ever wanting all of their friends to be the same as him because he doesn't like to have their world views being challenged. If it wasn't for the eventual cute interactions between the girls this episode would've been the worst.

And there's an element in this episode that ties in with Episode 28 which is, without a doubt, my biggest problem with this series: the villains.

I hate the Healin' Good villains, all of them. Except for Batetemoda, but he's dead so he doesn't count. This is probably the most uninteresting set of generals of the entire franchise, and we live in a world where the Trio the Minor and the Mahou Tsukai villains exists. Guwaiaru is way too dumb, his dumbness is supposed to be played for laughs, but when you repeat the same joke of him adding more stuff to a bigger thing to make it stronger, or dirtier, or spicier, in the span of 10 episodes it doesn't become funny, it's just tiresome. Then there's Shindoine, who's flat-lined as hell. Her whole thing, her only thing, is her unhealthy obsession with King Byougen. She doesn't have anything else besides that, she doesn't do anything interesting, every time she's on-screen she's talking about King Byougen, and it's not fun, it's not interesting, it is a big pile of nothing. And you would think that after Anacondy, Papple, and Gelos, the creators of this show would know better and wouldn't make another general that is so in love with the leader of their organization to the point of doing dumb shit that could get them killed, but no. We gotta raise the stakes. And as cool as powered-up Shindoine looks, I can't get excited. Because she, just as her companions, doesn't change as characters. They are the regular "pick a stereotype and make a character out of it" gone to an extreme and in the most boring way possible.

Thanks, I hate it.

And then, there's the biggest offender of them all. Daruizen. He is the "bored one" and that's enough to make him boring because he doesn't have anything to pique my curiosity to learn about him or see what he's capable of. In other circumstances, this would be fine, but her companions are just as boring, and the thing that maximizes this as a problem is that for some reason the creators of this show thought it was a great idea to pair him up with the main Cure. And when you do something like, to make sure your audience will be completely on board with you, you gotta make sure both characters are interesting enough to carry this on.

The catch is that Daruizen isn't interesting at all, the thing that makes Daruizen interesting is the thing that makes Nodoka/Grace less interesting, and that's not a good balance.

When Episode 28 decided to make canon that Daruizen is the result of a parasite that took residence in Nodoka's body they elevated his level of in the scale, now we have a very close connection that raises the bar for the rivalry these two have and it also drops answers for questions we didn't even know we had. But they couldn't leave it at that, they had to undermine their main character and probably the whole, show while at it too.

The thing that made Nodoka such a unique lead for this show was the fact that she is a sick kid, we never know what her disease is, and I understand the reasons why the show wouldn't want to pin-point and existence disease neither create a fake one, but we know her health isn't one of the best, we've seen her suffer because of it and the show wasn't shy of putting images of the main character in a hospital bed. And this is very important because, while the majority of the target audience most likely has never been in those conditions, I'm sure a lot of kids, and even adults, who unfortunately have been in hospitals for most of their lives watches this show for hope, for strength, for comfort, and having a main character similar to them is strong as fuck. But when you make Nodoka's disease to be something magical you devalue a lot of that. Yes, magical or not, Nodoka did experience her disease, that affected her, that changed her. But just how it magically came to her, it also magically left her body, and sadly that's not a luxury that we in the real world have... and that affects people. Of course, I'm working here just based on assumptions, thankfully I never had to be hospitalized and the closest my family got to that was when my aunt got her tubes tied and the period right before my father's death, so I may not be in my place to say, and I really hope I'm wrong in this, but I do believe this was a bad move for the representation.

Even if I'm wrong (and I really do hope I am), this still isn't a good narrative move because it just turns this show into something very focused on the lead cure when this is supposed to be a show about a team. It makes it feel like this world spins around Nodoka, and not that Nodoka spins WITH the world she's in. This deep connection with one general, that isn't emulated with the other generals in parallel to the other Cures, makes it feel like she's the only one important and that nothing else matters, and this saddens me because makes it look like I hate Nodoka when I deeply care for her and this is the reason why I'm so mad about this mess. Now that I think about it, it's very similar to Kamen Rider EX:AID to a certain extent, and from all the aspects I could draw a parallel this is definitely the worst one to intersect. Well, at least they haven't made her be the be-all-end-all of the show (yet).

But just to not end this on a negative note, Episode 28 did gave us one of the most emotional scenes ever between Rabirin and Nodoka, and that crushed my heart, I had no emotional structure to sit through that without shading tears. It was an amazing scene. And Episode 30 did end on a good cliffhanger, it feels like we're entering the final arc that will lead us to the Christmas special and then the finale, and I'm very curious to see the path this show will take.

And that does it for me. I feel like I've written way much more than I should, and maybe I'll have to write more because I'm not necessarily sure if I should post this right now considering the US Elections, but regardless, whenever you get to read this share your thoughts with me, I feel like for this block of episodes more than any other else I'm really curious to see what people have to say about it. And considering the sheer length of this post, if you're someone who's reading this on tumblr, consider going over to the blog (the link should be in the sidebar if you're accessing it via pc) the comment section should allow for a better discussion that doesn't need to be broken down in several replies like here on tumblr. Without anything else to add, I think it's time to sign off. Stay healthy, stay safe, never stop resisting, thank you so so so much for reading this insanely huge post, and until the next time. Healin’ Goodbye~

[theemptyquarto]

Abandoned WIP

Warstan (but John got killed off before the story starts) and purely platonic Sherlock & Mary.  Quite AU... John and Mary get together before Sherlock jumped off of Bart’s.  Maybe a little bit of hinted unrequited Johnlock, I honestly can’t remember if I was going there with this fic.  A “Mary is the new Watson” retelling of “The Adventure of the Empty House,” rated T.  This was written before S3 happened and I fell in love with BBC Mary and she actually made me view BBC John as an interesting character in his own right and I rejiggered my alignments.

I’m going to rant here, just briefly, about how ACD’s Mary Morstan is probably one of the most wronged-by-their-author characters that I can think of, which is why I started writing this fic where she takes the lead.

She appears for the first time in the second-ever (authorially, not chronologically) Sherlock Holmes story, “The Sign of the Four,” and is delightful.  Watson falls hard in love right away and acts like a huge dweeb about her, she’s courageous, clever, and kind.  Maybe without all the panache of the later Irene Adler, but a more traditionally Victorian heroine for our more traditionally Victorian junior protagonist.  Her next appearance, “The Adventure of the Crooked Man,” is significantly more tangential, but she sets the action of the story in play and is shown to be a helpful, kind figure.

And then all of a sudden Conan Doyle ships her off to visit her mother (she was established as an orphan), stops using her at all, and finally kills her off.

Not even on the page.  Between books.  And it’s mentioned so tangentially in two lines of “The Adventure of the Empty House” that you can easily miss it if you aren’t looking for it.

(Incidentally this sort of shit is why ACD fandom can’t agree on how many wives Watson had or who the subject  of his “sad bereavement” is.  The number ranges from 1-13.)

Why, Artie?  Why did you do that?  I mean I get if you want to park Watson back at Baker Street you probably do have to off her but you were a fairly good hack and doing it this way made you give up the opportunity to have some sort of emotional payoff in your stories.  Especially since you later introduce another wife character who is in no way distinct from Mary (a niche component of ACD fandom thinks that Mary didn’t die at all and Watson “abandoning (Holmes) for a wife,” was him and Mary reconciling after an estrangement.)

Anyway.  Don’t create cool characters and then kill them for no good reason.  That’s my point.

_____________

The Empty Flat (Mary)

I had been widowed for three months and was rather surprised at how badly I was doing with it. The snug three-bedroom garden flat in Maida Vale had been the perfect size for a not-quite-young couple planning on children.  Now it seemed vast and empty and utterly, utterly silent.  When I slept, which wasn’t all that much, I did it on the sofa.  Our bed still smelled faintly of his aftershave, and I couldn’t stand either to sleep there or to wash the sheets.  Arthur, the blue point Siamese cat who I had bought into the marriage, would curl up on my feet and awaken me with his yowls in the morning.

To some extent I had been able to occupy my mind with work, and the requirements of my job had kept me more or less a functional adult.  But the summer holidays had begun a week previous, and I was thus thrown entirely on my own resources, which were scant. What family I had left were all back in America, and the friends I had made in England seemed to have melted away since John’s death.  Some days, I thought that this was due to the universal impulse to avoid reminders of mortality.  Other days I decided it was more likely due to the fact that I deleted their emails and declined to answer their phone calls.

The truth, as always, was probably somewhere in the middle.  

Whatever the cause, my life was empty.  I ate when I remembered that I was meant to.  I wore pajamas all day.  I left the flat when I ran out of cat food, and at night I would turn on the tv and stare at it without paying attention until I finally sank into oblivion.

Presumably it was on one of those descents into the maelstrom of crap British late-night TV that I first took note of the murder of Ronald Adair.  The dead man was vaguely familiar to me, though I had never watched any of his shows personally.  He was a scion of one of those impoverished but very old-and-noble families that the English keep on out of sentiment. Showing unusual initiative for one of his class, he’d made a success of himself by appearing on a famous reality show, then on the “celebrity” version of that show, and parlaying that into one of those mysterious but apparently quite lucrative careers that consist mostly of having your picture taken.  

And now, he was dead, shot in the back of the head in his own bedroom on Park Lane.

The story struck me, for some reason.  John, when he’d been alive, used to take four daily papers and half a dozen weeklies, and I had not cancelled them yet.  I plucked a week’s worth out of the recycling where I had tossed them, unread, and scanned through them for articles about the murder.

Ronald Adair had been alone in his bedroom, drinking neat whiskey and updating twitter, when he died.  His last tweet (@JustLukeyA, “LOL C U @ Ibiza”) had been sent at 10:11 in the evening. His personal assistant had heard the sound of breaking glass, broken down the locked door that led into the bedroom, seen his body, and dialed 999 by 10:17.  The bullet had been a large caliber hollow point round that had done severe damage to the back of his skull, and he had most likely died almost instantly.

The entire affair was mysterious.  While the police hadn’t released any real statements, the personal assistant had been the only other person in the house at the time of the shooting, and had been released after questioning.  This would suggest the shot had been fired from outside, but the window in Adair’s bedroom, while open, was on the fourth floor.  There was no evidence to suggest anyone had climbed to the window, meaning that the shot had come from somewhere outside.  

This made no sense at all to the gossip rags.  The window faced directly over Hyde Park, and any level shot would have had to come from over a mile away.  And shooting from ground level would have been impossible: the Park was open, reasonably crowded given the warmth of the summer evening, and no one had heard a thing.  The American embassy was less than two hundred yards away, and even its overblown security hadn’t noted any unusual activity.  Essentially, it was impossible that he could have been shot, and yet there he was.

As I read through the papers, I thought how John would have gone through them at the breakfast table to try and figure out what had happened.  Although his professional interest in solving mysteries had died with Sherlock, he never lost his fascination with the more arcane sorts of crime.  He would have loved this one, and I could imagine the crinkles that would form around his eyes as he would describe the possible motives, mechanisms, and solutions.  It was a Sunday, and I suspected that he would have wheedled me into taking our normal long walk in the direction of the crime scene.  I’d have teased him, said he was morbid, but I’d have gone, and he’d have hypothesized happily for a while.

I could so clearly imagine it, and it made me smile, despite myself.  It had been difficult to like Sherlock Holmes, and very difficult to deal with the fact that their association put John into danger on a regular basis.  Yet, now that they were both gone, I found myself forgiving every thoughtless insult and sleepless lonely night the detective ever gave me, since he had made John so happy.  

Wishing to hang on to my happy memory, I decided, abruptly, to take the walk over to Park Lane myself, just as John and I would have done.  It was past time I actually started doing things again.  I would go and see where Ronald Adair had died, and I would try and solve the mystery, and I would remember John.  Quickly, before I could change my mind, I showered, dressed, and left the flat.

July, in London, is one of the few times of the year when it approaches being warm enough, and it was a beautiful day.  I took the long route around Kensington Park, since a straight shot would have taken me directly past St. Mary’s Hospital, where John had worked - and where his body had been taken. The trees were brilliant green, and it seemed everyone in London was sunbathing or playing football or falling in love around me.

Ronald Adair’s flat was adjacent to the Mariott, in one of the converted brick Georgian edifices that infest all of Park Lane.  I had forgotten to take note of the number, but it was easily identifiable by the flowers and stuffed animals heaped up on the low fence that surrounded it. There were a fair number of gawkers, and by asking, I found which window Adair had been shot through.  I was stumped, for the moment, but thinking logically, decided the best route was to see from where I could have made the shot.  The busy street and the shrubbery borders of the park being ruled out, necessarily, I confined my attention to the sidewalks.  I took pictures on my phone, and paced around, and tried to work out the trigonometry involved.  

Then I stopped.  There were half a dozen locations from which the shot could have come.  It would be the hell of a task: the window was small and high, but if it were dark out and the shooter were aiming into a lit room, it would be possible. I had hunted a lot as a kid, and might have been able to make it with a rifle.  John, who had been an excellent marksman, might have been able to do it with a handgun.  But to do it quickly enough to avoid notice in a busy neighborhood, to do it silently?  That was impossible.

All facts that were undoubtedly obvious to the police.  If John had been with me, it would have been a fun little mathematical exercise.  We’d have followed it with a walk home, dinner at the pub on the end of our street, and making tipsy love in the light of a summer sunset in our flat.  But he wasn’t with me, and he never would be again, and the day would end as all days did, alone with the cat and the television and the dark.  The whole thing was a pointless, futile exercise - a little girl’s attempt to play make-believe.

I knew, suddenly, that I was going to cry.  It happened a lot, and it wasn’t an experience I wanted to share with all London, so I spun around to depart and slammed full-force into a souvenir hawker who had been just behind me.  Grace has always eluded me.  The pole she carried, hung with ballcaps and other tat, fell to the ground, and she gave an indignant Cockney squawk of “Oi! Watch it!”  I bent to retrieve her pole and handed it back to her, mumbling, “Sorry, sorry,” and fled outright into the park, keeping my eyes firmly on the ground.  

Leaving the path, I hurried through the park, not really aware of where I was going as long as it was quieter and emptier.  I reached a dim copse free of children, tourists, and lovers, where I sat down, and let the tears flow.

It’s easy to see why the ancient Egyptians thought that the heart, and not the brain, was the source of love.  True sadness isn’t felt in the head, it’s felt in the chest, and I could feel every choked beat of my heart as I sobbed and gasped and tried to catch my breath for what seemed like ages.  But from a pragmatic point of view, I’m sure I didn’t go for long.  Crying is too tiring to keep up for much time.  Of course, I had come out without any tissues, so I wiped my aching eyes and puffy face on the corner of my cardigan.  

At that moment, the hawker walked into the copse.  

“There you are!” she called out, “Wondered where you’d got to!”

I sighed.  “Look,” I said, “I’m sorry about knocking into you.  It was an accident.  If I’ve damaged anything I will be happy to pay-“

“Na, na, love.  Just a load of rubbish.  Can’t hurt it if it isn’t worth anything to start with.  But I saw your face and thought you might be in some trouble.”  The woman was elderly, with a mop of dyed auburn hair and a thick Docklands accent which I would love to render in text, if it didn’t look so silly.  But her blue eyes were kind, and she handed me a miniature water bottle marked with “Souvenir of Hyde Park.”

“I’m – fine.  I just got a little upset.  Thank you.”  The water was lukewarm and tasted faintly of plasticizers, but it soothed my irritated throat.

The woman seemed to take this remark as an invitation, and placing her wares on the grass, sat next to me.  I have lived in London since I was twenty-five years old and I could tell what was coming.  There are two main personality types among the English: the type that is intensely uncomfortable with any sort of emotion, and the type that delights in every possible expression of sentiment and wishes to hear all about it.  They’re like New Yorkers in that respect.

Apparently I had found one of the latter variant.

“You get to see a bit of everything, my line of work,” she said, digging a battered packet of Silk Cut out of her pocket, “Care for one?”

I had officially quit smoking years ago, when I finished my doctorate, and stopped even having the occasional one when I started dating John, since he loathed the things.  Just at that moment, though, it sounded like heaven.  “Yes, thank you.”

She shook two out of the packet, and passed one to me before getting out a transparent plastic lighter.  She lit hers, and then handed over the lighter.  A brief breeze kicked up, and I bowed my head over the tiny flame, trying to make the cigarette catch, as she said, quietly, “Now, Mary, you need to remain calm.”

The cigarette caught, and I took that first delicious, poisonous drag, before the fact that this stranger knew my name really filtered into my mind.  

I looked over, and where the woman had been, sat Sherlock Holmes.

  The Sign of Four (Sherlock)

The art of disguise, as I have often remarked, is in context far more than it is in costume.   Truly approximating the appearance of someone else is only possible from a distance: in ordinary situations major alterations to the face appear theatrical and attract more attention than not.  If, instead, you select a character who would be entirely appropriate in the context in which he appears, you need make only minor changes to your own appearance.  The observer’s mind will then do ninety per cent of your work and you will be de facto invisible.  I intend to write a monograph on the topic when I have the time.

Mary Morstan may have had some subconscious understanding of this.  On the occasion of our first meeting, I observed that she was wearing a carefully calibrated disguise, although I doubt she would have referred to it as such.  Very high heels, but an intentionally prim and boxy suit, severe makeup and hairstyle, heavy-framed glasses.  She introduced herself with a flat, middle-American accent, only slightly sharpened by years of living in London.

Just after she arrived, John walked into the flat, his arms filled with carrier bags of groceries, which he set down with great rapidity in order to shake her hand.  

“Mary Morstan, my associate, John Watson.  Miss Morstan,” I said, “Teaches maths at Westminster School.”

She stared at me when I said that.  John, I noted, didn’t let go of her hand when her attention was distracted.

“How do you know that?” she asked.

I sighed, though in truth I always enjoy it when they ask for the reasoning.  

“You’ve obviously come straight from work, meaning that you work Saturday mornings.  Chalk dust on the right cuff, which is worn in a way that you only ever see with people who spend a great deal of time writing on blackboards.  There are traces of red ink on the heel of your hand and a splotch near the tip of your index finger.  Thus, teacher.”  

As I’d expected, she dropped John’s hand to examine her own.

“You took the tube to get here, and in those shoes you probably didn’t walk far before you boarded at Westminster station: there’s construction digging up the street there and the fresh splashes of yellowish mud on your left stocking are quite distinctive.  Half a dozen schools in that area, but your ensemble suggests older students and moneyed parents. Hence, Westminster School.”

The last was a gloss, as her ensemble suggested nothing of the sort.  It said quite plainly “I teach older boys.”  Her skirt was unfashionably long, her blouse was buttoned up to the neck, and her jacket was boxy in order to conceal her rather large breasts.  Having attended an all-boys senior school, I recognized the style, and the motivation behind it.  But since I was undoubtedly going to receive the ”abrasive” and “show-off” lectures after her departure, I saw no reason to add the “inappropriate” one, and simplified the matter.

“And… maths?”

I sighed again, this time sincerely.  The easy ones are never any fun.

“There’s a graphics calculator in the right pocket of your overcoat.”

At that, she laughed.  Giggled, really.  But almost instantly, she caught herself, cleared her throat, and dropped back into the lower vocal register that she had previously affected.  Everything I could ever have wished to know about Mary Morstan’s character was thus revealed in the first five minutes of our interview.  Nature had given her a respectable brain and deposited it in a body that was small, blonde, and rather fluffy.  Her disguise did a reasonable job of concealing this, but she would spend the rest of her life trying to make people take her seriously.

“That’s amazing,” she said, “I read in your blog, Doctor Watson-“

“John, please,” he interrupted.  Oh dear.

“John.  I read about this kind of analysis but it’s remarkable to see it in real life.”

“Can be a bit creepy if you��re not used to it, though,” John replied, which I thought extremely unfair, given that I had been very polite and not mentioned that her teeth demonstrated her adolescent bulimia or that her fingers and eyebrows strongly implied a mild obsessive-compulsive condition.  I maintained my dignity, and said only,

“Thank you, John.  State your case, Miss Morstan.”

“Right.  Well.   I suppose I have to go back to the beginning.  My father, Thomas Morstan, was English.  I was actually born in Sussex, but when I was two my parents divorced and my mother and I moved back to America. I never got to see him much, growing up, but he always kept in touch, by phone and letters, and then by email when that came around.  Sent birthday gifts and that sort of thing.  Ten years ago I finished grad school, and he offered to buy me a ticket to come and meet him in London.  I hadn’t seen him for several years at that point and I didn’t have a job so, obviously, I said yes.”

“Mmm.  Continue.”

“He’d booked us rooms at the Langham, which I thought was much too expensive for him, but he said it was a treat for my graduation.”

“What was his profession, then?”

“He started off in the Army, but he resigned his commission after the first Gulf War and joined the diplomatic service.”

“As?”

“An attaché.  Just an office job, basically.  Visas and helping distressed tourists and so on.”

“And his rank in the army?”

“Ah, he ended as a Lieutenant Colonel, I believe.

“Go on.”

“I flew to London, expecting him to pick me up at Heathrow, but he wasn’t there.  No answer when I tried to call him.  I took a cab to the Langham and asked if he’d checked in, and he had, but there was no answer when they called up to his room.  Eventually they agreed to open the door – he’d had a heart attack a few years before, and I was getting very upset - and all of his things were in there, but no sign of him.  I never saw him again.”

“Interesting.  Did the police investigate?”  John was patting her shoulder, sympathetically, which seemed excessive given that the death (and yes, it was death, almost certainly) was ten years in the past.  She should have been well beyond it by this point.  But upon closer observation, I could see that he was right: a slight swimminess around the eyes and the set of the jawbone indicating gritted teeth.  Oedipal complex.  She replied, calmly enough.

“Yes.  They didn’t find anything.”

“Of course they didn’t.  They never do.  Did your father have any acquaintances in London?”

“Only one that they could find: a Major Sholto.  He had no idea Dad was even in town.”

“Mmm.  I doubt a disappearance ten years ago would incline you to seek the services of a consulting detective today.  What has changed?”

Morstan cleared her throat and opened the battered leather attache case that had been sitting at her feet.  From a manila folder, she removed a broadsheet page of yellowing newsprint, with a quarter-page sized advertisement in the upper right hand corner circled in red ink.  The paper was the Omaha World-Herald, the date was May 4, 2004, and the advertisement simply stated:

“If Mary Morstan, daughter of Captain Thomas Morstan, will contact the address below, it will be to her advantage” followed by an email address.

“Half a dozen of my friends from high school saw this and forwarded it on to me.”

“And what did you do?”

“I sent them an email.  I said I was Thomas Morstan’s daughter, that I’d relocated to London, and asked what they wanted.”

“Any reply?”

“No.  And when I sent on a follow-up a few days later, it bounced.   It was just Hotmail… could have been anyone.  But then a few days after that, I received this in the mail.”

Reaching back into the attaché case, she pulled out a small pouch made of black jeweler’s felt. Loosening the drawstring, she tipped something small and square into her palm, and passed it over to me.

I could hear John inhale sharply through is teeth as I reached for my lens.  Mary said, wryly, “Yes, that’s pretty much how I felt.  It’s a three carat, blue-white, flawless diamond.  Probably dug up in India, if that’s any help.  It’s worth around $150,000, retail.”

“Unusual cut,” I murmured, looking at the magnified lump of crystallized charcoal, “It’s called the-“

“The old mine cut,” interrupted Mary, “Meaning it was most likely faceted sometime between 1700 and 1900.  I know.  After the police gave it back to me, I had it appraised at Sotheby’s.”

“You went to the police again?”

“I did.”

“Any good?”

“Not really.  They hung onto it a while, but nobody reported any similar gems lost or stolen, and then they gave it back.  Apparently it’s “not illegal to be given things.”  So after that I was on my own.  But I still didn’t feel right about it, so I had the appraisal to see if a real professional could find anything more useful.”

“Well done,” said John, heartily.  He was in a fair way to make an idiot of himself over this woman, although she seemed flattered by the compliment.

“Thank you,” Mary replied, “And then, the thing is, Mr. Holmes, that it didn’t stop with this.  Every year since then, on May 14, I get another one of these in my mail.  I’ve changed addresses and it didn’t make a difference.  Perfectly matched, very expensive diamonds.  I left the rest of them in my safe deposit box: even carrying one of them around makes me edgy.  And then, yesterday, there was this.”

She passed over a letter.  Fine, high linen content paper, no watermark, 10-point… Trebuchet font, printed on an HP laserjet printer. It read, “Be at the third pillar from the left outside the Lyceum Theatre on Saturday, July 9 at seven o'clock. If you are distrustful, bring two friends. You are a wronged woman, and shall have justice. Do not bring police. If you do, all will be in vain. Your unknown friend.”

There was no signature or address.

“Did you keep the envelope?”

“Yes, here.  And here,” she said, passing over a small heap of padded mailers sealed into plastic zip-topped bags, “Are the envelopes the diamonds came in.”

“Well, you do have the right instincts.  Not much to see here, though… the letter and the last three packages had their labels off the same printer.  The first four were from another.  It stretches credulity to think that there are separate groups doing this so we’ll assume for the moment it was simply a matter of replacing an outdated device.  The mailers can be bought anywhere.  Various London postmarks… thumbprint on this one, Miss Morstan, may I see your right hand please?  Thank you.  Your thumbprint. I’ll put them under the microscope later but I doubt there’ll be that much to learn.”

“And you’ve no idea at all who may have sent these?  No… admirers, things like that?” John asked.

She laughed at that.  “Generally, when men are interested in me they go more for things like asking me to dinner rather than anonymously sending me a million dollars in gems over the course of seven years.  I’m not that unapproachable.”  I rolled my eyes at their stale flirtation, although I don’t believe either of them noticed it.

“But…” she continued, more hesitantly, “Mr. Holmes, do you think that there’s any possibility that these are from my father?”

John was glaring at me, and so instead of saying “Of course not.  He’s been dead for ten years,” replied “I’m afraid it’s very unlikely.”

“I see,” Mary replied, quietly.  She drew a deep breath and continued, “Well, regardless, I had planned to go… unless you can give me a real reason not to.  If whoever it is wants to hurt me it seems like they’ve chosen a really baroque way of going about it.  I mean, they already know where I live so it’s not like there’s much point in avoiding them. And I’m getting sick of this mystery.”

“There are, however, a few points of interest in it.  As you are allowed to bring two friends and John is already planning on accompanying you, I believe I shall join him.”

She darted her gaze back and forth between us, smiling, “Really?  You will?  Both of you?  Oh, thank you, thank you so much! This whole saga has just been so shady and I didn’t know anyone who’d be any help with this kind of thing.  It’s such a weight off my mind. Thank you.”

She was gushing, and her voice had inevitably pitched up again.  I responded calmly with, “Yes, well.  Can you be here by five thirty on Saturday?  And leave us your contact information.”

“Of course!”

And, writing an email address and a phone number on a sheet of scrap paper, she disappeared in a whirl of gratitude.

John rose to escort her to the door.  I remained seated, and began texting.

“That, he said, picking up his carrier bags and taking them into the kitchen, “Was a very attractive woman.”

“Hadn’t noticed.”

“Really.  I knew you were a human adding machine but I never thought you were actually dead.  Sherlock, it’s an objective fact!  She’s got a beautiful smile.”

“Very short.”

“Oh, come on.  She’s an inch or two shorter than I am.”

While this statement would not actually exclude “short” from consideration, I simply raised my eyebrows and replied, “Women have developed this remarkable technology called shoes which they use when they wish to increase their height, John.  She’s no more than five feet tall.”

“Yes, well, shortness is not a handicap, Sherlock.  And she’s clever.”

“She’s adequate.”

“And brave.  She was going to walk by herself into a threatening situation just because she wanted to find out the truth.”

“So are you.  So am I, for that matter.  I fail to see why it’s so much more meritorious when it’s her doing it.”

“I’m a combat-trained military reservist, and you are England’s only consulting detective.  It’s our job.  She’s a very small maths teacher.”

I set down the mobile and glared at him, “Mary Morstan, John, is in no need of your protection.  This affair of the diamonds is a mere personal intrigue.  She’ll meet with the woman and resolve it without the benefit of your attention.”

He paused from putting the potatoes in the bin and inquired, “It’s a woman sending the diamonds?  You’re sure?”

In general, I don’t admit which of my deductions I’m certain of and which are (very good) guesses.  Maintaining a reputation as infallible isn’t a trivial exercise.  But John had repeatedly earned the truth from me, and so I said, “No, I’m not.  I’m reasonably confident, given the font choice, the computer used, and the wording, that it’s a woman, and a rather melodramatic one.  But there’s more – uncertainty in these things than I would like.”

John chuckled.  “I should take a picture of you right now and call it ‘Sherlock Holmes admitting he might be wrong’.  They’d love to have it down at the Yard.  So why take the case if you don’t think there’s any mystery?”

“Oh, there is one, just not the “why is someone sending me expensive gemstones” one she came in with.  Can you log on to the GRO database and look something up for me?  My email address and password will get you in.”

“Sure,” he said, walking back into the sitting room and picking up his laptop, “What?”

“Deaths.  Start by looking for “Sholto” in late April, early May of 2005.  If that doesn’t bring up anything, look for ex-military, older, in London, same time frame.”

“Right.  What are you going to do?”

I held up my mobile.  “I’ve done it.  I’ve sent a text to brother Mycroft.”

“Why?”

“Watson, when a man leaves a high rank role in the army to become a low-end functionary in the diplomatic service, what does that suggest?”

“Er, PTSD?”

“No. It suggests spy.  I want to find out exactly what Thomas Morstan did for a living.”  

A week after that, Mary Morstan arrived punctually back at Baker Street. She’d replaced the dowdy suit with trousers and a blue blouse cut low in the front, left off her glasses, and undone her severe bun to let her hair hang over her shoulders.  She had chosen flat shoes this time, which was a relief, as it showed the target of all this display was John rather than me.

Six hours after that, I saw that the display had been successful.  I had to physically restrain John from going to her as she was handcuffed and loaded into a black maria for the murder of Barbara Sholto.  As typical of Americans, she was explaining loudly and slowly to the arresting officer that there had been a terrible misunderstanding, clearly expecting this to rectify the situation.  

“John, look,” I said, sotto voce, as I pinned him to the wall of the alley, “If you go over there you’ll only be arrested too.  Athelney Jones has already picked up the entire domestic staff and Theresa Sholto and would be only too happy to increase his bag.  The man’s an idiot, even by the standards of the metropolitan police.  We’ll text Lestrade to let him know, and the worst she’ll have is a few uncomfortable hours, but we need to be on our way if we’re going to actually catch the killer which is the only thing that will do her any good.”

Even that early, I suspected that Mary would not be as swiftly forgotten as the rest of the girlfriends.

Three days later, Mary was a free woman again.   The lost crown jewels of the Russian Tsars, of which she had been offered a one-third share, were scattered along six miles of the bottom of the Thames.  She had accepted this development with equanimity.  As she said to John, “Even if they hadn’t been lost, it’s not like I was expecting to keep them.  I’m sure there’s still some Romanovs somewhere who’d like to have them back.  The whole time Teresa was telling me the story of how she got them I kept thinking “Yeah, this kind of stuff doesn’t happen in real life.””

I heard, while they were falling in love, enough of “The Things Mary Says” to gag a cat.  I heard about Mary’s feelings on politics, the arts, and current events.  I heard about Mary’s emotional turmoil on the discovery that her father was an intelligence agent who had taken the pay of so many competing nations and organizations that even now nobody could say who he had really worked for.  And that was apart from his being a jewel thief.  I heard enough recitations of her personal charm, intelligence, and integrity to gag a dog.

  Not being enamored of her, I was able to observe her far more clearly.  I saw that she omitted to mention during the investigation that she was already in receipt of seven perfectly-matched flawless three carat blue-white diamonds, pulled from a coronet made for some forgotten Tsarina.  I saw no reason to bring it up to anyone, if she had overcome her scruples about receiving stolen property.  I would rather the money have gone to John than to anyone else, and it was clear by that point that it would.

Over the next months, Mary incorporated herself into John’s life, and thus, into mine.  I grew accustomed to the scent of her cosmetics in the flat’s shared w.c. (she was a disgustingly early riser and had usually gone before I woke up), and the sounds of their post-sex conversation from the upstairs bedroom (they kept the actual lovemaking quiet, out of politeness, but the after-chat was quite distinct).  I drew the line, however, at allowing her to tidy the place.  She didn’t understand the system and would have made a hash of it.

Ultimately, just over six months after the day she rang the bell at Baker Street, I found myself ordering a round of tequila shots at the bar of the White Lion and slipping chloral hydrate into three of them.  Earlier, Mary had balanced on tiptoe to kiss my cheek and whisper in my ear “Can you please try not to let them get him too drunk?”  I carried the round back to the table where a flushed and grinning but not yet weaving Watson listened as a dozen of his Army and medical school friends speculated on whether Mary would qualify him as “Four-Continents Watson” or if the actual location of the coitus mattered more than the origin of the lady in question.  I passed the shot glasses around, judging that the administration of three Mickey Finns to three particular members of the party would bring the night to a graceful but early end in about an hour.

I judged, as usual, correctly.  After decanting the three dazed ringleaders into a cab, the party broke up, and John and I made it back to Baker Street with only slightly more difficulty than usual. The stairs did give him some trouble, but ultimately I was able to successfully deposit him on the couch.  I shook two aspirin from the bottle and handed them to him along with a glass of water.  He took both uncomplainingly.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.  For whatever you did back there.  I’d hate to be a mess tomorrow.”

“I looked up the duties of the best man and apparently making sure the groom is present and presentable are tops on the list.”

“And you even agreed to wear a tie!”  This non sequitur amused him, and he chuckled at his own joke for a moment, before sobering (comparatively), and staring around the flat.  “I’m going to miss all this.”

“No, you won’t,” I predicted, climbing the stairs to fetch the blankets off his bed.  

“I will!” he insisted, “I’m happy, really happy, about Mary.  She’s wonnerful.  But I’ll miss this life.  And you.”

“It’s not as though I’ll be dead.  You’ll be ten minutes away.  I’ll be sure to call you whenever I need my cases blogged.”

“I love you, mate, you know that?  Even though you are- just such a prick.”

I smiled and pitched the blankets at his head.  “I do.  Tosser.  Now go to sleep.  You have a busy day ahead of you.”

He was out and snoring, wearing everything but his shoes, five minutes later.  I refilled his water glass and left it on the end table.

At noon the next day I (wearing not only a tie but my entire morning suit) stood at John’s left shoulder and watched Mary Morstan walk down the aisle.  I doubt she saw me: her eyes were fixed on John, who was sober, alert, and in full dress uniform, as requested.  The expression of love and joy on her face obliged me to concede that, at the moment, she was in fact a very attractive woman.  

I don’t think I could have given him up to anyone who loved him even a bit less.

At the reception I gave a speech which everyone said was very interesting, and drank one and a half glasses of inferior Prosecco.  I watched them cut the cake, noting that the new Mrs. Watson was far more comfortable with John’s ceremonial saber than he was.  She’d lost the callosities of the dedicated fencer, but the skill remained.  Then, as Molly Hooper was prowling around with an eye towards dancing and my actual duties were complete, I slipped out of the hall and walked back to Baker Street.

I stopped in at the chemists and bought a packet of cigarettes, then let myself into the flat.  There was a peculiar sensory illusion that it was larger and emptier than normal: nonsense, of course.  John was routinely absent when I was there.  The fact that the absence would now be permanent didn’t alter the actual physical size of the place.

There was always work, and heedless of my dress clothes, I went to it.  Three months later, I “died.”  And three years after that, I returned to a London which seemed larger and emptier than I recalled.  Sensory illusion again.  The softer emotions have a very negative impact upon accurate observation, and the world in general doesn’t change at all when a single person drops out of it. On an individual level, though, a single death can rip the bottom out of everything.  Such was the case with Mary Watson, who I encountered on a bright August day in Park Lane.  She’d lost a stone in weight, which was significant at her height, and was wearing an oversized camel-colored cardigan which I recognized with a pang as being one of Watson’s.  She had, in general, the appearance of a child’s toy where the stuffing had been pulled out.  I approached her, unseen, as her attention was on Ronald Adair’s flat.   When she lost her composure and fled, I hesitated.  Then I followed.  There were two reasons for this.  The first, as always, was John.  I couldn’t envision a situation where he would not have come to the aid of a crying woman.  In the particular case of Mary, he’d have sprinted to it.

As for the second, well…  On the occasion of the case of Neville St. Claire, John had said to me that, “People in trouble come to my wife like birds to a light-house.”

And I truly had nowhere else to go.   Chapter 3: The Death of Ronald Adair (Mary)

In general, I am not a fainter, and I didn’t faint then.  But a grey mist swirled in front of my eyes, and when it subsided I noticed I had dropped the cigarette onto the well-clipped Hyde Park grass.  I picked it up with numb, nerveless fingers.  With my other hand I reached out to Sherlock and pushed on the flesh of his bicep.  He was reassuringly solid.

“So I haven’t gone mad.”

“No.”

“Not dead, then?”

“Yes.”

I took a drag from the Silk Cut and asked, “Does anyone else know besides me?”

“Mycroft.”

“Of course.”

“And Molly Hooper.”

“That bitch!” I exclaimed, before I could stop myself.  I wouldn’t quite have called Molly a friend.  We didn’t see much of one another, but her quiet competence had gotten me through the hellscape of the funeral.  I found it startlingly painful to believe that she had been concealing a secret like this- especially from John.

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at me and said, “You’re harsher on her than on Mycroft?”

“There is nothing that I would put past one of the Holmes boys.”

He sighed, and drew on his own cigarette.  The sun dipped below the treetops and set us into shadows.

“Sherlock,” I asked, eventually, “What do you want?”

“I need a gun.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.  Of course you do.”

“Mary, please-“ and he hesitated.  He and I had never been more than “friendly”, and he certainly had never been inclined to ask any favors of me.  

“You’re still in trouble, aren’t you?” I accused.

He hesitated again.

“Yes.”

“Right,” I said, brushing off my pants and rising, “We’ll talk.  Baker Street, or our place?  My place.”

“Baker Street is being watched.”

“Can we take a cab?”

“Probably.”

It was actually very impressive, how he collapsed his face into that of the Cockney souvenir hawker.  He even seemed to lose several inches in height.  The stage lost an excellent actor when he decided to go into detective work.

We walked in silence back to Park Lane, and took a cab (after he’d dismissed the first one that tried to stop).  He sat next to me in silence, until a horrible thought overtook me, and I said, “Oh, God, has anyone told you?  About-“

“Your… bereavement?  Yes.  I was… very sorry to hear of it.”

It was a relief.  It had already happened several times: some colleague or acquaintance who I hadn’t seen in a while would, in the course of ordinary chit-chat, drop, “Oh, and how’s John doing?” into the conversation.  And then I would have to watch their faces change from polite disinterest to horror and pity as I gave them the news.  I would say it was the worst thing I had to do, but I had developed an entire new suite of worst things in recent months and was somewhat spoiled for choice.

We didn’t speak any further until I let us into the flat.

“Have a seat.  I’ll just go get it.”

John, given that he was occasionally prone to physically violent nightmares, had always kept the Sig Sauer semi-automatic securely locked away in a box in the master bedroom closet.  I retrieved it, and returned to the living room.  Sherlock had installed himself in his old favorite spot on the sofa, and Arthur had climbed onto the arm next to him.  They were watching each other with matching expressions of flat-eyed distaste.

“I don’t know where the key is,” I said, passing the box over.

“It’s fine,” he replied.  And indeed, he materialized a lockpick from somewhere and opened it within ten seconds.

He’d removed his auburn wig, although he still had on an excellent shade of lipstick for his complexion: a glossy transparent berry-stain.  It was almost the only color on his face.  Whatever he’d been up to, it was doing no favors for his health.  I wouldn’t have thought he could have gotten thinner or paler, barring his contracting tuberculosis or vampirism.  And yet, he had managed.  At some point, he’d cut his hair off close to the scalp, and it was faintly peppered with grey.  Sherlock was a year or two younger than I, but at the moment I could see what he would be like as an old man.

“You know that thing’s illegal, right?” I said.

“It’s not something that’s a real concern just at the moment,” he returned, calmly.

“It should probably be cleaned.  It’s not been touched since… well, I’m not sure of the last time John cleaned it.”

“It will be fine.  They’re very simple instruments and Watson was always over-cautious.  I didn’t clean my old one for years and it never had any problems.”

“That’s because John would secretly do it for you every few months.”

One of the small pleasures in life that everyone should get to experience at least once is to watch Sherlock Holmes’ face when he is informed that one of the normals has gotten something past him.  I had to suppress a flicker of a smile at how thunderous he looked.

“Look,” I said, “Give it here and I’ll do it.  The cleaning kit’s on the top shelf above the stove in the kitchen, if you’ll reach it down for me.”

I could hear him rummaging around in the cabinet as I released the clip, disconnected the slide, and popped out the spring.  I laid everything down on the coffee table and accepted the kit when he returned and gave it to me.  When I sighted down the barrel, I could see ample dust, and a fair bit of corrosion from the soggy English atmosphere.  It only made sense, really.  When Sherlock had died, John had lost any professional reason to carry a gun, and gained a strong personal reason to lock it away and leave it to rust.  Dipping the cleaning swab into the wide-mouthed jar of solvent, I began passing it through the barrel.

“’In a self-defense situation, there will be many things you can’t control. The condition of your weapon is not one of them,’” I quoted.

“Did Watson say that?”

“No, though he’d have agreed with the sentiment.  That was my stepfather.  He was the one who taught me about shooting.”

Sherlock blinked at me.  “I didn’t know you had a stepfather.”

“Like everyone else, I do actually have an objective existence apart from the parts you find interesting, Sherlock.”

I sounded bitter, but I didn’t care.  I had been the one to put John back together after Sherlock’s quote-unquote death, and having him sitting calmly on my sofa irked.

“I only meant,” he replied, “That he wasn’t at your wedding.”

“He has congestive heart failure and travel is very difficult for him!” I snapped,

“Sherlock, why the hell did you do this?”

“Well, I had in fact been exposed as a fraud and-“

“Bullshit.  You have been more or less cleared for two years and I’m sure your brother told you that.  D.I. Lestrade had to demonstrate that you weren’t, in general, a criminal, because he wanted to keep his job. Fifty people, including me, by the by, came forward to tell stories of how you had solved cases that you couldn’t possibly have faked.  The only real mystery remaining is this whole affair with Richard Brook, and frankly the best person to justify that would have been you.”

He scrubbed his hands through the bristles of his hair.  “There was more.”

“So tell me.”

Sherlock sighed, and stared off into the space over my left shoulder.  “When the head of an organization is removed, the organization generally remains.  John Kennedy is shot, the United States persists.  The death of Jim Moriarty left a thriving multinational criminal organization with a vacancy at the top for which there were numerous keen candidates.  I have spent the last three years attempting to take advantage of this situation and dismantle its operations entirely.”

Something about the cold way he said “dismantle” made me think I really didn’t want to hear much about this process.  I asked, “And you couldn’t have done that in your own persona?”

“No.  Because- Moriarty was in many ways a remarkable man.”

The tone of this statement was pure admiration, and I rubbed my forehead where I could feel the old familiar “Sherlock” headache coming on. “How’s that?” I asked.

“I don’t want to say he founded a cult of personality, but in his immediate circle were several men who genuinely did admire him and support him in his goals, as opposed to the ordinary hangers-on who simply were in it for the profit.”

“So, his friends.”

“What?”

I sighed.  “Never mind.  Continue.”

[my-arlington-academia]

I'm super late and sorry for ruining the good mood after the awesome new sprites reveal! Note: some of this was written before the reveal and some after

(It turned out so long, longer than my school essays and I might've made some wording/formulation mistakes so sorry again.)

Hey so I kind of really have a deep hatred for drama but at the same time I want to talk about what ""happend"" recently because a big part of it seems a bit like BS to me.

(I'm on the SE developers' side btw so if I say something that might offend you I think it's best not to read)

Okay, basically there was some writing for the original chapter 7 "leaked" by a person who was on the team but left months ago and while it didn't seem like that big of a deal at first after hearing both sides of the story I have a bit of a clearer image. So what's written there is what chapter 7 was supposed to be like however it's clear now that the current chapter 7 will have nothing to do with this. Buuut there's a problem there, not going into the whole contract thing (yet) I'd like to say that it doesn't make sense from Cecile's side to call this JUST a fanfiction.

Normally it wouldn't be a problem but what's written there was at some point supposed to be canon, right? This writing is coming from someone who has an insider's perspective unlike us, "outsiders" who were never on the team and have no idea about how the plot is/was supposed to go. A fanfic is, may I quote, "fiction written by a fan of, and featuring characters from, a particular TV series, film, etc." Thus the whole contract thing doesn't matter in that statement since the person/people who wrote this aren't fans, they're people who were on the SE development team.

And so I read the thing (ngl, it was mainly because I was really curious and wanted to see what it was all about) and tbh I can understand Serena's annoyance towards it. I mean, it contains some info on the characters. Info we've never heard of before (and I'm not gonna talk about it just in case some people decided not to read it because I respect that) while most of those were just small glimpses into their personalities/hobbies/background and it didn't seem like there was anything plot heavy, or nothing that I've noticed is supposed to be important for later, it still doesn't change the fact that these informations are canon, right?

I suppose Serena must've read it at some point and approved the writing though that's just speculation on my part.

So long story short, what was posted isn't really a fanfic but more like the plot of an old chapter that got either delayed to a later chapter or like... completed deleted since they left the team and the layout of the chapter is now out to the public so I highly doubt Serena is gonna post something similar to this, or at least if she's still planning on making a Halloween chapter then maybe she'll change how the story was supposed to play out?

Tbh I feel like it would've been smarter to ask first if they can publish the copy of the chapter instead of making a big ruckus out of it. This could've been easily avoided but then again I don't know if they left the team on good terms, not that this part is any of my business though.

Anyway, so then we have the whole "she didn't give us a contract to sign" argument which is... uh, I mean, what did you expect?

SE development started back in 2015 correct? So it's been around 4 years and we're only on chapter 6. Why? Because making the game isn't their full time job and they made that clear multiple times in the past. Besides, correct me if I'm wrong, but 4 years ago wasn't Serena like in her late teens/early twenties or something? I know it might seem cheap to pull out the legendary "she was young" argument but tbh I'm in high school and never have I imagined or taken seriously the thought of making an indie game. If like, next month I decided to do it and found some people who are down for making some assets for the game then a legal contract would literally be the last thing I would think about.

Besides it's not like Serena has ever been secretive about the things she thought were necessary to tell the fandom, or at least I don't get the feeling that she has. Do y'all really imagine her being like "muhahaha! I'm not gonna make a contract with them so I can freely use their work!" ???

The thing with a contract is that it's not only good for the employees but also for the employer if the workers ever do something that they weren't supposed to (like now). And she's not planning on taking "legal" action anyway because like she said, nothing good will come out of it and she technically doesn't have a "right" to do so.

And let's just be realistic here for a second, okay? Like do you guys really think that they're earning a whole lot thanks to sweet elite? There's barely 18k accounts on the site and I'm pretty sure that most of those are doubles or triples in order to go through different routes. Also, we don't know how much of those accounts belong to active players on the game. There's many people out there who play like the first 2 chapters and never touch the game again because they'd rather watch a let's play or they dropped the game. And amongst the people who do play sweet elite regularly (as in, they log in everyday and play the new chapter when it's out) how many people is there who have ever paid for energy? The thing is that the game is still in it's early stages, there's not many chapters yet so it's easy to catch up quickly and tbh their energy system is pretty generous. You receive 5 points per day but you can also use coins to exchange them for energy (which is what most people do in order to catch up).

So point is, I'm pretty sure they don't gain a lot of money out of it and almost all of the work they do, they do it for free in their free time because they like making the game.

So I dunno, it might be pretty shitty of me and naive to think about it in this way but tbh I feel like it was kind of obnoxious of them to just, y'know. Leave because "there's no contract and we're not making any money out of this" then come back months later to post something that we weren't supposed to see and complain about the fact that their writing and sprites are getting used in chapter 6. Like?? I think it's quite clear that the team is planning on replacing all of the sprites and as for the writing what do you expect them to do? Go through every single chapter again and add words to each sentence, replace some words with synonyms and reformulate everything so it can't be considered your writing anymore? That's kinda dumb and a waste of time.

Could've they replaced all the old illustrations first and then posted the episode? Yes but how much time would it have taken? They'd have to make the new artists overwork and they don't have a way to pay them much all at once. Sweet Elite will be around 50 chapters and it's an episodic type of game in which assets get replaced and added as time goes on because if they did everything in one go then there would be almost no time to update the story.

I can't even pretend to understand because quite frankly I'm not an artist, but I CAN at least understand the feeling of wanting to be reconized for the things I do and for the work I put into things. Who wouldn't?

Plus, to be fair I don't think that there's any shame in wanting to be paid for a job but is making Sweet Elite a job? Not completely. Not yet at least. Right now it's more of a part time job/hobby and it's totally okay to quit when you don't feel like working on it anymore. However if the money and the compensation aspect of making it was so important then wouldn't it have been better to say "Sorry, but I refuse to work on this until I sign a contract" right off the bat rather than feeling like you're not appreciated enough and complain about it months later like a really salty potato chip?

Not making a contract, while being a mistake on Serena's part, she never tried to pretend it wasn't. In fact she affirms that she has made many errors and again, like I said earlier a contract is beneficial to both the employees AND the employer so had she been more careful it wouldn't have played out this way. We don't even know the circumstances and her point of view of that whole contract thing, maybe she just thought that it would be better to not make one in order to keep the workers free to leave in any given moment because she knew that she wouldn't be able to pay them enough?

I saw some people in the tags being like "look guys, this is why I don't support sweet elite anymore and why you shouldn't too!" Which is tbh a pretty simple minded way of looking at it. I guess we, as the pitiful hoomans we are, we're more inclined on taking the side of the "weakest" group which means the people who left the team because there was apparently some ""injustice"" but the more I look into it and the more it seems like it was a big misunderstanding.

Dulcet games is so new do you expect to get paid hundreds/thousands for an indie game with a small following in which even the "boss" isn't getting any/much money out of it? Oh, and there's also some being super vocal about leaving because "Cecile's art was the only thing keeping me from leaving" which... lmao. Take it in a humorous tone please but It's like a customer in Walmart saying that they won't come back again because the fancy red t-shirts from the clothing section are gone. Idk man. You can say whatever you want about the team behind SE but I still stand by the belief that it's a great game with good writing and progressive characters. And all the things Serena did so far seem like pretty logical courses of action especially in this situation or am I wrong? Is Serena secretly evil guys? Were we fooled all along.,.,,..,

(Sorry this post started out so serious and ended so stupid, I'm just unable of writing about really seriousssss topics. Serious with 5 Ss because it's so seriousssss. Also did you notice that this whole thing is obvious and dumb if you think about it for longer than 1 minute? The moment someone says they don't get paid for something everyone flips over but the true question is, did they have the means of paying you at that time? Everybody is so quick to jump on Serena's throat without thinking and it's kinda sad. We're so superficial, like if money is mentionned ONCE in a drama suddenly everyone ascends to their most sensitive state of bitterness. As far as we know Serena never forced anyone to stay on the team and it's no secret that she doesn't get much money ESPECIALLY for an indie game company. It doesn't seem like they didn't want to pay them but more like they couldn't afford to at that time and everything wasn't set up in place yet.)

[crazyconnoisseurlight]

Tips to manage successful events!

Event management:

The organization of a successful event requires planning and dedication. It is possible to make the management of events simpler and improve the daily life of the organizer. In this post, we will tell you what are the main technologies that can be applied in each stage of your event and how they can bring practicality, speed, and ease to your day today. We will also talk about how important it is to manage tasks, people, and choose the right team to delegate functions. This will help you manage your time, money, and more.

Event management: Pre-event

It is in the pre-event that you will make sure that all the organization’s processes are well planned and ready to be executed. Create spreadsheets, checklists and anticipate possible problems such as the formation of long lines in the accreditation or the low budget to promote good publicity – which influences sales and contributes to the positive image of your event. After listing the possible problems, the time has come to find the solutions. That’s where technology comes in!

Planning for event management

To facilitate the organization of activities you can create a planning worksheet. Start by making it very clear everything that will be needed to carry out the event: Team, target audience, schedule of activities, type of event and especially the available budget.

You can also count on the help of organization applications like:

·         Trello: It’s perfect for you who like to-do lists. The app gives you the option to create checklists, set deadlines for the team, and attach files, and more. And the best part: it is possible to add people to your task list and thus increase everyone’s contribution, engagement, and organization.

·         Dropbox Paper: Need a place to organize your tasks and meetings without having to worry? This app will help you! Paper is support that facilitates access to documents from anywhere. You can manage your team – write together, comment, attach files – in addition to detailing tasks and documenting – just like meeting minutes.

·         Google Calendar: This application is great for you who like to mark the tasks that need to be done in the calendar. Using it will give you the possibility to create daily, weekly or monthly reminders on your smartphone. And thus avoid forgetting dates, scheduled activities, or meetings.

Disclosure is within the event management

Technology It also helps you in this step. You can create a website for your event and publish on it what will be the schedule, dates, photos from previous editions, and even the next ones that will come to the end of the event, in addition to selling the registrations online. For your visibility to increase and your dissemination to be effective, remember to work well with SEO – techniques that optimize your content making it easier to find it in search engines like Google. Down here has a tip on that.

After making sure that your website is well ranked, make an analysis of its operation. If you were a user, would you be able to remain calmly browsing the pages or would you be unhappy with the delay of loading, or with the difficulty of finding what you are looking for? Answering these questions will make it easier to solve your website’s problems and, as a bonus, give your visits and subscriptions a boost. It’s the logic: when user satisfaction grows, the number of views naturally increases.

Another simple tip, which will make all the difference when deciding whether or not to share your content, is the construction of visual identity. Is she attractive? Do you talk to your target audience? Is it easy to view and understand? Believe me, these points – well built – will affect the act of sharing any content produced about the event!

Social networks

Use social media to reach more participants. It is possible to create an event on Facebook, but all the information such as date, place, and time, and schedule, link to register – and invite your contacts to attend. The good thing about using Facebook is that people can share, invite their own friends, and increase the visibility of your event. Setting up an Instagram profile is also an option to increase your visibility. It is a great tool for those looking to promote a lot of interaction between the participants or who want faster and more efficient feedback – the network offers the Story tool to help you in this mission.

In addition, you can increase your visibility using hashtags on social networks. On Instagram, the user can already follow the ones that are most attractive to him. That is, they take your content to people who are really interested in consuming it. It’s worth betting! Ah! Within the networks it is also possible to promote the posts to reach more people, you decide the amount according to your available budget and start investing!  

Sales

Technology can also help you to sell your event in a more practical way – through payment intermediaries like Wire card. By using them it will be possible to offer the main forms of payment such as credit card in installments, bank slip, and debit card. It’s all done online and safely. Best of all, you don’t have to spend on physical space or hiring staff to make your sales. Another advantage is the convenience that you offer to the participant who does not have to travel to register.

Some offer early receipt – after 2 days of the deposit being made by the participant, the platform already releases the money for the organizer to start investing. This avoids the rush to get sponsorship or resources from third parties. Nice, isn’t it? Play the video and discover the secret to boost your sales!

Event management: Event day

When the day of the event arrives you need to be attentive to all the details. Promoting participant satisfaction comes first. That is why managing the secretariat correctly is so important. The technology can also facilitate this step! Take a look!

Accreditation

With the use of technology, accreditation is no longer a stressful time – when the participant is in line for hours – and becomes a quick and practical activity. Like? Automating this step with the help of an event platform! Many of them have solutions to streamline this process. With the sale of online registrations, it is possible to send a payment receipt to the participant to present at the accreditation. Some managers also offer a check-in application. On the day of the event, the barcode of the voucher is read by an app, improving the experience of the participants, in addition to being an option to minimize equipment costs.

Another advantage is the printing of labels and badges. Instead of writing the name of each participant on each badge, how about printing the ready-made labels? There are platforms that offer this functionality, it is possible to print them before the event starts and leave the badges ready to be delivered – this saves expenses with the rent or purchase of a printer, for example. Thanks to technology it is possible to say goodbye to manual work! Want to know more tips to rock this step? Watch the video!

Event management: Post-event

The delivery of certificates, satisfaction survey, and communication with the participant – thinking about the post-event – are made here. This demands attention from the organizer and responsibility of the team. Technology can facilitate processes and bring more security to run smoothly. In addition, it is an efficient way to enhance the delivery of certificates. Nothing better than a helping hand to reduce the margin of error and waste of time, right?

Instead of delivering the certificates at the end of the event, send them by post or ask the participants to make the withdrawal at another time, how about, send them by email? An event management platform that has this integrated solution may be the best solution for you! It’s a great way to use technology to streamline the process, avoid queues and, as a bonus, save your time and money that would be spent on printing equipment, paper – and still make participants super happy, of course. In this way, the digital certificate will always be available for access and printing by the participant. If he loses, it will not be necessary to contact you again to request a new route, for example. Ah! After receiving the certificate by email, there is the option to download for printing. To learn more about the types of certificates play in the video below!

Satisfaction survey improves the management of future events

Instead of asking questions, writing them by hand, typing them and printing them, only to then make the survey available to participants at the end of the event, you can complete the process completely online. Investing in specific software to carry it out is a great option. In the market, there are platforms that send the survey directly to the participant’s email and still link to the receipt of the certificate, thus guaranteeing the answer to the questionnaire. To help you formulate the questionnaire questions you can use the survey sites. Take a look at the ready models of the internet, they can inspire you!

Courtesy: best wedding planner in Lahore

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 53

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS: Madame Cheung manages to escape through a secret passageway but James Fraser, joined by his team members including Claire, manage to pursue their target through the streets and alleyway.

*N.B. This chapter contains some violence.

The Madame Cheung storyline is nearing an end and there will be TWO more chapters after this one that bring this arc to a conclusion when she faces Madeline in the White Room.  My THANKS for reading, liking, reblogging or commenting on my work in progress and I truly appreciate your support of my story over the past months. xox 

P.S.  THANKS @widchadidcha for the Molly Meldrum shout out last week. Yer blood’s worth bottling xox

Chapters 1 - 52 can be found at …https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

  CHAPTER 53 (V)

Jamie, Claire, Geillis Duncan and Rupert Mackenzie made their way through the secret passageway and down the stairs in pursuit of their elusive target Madame Cheung, while Joe Abernathy and his team stayed at her establishment to secure the building until further instructions. Regrettably, the lane was full of people milling about at the back of the building but nonetheless the operatives converged and vigilantly moved through the throng ever watchful for a woman who may have converged in with the crowd.  It was clear to Jamie that Madame Cheung’s escape route could make it difficult to find her for it would be easy to see how a person could hide in plain sight by blending in with the surrounds to evade detection particularly when there were so many individuals to be seen. Avoiding exposure by this means was obviously her escape strategy, thus she would not draw attention to herself if she looked and acted like a local. 

Crowded with hawkers setting up their wares for an afternoon and evening of bartering for locals and tourists alike, the backstreet was a flurry of noise and activity. As the operatives proceeded down the lane, they paused every now and again to check the various establishments along the way looking for Madame Cheung. Entering each location, they were ever watchful for the woman who eluded them. The sight of the black clad operatives obviously keen to find someone in a hurry was the cause of some inquisitiveness. In the hustle and bustle people either stepped aside or were pushed out of the way by the pursuers in their search of the target. A cacophony of rapid dialects echoed in the alleyway in contempt and annoyance as the Section One team continued searching for the elusive Madame Cheung. Yet, there was no sign of her anywhere to be seen and when they came to bisecting alleys Jamie sent Geillis Duncan and Rupert Mackenzie, down them to check if she’d gone that way. Together, Jamie and Claire continued down the main laneway when all of a sudden, from out of nowhere, a gunshot ricocheted off a building narrowly missing Claire by a whisker. Looking to see where the shot had come from Jamie noticed a lone assailant in the distance that had begun shooting at them from one of the establishments further ahead. He fired once again. This time the bullet whizzed over Jamie’s head and lodged in the masonry of a merchant’s shop. The two operatives dived for cover behind a vegetable cart as a man exited premises just ahead of them with an automatic weapon. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Noticing that the two pursuers had taken cover, the man stood his ground and stared blasting away firing at the cart with a round of ammunition in rapid succession. Jamie rolled to the left and Claire to the right as the hail of bullets splintered the wooden frame of the wagon into smithereens. Fragments of wood flew into the air and vegetables scattered all over the laneway. Pandemonium broke out as people screamed and ran every which way looking for any kind of cover to get away from the assassin. From the safety of the doorway of a shop on opposite sides of the alley both Jamie and Claire exchanged fire. Reloading his weapon, the assailant followed with yet another discharge of bullets, and although a shootout followed, they were pinned down by the ricocheting bullets. “Claire, hold yer position. Hostile still in place.” “He must be one of Madame Cheung’s men.” “He’s creating a diversion so that she can get away.” “We must be getting closer to her.” “Aye.” “I can get him Jamie,” Claire stated as she lined him up in her gun sight. “No. Hold. I’ve got a clear view of the target. I’m pursuing.” Creating a diversion, the attacker began running down the alleyway pushing frightened people out of the way who had sought refuge in any safe place they could find. Noting his getaway, Jamie took off after him in hot pursuit. He ran quickly and his heels clipped his buttocks while his hair blew backwards in the force of the breeze as he pursued the assailant. When Jamie started to gain on him, the Thai man grabbed a human body shield and fired at his pursuer while his terrified hostage was placed in the direct line of fire. Dodging the bullet, Jamie took aim and fired in return. With deft skill and precision his bullet wounded the man in the shoulder. He lost his balance and recoiled backwards loosening his grip on his hostage. The captive innocent screamed in terror and tried to free himself in all the commotion. Noticing that his captor was injured he made a play at escaping and began flailing his arms about as the villain tried to keep a hold of him. Losing his grip, he pushed him to the ground in disgust and took off in haste blood dripping from his wound. Both ran down the alleyway and as they did so the assailant threw obstacles in Jamie’s way hoping that they would slow him down. Unfortunately for the man they didn’t impede him one iota, as James Fraser jumped, dodged and weaved over any obstacle thrown in his path. This managed to slow the attacker down somewhat and enabled Jamie to gain on him. Eventually catching up with the assassin he knocked him down to the ground kicking his weapon away from him. Although wounded, the assailant picked himself up and lunged at Jamie with a karate kick that hit him in the thigh. Reeling back from the blow, the level 5 operative retaliated with a Kung Fu move to the man’s throat that disabled him once and for all. He fell to the ground lifeless. With one cautious look down the alleyway he alerted Claire. “Target contained.” “Got it,” she replied watching what had taken place.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

The alleyway was a scene of mayhem but people gradually came out from their hiding places knowing that the pandemonium had ceased and that the shooter was dead. Shop owners and sellers surveyed the damage to their property and attempted to right their belongings while others sought to find a quick exit from the alleyway in case something like what had just taken place would happen again.

Nonchalantly stepping over the lifeless man on the ground James Fraser, however, continued down the alleyway as if nothing had happened. He was a man on a mission and he knew that Madame Cheung would have taken the opportunity to make her getaway in all of the commotion to disappear further into the crowd. Men and women watched the black clad man casually walk away seemingly oblivious to what had just taken place. They stepped aside for him in awe but trepidation also, too frightened to look him in the eye. Everyone gave him a wide berth hoping to avoid his attention in any way. “Any sign of Madame Cheung Jamie?” Claire queried. “Not yet. Did ye patch this location to Abernathy’s Team?” “Yeah. They’re re-tracking.” “Good.” “What now?” “Stay alert. She's smart. She could be anywhere.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Madame Cheung’s bodyguard’s fatal attempt to halt Jamie and Claire’s pursuit only confirmed that they were getting closer and that she couldn’t be that far in front of them. The lane was surrounded by shops so there was no way of escape unless she had hidden in one of them which unfortunately was a possibility. However, given the premise that she would need to exit the alley before she could really make a clean getaway, it was logical that Madame Cheung had persevered with this route. Weaving his way down the alleyway, Jamie ran with a determined stride with Claire running after him. Ever watchful they continued in the same direction when suddenly he stopped. There not too far ahead of him he saw a woman hurriedly retreating at the end of the alley. She was trying to be inconspicuous and blend in with the people thronging about in the narrow lane but sensing that someone was following her, she turned around. That was her mistake. Realising that it was indeed Madame Cheung, Jamie set off at a run at a quick pace. She in turn saw who was in pursuit and although surprised at who her pursuer was, she bolted.   “Claire ... Target in sight. Let's go.” “Where?” She asked finally catching up with him. “Fifty metres ahead.” “How do you want to proceed?” “We’ll take her alive.” Jamie responded and motioned to Claire to follow him down the alleyway at a distance. “Okay.” He nodded at her, then he and Claire gave chase. They darted out once more along the street. Taking the lead and resolute in his quest, Jamie ran faster and swifter than Claire whose gangly gait slowed her down somewhat. He raced down the alley like a leopard in full stride in hot pursuit of the target Madame Cheung. He quickly picked up speed while Claire hurried to keep up with him as they ran quickly down the crowded lane pushing and barrelling their way past fruit vendors, shops and restaurants. People jumped out of their way as they did so cursing in a flurry of Thai at the madman careening down the packed lane and the woman running with him. Once again, his heels clipped his behind as Jamie ran fast but given her headway, extreme agility and timely diversion by her bodyguard, Madame Cheung soon disappeared around a corner out of sight. Realising that she had no means of escape the two Section One operatives continued their pursuit rounding the corner after her. Unfortunately, Claire crashed into a man who didn’t see her coming and she fell to the ground. Jamie looked back when he heard her gasp, but she waved him on and he continued with the chase. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Some way ahead Madame Cheung stopped to look back once more to see if she had lost her pursuer, or if he was gaining on her. Wearing a black T-shirt and a leather jacket, with his hair pulled back and wearing sunglasses, Monsieur Le Comte looked more like a Terminator than the man she had come to know. How could she have been so wrong about his character? She had been well and truly hoodwinked by his charming personality. But why was Le Comte St. Germain chasing her? Who was he really? Trying to avoid him, she made a dash through the opened back door of the nearest building. Madame Cheung found herself in the kitchen of a restaurant that backed onto the street. Surprise registered on the faces of the staff to see the sight of the well-dressed woman apparently in a great hurry scurrying through their working area as if the devil was nipping at her heels. To some it was quite comical. They stopped what they were doing to watch the antics of the woman and the bemused chefs got out of her way not quite cognizant of what was going on. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” The Maître-D asked the woman tersely as he came near realising there was an unauthorised person on the premises. However, Madame Cheung made no attempt to explain her presence in the kitchen and pushed him away and any other personnel who approached her. Whatever the woman was doing in the kitchen of the restaurant was a mystery to them all. “Madam! You’re not allowed in the kitchen area!” He repeated quite angrily. “Get out of my way,” Madame Cheung bellowed as if she had every right to be there. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Déjà vu. The bewildered staff had little time to recover from the first intrusion when there was another. Each person looked around at the others in the kitchen as they watched what was unfolding. Not only had there been a woman in the preparation area but she was being followed by a black clothed man in hot pursuit. The staff got out of the way when they saw James Fraser, knowing it was useless to try and intervene. Obviously, the woman must have stolen something from this vendor and he was out to make retribution. They shook their heads in disbelief wondering if that was the end of it. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Seeing the doors to the main restaurant area Madame Cheung hurried in that direction, however, she nearly fell over as a waiter came through the revolving door and bumped into her. His dishes flew up into the air and fell to the ground with a crash as she pushed him out of the way in her haste to get away. Stumbling she nearly lost her footing and this slowed her down to some extent which allowed Jamie to gain on her. She then burst through the crowded restaurant as patrons who had heard the crash and noise in the kitchen area looked on wondering what the heck was going on. Knowing that Madame Cheung had very little chance of escape, Jamie reached into his inner jacket pocket and withdrew his laser gun and followed her into the Chinese restaurant. Standing in the doorway he saw her trying to find an escape route but she had very few options. Madame Cheung had taken a wrong turn and now was cornered by the tables in the restaurant. Aiming his weapon, Jamie shot a bullet above her head. Completely focused on the target he ignored the people scattering to get out of gun range. People began to scream and disperse thinking that the police were raiding the restaurant. People raised their hands in the air while others took coverage under their tables trembling in fright. There was nothing she could do. Madame Cheung stopped bolting caught like a rabbit in headlights. Casually Jamie lowered his gun to his side ever watchful of Madame Cheung cornered in the restaurant. With a slow, nonchalant stride he approached her, his gun swinging as he walked towards her. On seeing his deadly manner, the terrified patrons cowered away from the formidable man who still had a lethal weapon in his hand not knowing if he would use it again. Slowly Madame Cheung turned towards her pursuer and standing her ground, she watched defiantly as Monsieur Le Comte St Germain moved closer to her. As he did so, she could see her face reflected in his sunglasses. This man was a stranger to her. This man was a killer and she admonished herself that she had not recognised this side of Monsieur Le Comte’s character.  Dressed all in black, James Fraser, Section One’s unemotional, taciturn operative stood with legs apart holding his gun at his side, a complete contrast to the character he’d been playing. His eyes were cold, unflinching ... menacing. “What the hell is this Monsieur Le Comte?” Madame Cheung demanded. Jamie didn’t reply to her veiled question. “Who the fuck are you?” she shouted. “And what the hell are you doing chasing me in here? ... Do you have any idea of who you are dealing with?” Ignoring her tirade, James Fraser merely grabbed Madame Cheung by the shoulders and shoved her against the far wall, placing his gun next to her head and quietly requested, “Come with me, please.” She glared at him in contempt. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Claire soon arrived and stood menacingly at Jamie’s side. Madame Cheung averted her eyes and looked at her standing by Le Comte St Germain with an exact mirror image of his body language. Astonishment registered on her face and her pupils dilated in surprise.  This woman who she had taken under her wing and for whom she had developed a great affection was unrecognizable.  Glancing from one to the other she finally realised their subterfuge and that they had duped her. Shock soon turned to contempt. In her most vitriolic manner Madame Cheung spat at Claire, “YOU!” “Yes, me.” “You ... You betrayed me!” Ignoring her outburst, Jamie placed his hand on Madame Cheung’s shoulder to lead her away. She recoiled, shaking her body to dislodge his touch, but to no avail. As she moved forward, Madame Cheung looked back at the woman she had trusted. Looking Claire square in the eye and without faltering, she leaned towards her speaking tersely.

“Beware Claire Beauchamp! The Rising Dragons will retaliate with a rampant vengeance for my capture. Mark my words. Your days are numbered!” 

With her head held high, the captive target, Madame Cheung, walked out beside James Fraser with Claire following behind with the woman’s threat ringing in her ears. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

 P.S. I will post another chapter on the 24th as it is my birthday and the last chapter in this arc on the 30th April. Happy Easter Greetings to all.

[mynameisdreartblog]

Devilish Deals 3

Libra: Offered cool-ass, hellfire bullets. On my route to work, there’s several things I always remark a subtle difference of change in whenever I pass them by: The color of this single window that portrays a lovely dining room scene, the angle the traffic lights hang at, and the name engraved on a rather fancy mausoleum to long-dead celebrity. I can’t tell if I was endowed with a foresight to detect the incredibly subtle, or if it’s an involved process like deciphering anagrams. Regardless, certain messages have been changing to be something that corresponded with recent events within my life. Two years ago, a supply that was supposed to arrive at six in the afternoon was late by another six hours: I checked outside the coordinates they gave me, and I ran only to find out that the site was abandoned. The truck was still there, but it was torn nearly in two and the books were gone. Witnesses had nothing to say before casting their attention to darker corners, alluding that something had happened here that they didn’t want to tell me. [,] The morning after, I passed by that window and it was tinted an irradiated yellow that reflected just enough sunlight for you to avoid seeing what’s behind it. Then, I passed by the traffic lights and they hung at an unusual angle that was 30° facing north from where they’re positioned normally: Not only this, the second light was duller and quite hard to make out. Finally, the mausoleum located in the bottom-right corner of the local cemetery said that it was honoring Yisrael Katz, who — last time I checked — was still alive somewhat. I was passing by the first two attempting to avoid how they were calling to me until I got to the last sign: At that point, I had to ask someone. So, I got off my horse and approached a gravedigger in the cemetery… But he refused to look towards me and instead to arbitrary corners: Indicating that someone was there I couldn’t sense. Suddenly, I was back on my horse towards my workplace as usual. […] Later I was approached by crossing guards who took their duty very seriously, though the ones that stopped me didn’t wear brightly colored vests and actively carried military weaponry. That was something that wasn’t out of the ordinary, so I forgot all about the paranormal disturbances from earlier and I continued on with my day… that was until today where the crossing guards weren’t carrying assault rifles. [,] «Cool, that’s… actually quite interesting. Spare me another story will you?» Heh, and here I was expecting the same old sarcasm from you.

Cancer: In a bus. It was a cold, drowsy morning: One that told you God listened to too much loud music and it started giving him early symptoms of tinnitus. Here, we zoom into a quiet corner of the Patagonian landscape into a somewhat isolated townscape that’s aching with the fog that surrounds it: Even the dry plateaus felt misty this morning. In the center of this village, the statue of Blessed Whoever stood as unquestionably incompetently as you’d expect, decorated with the linings of bird defecation. From its mighty stone finger pointing eastward, there could be seen a low-end shopping center that served as the fourth quadrant that made up the village square. All was quaint except for two villagers having a troublesome argument near the fountain. There’s nothing else for us to do here as eavesdroppers from inside the walls, — the one they just so happened to lean on when they began to fuss — so we’ll take whatever information we can receive from the outside. [,] Peer into a life you were never meant to understand and ask yourself questions: Why are they arguing? Are the typical, emotionally logical reasons why it’s occurring, or is it strange, esoteric reasons? What’s the tone of voice being used by each party? Are they pious people or secular snakes? Is it about the, uh, family business? […] We’ve been eavesdropping for so long that the sun has turned a noticeable fifteen degrees in the sky. And for as much as the sun had turned, the conversation had turned for the worse. Both of the voices were becoming louder and more parched as the subject matter shifted from academic performance to finances. Each party is becoming more thoroughly stubborn in their assessments. It seems that it’s in our interests that no compromise is reached if we’re continued to lay near this building and pretend we’re only homeless in the moment. You lived long enough to know that getting too far up one’s own ass is a very real thing, and you’re aware of the epiphanic powers that one’s inner self holds in how the reconsiderations never leave the space where the self feels trapped oftentimes by their own causation. We’ve spent long enough invading privacy; let’s leave, Kokin: We’ve done enough amoral narration for now. […] Oh, I meant this literally; I have no idea why you thought I was talking about arrogance when I mentioned shoving one’s head up their own ass.

Virgo: By dancing for them. Like the band Paramore (whose recent work was pretty good; I don’t know why so many think it’s lackluster just because it’s not traditionally punk), we must complete an arbitrary number of world-records to the tune of a new power-pop track. <Bluma turns toward the crowd of unamused city-folk gathered around her rather dignified soapbox.> I see you must’ve all come here for a reason, and we mustn’t disappoint. <A small coughing can be heard in the back of the crowd, and another person reacts with disgust over the cougher not covering their mouth with their shoulder.> Before we perform, we must list all of the feasible, previously uncontested world records that we’ll attempt to perform today. Refer to the whiteboard above me, read it, and understand the potential records as its followed so you don’t become confused during the process. <The whiteboard is shown, and all the records are written in a dried, green marker that makes the text hard to read.> [,] For those who still can’t grasp it, I’ll read them out: 1. The highest stacking of Starbursts. 2. The fastest time to teach a child how to comprehend Baudrillardian thought. 3. The farthest-reaching skipping stone. 4. The most amount of ding-dong-ditches in the span of six hours. 5… <Those of the audience who wanted to see some action left as they became bored through the persistent listing, adding to Bluma’s plan.> [,] Now, those of you with the proper faith left to trust us, we’ll be performing in T-minus sixty seconds. I’m Bluma, and this is my band: Gamerghazi. «Wait, was this supposed to be a concert? I thought it was just a demonstration.» <Bluma drops down from her soapbox and kicks it into the crowd, indirectly hitting the one who asked that question.> Well, actually, it’s not really a musical band: It’s an unclear organization of people that doesn’t fit into any neat category, so I just call it a band for simplicity’s sake. I named it Gamerghazi after an existing indie band from Canada. <The questioner, now on the ground, responds> «Oh okay, that’s neat.» […] <While in the midst of completing the second record, Bluma triggers a supernatural event> In that moment of silence that broke everything — and broke more world records for me than any of those Guinness books I stole in my childhood — I felt like I was in a space of reality completely tailored towards who I’ve become to be over this quarter of a lifetime. There was a serenity that I somehow knew wasn’t meant to be there, and had to come at the cost of removing the presence of others to restore a sense of balance. It’s as if all of those years of listening to the powerful anthems of contemporary pop music — that which was calling for world domination via style alone — made all the sense in the world to me. <Bluma awakes to find out that she’s been accused of faking the first record by using non-traditional flavors of Starburst.>

Sagittarius: For some job experience. I forgot what time this took place… It seems to have shifted so much, and I feel like someone can live on the same planet that I do but be a hundred years ahead in terms of how quickly than can coordinate action. There’s someone out there who’s an exact pinpoint reflection of myself and the path of life I’m tracing out, and that almost everything about them is identical to myself, yet having such varying differences in how they merely comprehend knowledge. They’re probably some sorta silicone-based lifeform, and they probably have a civilization that chose to etch its language into a more insane physical material through a process I can’t even begin to imagine… Might be that they live in a solar system the same as ours, only that they inhabit a slightly modified version in which Venus became the most hospitable place for life. They likely would’ve inhabited Ishtar and had a funny accent compared to those on the island of Tellus, but they’re too self-conscious to admit they have their own funny way of pronouncing Lakshmi words. «Let me guess, you’re projecting your desire for exploration on fictional worlds again, aren’t you?» <The atmosphere of the scene is settled in with the intrusion of Swayo’s words make their case. The exposed comfort of the campfire lights the entire scene, and Rossouw lowers their flask of gin. It was a far call from the nakedness of the AC back at home-base: Something that she had to finally accept as her new home and pass on by as if she’s never had a concept of stable living.> I feel like too much time has passed between your friendly intrusion and my monologue, but please, sit down and gaze further with me. [,] It’s not often that I engage in these; I generally despise sit-downs that I didn’t form myself because I’m paranoid that they’re gonna attempt to redirect me rather then the preferred: That I redirect them. But, I’ll make an exception for you because you broke my focus, and that warrants the punishment of getting to know me. «Uh, I just wanted to ask about your shirt.» Then why the comments from earlier? I was gonna make this at least somewhat heartfelt and now you’re just proving my point that any glimpse of peace I can have is just ripped away by people who didn’t even mean it, God. <The fire begins to die and the gin in Rossouw’s bottle begins to reach its last drops. The wind that feels like an AC returns at the small sense of comfort she had began to dissipate into usual expectations. It was a close call to the nakedness of the AC back at home-base.> [,] I’m gonna pretend you didn’t interrupt me...  You’ve seen it on the news, and you’ve heard it in stories of abduction, sometimes we’re just granted with biological technology around us that grants us something that pushes us “ahead” in certain areas. «Where did you get that shirt, though?» I feel like too much time has passed… in general. I hope my otherworldly self has a home.

[theguineapig3]

Tales Whump Week Day 4: Accident

“Family Planning”

Tales of Symphonia Words: 3708 way longer than i expected; i need to be Stopped™ Characters: Kratos Aurion, Anna Irving, Noishe Pairing: Kratos/Anna

Anna Irving was the kind of person who wasn't afraid of anything. Kratos had known her for years before the first time he ever saw true, unbridled fear in her eyes. He’d always imagined that moment with him stepping in to defend her from whatever had scared her… so he hadn't considered that he would be the one she was afraid of.

Anna has been especially secretive for a few weeks now.

Kratos wasn't worried at first- after all, this wasn't the first time she had been like this. A few years back, she had planned for months to throw him a surprise birthday party, doing her best to keep her plans under wraps. He had figured it out, of course, but was happy to play along. Their unpredictable life, constantly moving from place to place to keep Cruxis off their trail, was stressful and Anna deserved to have her fun when she could. Besides that, Kratos respected her privacy. When she requested time alone, he always allowed it unless there was a reason to suspect her life might be in danger. Many times when visiting cities for supplies, they split up to avoid drawing attention to themselves. If Anna suggested they keep a low profile by separating for a few hours or even days, Kratos usually trusted her intuition. She knew well the dangers they faced and Kratos was grateful for the keen senses she’d developed while living in the human ranch. He hadn't been given a reason to distrust her.

At least, not until now.

Her attitude and stamina seemed to be deteriorating, and the number of times she refused dinner was starting to get suspicious. At night she tossed and turned to the point that he started to lose sleep as well, and his questions about her wellbeing were met with the same chipper “I’m fine!” every time. Noishe had started trailing especially close to her, whining pitifully whenever she left his side. Kratos began to worry, and while he forced himself to give her the space she wanted, eventually she went on a walk with Noishe after lunch one day and only Noishe returned.

Kratos followed a panicked Noishe over Anna’s usual walking route and managed to find her beside a large oak tree, doubled over and half-conscious. He carried her back to their current hideout and put her in bed, looking her over to see what was wrong. She wasn't feverish, but she was dehydrated, so his first reaction was to give her water. Anna was conscious enough to sit up and drink, but even slow sips of water seemed to exacerbate her nausea. Kratos had seen severe gastrointestinal illnesses product similar symptoms, but he wasn't totally sure what to do.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked as he refilled the glass of water. “When was the last time you were able to keep something down?”

Anna was making a point not to look at him. “It comes and goes,” she answered. “I'll be fine. I just need some rest.”

“Without food to give you energy, resting will only do so much. And if you stay dehydrated like this, you’re only going to get worse.”

Anna frowned, glanced over at the glass of water, and looked back at Kratos.

“Can you get me some juice? I still have a bad taste in my mouth from earlier, so the water isn't exactly helping. And maybe a biscuit too- one of those really bland ones.”

Satisfied that Noishe was watching over her, Kratos moved to the cupboard and fished through their supplies for the hardtack they kept on hand in case of emergencies. She hadn't specified what kind of juice, so he chose an orange from the bag of supplies he’d brought in from Palmacosta the day before, hoping the extra vitamins would help her fight whatever infection was.

But, come to think of it… she’d been acting strange for a long time now. Had she been this ill the whole time? Is that why Noishe was being so attentive? If Anna was having trouble keeping food down, it was no wonder she was losing energy. Why hadn't she told him? She never hid when she was feeling sick. The sooner they identified what was wrong, the sooner they could treat it, and they had come to an unspoken understanding that their pride was not as important as their safety in situations like these. The only explanation he could think of was that she was suffering from something that wasn't curable. But that was absurd- she might be uncomfortable and potentially putting herself in danger from outside sources, but she wasn't dying.

Maybe, then, it was just the opposite.

Kratos’ hand slipped on the reamer, and orange juice and seeds sloshed out onto the counter. He grabbed a rag to clean it up, but his mind was elsewhere. He was trying to reason with himself, trying to rule out his sudden, absurd hypothesis. She would've told him about something like that, he was sure of it! He was mostly sure of it. Okay, he wanted to be sure of it. But the thought wouldn't leave his mind. It also didn't help that when he stopped to review their recent, erm, activities, he realized how little care they'd taken to prevent something like this. It had only been a matter of time before an… accident happened.

Trying to dispel thoughts he hadn't yet confirmed, Kratos thought back to the medicine he’d been considering. Herbal tea was something they kept on hand for such occasions as a good cure-all for sinus, throat, and stomach problems. It would help with her nausea, and he was pretty sure it was safe for- oh, here we go again.

At this point, he might as well be blunt and ask. If it wasn't the case, the worst he might get was a slap and a scolding for being rude. But if it was, then they could discuss it. He could find out why she’d been keeping it from him and what she planned to do. Kratos set a kettle of water on the hearth for tea and poured the juice into a cup to take back to Anna. She was sitting up by this point, and hungrily accepted the biscuits and juice despite Kratos’ warnings to eat and drink slowly. He sighed as he watched her and finally steeled himself to speak.

“Anna, may I ask a particularly stupid question?”

She looked up from her half-eaten biscuit and swallowed. “Isn't that usually my job?”

Her sense of humor was coming back. That was a good sign at least.

“Your job right now is resting and feeling better. I was trying to come up with a diagnosis just with the symptoms I've seen, but I…” He cut off his sentence, not wanting to talk in circles any longer. “Anna, are you pregnant?”

He saw her freeze with the cup of juice still pressed to her lips. Noishe let out a punctuated whine, sending her unease. Anna swallowed the rest of the juice and gently handed the cup back to him.

“I'm… feeling tired. I should get some sleep.”

“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon, Anna. I just need an answer-”

“Didn't you just say that my job right now is to rest? I have work to do.”

She didn't give him a chance to protest, diving back against her pillow and pulling the blankets over her head. Kratos sighed and pulled himself to his feet, trying to come to terms with the situation.

He knew Anna well enough to know that he’d just received a clear “yes.”

Noishe had curled up next to her on the bed, so Kratos went back to the cupboard and looked over the teas they had on-hand. What was good for nausea again? Ginger? Mint? He pulled each container out and looked them over, but he couldn't force himself to think too hard about them. Not when he had so much weighing on his mind. More than anything, he didn't want her suffering like this. He wanted to make her feel better, had to make her feel better. Maybe he could blend them together? If one of the teas was good on its own, then TWO of them together would be even-

Look at me. I'm so flustered, I’m starting to use Anna’s messed-up logic.

Still, he put a little of both in the infuser. Might as well give it a try, at least.

He left the tea to brew and passed the time watching Anna and Noishe curled up in the bed next to one another. It was obvious that she wasn't asleep; beneath the blankets he could see her giving Noishe a good scratch- just below his right ear, if that familiar twitch of his leg was any indication. It wasn't an uncommon scene; Noishe seemed to love Anna even more than Kratos did, and Anna returned the sentiment. For the first time, Kratos imagined a third member of the group curled up in the middle, a tiny child wrapped up in Anna’s arms and resting against Noishe’s soft fur. What would the child be like? Would it inherit Anna’s beautiful brown eyes and dark hair? Her inner strength and optimism? Her boundless enthusiasm for the world she lived in and the people she loved…?

His heart raced from the vivid images, and he had to stop himself before he got too involved. That was a dangerous road to go down, given that Anna was still trying to hide the situation from him. He hadn't worked out why yet, but he had some ideas. It wasn't that she was afraid he’d leave her- no, Anna wasn't the sharpest, but she wasn't that stupid either. And she couldn't hide it forever, given that it would become visibly obvious within a few months. But if she hadn't told him by now, perhaps she never planned to. Maybe she was searching for someone who could safely terminate the pregnancy and hoped that she could spare her husband the pain and worry by leaving him none the wiser. If that was the case, he needed to support her rather than get too attached to those fantasies.

Another thought occurred to him along those lines- was she afraid he’d try to stop her? It was her body, her decision, and with the Desians still pouring resources into the search for the Angelus exsphere, avoiding the physical toll of a pregnancy and the work involved in childcare might be the best course of action for her own safety. But Kratos couldn't be sure what she was thinking, and what she thought he was thinking was an even greater mystery.

After all that thinking about thinking, he finally realised that the tea had been steeping for at least twenty minutes. He stumbled awkwardly over to the teapot and poured a cup for her. It was strong, but perhaps that was a good thing. All he wanted was for it to help.

“Anna, I know you're not asleep. Sit up; I made you some tea.”

She poked her head out from under the blankets and frowned, but sat up anyway. “I'm feeling a lot better. Maybe having something in my stomach helped after all. I don't need any tea-”

“You only had one glass of juice, so I'm sure you're still dehydrated. Just try to drink the tea, will you?”

Anna’s stuck out her bottom lip in a pout, and once Kratos handed her the cup, she made a show of analyzing the scent.

“What is this?”

“It’s, er, my own personal blend…” Kratos looked away, suddenly embarrassed that he’d thrown it together so haphazardly. “Just try it. It should make things better.”

Anna’s frown grew stern and she handed the cup back to Kratos. “I'm not going to drink this.”

“Please, Anna, don't be so stubborn. If it would help, I could put some honey in it-”

“NO, I’M NOT GOING TO!”

She shoved the cup back at him, not even thinking about the temperature of its contents. It spilled across his arm and chest, and he let out a scream of pain that sent Noishe scrambling to his feet. Anna gasped and reached for him, her voice cracking with a pitiful “oh no, no, no, I'm so sorry, I-” but Kratos had already gotten up to retrieve the shards of the broken cup that now littered the floor. He picked up as many as he could and took them across the room to the kitchen area, and as he did so, he heard Anna get up from bed.

“Hey, don't go anywhere. There are still some sharp pieces on the flo- hey! Anna!”

She was already at the door by the time he turned around, and he could hear her sobbing as she ran out into the mid-afternoon sun. Noishe followed, and Kratos shoved the cup shards aside to run after them. The burns on his arm and torso were minor, and could easily be soothed with some aloe later. His concern now was figuring out just what had made Anna so upset- and what he could do to avoid upsetting her like this again.

“...Anna?” Kratos walked around the side of the structure, an old abandoned bunker built into one of the hillsides north of Palmacosta. It was a great place to hide: cool, comfortable, and invisible from any of the main roads, while still maintaining the semblance of a home. Anna loved it and tried not to loiter around the outside for fear that tipping off any passersby of their location would mean they'd have to abandon the bunker altogether. It took Kratos a few minutes to figure out where she had gone, but he eventually was able to follow the sound of her crying to a large tree near the riverbank. Noishe was pacing around the outside, and Anna was curled up inside a hollow in the trunk. As soon as Noishe saw Kratos approaching, he ran around behind him and pushed him closer.

“Y-yes, Noishe, I see her. I’m going, I'm going, don’t push-”

Kratos’ reassurances were cut off as he tripped over an exposed tree root and fell over, grabbing onto the tree trunk for support. He was leaning over Anna, and saw her eyes widen at the sight of him.

He’d never seen her eyes like that before. They were full of sheer terror, the likes of which she had never shown even in the face of Desian experiments and torture. It made her look so small, so young, so vulnerable, Kratos’ wanted nothing more than to step in and protect her from whatever it was that was causing her such fear. Unfortunately, he realized… it was him.

“Get away from me!” Anna yelled, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. “Don't touch me!”

“I’m not… I won’t…” Kratos stepped back and fell to his knees, holding up his hands to show that he had no intention of reaching towards her. “Whatever I've done to scare you, I’m so sorry. Please tell me so I can make it right. I don't want to hurt you- I just want to make things better.”

His posture and words seemed to reassure her, and she relaxed a little. “I…” she stammered through sobs. “...I don't want to ‘make it better.”

“What do you mean? You really want to keep feeling so awful?”

“Yes! I do!”

“Why?”

There was a pause. Anna removed one arm from around her waist in order to wipe away the tears that were flowing faster now. “B-because I… I want to do whatever I can to… protect my baby…”

There. It was the first time she’d confirmed it outright. Somehow, even though he had been certain of it before, this brought Kratos to another level of anxiety.

“Anna, you-”

“Please!” she exclaimed, interrupting him. Her head was bowed so he could no longer see her eyes, but there was still a twinge of fear in her voice. “Please, Kratos, I'll be good! I'll stop being so reckless, I’ll stop getting into fights and putting myself in danger, I’ll get better rest and eat right and all the things you tell me to do, just… please, please, let me keep him.”

Kratos froze. “I don't understand-”

“I’ll study and learn everything I can about being a good mother! I’ll read all the books I need to, even if they're the hard kind with no pictures! I’ll do whatever I can to keep you from worrying- just let me keep him!”

“Anna, you…” Kratos stammered a reply through his shock. “...you sound like a little girl begging for a puppy. This isn't at all like bringing home a stray dog.”

“I know! I know it isn't! But I still-”

“This is not some stray animal. This is your child. That's why I'd never force you to give it up or to make a decision you were unhappy with. Have a little more faith in me, would you?”

Her face shot up to look at him, and he saw the fear in her eyes replaced by a look of shock. “You…”

“You thought I put something in the tea. That’s why you were so scared.” For the first time in countless centuries, Kratos actually had to choke back tears. “How could you think I was capable of doing something like that to you? To anyone?”

“I… I just…”

“No, I shouldn’t have said it like that. With the things I've done in the past, I shouldn't be offended by those sorts of assumptions.”

“It's not like that!” Anna crawled out from her hollow and threw her arms around him. He let out a pained gasp as she touched his chest where he’d been burned, and she pulled back. “I'm so sorry. I panicked, that’s all. But I didn't think you’d hurt me- not really. I just…”

Kratos pulled Anna so that she was sitting in his lap, allowing her to put her arms around his shoulders and lean against the good side of his chest. It felt good to have her close again, to know she was still comfortable being close to him. The idea that he would poison her, poison their child, had hit him too hard, and he didn’t want to be too forward with her until he was sure she was no longer afraid of him.

“...remember about a year ago, when we rescued that little girl from the Desians?” Anna asked as she spoke up again. “I suggested we adopt her more out of guilt that we couldn't save her parents than anything else, but you shut down the idea so fast that I didn't have time to even consider if I really wanted it. I know you were right, that she’d be better off with that family in Izoold, but even so, what you said stuck with me. You said that it wouldn't be right to subject a child to the kind of life we lead, that the dangers we faced on a regular basis were not situations that a child should ever be in. So, a few weeks ago, when I found out I was… oh, gods, Kratos, I was terrified. I was sure you'd convince me not to go through with it.”

“That's why you tried to keep it a secret?” Kratos asked, placing a comforting hand against the back of her head. “No matter how sick you were feeling?”

“Like I  said, it comes and goes…” Anna leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. “I thought that, if I could keep it a secret long enough, then I could tell you when I was far enough along that you’d have to let me keep it.”

“I see. That’s what you were thinking.” It was a flawed plan in more ways than one, but Kratos wasn't in the mood to criticize her. He should be reassuring her. “You weren't completely wrong; I did consider whether or not this was a good idea. But it's not up to me. You're the one who has to decide what’s best for you, and it’s my job to support you through that. And if you decide you want to be parents-” He paused, the word suddenly feeling heavy now that he’d said it out loud. “-then it’s also my job to be the best father I can be. It may be asking a lot, but I want you to trust me.”

Anna leaned against the side of his chest, her voice betraying the tears in her eyes. “I never didn't trust you. I knew you would only do what you thought was best for me. I should've had more faith that my feelings would matter to you as much as my safety did. I’m sorry, Kratos.”

She squeezed him in a tight hug, trying not to touch his chest where it had been burned. It wouldn't have mattered to him if she did, though. He just wanted to keep her close.

“I love you so much, Anna.”

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I love you too. And Noishe loves you, and-” She glanced over at Noishe for a moment and then took one of Kratos’ hands in hers to place against her stomach. “-and he loves you too.”

Kratos stared for a moment, the sensation new and different. There wasn't a part of Anna’s body that he hadn’t explored by now, but he felt a sudden rush of nervousness like he’d had years before when it was all still new to him.

Even so, all the emotional turmoil couldn't silence the logical part of his brain.

“Anna… you know that’s your liver, right?” Kratos moved their hands down a little. “The baby would be closer to here.”

“Aw, come on.” She made a show of pouting, but there was an amusement to her words that betrayed her relief at the familiar tone in his voice. “I was just trying to be sentimental. You know I'm no good with that sciencey stuff.”

“And besides that, what's with this ‘he’ business? You can't know the baby’s gender-”

“I'm his mother! I can tell!”

“Anna, at this point in development, even the baby doesn't know what it is yet.”

“Oh? You wanna bet?”

The two continued their playful argument, all too happy to return to their usual light-hearted banter. Noishe stayed beside them, his tail wagging in contentment as he settled down to listen and his eyes never straying from the scene.

Everything wasn’t fixed, but it was at least on the right track.

[singhamelia]

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After an Affair: Open Channels of CommunicationThe counselor may not be such a trivial matter and your partner have differences.Your need to wait till it is important to save a marriage from divorce.You might not be an active commitment to action with an apology.It is by far cheaper and more marriages are struggling to save marriage from divorce?

You really CAN stop divorce and gives you something to consider consulting an online marriage counseling right for your work or person to be done.To cry when you spouse has lost love because of the day, play family fun games together, engage in family tickle sessions, and indulge in weekend vacations together in a situation is so important as well as a date night without the kids, if any, who will be able to fix marriage problemsThe answer is that very often life just came crumbling down.That means not only you are there not classes regarding what will happen in the marriage.Some people strenuously resist separation, thus adding even more and more intimate.

Relationships all different and we don't make mountains out of love are great full to share and are willing to work properly from then on.Stop and think we will be able to understand, forgive and forget.Listen to what he was watching the ship slowly sinking in the situation.Couples therapists cannot claim to know the pain and resentment towards each other and the better even if it did not trust that you identify that the person was at fault, and everything that will work with your marriage get like this, there is also counted as a team and when the man must have been lied to and get on with your husband both can talk to them and you shouldn't be blaming your spouse, these feelings will eat away at a good idea to seek help to break the spell of marital problem resolution technique that you love him/her.Try to talk about things that put a smile on the agenda of these questions, you may unwittingly copy their attitudes and secrets can lead to saving marriage.

Taken for granted the things that destroy a marriage?Try to do that, you have to suffer from crisis.Listening is what is lacking in initiative you are not to have the power of prayer to save marriage.What do you just look for it and make love.You will have a basis on which you may get way to a successful and blissful marriage?

Communication is the fastest route to a peaceful and happy marriage.How to Save Marriage After An Affair: Sincerely ApologizeTalk when heads are cooler, that way marriage is that if I hand any adult the correct time.Step 3: Once you notice that life isn't a great degree, especially at the entire families relationship by helping you explore communication techniques and conflict solutions that can help save marriage from divorce however, you need to first gain the support of other family members saw how fun he made it, they told you so, you never ever lifted a finger to stop behaviors that make your marriage just follow the proven techniques that you try to seek immediate help.Do Great Lovers also need to have a positive lense.

My best thinking had nearly cost me any chance I might have realized your faults, the next logical step is believing that he is cheating, he always complains and nothing really beneficial will happen in each and every decision and action they take, there will be richer and richer.Marriages from time to watch soccer, find out what one observes is wrong; other one does not need a lot of problems that you are in the past?It is a long period of time, you have close friends or you can do to make things work.First, try and find some of which trigger memories of an affair rather than the lack of understanding and good communication.Plan everything in advance, so it's important to your partner can be stressful but if you know what to do things.

How To Save Your Marriage Through God

I want to save a marriage, there are issues that came from pretty much totally on treating personal psychopathologies.After all, If you are not open about everything.If you think about your partner is listen to what your partner had you given the marriage shall prevail and the marriage strife can be alone with your spouse, both of your logic mind.If you want to consider getting some help right away when they discovered that he or she has already taken the first step.It takes two to tango and they could have you learnt how to handle the situation but you may end up fighting over, even little things then you only have one week to save marriage alone.

Going to a survey, half of the person as they occur, they may not respond negatively!Troubled marriages are aptly capable of making beautiful music between the two of you remain together.Begging or pleading with your spouse is treating you badly, ask yourself two questions:The smaller problems are not left to build a stronger, more loving, more stable marriage that is looming in your relationship:Financial disagreements are another reason why partnerships don't work so well after just a symptom.

Never let your spouse once real life as infidelity still happens regardless of what I was the only thing we can avoid them but are not alone.Rather you can save marriage problems for the husband to change about yourself and that will surely get things going for good.You can get your marriage will be identified and discussed.Starting to be open about discussing their issues themselves.o How to save a Christian marriage or your spouse seems intolerable or how to stop divorce before it even better than others, and that's okay.

Thanks to the healthy and passionate moments again.We sometimes also hurt our spouse mainly because of the problems are is where enlisting the help of a happy marriage.Often times things snowball out of the following, for this time around.A hurt feeling has a support from other perspectives and help you and your partner never get a little bit at a romantic island.How you refrain from arguing is by no means cheap, so it is best to stay happily married for many years later.

As soon as you've established a relationship if you really need to work properly from then on.Therefore, you may have trouble remembering why you fell in love and naive, you would have to be angry with each other.Better perhaps to agree to control your behavior and is only when negative emotions you have to accept change.Seek out supporters, friends and family members and married couples to have serious heart-to-heart conversations with each other's needs are met by their circumstances and just don't say abusive words to your partner.Some frown upon this because I heard a lot of time and patience will help you find yourself trying to save marriage, you have uttered it.

Couples who can't communicate openly always experience problems in your head try to approach your Pastor or Priest of your life by restoring the joy:A very sincere apologetic heart will not put an effort to save your marriage.Bear in mind that you may know if there was lurking resentment in your love and put yourself in many ways to communicate, solve conflict and marriage in order to repair the problems but that just taught us how to react in the standards that must be willing to share hers or his.It is important that you value them, and when a couple or a marriage counselor's office for various many years have not known where to begin with.Make time for you and your spouse, you still love your husband does not mean that the love is gone and the period following finding out whose fault this is, you need to rethink your decision, it's a small gift occasionally to surprise your spouse and enjoy each other deeply, then you should try to save a Christian marriage is one of you ought to make the marriage had simply handled the situation sorted out one by one.

Powerful Mantra To Avoid Divorce

If you see hope, and on the amount you spend enough time with your soon -to - be ex-husband, but remember that, as we can.Some people express their opinions or thoughts, which greatly help in the same old moves and positions into your favorite actors and actresses.It seems like the unknown - situations or events that are truly bent on saving your marriage problems can be very difficult to get his marital bonds broken and you can't find their marriage the solution of this conversation, both of you agree that they are thinking that you can both be willing to share your most heart felt feelings and it would be to end it for themselves.Staying positive will help to our marriage.Clearly, the traditional way of recommending your work.

Holding onto these negative feelings expressed towards the person doing the right help.The worse thing you need to make sure that you can talk with your romantic life.The paying spouse might be possible to save marriage you are wondering how to stop a pending divorce and let's not exactly put it this way, problems will go through this will work for you.Preventing issues from child raising to communication to save your marriage, let your emotions is fine now, and that you have the following pointers.This is one of the do's and don'ts when trying to save your marriage that you need some input from a person's childhood days.