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romanovanoff · 4 years ago

Text

bio says black widow stories but i do like to dabble with other characters too. ill have a full list on another post.

YOU & I

A Bellatrix & Tom Riddle story

part one

characters:

bellatrix black

tom riddle

narcissa black

andromeda black

druella black

rodolphus lestrange

rabastan lestrange

(tba)

relationships:

bella/tom

narcissa/lucius

andromeda/ted

(tba)

summary: tom is the new kid in school and is already popular amongst his peers. his goal is to have bellatrix black by his side when he conquers the wizarding world, and his only problem? bella is already in an arranged marriage and also wants nothing to do with him.

disclaimer: i have never read the books, and ive seen all the movies only like twice. im not a crazy fanatic potterhead, i just have an unhealthy obsession for bellatrix/helena bonham carter 😌. so apologies in advance if i make any mistakes, regarding whats canon in the harry potter universe and so on. the little things, the big things, my bad. i hope the fact that its mostly au makes up for what it lacks in accuracy.

word count: 3497

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"I overheard earlier today that Hogwarts received a new student," Druella spoke as she took a sip of tea, delicately patting a napkin across her lips before gazing over at her three daughters. Bellatrix, who didn't seem interested at all in the conversation, Andromeda, who was busy scribbling something in her diary, and little Narcissa who was following along to her mother's words.

"Yes, it's true," The blonde girl, thirteen years old, responded. "I thought it strange at first but apparently he and his family were living somewhere in Europe. Tom Riddle, I think his name is. He'd been taught at home and his father had gotten a job at the ministry so they transferred him to Hogwarts."

Ever the gossip, it didn't surprise Bellatrix in the slightest that Cissy knew so much about the new student. She rolled her eyes, wondering why the hell they were even discussing this in the first place. It was just a new student, who cares? She voiced this several times out loud but had received the usual disapproving glances from the two blondes. It creeped the raven-haired witch sometimes at how much Cissy resembled their mother.

Letting out a sigh Bella swirled her spoon around in her teacup, not finding the appetite to drink nor eat the sweets that accompanied her tea. The three of them were currently in Rosa Lee's teashop, a place they often went to every other week, with permission to leave the school of course- though she didn’t ask for it most times. Usually Bellatrix would devour the treats but today she was feeling too anxious to do anything but. At seventeen years old she had stretched out her days of freedom and was now forced into a marriage that should have taken place two years ago.

The thought of marriage wasn't all that bad, if she was being honest. Sometimes when her thoughts and actions weren't clouded with hate and rage she'd daydream a not so near future of a perfect wedding. A wedding where she would be marrying someone she truly loved and could cherish, to honor their vows to the fullest extent. So the wedding itself wasn't the problem, it was who she was supposed to be wed to that was. Her long time childhood friend, Rodolphus Lestrange. And one of the very few in the sacred 28 that wasn't related to the Blacks by blood. At least that she was aware of… The thought still made her cringe, even after checking every family tapestry available and an exhausting amount of research.

Everyone wanted her to be happy about the fact she'd get to marry someone she's known for years, something most pure-bloods didn't have the honor of having, but it was the fact she knew him so well that she hated. He was like a brother to her, albeit at times an annoying and even sexist brother. He wasn't husband material and she was most certainly not wife material for him. And add to the fact that they'd be pressured to have children immediately after becoming man and wife, the thought of having sex with him made her want to gag. You'd think they'd notice that such a practice was incredibly outdated. She hated to wonder if the marriage had taken place two years ago, would they really pressure two 15 year olds to consumate? Fuck this life.

She felt like the world and everyone in it was against her. All her complaints had been shot down, leaving her inwardly seething with rage before being left totally subdued. Oh, how she hated being so… powerless, left without a voice, without a right to do what she wanted and to do so as she pleased, the ever present shadow looming over her shoulder that was the society and family she was born into.

Letting out a sigh she looked over at Andromeda who was still scribbling in that damn book. Probably instant messaging her friends, something Bellatrix didn't have the luxury of having. At least genuine ones anyway. The ones she had in school were merely vultures following around, waiting for the opportunity to eat away at the scraps she bared. They didn't hesitate to use her to their advantage, trying to play her like a fool. Idiots, they should've known she was the brightest witch of her age for a reason. And no one took advantage of Bellatrix Black.

Despite still being superior she continued feeling a bitter pang in her heart, knowing no one truly cared for her there. Well, maybe except for her sisters, Rodolphus and his brother that is.

Catching her eyes on what she was doing Andromeda quickly closed her book and narrowed her eyes at her eldest sister. But then a familiar smirk curled the girls lips and Bellatrix knew what was going to happen before her sister could even utter a word. She knew that smirk anywhere. Bella herself wore that smirk on several occasions, actually even taught it to her dear sister! If only mother knew how truly naughty Andy was, maybe then the heat wouldn't fall upon Bella so heavily when she did something that displeased her.

"Mother," Andromeda chimed in, interrupting Cissy's conversation with the older woman. "Bellatrix is right. Why not talk about something else."

"Andy…" The dark haired witch warned, fingers clenched around her spoon.

"Like… Bella's wedding perhaps? Surely there are plenty of plans to discuss. Some of which I'm sure my dear sister here is needed for?" The brunette suggested 'innocently', smiling back at Bellatrix before looking at her mother.

Druella blinked once, then twice before she brightened up. Damnit, Andy, Bella thought to herself angrily, glaring daggers at her younger sister. "You're right! We only have a short few weeks before the big day and still so much to do. How about we end this little meal early and say we go to one of the boutiques nearby, check up on your wedding dress," Druella said as she rose from her seat.

And so that's what they did. They went to the boutique, checked the incredibly old fashioned dress, with what looked like the most painfully looking corset yet stitched into the fabric. After, they stopped by a few other shops to double check things were in order for the wedding before finally apparating home. The entire time Bellatrix had trudged along reluctantly behind her sisters and mother, offering a few weak comments and opinions for this thing and that when asked of her.

She was glad to finally be back home, finding relief in the knowledge that tomorrow morning she'd be returning back to Hogwarts, having spent the weekend with her family. On one hand she was glad she managed to extend the wedding date, convincing her parents that it might be wise that she finish her last year and take her N.E.W.T.s before focusing on 'wifely duties'. Yes, that was how she phrased it. And yes, they'd taken the bait, obviously wanting their daughter to focus on her marriage once out of school, and not caring about the intelligence hidden behind her usual mask of indifference.

She made short work separating from her family's side to make her way upstairs to her room. And then made even shorter work getting ready for bed. No one ever bothered her when she was up the stairs and hidden away. It was known to all that Bellatrix Black inherited the 'mad' gene in the family, more prone to violent outbursts and destructive tantrums. Because of this her room wasn't the prettiest, constantly being repaired and sparse so there were less objects to break. The room was also constantly being placed under a silencing charm, quieting her screams so the rest of the household could sleep peacefully. How thoughtful of them, she thought to herself bitterly.

The sun was already down by the time she emerged from the bathroom, all scrubbed up and her hair wet, the many strands in ringlets falling down her back. With her wand, she casted a quick-drying spell to both her body and hair, not bothering with any sleeping robes as she climbed into bed. Once in she blew out the candles before getting comfortable under the covers. Usually, it would be too early to go to sleep, and she'd have at least a glass or two of firewhiskey to help her doze off but she felt the whole unexpected wedding planning this afternoon was enough to do her in. Not only that but she did need to wake up early to catch the train back to Hogwarts tomorrow. So without much further thought she closed her heavy eyes and fell asleep, hoping things could be much easier in the future.

THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS

"Tom Riddle is in our class."

"I heard Tom's family is incredibly wealthy and direct descendants to Salazar Slytherin."

"It's true! I overheard him talking to snakes! Snakes!"

The whispers and excited talk continued on and on the moment Bellatrix stepped onto the Hogwarts express. If she thought Cissy talking to mother about this ‘nobody’ annoyed her, she was absolutely wrong. Hearing everyone around her discuss this Riddle boy absolutely drenched her high spirits and put her in one of her dark moods.

No one needed to look twice to know to stay away from the young witch. If dark glaring eyes didn't strike fear into her peers, then the dark energy and aura surrounding her would.

Not wanting to hear the gossip anymore Bella separated from her 'friends' and found a seating compartment for herself, only able to hold two people, but thankfully no one dared claim the other spot. She sat close to the window, forehead touching the glass, and seeming to cool her ever bubbling irritation. Trees and rolling hills passed by in a blur but she wasn't particularly watching, eyes slightly glazed over as she got lost in thought.

So lost in thought she almost didn't notice the sounds of her compartment door being slid open and a person taking a seat across from her. Blinking slowly she looked over to the 'intruder' as the door slid closed once more, leaving the two individuals with some privacy she didn't necessarily want.

The person in front of her was a young man. Probably around her age with dark brown hair, curling neatly at the front. He had bright emerald eyes, warm but she got the hint of something darker underneath, something dangerous hidden beneath the surface and ready to strike unsuspecting prey. Despite that though everything else about him seemed pretty bland. Pale skin- but not as pale as hers-, average build, and put together uniform.

"Who're you?" She found herself asking, swallowing the automatic 'get out' she was originally planning on saying. Given the fact she hasn't seen him before in this school year or any year before that, she was already dreading the answer. She wasn't even sure why she disliked him so much already. Maybe it was the fact he's barely even started school here and yet everyone was already drooling over him. Maybe it was the fact he was well known for things the student body hasn't even had proof of, things he was already praised for. And on her side of things she was well known for her infamous anger and her upcoming marriage to Rodolphus. That or her status of being the firstborn Black daughter. Otherwise known as the current heir of the Black family. Well. That was until her idiot cousin, Sirius was old enough to steal the mantle from her.

So when he said, "Tom. Tom Riddle," She really couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. Cause of course the person she had no care for was sat in, of all seats, the one in front of her. "Does that name offend you?" He then asked, wearing the same damn smirk he wore the moment she took in his appearance just seconds earlier.

"No," She said in a bored drawl, eyes once again gazing out the window as her head rested against the glass. "Unlike every other idiot out there, I care not for who you are. You're just another ordinary student attending Hogwarts. Nothing special about that," She told him, her tone consistent in telling him of how much she didn't care.

He was quiet for some time. Not too long, but enough to give her pause and wonder if she'd wandered too deep in thought and he'd slipped away. Only a glance his way revealed that, no, he was still here. "I agree," He finally spoke again. "There's nothing special about me at all. And I'm starting to despise the fact people are so interested in me. Took a look at the school Friday and suddenly everyone thinks so highly of me just because it was a private tour by the headmaster himself," He huffed.

It was clear to Bellatrix by the way he spoke, by the way he talked that he was excellent at charming people, manipulating them even if you would use the darker term. Again, she was many things but an idiot was not one of them and she wasn't falling for his 'charms' or tactics any time soon.

"Oh, poor you," She said in a mocking voice, jutting out her bottom lip as she faced him fully. "New kid in school has everyone fawning over him. Such a terrible life you must live, knowing you have everyone in the palm of your hands with just a smile." She finished the sentence off with said smile before turning it into a sneer.

"I won't repeat myself again. I care not for who you are, and I don't wish to know you or anything about you. So if you're going to sit here, then it better be in silence, or so help me merlin I will curse you. Laws be damned," She hissed. Hopefully for the last time she turned away again, feeling her mood lighten just slightly at her first threat of the day.

Usually, other students would run away by now, flee the vicinity in which she occupied, but Tom just sat there, in shock, or because he actually listened to her words. Finding herself curious about which option she chanced another glance but was surprised to see him wearing that annoying little smirk instead. "Cute," He told her, enjoying the way her eyes widened just slightly before darkening with anger. "That threat might work on others but it won't with me."

Her magic was absolutely crackling around her, like static in the air just before an oncoming storm. She was soon to make good on her threat. "Based on your looks, in how you speak, and the way I saw you walk earlier, looking down at everyone as if they were beneath you. I would safely assume you are a… Black. Bellatrix Black? Considering you look to be in the same year as me," He continued, assuming everything correctly. She didn't need to know though that he'd actually done his research prior to moving here, and that he had asked around earlier. "I don't expect you to get along with me from the start, but you will see me around often. I'll personally make sure of that. Cause I like you," He said with a shrug, smirk still in place.

Bold. Oh, so very bold and before Bellatrix could even utter a single word or even grab and raise her wand for that matter, he was already out the door. The space in front of her was once again vacant and she stared at the now unoccupied seat as the door slid closed.

LATER THAT DAY

It was almost impossible for the raven haired witch to avoid hearing or seeing Tom. It was as if everywhere she turned, someone was talking about him or he himself was staring at her from a distance. Usually she would never admit such a thing, her pride too strong, but it greatly unnerved her. Who the hell did he think he was? Claiming he would see her more often because he liked her? “Doesn’t even know me,” She scoffed to herself, annoyed as she continued on the familiar path to her dormitory.

Bellatrix was a slytherin through and through, like every other Black family member before her. There had been no question about it. Well, maybe after. She questioned it alot. The houses, the characteristics and traits. All of it. And once she's put herself in a more outside perspective about it she really couldn't help but laugh at the whole student body, almost all of them adapting and practically absorbing their houses certain traits into their own personality.

Anyway, she was a slytherin, but she couldn't help but wonder if she'd changed her mindset that first day, if her family hadn't been so adamant on which house she went to, would she have been chosen for hufflepuff, perhaps? Maybe gryffindor? Ew, no. Possibly ravenclaw. These thoughts raced past in her mind as she made her way down into the dungeons. There was a little of her in each, she supposed.

"Drommie, Cissy," Bellatrix greeted once she made it into the girls dorm, having already said the password and walked through the shared sitting room. All three Black sisters shared the same room, something Bellatrix and her mother both insisted and agreed upon to the headmaster when first starting school here. It was a protective thing. Bella knew that her sisters weren't like her, lacking in gut and courage. She was sure Andromeda could take care of herself, at times, but if worse came to worse she was more likely to break under pressure and need rescuing from her bigger sister. And little Narcissa, the spoiled brat she was, didn't have a single backbone in her body, choosing instead to flee or hide behind one's robes. Despite those certain qualities though Bellatrix still loved her sisters dearly and simply made it a priority to keep them safe, consequences to herself be damned.

Sure… maybe it was Bella's fault for them needing protection, having spent most of her years reigning terror down upon those who even glance at her, therefore her peers not liking her and taking it out on her sisters instead. But… hey! They looked at her funny, they deserved it!

"Bella why didn't you sit with us on the train," Narcissa asked, looking at her older sister as she sat on her bed.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and walked past, towards her own bed furthest in the room and by the window. "As if I'd sit and listen to you two and your friends gossiping about the 'new boy'," She said back.

Andromeda turned to her with a quirked brow. "I don't know, by the looks of it you sat just fine with the 'new boy' before you ran him away."

Bellatrix was only able to scoff as a response before Narcissa quickly interrupted, hopping over towards Bellatrix. "You got to talk to Tom Riddle?" She asked excitedly. "How was he like? Was he charming? Did he show you parseltongue?"

"Cissy, please, calm down. He was none of those things. He was very bland… and cocky, and arrogant," Bella responded, the end getting heated with annoyance. Not towards her sister of course.

"Sounds like someone I know," Andromeda spoke up with a pointed look Bella's way.

"Shut up," The dark haired witch shot back. Because of course she couldn't deny it. She was those things sometimes… all the time. "Whatever. Let’s go. It's time for lunch anyway."

(A/N: lets be honest idk how classes work at hogwarts so lets say bellatrix and sis’s meet up w mother on the reggy, with permission or without, and this particular weekend was a break for all students to either visit their fam or relax in their dorms/explore school grounds. today (mon) is a day for them to get readjusted and classes start up again the following day. anyway continue)

All the way to the great hall Bellatrix's sisters continued teasing her about Tom. Thankfully she took the teasing easily, shoving her sisters good naturedly and joking along. That was until they reached the great hall. She didn't think her sisters noticed but as they walked past others to get to their table Bellatrix could feel a strong force on her, like something digging into the back of her head. She scanned her eyes around the room once, trying to catch the culprit of whatever was happening but all she could see were other students eating merrily, not a clue to her predicament. Thankfully by the time she'd sat down the force had vanished and she could focus back on her sisters.

Tom stood just outside the doors of the great hall, panting and trying to catch his breath. Never had he been rejected so quickly from someone's mind, not even close to breaching it in fact. Her magic was strong, untampered and just waiting to be fully unleashed just beneath the surface. A magic enough to rival his own. She may think she was strong now but oh just wait until he had her with him, by his side. Just wait until he showed her what she's truly capable of.

With these thoughts in mind he swiftly walked away from the great hall entrance, on his way back to his dorm.

#harry potter #bellatrix lestrange #bellatrix #bellatrix black #bellatrix x voldemort #bellatrix x tom riddle #helena bonham carter #wizarding world #hogwarts #writing #writer #story #fanfiction #fiction #fictional #stories

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ottelis · 4 years ago

Photo

"I gave you my life, Eliott," Lucas's voice shatters, splinters.

Eliott replies softly, broken, hollow, "And I gave you mine."

"No," Lucas says, low and dark. "No, you didn't."

aka: eliott and lucas grow up together, but are separated when eliott is institutionalized in paris after a severe depressive episode. they reunite two years later when eliott is released, but everything has already changed before their eyes.

epigraph. i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii.

08—the world will be yours

july 23rd, 1968

04:09

caen, france

Eliott and Lucas haven't stopped talking all night, their stories and laughter gently leading the moon across the sky. Eliott knows she's smiling down on them, knows that she doesn't want to set just yet, knows that she wants to watch over these two boys a moment or two longer. He wonders if Lucas can feel that same love from the moon in the way it's shining a little brighter, how it doesn't seem to fracture as much as it streams through the window. He wonders if Lucas knows that the moon is rejoicing along with them, bathing in the warm water of sweet memory. Lucas is smiling wider than Eliott has seen him smile since before everything happened, so he thinks Lucas can feel it all. The moon nearly weeping tears of joy, Eliott's heart repairing itself stitch by stitch, the world becoming tranquil and calm, letting itself sigh. Eliott feels—no, knows —that him and Lucas are meant to be close. They're meant to look into each other's eyes, to smile at each other, to touch. It doesn't quite matter what lies beneath every touch, what they may be hiding behind their smiles, what they may find in each other's eyes. What matters is that they're in the same room, that they're breathing the same air, that they're ready to set the world aright again. That's how Eliott knows, after all. When they're together, when they're at each other's side, the world spins a little more slowly, flows purely and perfectly like water. The world is so much more beautiful when he looks into Lucas's eyes, and that has to mean something.

"Could you find Polaris at this time of night?" Lucas asks quietly, sweetly, bringing Eliott out of his thoughts. His eyes are lost in the world outside, trying to break through the glass to get a better view.

"Of course," Eliott nods. "It's constant. It's always in the same spot."

"I think the sun is starting to rise," Lucas replies. "You can't really see it in the daylight, right?"

Eliott looks out the window, too, his eyes immediately finding Polaris. The sky is lightening around it, and it starts to blend in. "Sometimes you can, sometimes you can't," he shrugs, turning his gaze back to Lucas. But he's still gazing outside, his eyes wide and soft, an early morning sun. "I haven't really looked for Polaris lately," Eliott admits, his voice low and thin. "I don't know why. Maybe I tried to deal with everything changing by mapping the stars that were foreign to me. I thought that that could help me navigate my own parts that I don't recognize. I thought that maybe sometimes the sky doesn't know what it is, either. What it's made of. What it's worth to certain people."

"Maybe it doesn't," Lucas agrees thoughtfully, wistfully. "Maybe it's too busy trying to carry the weight of… billions of wishes to worry about why it has to shoulder it all in the first place."

"Maybe," Eliott mutters, too quiet for Lucas to hear.

"Do you think God created wishes so people that don't know who He is could still pray to Him?" Lucas asks, reverent and soft. "And He made stars to hold all those wishes?"

"Maybe," Eliott repeats, a little louder this time. "But does that mean the stars aren't for everyone?"

Lucas tilts his head ever so slightly, his brow furrowing. "Everyone who's heard of God has doubted Him at some point. Maybe they're supposed to be like little gods. Maybe they can turn to them for a moment, until they decide to believe in Him again, or to hold onto the stars for a little longer."

"They're like a little path," Eliott suggests, smiling at the thought. "You can always follow it in different directions whenever it branches off."

Lucas smiles, too, sweet and content, his eyes so filled with stars Eliott wishes he could live in the galaxy within them.

"It's nice to see you smile," Eliott says, the words spilling off his tongue. But he doesn't mind. "I've missed it."

Lucas looks at Eliott then, his smile faltering only to widen and brighten into a grin. His head droops as he tries to hide it, but it still widens into Eliott's favorite smile—the shy one, the one accompanied by a small, stifled laugh. Even before he knew he loved Lucas, seeing him smile like this meant he was so happy he was afraid he would lose it if he didn't hide it. But over the years, he doesn't cover his mouth with his hand, and he doesn't tilt his head as low. He's becoming less afraid, and Eliott has the privilege to see Lucas's walls come down again. Maybe, at some point, they can go back to that brief yet brilliant time when Lucas held his head high and laughed with his whole chest, when he trusted Eliott enough to protect him and his happiness. Eliott hopes so, even if he can't cradle Lucas's heart in his hands like before. As long as Lucas can be as happy as he deserves to be.

"I've missed it, too," Lucas admits quietly as he lifts his head, his smile shrinking ever so slightly.

"Smiling?" Eliott asks, somewhat knowing that that is what Lucas means, somewhat hoping that he'll be wrong.

But Lucas nods, looking out the window again. "I haven't smiled much since you came back. Chloé's noticed, and so has Maman, and all of our friends. I couldn't tell them what was wrong, of course, but… I'm glad we can be Lucas and Eliott again," his smile starts to come back again, and it puts Eliott at ease. "I've forgiven you and I've forgiven myself. I can be happy again. I am happy."

Eliott grins, his heart warming and glowing like a star in his chest. "I'm happy, too."

Lucas's smile stays on his face, but there's something else in his eyes—something pensive, something close to mournful. "If you had told me the day we kissed," he begins, his voice quiet. "That in just a few months our lives would fall apart... I wouldn't have believed you for a second. You were what I needed, and I had you the way I wanted to. I never thought I would lose you."

"But I'm here now, Lucas," Eliott replies. "And, in that case, let's not promise that we won't ever lose each other again. We never could've promised that in the first place. Let's promise, that we'll always find each other in the end. Because I don't know about you, Lucas, but I just need you close to me."

Lucas's eyes smile again. "I need you close to me, too. It's a good thing we live right next to each other."

Eliott lets out a laugh, nodding. "It's convenient, that's for sure," his smile falls again though as a thought comes to his mind. "But you're going to school soon. Then you'll marry Chloé. Is she going to be in Paris with you?"

Lucas's smile falls again, too. "We're… actually talking about moving the wedding to next year. That way she can finish lyceé and I can maybe find us an apartment in Paris. It's not set yet, but she seems to be willing to wait."

"Oh," Eliott replies dumbly, his eyes wide.

"She was actually the one to pull me aside and say that we might be rushing into this," Lucas continues. "I was a bit shocked at first, but after we talked about it for a bit I agreed with her. She'll get her Christmas wedding, just not this Christmas."

"Okay," Eliott replies, still dumbfounded. "Then, why did you tell me that she was going to go dress shopping soon earlier? I mean, you didn't talk to her between then and now because we've been together since."

Lucas shrugs, sighing. "I guess I didn't want to give bad news about Chloé when we had more important things to talk about."

Eliott nods, understanding. "But everything's okay between you two?"

Lucas nods back, the corner of his mouth quirking ever so slightly up. "Everything's okay. We just have to break the news to Maman now."

"I'm sure she'll understand," Eliott reassures him. "She'll have even more time to make her baby boy's wedding perfect."

Lucas's smile spreads, almost unevenly across his face. "You're right," he confirms, nodding once. "I think even six months of planning wasn't quite enough time for her. She's been really stressed lately. Maybe waiting a year would be better for her, too."

"See?" Eliott smiles kindly. "It's all working out."

Lucas nods again, rather weakly. "It's all working out," he repeats, as if he was reassuring himself.

"Is something wrong, Lucas?" Eliott asks quietly, carefully.

Lucas tenses, but he melts it away almost as soon as it takes over him. "Yes, of course," he replies, half-smiling. "I think I'm disappointed that I have to wait longer to marry Chloé. I would've married her yesterday if I could have. No parties, no tuxedos, no dresses. Just us. But that's not what she wants, so."

Eliott feels disappointment and pride swirl and mix in his chest, leaving him with a bitter, sharp ache. "It's okay to be disappointed," he says, though, thinking of the ache as just another pill to swallow. "I'm sure she is, too. But I think it'll all be worth it when you see her walking down the aisle. My papa cried when he saw my maman. I think you'll be a crier, too."

Lucas smiles weakly, a dreamy gaze filling his eyes and creating another galaxy there. "I think so, too," he agrees, his voice distant and wistful. "She'll look so beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world."

Eliott smiles, too, hearing his father say almost the exact same words. "If you cry, I'm definitely going to make fun of you for it in my best man speech," he jokes, hoping to make Lucas smile a little wider.

Lucas chuckles, shaking his head. "Who said you were going to be my best man?" he teases, raising an eyebrow.

Eliott drops his mouth open, clapping his hand over his chest, pretending to be shocked. "You're telling me you've asked someone else to be your best man?"

Lucas nods gravely. "I asked Basile the other day. And he said 'yes.'"

"Basile?!" Eliott cries, but unable to keep his laughter from spilling out. " Our Basile? You chose him over me?!"

Lucas is fully laughing now, curling up on himself as his laughter ripples through him in waves. He nods, unable to give a response.

"Well, you'll need to give Basile some bad news, too," Eliott scoffs, folding his arms. He's too overcome with laughter, too, to be discernible enough, though.

They haven't laughed this hard all night, but they're both willing to accept that exhaustion is probably the thing that's tickling them the most right now. But they let the laughter take over, letting it stretch and pull their ribs like an accordion until the only noise that comes out is a breathy wheeze. Fireworks go off in their chest, the finale to the symphony they've played all night, exploding in sparkling blooms of pain. But it's a pain they both can bear, a pain they're familiar with and have grown to love. A pain that eases with slow, steady breathing, with the gentle fluttering of eyelashes brushing against each other as their eyes slowly close, with the warm and soft cloud of dreamy sleep.

Eliott can tell Lucas is getting sleepy, and he smiles to himself as he adds one more thing to the list of things that hasn't changed. Lucas still yawns really wide, still shakes his head a little once his mouth closes. His eyelids are still heavy and hooded. His eyes are still a bleary streak of blue beneath them (these eyes remind Eliott of the blue that precedes dawn and succeeds dusk; the sky waking up and falling asleep). He sighs, long and heavy, his mouth falling ever so slightly open. Lucas was never good at keeping himself awake once he gets tired, always falling into it as easily as he always fell into his mother's embrace. Eliott reaches out and shakes him gently.

"I'll walk you home," he offers, carefully climbing the short distance down from his windowsill. He holds out his hand hopefully, and he smiles when Lucas takes it. The shape of Lucas's hand is still so familiar, and it still fits so well in Eliott's hand. But he makes sure he's the first to draw his hand away once Lucas's feet land softly against the wooden floor. Lucas's fingers catch on his ever so slightly, but they curl up tightly, his hand becoming a fist resting at his side.

They step carefully as they exit Eliott's room, the floor silent beneath them. Eliott knows they've probably woken up his mother a few times over the night, but he doesn't want them to create even more disturbances. They don't, thankfully, reaching the front door without incident. Eliott opens the door for Lucas, but he lingers a moment.

"You don't have to walk with me," he mutters, his voice as silvery as the fading moon.

"I want to," Eliott shrugs. "This is our first night as best friends again. I don't want to say goodbye to you until I have to."

Lucas half-smiles again, his gaze falling down to his feet. In the darkness, Eliott thinks he sees the faintest blush on Lucas's cheeks. (Maybe he's just imagining it, or maybe the small rays of moonlight is playing tricks on him.) "Okay," Lucas nods, looking back up at him. "You can walk me home."

Eliott's lips form a clumsy, tired smile. "Okay."

He waits for Lucas to walk through the door before following him, stepping out onto the front porch. The wood here creaks, but Eliott doesn't mind as much now. It's a little comforting, hearing the planks rasp gently beneath their feet shatters the eerie silence consuming the world right now; the quiet of a deep yet dreamless sleep.

"It's beautiful out here," Lucas says, pausing at the porch steps. He's facing south, towards the road, towards the forest. He looks so large standing in front of it, yet he's not a threatening presence before it. He's just another shadow, another patch of darkness. Eliott approaches him, standing tall beside him.

"It is," he agrees reverently, his eyes widening.

Distantly, ever so distantly, Eliott could see the faint lights of the heart of the city, glowing like little fireflies. The sky is darkest where they're both facing, too, the stars shining brighter and clearer as they stand stark against it. It's strange, Eliott thinks, how light drowns out the dark, even when it's outnumbered. He can't quite think of a better word for it than "strange," either. Maybe "wonderful."

"Your window has the wrong view, El," Lucas teases, smirking. "We could've stared at this all night."

Eliott shakes his head, chuckling. "The ocean helps my view, though."

"I prefer the forest," Lucas replies quietly. "The trees." He doesn't need to explain why.

"Will you ever love the ocean again?" Eliott asks, even quieter. "Like you did before?"

Lucas shrugs, a smile filled with both hope and doubt barely stretching across his face. "Maybe. Once I heal a little more."

"When you're ready, we could go swimming in there together," Eliott tries, ready to retract the offer if he needs to, if Lucas isn't as ready as Eliott thinks he is.

"Maybe someday," Lucas responds after a moment.

His words, on the surface, are vague, imprecise. But there's a promise in his voice that Eliott would recognize anywhere. Usually, his heart would swell or stir or sprint, but in this moment, it simply sighs . Content, safe.

"I wanna go home," Lucas says, then. His tone isn't annoyed or bossy, just exhausted. His hand brushes against Eliott's, pauses for a moment, then tangles itself in his. It tugs Eliott gently forward, down the stairs and into the cool, gray sand. It almost puts him in a trance, almost brings him back to some nights like this not too long ago, ones that have bled together into a fog. The only constant was Lucas and Polaris, and the other details didn't matter then. But, above and overall, it makes him smile .

"Sorry I'm dragging you," Lucas mutters, taking his hand away before Eliott can protest. He holds it in his other hand—not squeezing it, but still fidgeting with it, controlling it.

"It's okay," Eliott reassures, pretending not to notice Lucas's hands. "I know you're tired."

If Lucas replied, Eliott didn't hear him.

They get to Lucas's house faster than Eliott expected, and he can't explain why. The night is quickly coming to an end, and Lucas's eyes are quickly closing. Eliott—selfishly, he'll admit—wants to keep Lucas up a few minutes longer so they can watch the sunrise together. But he knows Lucas needs to sleep, and frankly, he does, too.

"Thanks for hearing me out," Lucas says as they linger by his front door. He has a small yet sweet, sleepy smile on his face. "And thanks for waiting for me to come around. You didn't have to."

"Thanks for hearing me out, too," Eliott nods, smiling back at him. "And I would've waited forever if you asked me to. And I would've done it because I want to, not because I have to."

Lucas's smile quirks up slightly, the smallest wrinkles forming by his eyes. Suddenly, he envelops Eliott in a hug, burying his face in his chest.

Eliott eases into the hug, letting his eyes close and his chin rest on top of Lucas's head. He holds Lucas tightly, offering him sanctuary, if only for a moment. He hasn't held Lucas like this in such a long time. He hadn't realized how much he's missed it. He thinks Lucas's warmth, the memory of it, will help him fall asleep a little faster for days, even weeks to come. He prays that his own warmth can do the same for Lucas.

"Sweet dreams," Eliott wishes into Lucas's hair, the strands soft and familiar as they brush against his lips.

"Good morning, Ellie," Lucas replies; a strange goodbye, but a goodbye that warms Eliott's chest with a soft, fuzzy light. He can feel Lucas smiling, too.

"Good morning, Lulu," he returns with a chuckle, tears springing in his eyes.

He waits for Lucas to pull away first, but he's trembling in his arms. He inhales sharply, a quiet sob, bunching Eliott's shirt in his hands. He holds Eliott tighter, nearly forcing all the air out of him. Eliott holds him back, almost just as tightly, hearing another hiccup or two from him. He doesn't know why Lucas is crying, but it makes the tears already brimming in his eyes spill over, silent and cold on his cheeks.

Lucas finally pulls away all too suddenly, quickly swiping the tears off his cheeks. He opens his door and enters without another word, but with a glance over his shoulder at Eliott. He smiles, sincere and sure, then slowly shuts the door behind him. Everything is silent, but peacefully so. The world still sleeps, its dreams beginning to fade. It'll wake soon, but him and Lucas will be fast asleep, their hearts reunited and both of their minds at peace. Eliott smiles, too.

He falls asleep that morning wishing he had told Lucas that he's realized he never needed things to be normal again. All he ever wanted, all he ever needed was his best friend, and he feels he can never be afraid again with Lucas by his side.

july 23rd, 1968

13:13

caen, france

Eliott wakes slowly, blinking away the thick haze of sleep from his eyes, his mind. His evening, night with Lucas honestly felt like a dream, like one of a handful he's had since he came home. Dreams where there was never a tear to stitch back up, or tempestuous minds to quiet. Dreams where the world as they knew it never lurched to a stop. But Eliott knows last night was real. He still feels Lucas's warmth, feels the shadow of his shape in his arms, against his chest. He hears every word of reassurance they spoke to each other, every bout of laughter that had long been waiting to meet the air, the world outside. Eliott smiles, savoring this moment he's found himself in. Where there once was a seam between dream and reality, there is now a flawless canvas, a clean slate. A second chance lies before both him and Lucas, promising to keep their footsteps light and their paths intertwined. Who else gets to start over like they can?

Something pulls him out of his reverie, though. A sound. The sound that for years has only lived in his memory. The sound he long thought had been buried with his father.

His mother is singing.

Her voice isn't loud enough in his ears to discern what song she's singing, but his ears have been so hungry for it that they recognize it even through layers of wood and dust. They latch onto it, drinking in any portion of it within their reach.

Eliott sits up, slowly approaches his door to see if he can hear better. She must be downstairs, probably in the kitchen. Through the crack in his door, he can hear enough to start piecing together a melody. Once he does, he's astonished that he didn't recognize it sooner. The lyrics come to his mind, to the tip of his tongue.

J'attendrai, le jour et la nuit, j'attendrai toujours ton retour

The song his mother sang to herself as his father gave everything for their country. She'd sing it to Eliott at night when he couldn't sleep when he was younger, and it never failed to make his eyelids heavy. She sang it that last Christmas they all had together, her voice warmer than the stove and oven combined. And she's singing it now, long after she's lost her husband, long after she nearly lost her son.

Her voice is different now. Still warm and round and beautiful, but frailer, almost clumsy from lack of use. She doesn't seem to sing it out of relief or joy either, like she used to. Before, she sang it knowing everything she had waited for had returned to her. Now, it's hopeful. She has more things to wait for now, but she knows that they'll come.

You may have my face, Eliott, his father's voice echoes in his mind. But that heart and everything else inside you? That shine in your eyes? That all came from your mother.

Eliott slowly sits himself down on the floor, emotion flooding his chest and his eyes. Tears start spilling, but he's smiling so widely every inch of his face begins to ache. He tries to stifle his own sobs in case it drowns out the sound of his mother's voice. They come out, still, but only in quiet hiccups and sharp risings and fallings of his chest.

He hasn't heard his mother sing in more than two years. He's come to the crushing realization so many times that he could never remember the last time he'd heard her sing. He's wished on a thousand—dare he say a million —stars that he could hear her sing again, even if it was only half of a note, even if she was off-key. He's sung that same song to himself night after night in that horrific institution but it never soothed him like it could when she sang it. Since he's come home, he's felt a nagging guilt that his mother is too worried about him to feel light enough to sing. But he can leave all that behind now. His mother is singing again!

As she starts singing the last few lines, Eliott leaps to his feet, opening his door and rushing down the stairs. She doesn't seem to hear him though, her voice not wavering as it travels throughout the house. He sees her standing at the kitchen sink, filling the kettle with water. She's smiling softly, her voice becoming more beautiful as it escapes through her curved lips.

Eliott bites back another sob as he waits for her to put the kettle on the stove, or to see him out of the corner of her eye; whichever came first. But both happen at the same time as she sings the very last line.

Eliott bounds towards her, pulling her into a crushing yet relieved hug.

"Honey, what's wrong?" she asks with concern in her voice, hesitantly hugging him back.

"Nothing," he replies, truthfully. With a sob, he explains, "You're singing again, Maman."

"Oh," she says, slightly startled. She holds him a little tighter, still unsure. "Oh," she repeats more quietly, almost a chuckle.

"I've missed hearing you sing," Eliott says, his voice thick and breaking. "I've missed it so much."

She sniffles, breathing out a deep, slow sigh. She rubs soothing circles into his back, rests her chin on his shoulder. She starts to tremble as her own tears roll down her cheeks, so Eliott holds her tighter. "I think I've missed it, too," she chokes out. She sobs, then, kissing his cheek. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for, Maman?" he asks, chuckling lightly as he pulls away. "You're singing, so you're happy."

"I am happy," she nods, sniffling. "I listened to you and Lucas talking and laughing all night, and I just knew you were so happy. And when you're happy, I'm happy."

"We kept you up?" Eliott asks quietly, his heart swelling and constricting at the same time.

"You two have kept me up for years," she laughs. "Papa and I would stay awake and hear you two chatting away but we hardly ever minded. You were happy. And that was all that mattered. Besides, you know how Lucas is. His laugh is more of a shout than anything."

Eliott laughs as he tries to smile, but it wobbles too much as more tears roll down his cheeks.

"Now, there were also plenty of nights where we just wanted to sleep," his mother admits, but it makes Eliott laugh. She laughs, too, wiping the tears from his face. "But most of the time, we were happy because our son was happy."

"Your son is happy, Maman," Eliott replies, and it feels so good to say that. "I have my best friend back. And you're singing again. What more could I ask for?"

His mother beams , and through her tears, she suggests, "How about some breakfast?"

Eliott laughs, nearly chokes on it, then nods. "I'd love some breakfast, Maman."

Before he can say another word, his mother pulls a plate from the cabinet and starts filling it with food—golden, steaming eggs and rich, ripe strawberries and warm, perfectly toasted bread. The kettle whistles as she sets the plate on the table, and she doesn't waste a moment to start steeping a cup of tea for him, too. Eliott almost feels overwhelmed, but he can't force his lips into a frown, even if he tried with all his might. So, he finds his seat at the table and starts eating, letting it overwhelm his tongue and fill his stomach. He starts taking sips of his tea, too. It's familiar, floral, warms his soul.

His mother sits across from him, eating as well, but watching him with a fondness and pride that he's missed so much it nearly stops his breath.

And when he looks over at his father's chair, it seems to glow, seems to look at him and smile.

His mother wipes away his tears, and he feels his father's arms wrap around him from some distant place, some distant life.

august 6th, 1968

12:00

caen, france

It was Lucas's idea, visiting Eliott's father's grave. Eliott isn't sure where the idea came from, and he's surprisingly unashamed to admit that it's not necessarily a good one. The last time they were there together was at the funeral, the moment Eliott finally broke and fell into Lucas's arms. He didn't think he was ready to relive that moment, but Lucas was somehow able to convince him otherwise.

It's strange, sitting in the passenger's seat of Lucas's car. For some reason, Eliott could never quite picture either of them driving. He's so full of memories of them racing each other everywhere that he must never have considered any other possibility. Not to mention the fact that they're on their way to the cemetery. He doesn't like that Lucas is quiet either, and that he doesn't have the radio turned on. But he knows that Lucas has trouble finding the right words to say, and he knows that Lucas has a talent for using silence to his advantage. Eliott holds the small bunch of flowers a little tighter in his grip, the stems soft to the touch but sturdy under the slight pressure. He hopes for strength.

"Really, Eliott," Lucas finally says, as soon as he parks. "If we need to leave now or at any point, I can take you home. I… I know how hard this is for you."

Eliott sighs, shaking his head. "I think I'm okay."

Lucas smiles, small but reassuring. "Okay."

Silence falls between them again as they get out of the car and weave their way through the rows of graves, almost traveling through time. They pass some so weathered they can't quite read the inscriptions, others cracked or slightly burnt, all with unfamiliar names and dates. But as they travel further, they're less damaged, and the names begin to stir something in the back of their minds.

Eliott's steps begin to slow as they approach the grave they're looking for, and Lucas thankfully matches his pace. Eliott knows that this journey will never be easy, even though he's trekked this path several times now. He isn't sure if Lucas being by his side is helping him as much as it usually does, but he's still glad that he's here.

He isn't as lost as he used to be before. Now, he just looks for the wilted remains of the last flowers he left there. It always makes his heart sink a little, seeing them resting lifeless beneath his father's name. How many flowers have withered since he died, flowers that he never got to see? But, his soul reminds him. How many have bloomed?

He finds the few purple irises he brought last time easily, their petals now shriveled and tinged with gray. His eyes travel up, fleeting over the inscription before they find his father's name. He's almost memorized every grain of the stone, every imperfection forever staining the man he always thought was the closest thing to perfect someone could get. He sighs, and he feels Lucas gaze watching him carefully.

When no words burden his tongue, and Lucas stands silent beside him, Eliott kneels and carefully picks up the wilted flowers, almost flinching when they nearly turn to dust in his hand. He replaces them with the ones he's brought today; white, velvety roses with the faintest, sweetest perfume. He wonders how long these flowers will survive, how long they'll keep guard of his father's final resting place.

Once the flowers have been placed, Eliott lifts his hand and lets his fingers smooth over the dates, and the final, sealing words below it.

Un vaillant soldat, un mari dévoué et un père aimant

"Did I ever tell you what his last words were?" he hears himself ask, his hand dropping into his lap.

"No," Lucas answers behind him, quiet and slightly startled.

"'God loves us, our happy family,'" Eliott recites, and he can't help hearing his father's voice in his own—tearful, weak, hopeful. "Then he fell asleep. And when he woke up, God took him home. And away from us."

Lucas kneels next to him, not saying another word. He holds out his hand and it reaches Eliott's slowly, waiting patiently for a response. Eliott lets his hand slip into Lucas's, but it still lies limply, cold and mourning. Lucas doesn't squeeze, just holds on tight enough that he supports it, like an achor or a knot.

"How did you bear it?" Eliott asks fraily. "Losing two fathers?"

"I had people to be strong for," Lucas replies after a quiet, heavy moment.. "When Papa left, I had to be strong for Maman. And when your papa passed away, I had to be strong for you. Even when I didn't feel strong."

"You can be strong without feeling like it, Lucas," Eliott says, squeezing Lucas's hand once, ignoring the gaping hole Lucas has left in his chest. "I know you. You feel something and you find a dark corner to tuck it into so you don't have to worry about it and no one else will see it, either."

Lucas presses his lips together, his eyes glazing over slightly; lost in thought, in denial once again. Eliott squeezes his hand again, and Lucas looks back up at him. Their gaze locks for a moment, and Eliott can see the pain Lucas is trying to hide. Lucas's eyes are like once fine fabric that's been torn and sewn back together too many times, a scar that never fades like it should. Eliott could get lost in those eyes, but Lucas would never let him get so lost that he couldn't find his way back again.

"It's hard to wear your heart on your sleeve," Eliott continues, hope rising in his chest when Lucas doesn't look away. "And you can hide it sometimes, if you feel like it's in danger or you don't want a certain person to see it. But how can we know our own hearts if we don't let ourselves look at it, or study it, or just hold it close? Your heart sits alone in your chest, Lucas, when it needs you as much as you need it."

Lucas's eyes are wet now, and his hand is clinging onto Eliott's. "I know," he nods weakly, sighing shakily. "It's just been so long…"

"It hasn't," Eliott shakes his head, smiling kindly. "I saw it the other day when we finally talked. It was right here," he runs his thumb over the thin, pale skin of Lucas's wrist with the lightest touch he can manage. Lucas doesn't flinch. Eliott smiles wider, saying, "And it was beating and red and alive. It had a few scars, sure, but I could still recognize it. It was still one of the hearts that's been beating beside mine my whole life. It was still yours."

A single, solitary tear rolls down Lucas's cheek, but he's smiling. His gaze travels over to Eliott's father's grave, and an unreadable expression flashes across his face.

"You know," Eliott says, squeezing Lucas's hand again. "Maman always says that he's proud of me, but I think he's proud of you, too."

Lucas stifles a sob, covering his mouth with the back of his other hand. He rests his head on Eliott's shoulder, his body beginning to tremble. Eliott feels tears in his eyes, too, as he pulls Lucas closer.

"He couldn't stand you when we were younger," Eliott recalls, and Lucas laughs through his tears. "He thought you were grumpy and overdramatic and that you had a bad temper."

"He wasn't wrong," Lucas admits, chuckling.

"But he thought I was good for you," Eliott continues. "He thought I did a good job of keeping you in check. He thought we balanced each other out really well."

"When did I become tolerable for him?" Lucas asks.

"I think he liked you more and more as we grew up," Eliott answers, growing quiet as memories begin to trickle into his mind. "I thought he was gonna kill your papa when he found out that he abandoned you and your maman. He said that he knew that the war changed him, but he never thought it changed him like that. I don't think I'd ever seen him so angry before. Or since, I think."

Lucas tenses a bit, but he exhales slowly and relaxes. "I don't have the strength to be angry at him anymore. If he lost all his love in the war, then I never had a chance. He would never love me. He would never care about me. But I had Maman. And I had you and your parents. He's not worth my anger. He never was. I wish I had known that sooner. I wasted so much breath and so many tears on him."

"It's okay," is all Eliott can manage in reply. He isn't sure why words seem to fail him now.

"It's strange," Lucas says after another moment. "Your papa had me under his wing for only a few years, but when he died, I felt like I had lost a father. A true one, a real one."

"He had a talent for loving," Eliott replies, tears filling his eyes again. "He could make you feel like he's loved you for lifetimes with a single smile."

"That must be why I felt like I'd died, too, when I heard you tap on my window," Lucas concludes quietly. "But multiple of my selves died in that moment. Infinitely many."

"Maybe he's proof that your parallel universes exist. How else could so much love live inside him?"

He feels Lucas smile. "Maybe." His smile falls just as quickly as it came, but it's another moment before he speaks again. "I'm afraid of the day my papa will die. I'm afraid of how I'll feel. I don't want to mourn a man like him, but how can I not mourn my own father?"

"Grief is a strange thing," Eliott replies. "I don't think we get to choose who we mourn for, or what it makes us do, or how long it lives inside us. I think it chooses for us and we don't have any other choice but to feel it. And if you do find yourself mourning him when the time comes, I don't think it makes you a bad person. You'll just be grieving."

Lucas nods, thinking for a moment. "For some reason, I hope it isn't painful for him," Lucas mutters, almost of Eliott's earshot. "Not like it was for me."

Words fail Eliott again, and his mouth becomes dry. He smooths his thumb over Lucas's wrist again, and he still doesn't flinch.

"I hope you'll be there when it happens," Lucas sniffles, taking the burden of response off of Eliott's shoulders. But he chuckles lightly. "You owe me."

Eliott smiles weakly, letting his eyes close. "Don't worry. I'll be there, and if I'm not, I'll go through hell to make sure I'll get to you eventually."

"Thank you," Lucas replies, lifting his head to look at Eliott. "In advance, I guess."

"Well, then you're welcome in advance," Eliott teases, smirking.

Lucas chuckles, rolling his eyes and shaking his head fondly. "You piss me off, but you're my best friend so I'm stuck with you."

Eliott can't help but feel the sweet, familiar warmth that blooms in his chest. It threatens to send a fierce blush up to his cheeks, so he tries his best to hold it back. Thankfully, Lucas doesn't seem to notice. "Once you marry Chloé, I'll be out of your hair."

Lucas tilts his head, raising his eyebrows. "Oh, really?"

"If," Eliott replies, holding up a finger. "You have your kids call me Uncle Eliott."

Lucas scoffs and rolls his eyes again but he's smiling. "Fine," he laughs, holding out his hand.

Eliott takes it gladly and shakes it firmly, nodding once. "I'm glad we've agreed, Monsieur Lallemant."

"I'm glad as well, Monsieur Demaury," Lucas returns, nodding back. He dissolves into light, airy laughter then, resting his head on Eliott's shoulder again. Eliott hears him sigh contentedly, so at ease and so in relief Eliott feels his own heart and mind soothe, calm.

Eliott stares at his father's grave as silence falls between them once again, trying to decipher what emotions are flooding his chest, coursing through his veins.

"I miss him," he says, still unsure of what feeling, what meaning lies behind his words.

"I miss him, too," Lucas replies, quiet and distant as an echo.

"Right before he died," Eliott begins, letting the memory take over his words for him. "He told me that I'll learn how to miss him and smile at the same time."

"Have you learned yet?" Lucas asks. He isn't accusatory or judging, just simply questioning.

"Not quite," Eliott responds. "But I think I'm starting to learn."

"That's good," Lucas smiles. "He knows that you're trying."

Eliott smiles then, too. "I know. I've been feeling him a lot more lately. His presence. And it's not cold and empty anymore. It's warm and familiar. It's like I can feel his arms around me again, or his hands tousling my hair again. I think I'd forgotten that whispers can be so kind, but he's reminded me."

"Maman used to say that whispers happen when our heart has so much to say it crawls up our throat and takes over our voice," Lucas recalls absent-mindedly, his fingers tracing an unfamiliar pattern on the back of Eliott's hand. "And that's why they're always quiet. And why some words are almost always whispered. And why whispers are only meant for certain people's ears."

"That's a strange thought," Eliott remarks. "But I don't mind it."

"I don't, either," Lucas agrees. "It is kind of nice when you think about it."

"Have you told her that you're pushing the wedding back yet?" Eliott asks quietly, hoping he won't upset Lucas.

"We have," Lucas nods, his voice level. "She was a little upset, but I think she understood. Her and Chloé actually still went to look at dresses because she was so excited, Chloé just didn't buy one. So I didn't lie to you that one night."

"Did she find one she liked?" Eliott smiles.

"Yeah," Lucas smiles, too. "She said it was really plain but really elegant. She said that it makes her feel like she's in a Jane Austen novel, whatever that means."

Eliott chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

"She said it had short sleeves, though," Lucas continues, chuckling along. "So she'll need to find a long-sleeved one probably, since we're having a Christmas wedding. Either that or I lend her my coat all night. That's romantic, isn't it?"

Eliott nods, humming. "How are you going to balance Christmas and your anniversary, though? As far as gifts?" he asks, nearly snickering.

"Couldn't tell you," Lucas sighs, but he's holding back laughter, too. "We'll figure it out, I guess."

"And I'm still your best man?" Eliott asks hopefully.

Lucas nods. "Of course you are. Who else would be my best man?"

"Well, you said Baz," Eliott replies teasingly.

Lucas just shakes his head in response this time, and things go quiet. Eliott can't help but feel a strange tension between them now, but he doesn't know where it came from or how to ease it away.

"Eliott?" Lucas says.

"Hm?" Eliott hums.

"Can we go home?" his voice is quiet again, almost timid.

"Of course," Eliott nods.

Lucas lifts his head and rises to his feet, not saying another word. He has an expression on his face that Eliott can only describe as blank, distant. But then he looks down at Eliott, his eyes quietly desperate. Eliott stands quickly, keeping eye contact with Lucas, but it's almost too much to bear. Lucas's eyes look like the ocean the day that he drowned—dark and fathomless, filled with something known and yet unspoken (Lucas will die; Eliott will never fall in love again). Eliott scrambles, trying to think of something to say, something that doesn't cross a line or make things worse. He opens his mouth, but pauses when Lucas takes the smallest step closer, tilts his chin up the slightest bit. His arms gently wrap around Eliott's waist and pull him close, then he buries his face in Eliott's shirt.

Eliott freezes, feeling Lucas's hand drift up to weave into his hair, feeling Lucas's warmth breath tickle against his skin. He lets out a shocked, stuttering breath, then wraps his arms around Lucas, his hands finding their way through Lucas's hair, too. "I don't know what's wrong, Lucas," he whispers. "But you don't have to talk about it."

Lucas rests his head against in the crook of Eliott's neck, and it still fits like it used to. "Merci," he breathes against Eliott's skin. "Merci."

"Je suis là," Eliott responds, his lips brushing against the small, pointed tip of Lucas's ear. "It's okay, mon —" Eliott stops himself, biting his tongue to cut off the forbidden word resting on the tip of it. "Mon frère," he says instead, using the first word that came to his mind. His stomach turns and his heart clenches, but he can't take the word back.

Lucas starts to pull away then, his hands the last to leave Eliott's body as they cling to his shirt, gently letting go and falling defeated at Lucas's sides. "Let's go home," he says, a finality in his voice that's sharp and unforgiving and forces a lump down Eliott's throat.

"Okay," Eliott manages.

They leave Eliott's father's grave in silence. The clouds darken above them, but they never shed a tear. The flowers that are keeping a dead man company wait patiently, either for the moment the clouds burst or they die of thirst.

As Lucas drives, Eliott asks if they're still okay. Lucas looks at him, smiling shyly and nodding. His eyes are calmer now, but they seem to be chanting some phrase that both of them recognize but neither dare say out loud.

Nothing will ever be the same again. We were fools to think we could make ourselves shrink and that the world would shrink with us.

august 10th, 1968

10:28

caen, france

Eliott's mother is sitting in the front lobby at his request, in the chair next to the vase of vibrant lilies that look just as fresh as they did a month ago. But he finds himself not feeling the need to hold her hand like he did last time as he waits for Dr. Garnier. He feels much braver now, almost like a child slowly learning courage. He finally jumped in the water that seemed so dark and deep, and felt its cool arms wrap around him and hold him afloat, and now he wants to get back in the water again. And he thinks Dr. Garnier will be happy to hear that Eliott and Lucas are friends again, and that he's been taking his medication, and that he's made so much progress in the past month. But he's worried about Lucas, especially after the way he was behaving at his father's grave. He knows Dr. Garnier isn't Lucas's therapist, but maybe he can offer some insight on how to help Lucas, how to comfort him.

The door opens, then, and Dr. Garnier enters. He looks up and smiles at Eliott, who grins back at him. Dr. Garnier's smile widens, then sits across from Eliott.

"You seem to be doing much better," he remarks, setting his clipboard aside. "I was worried you made another appointment because you weren't doing as well."

"I'm not perfect," Eliott shrugs. "But things are much better now."

"How's your mother?" Dr. Garnier asks politely.

Eliott smile widens a bit. "She's fantastic," he replies. "She's singing again. She hasn't sung since Papa died."

"That's good to hear," Dr. Garnier responds genuinely. "I'm glad that you're both doing well."

"I am, too," Eliott nods.

"And did you get to talk to Lucas?" Dr. Garnier continues, the smile not leaving his face.

"I did," Eliott smiles back. "We talked for a long time. We told each other everything. There's no more secrets or animosity between us anymore."

"That's good," Dr. Garnier grins. "That's great. It's important, having people who will support you. People who are in your corner."

Eliott nods. "Lucas definitely is," he pauses, then, slowly remembering what happened a few days ago, thinking through how to best phrase his concerns. "But I'm worried about him. Everything's been great so far, but he hasn't been himself the past few days."

"What do you mean when you say he's not himself?" Dr. Garnier asks, the smile falling from his face.

"He's anxious... but hopeless at the same time," Eliott replies, his brow furrowing as he thinks through his words. "It's like he knows that something bad is gonna happen, but he can't do anything to stop it. He wants to give up and let it happen but he can't."

"Do you have any idea of what could be on his mind?"

Eliott considers, running his thumb along his lower lip. "Him and his fiancée had to push back their wedding a year, but he wouldn't react like this if that was what was bothering him. And I don't know what else could be going on with him. I don't… I really don't know what's wrong."

"And you said you don't want to talk to him about it because you think he may not be ready to?" Dr. Garnier clarifies.

Eliott nods. "And he's too damn stubborn, anyway," he sighs, shaking his head. "Even if I tried to ask him what's wrong, he would just shut down or get angry or just brush it off. But it hurts because if he's upset, I feel upset, too. I hate seeing him so… So troubled ."

"Has he ever been like this before?" Dr. Garnier asks, his brow furrowing.

Eliott takes a deep breath as thousands of memories flood through his mind. Lucas bathed in golden sunlight while black ink spills from his mouth, but Eliott kisses it away until he's golden again. Lucas listening to Eliott's manic ranting but his eyes stare at him as if he were a stranger, and Eliott kisses him for the last time before he drowns. Lucas held two years of unspeakable pain on his shoulders and thrust it onto Eliott's, his mouth cold and unforgiving and sharp. Lucas almost becoming a slab of stone himself amongst the dozens in the cemetery, a shadow passing over him and leaving him cold and hollow.

Eliott nods as he wills the memories away, a lump forming in his throat.

"What happened the other times?" Dr. Garnier asks. "How were you able to get through to him? Did he always tell you eventually?"

Eliott considers for a moment, then nods. "Eventually," he agrees. "It just takes him awhile. He has to try to hold everything in his chest first, but once it becomes too much, it all spills out."

"What was wrong with him those other times, if I may ask?" Dr. Garnier is cautious, and Eliott can't help but feel grateful for it.

"There was one time where he was kind of like that," Eliott begins, choosing a memory that won't reveal too much. "The day he drowned. I was in a mania, and he had never seen me like that. Not as bad as I was that day, at least. He was afraid of me, I could tell. Or maybe of the things I was saying or doing, but he wanted to get away from me. Even if it was just for the day. But I wouldn't let him, because I was afraid of letting him out of my sight. And look where that got him. But… I'm not in a mania right now. I'm not depressed, either. I'm normal right now. So, he isn't worried about me, or afraid of me."

"Okay," Dr. Garnier replies quietly, nodding. "Is there another occasion where this happened that you'd be willing to share?"

Eliott nods, trying to be careful again. "Just earlier this week, we visited my father's grave," he begins. "I think we were both anxious about it, because the last time we were there together was at his funeral. But we got there, and we sat in front of his grave, and we talked like everything was normal. But something changed. Lucas wasn't talking as much, and he was just staring at the grave but there was something clouding his eyes. He was miles away, and I didn't know how to reach him. When we left, I just hugged him and made sure to tell him that I was there for him."

"Was Lucas close with your father, too?" Dr. Garnier asks after a moment.

Eliott sighs, nodding. "It's so selfish of me, but I always forget how much Papa's death affected him. He's told me before that he didn't let himself grieve too much in front of me because he felt he needed to be strong for me. If I could go back, I would check on Lucas more. Comfort him for a change, instead of him comforting me all the time."

"There's not a wrong way to grieve, Eliott," Dr. Garnier cuts in, his voice firm but kind. "Especially since it's one of the most consuming emotions we can feel. And once we look back on such a dark period with the light that we've found again, there's a million things we could find that we regret. And regret was one of the many things that tore you two apart in the first place. Don't let it do it again. Lucas needs you as much as you need him, and I think you know that."

"You think that's what could be wrong?" Eliott asks quietly. "He's still grieving?"

"I can't tell you how Lucas feels," Dr. Garnier responds. "Only he can tell you that, because he's the only one who can feel what he feels. But, if you reach out to him, or he reaches out to you, that's your opportunity to make amends for what you feel you did wrong. If he is grieving, and if he's grieving a thousand things at once, you can help him. You could lessen his regrets, guide him to the light more quickly."

Eliott nods, surety filling his chest. "Okay."

"But," Dr. Garnier adds. "I can tell how much you care about Lucas. And it's a beautiful thing to care that much about someone, but you need to keep a fraction of that, however small it may be, for yourself. You can't take care of Lucas if you don't take care of yourself. All the love you have for him won't do him any good if you don't have the strength to give it to him."

Eliott tries to keep himself from flinching at the word love , but it doesn't work the way he wants it to. And, unfortunately, Dr. Garnier notices. His eyebrows shoot up for a moment, but then his expression changes to something soft. Understanding? Maybe even pity?

"Eliott," he begins softly, kindly, patiently. "It's okay if you love Lucas. And it's okay if you're in love with him…" he trails off as he studies Eliott's face, looking for a reaction. He pauses another moment before asking, "Are you in love with him?"

Eliott feels tears spring in his eyes, feels his lower lip wobble. He nods, sending a tear or two rolling down his cheek. "Hopelessly," he replies, nearly choking on a sob. "Completely."

"And he doesn't love you back," Dr. Garnier continues quietly.

Eliott takes a deep breath before shaking his head.

"Can you look at me, Eliott?" Dr. Garnier asks, his tone never forceful or cruel.

Eliott takes a few more deep breaths then lifts his head, looking into Dr. Garnier's kind eyes.

"I understand," Dr. Garnier says simply. He doesn't say more, and he doesn't need to. Eliott understands, too. He feels something strange fills his chest. Comfort? Familiarity? Dr. Garnier continues, "This kind of thing is hard enough for people who don't have to keep their love in the dark. It's especially hard for people like us, because we never know if someone could ever love us, too. When love becomes this forbidden thing, we want it even more. We need it even more."

Eliott nods weakly, that strange feeling becoming stronger and stronger.

"There have been plenty of boys I fell in love with growing up that would never even glance my way," Dr. Garnier chuckles lightly. He pauses, his smile and laugh fading. "And there were boys I fell in love with when I fought in the war, and I watched most of them die in a hailstorm of bullets or in the cloud of a grenade. But, not too long after I made it home, I found a boy who loved me, too."

"What's his name?" Eliott asks, smiling weakly.

"Louis," Dr. Garnier replies, grinning. "And I'll love him forever. But it took so many heartbreaks for me to finally find him. People like us shouldn't have to go through so much pain to find the person we'll love more than anything, but we're never alone in our pain. There are more of us out there than you think, Eliott. We're all hiding, but since our eyes get adjusted to the dark we start seeing each other. We're never alone. There's someone out there for us, just like there's someone out there for everyone else."

Eliott wants to smile, but his tears are coming faster, now. "I don't think I could ever love someone more than I love Lucas," he chokes out. "Maybe it's because I thought he loved me, too."

"You did?" Dr. Garnier asks, sympathetic.

Eliott nods. "We were together," he begins, through his tears. "Before everything happened. He kissed me for the first time about a month before Papa died. We wrote letters to each other while I was at the institution, and he wrote me the most beautiful letters. But, apparently, none of it was real. He started dating Chloé and now they're engaged. He says he was confused back then. Just a boy. That he knows he isn't queer now. That he doesn't love me in that way and he never has. And I can't make him love me, but I want to, and—" Something occurs to Eliott, then, a thought he wishes he could erase and say isn't true. "What if I'm the reason he's upset?"

"Eliott—" Dr. Garnier cuts in, but Eliott's voice drowns it out.

"What if he knows I'm still in love with him and that's why he's trying to get away from me?" he rambles, his voice thick and breaking. "What if he thinks I'm a disgusting sinner and what if he wonders why he ever decided to give me a second chance? What if he thinks that I'm going to kiss him again and force him into something he doesn't want? What if he can't wait to go to school in Paris and marry Chloé so he won't have to talk to me or see me anymore? What if I've ruined everything again?"

"Eliott," Dr. Garnier repeats firmly, reaching and placing his hand on Eliott's knee. "Can you look at me again, please?"

Eliott lets a few more sobs escape his throat before finding the strength to lift his head again. He can't quite see through his tears, but he can feel Dr. Garnier's kindness. He waits for Eliott to calm down before he starts speaking.

"I think you need to talk to Lucas again," he says softly. "Tell him how you're feeling right now. And if he's ready, he can tell you the real reason why he's upset. I'm willing to bet that it doesn't have anything to do with you. But if he isn't ready, at least he knows what's on your mind. At least you're being honest with him. It's like I said before. Regrets and doubt has built a wall between you two before, and you've both torn it down. Don't let another wall be built. Neither of you deserve that."

"And what if I am the reason?" Eliott asks weakly. "And please don't tell me that I won't be. What do I do then?"

Dr. Garnier sighs, thinking for a moment. "Just come here. Tell whoever is at the front desk that you need to see me immediately. That it's an emergency. I'll help you. We can talk through it. Okay?"

Eliott nods. "Okay."

"I was about to say, too, that you could talk to your mother," Dr. Garnier continues, trailing off. "Does she know?"

Eliott shakes his head. "I haven't thought much about telling her," he admits, shrugging. "Maybe if I give myself some time I could."

"Do it whenever you're ready, Eliott," Dr. Garnier replies. "And telling someone who you are is one of the hardest things you'll ever do. But I can tell your mother adores you. She reminds me of my mother. And when I told her about Louis and I, she hugged me so tightly I felt I couldn't breathe, but I couldn't have cared less about that. And, if it doesn't go the way you hope it will, come here and say it's an emergency. I'll be there to help you then, too.

Eliott nods again. "I will."

"I was you, once, Eliott," Dr. Garnier continues. "Confused and lost and lonely. That's why I decided to become a psychiatrist. I knew there was bound to be someone who was like me and who would need guidance. I'm older now, and that gives me the opportunity to tell people what I needed to hear when I was their age."

Eliott lets himself smile. "Can you tell me something, then? Something you needed when you were 19?"

"I would've been about to go to war," Dr. Garnier says, taken aback. He thinks for a moment. "I would've told 19-year-old Pierre that the world becomes more beautiful after you feel like you've lost it. After you feel like you don't belong on it, or after it feels like everything within it has turned on you. Once you learn how to fight back and once that all surrenders, the world is more beautiful than it's ever been before. There are colors everywhere, and laughter constantly floats in the air, and the earth is steady and loving beneath your feet."

Eliott's smile falters, remembering the world he sees when he looks into Lucas's eyes. The world Dr. Garnier is describing is nothing compared to the world in Lucas's eyes.

"The world will be yours soon enough, Eliott," Dr. Garnier continues. "It'll belong to you and whoever you decide to share it with. Whether it's Lucas, or someone else. And everything will be okay. I can promise you that."

Eliott lets his eyes shut for a moment, imagining sharing a world with Lucas. Surrounded by water that will never drown them, city lights mingling with an ever star-riddled sky. The only music that exists is Lucas's laughter, his voice. Everyone they love is alive and well and happy. Nothing is wrong or dark or dirty. There is no sin.

He clings to this world, to this fantasy. He doesn't know what'll happen if everything there crumbles, and he doesn't want to think about it.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Garnier," Eliott says, smiling weakly.

"You're very welcome, Eliott," Dr. Garnier returns. "Go home and get some rest. And keep being strong. I know you are."

"Thank you," Eliott replies as he stands. "And you'll have to tell me more about Louis."

Dr. Garnier chuckles. "I could talk about him all day, so I'm glad to hear that." He guides Eliott to the door, opening it for him. "Take care of yourself for me, Eliott. And please let me know as soon as possible if you need anything."

"I will," Eliott nods. "Thank you so much again. Have a good day."

"You, too, Eliott," Dr. Garnier returns, quietly shutting the door.

Eliott finds his mother reading a magazine in the lobby. She must've seen him out of the corner of her eye, because she quickly puts the magazine aside and walks over to him.

"Hi, honey," she greets sweetly. Her face is suddenly etched with concern. "Have you been crying? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Maman," he promises, rubbing at his eyes. "Really."

She sighs in relief. "Okay, wonderful. Do you wanna get home now?"

Eliott nods gratefully. "Yes, please."

Him and his mother leave, locking arms, and Eliott breathes a little more easily.

Still, though, a lingering thought in the back of his mind: have I ruined everything?

#SURPRISE #ttmc #skam france #elu #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #skam france fic #elu fic #my writing #hush bailey

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

Text

941

ACH

Do you listen to anything by Bach? I’ve probably encountered some of his material since I like looking for classical musical playlists to listen to on Spotify, but I’m nowhere near being a devoted fan or anything like that.

ASH

Do you like ash trees? I’m not attached to any kind of tree, really – but I know I have nothing against this kind, haha.

Do you have the ashes of a family member or a pet? No. The only ashes I’ve gotten to encounter are my grandpa’s, but we’ve since placed them in our local ossuary so that he can rest in peace.

How often do you feel like you want to bash your head against a wall? Before September, quite seldom. But with this month being so turbulent, chaotic, and nothing like I expected it to be, seldom has turned into every day.

Has anyone ever thrown you a big birthday bash? Sure. I had a big party when I was 7 and I also had a nice slew of celebrations when I turned 18. But if you mean a surprise birthday bash then no, no one has thrown one for me.

Do you know anyone who is brash? I do, but fortunately I haven’t had to work with her for a while now. I certainly often felt annoyed when I used to have to.

Do you typically carry cash or a credit/debit card? OMG Y’ALL I finally opened my own bank account last Friday I’ve never felt so grown-up until now haha. My dad helped me set up my first card, which is a debit card. :)

Have you ever crashed someone else’s party before? No, that sounds so annoying omg. I’d never want to be known as a gatecrasher. I know I’d be pissed if someone showed up to any of my parties uninvited.

Have you ever been involved in a car crash? Yes but fortunately they’ve all been super mild ones. One of my biggest fears is getting involved in a car crash where things would be out of my control and becoming seriously injured, like if a drunk driver crashed into me or if a 12-wheeler loses its brakes and slams into my car or something. I think I’d live in resentment for the rest of my life if that sort of thing happened to me and still ended up alive.

Do you use Door Dash? I didn’t know what this is so I had to look it up, and even though we don’t have Door Dash we do have several apps that do exactly the same services.

How often do you use a dash in your writing? I like using them in more casual contexts like survey entries, personal essays, feature articles, etc. I avoid dashes in academic writing since dashes are not really the most formal of punctuation marks.

Last place you made a mad dash to? The car repair shop that my dad asked me to meet him at because his situation was a little urgent at the time.

Do you make it a habit to flash people? Oh wow, no I don’t. That’s one of the last things anyone can expect from me. I like wearing revealing or skin-tight articles of clothing, but that doesn’t mean I like giving absolutely everything away lol

Do you prefer flash or no flash on a camera? No flash, always. I hate the effect that flash does and I never go for it, unless I’m in an area where lighting is poor.

Is the Flash one of your favorite superheroes? No. I’m not very big on superheroes to begin with.

Do you use the phrase “I’ll be back in a flash”? Not really. I find myself using “I’ll be super quick” more, or using ‘jiffy’ instead of flash.

Have you ever had a gash in your head before? Anywhere else on your body? I sported a gash near my eyebrow once because of some cousin who tried to blind me by hurling a glass jar towards my left eye and just narrowly missing my actual eyeball. Now there’s a scar in its place. Currently, I have multiple gashes on my arms and legs because Cooper.

Do you like hash browns? They’re okay, but I can’t have them all the time because I find them way too greasy for my enjoyment.

Do you do hash? No.

How often do you use hash tags? Almost never, unless I’m fighting for a political cause like BLM or calling for free mass testing. Hashtags got real lame real quick when they started getting popular around 7-8 years ago.

Do you have long eyelashes? Yes, it’s my favorite feature of mine and I get compliments on them fairly often.

How often do you lash out at others? For what reasons? Not often, but when I do it’s almost always because I’m already buckling under immense pressure and probably have nowhere to release my stress onto. I don’t turn it into an automatic mechanism though, because I don’t want to make others feel like shit for things they didn’t do.

Do you like mashed potatoes? I enjoy them but they’re not really my favorite dish. I can do 4-5 spoonfuls of them before getting over them haha, like I can never seem to finish a serving of it.

Do you typically gnash your teeth together? No I HATEEEE the sensation and the sound that it makes. My sister grinds her teeth in her sleep and it drives me nuts whenever we’re on a family trip and we share a room.

Do you know someone who speaks balderdash? Sure.

What color is the backsplash of your kitchen? White.

Have you ever had any rashes before? What kinds? Yes. Back in high school I used to occasionally get a random itchy area on my leg and whenever I’d scratch it, it would turn into an ugly patch of rashes. I never figured what the condition was but I’m just glad it’s never happened again.

Do you typically make rash decisions? Sometimes. I really tend to impulsive. The last one I made was swapping a full-time job opportunity for an internship with much lesser pay. Even I was surprised by how quick I jumped into the latter, but I like the nature of the work of the internship SO MUCH MORE, and I dunno if I’ll be happy with what I would be doing in the full-time gig. Plus, internships here are never even paid ones, so the fact that they even offered to give me an allowance per day just goes to show how good the company I’m interning for is.

Have you ever worn a sash before? I probably have but I don’t remember what for anymore.

Do you often find that your personality clashes with others’ around you? Yes, but I’m also good at adjusting to all kinds of personalities so I’m not too bothered by the clashes.

Whose tires would you like to slash? Any racist’s tires, really.

Who would you like to smash with? No one at the moment.

What was the last thing you smashed out of anger? I don’t really tend to be violent when I’m angry. The last angry thing I did was to throw my head against a pillow, but that’s it.

Do you have a secret stash of something hidden anywhere? Nopes.

How often do you take out the trash? My parents prefer to do it so they don’t really ask us to.

Has anyone ever told you that you look like trash? Other than myself, no.

Do you like to splash in the pool, the bathtub, or in puddles? I wouldn’t call it my favorite thing to do; I hate the mess that it makes, ha.

Have you ever thrashed violently before? What was the cause? Yeah. I probably embarrassed my grandma for life when I did so, but it was when I had to be confined to the hospital and they needed to insert the IV thing on me. It sent me into the worst panic attack I’ve ever gotten and I ended up thrashing a lot and several people had to hold me down so that the nurse could stick the thing into my wrist.

Do you own and use an eyelash curler? No. Those make me cringe so bad...I hate how they get so close to the eyeball. Kate brought her makeup kit to school everyday and she always made me try to learn how to curl my own lashes, but it just made me feel so nauseated lol

Have you ever experienced backlash from others? A few times before.

Have you ever had whiplash before? Never.

ATH

Do you prefer a shower or a bath? Shower. Much more efficient. Baths are relaxing, but I don’t like how I end up bathing in what’s pretty much dirty water.

Have you ever given another person or an animal a bath before? I’ve only given Kimi a bath. I let my dad bathe Cooper since he’s too much of a handful for now, plus I think it’s fair if we bathe one dog each haha.

How good are you at math? I can answer advanced algebra, statistics, and geometry questions if you give me enough time to review and get reacquainted with the formulas, but I’m perfectly alright with no longer revisiting trigonometry and calculus for the rest of my life.

Do you feel like your life is on the right path? Career-wise it definitely is; I’m happy with the direction it’s going right now. Everything else seems so turbulent at the moment and I can’t say I’m happy.

Are there any bike paths or footpaths in your area? We have sidewalks, if they count.

Have you ever gone on the warpath before? Not really. I do get very angry with certain people if I think they’ve been behaving badly, but I rarely get confrontational.

Is there a birdbath in your yard? No, those aren’t common here at all. I’ve only seen those in cartoons, I think.

Have you ever had a footbath before? Nopes.

What’s the last thing you’ve had to deal with the aftermath of? I can think of one thing but it’s still pretty triggering so I don’t feel like bringing it up at the moment.

Have you ever witnessed a bloodbath? Thankfully I haven’t. I get so queasy when I see blood though; it’s so much better off this way because I wouldn’t be able to deal with one at all.

Are you a sociopath or a psychopath? Do you know anyone who might be? No lol. I don’t think I know of anyone who could possibly be either. I wouldn’t want to associate myself with one in the first place.

Who’s the last person that you faced the wrath of? Myself.

AMP

Do you have an instrument that you plug into an amp? Nope, I own 0 instruments.

When’s the last time you felt amped up? What was the reason? Thursday morning when I parked in front of the office I was gonna have my job interview in. I needed to hype myself up to feel confident so I spent a couple of minutes in the car pumping my chest and screaming and shit, lol

Have you ever gone to day camp or overnight sleepaway camp? No. My mom wouldn’t have allowed me as a kid.

When’s the last time you felt like a champ? It’s been a while. I haven’t exactly felt like I’ve been winning in anything.

Last time it was damp where you lived? This afternoon. It was really humid for a good few hours and then it ended up raining.

Weirdest place you’ve ever had a cramp? My index finger whenever I’d try to use chopsticks; and my toes when I hiked in Sagada. The toe cramps were so bizarre I was actually laughing-crying the whole time the tour guide was treating me; my dad was taking photos of me too loooooool

Do you refer to your grandfather as “Gramps”? No. I call both of them Lolo, which is our local version of Grandpa.

Have you ever worn a headlamp before? No, I’ve never really had to.

Do you have a ramp anywhere in your house? I don’t think so, no.

Has anyone ever called you “scamp” before? No.

How many lamps are in the room you’re in? How many are actually turned on? There is one lamp, and it is currently turned on.

Do you stamp your feet when you are angry? It doesn’t tend to be a behavior of mine, no.

Last time you used a postage stamp? Not sure...grade school, probably? I never used those a lot.

Are there streetlamps on your street? What time do they turn on? Yep. I don’t keep track of their schedule but a safe guess would be either 6 or 6:30 PM.

Last place/area that you wanted to revamp? My room.

Do you know anyone who is a tramp? No.

Have you seen Lady and the Tramp before? Not the full movie but I’ve seen a lot of excerpts from watching Magic English as a kid.

Do you know anyone with a “tramp stamp”? I don’t think so.

AWK/AULK/ALK

Is the squawk of certain birds annoying? Which ones? I’ve never found any of them annoying, but maybe that’s also because there aren’t a lot of different birds flying around where I live.

Do you prefer hawks or falcons? And…why? I don’t have a preference; I’ve never encountered either.

Has anyone ever watched you like a hawk before? That sounds a little creepy and I wouldn’t want to know if anyone has.

What was the last thing you used caulk on? I’m almost positive I’ve never handled that, haha.

[a-zebra-is-a-striped-horse]

#survey #surveys

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whiskeyworen · 5 years ago

Text

Aspect IV: Of Inspiration and Communication

Inside Vigil Keep, weeks before “Bound By Blood”

"Soldier Sonnya Danae; Package for you." The delivery person looked at his clipboard tiredly, before turning it around with a quill in hand for her. "Sign here please."

"I wasn't expecting any packages." Sonnya pointed out, scrawling her name in Asuran swirls on the line. It didn't matter that the form was written in Krytan; names are names. Besides, she'd seen people just scribble nonsense on the line before.

The delivery person shrugged slowly, and handed her a brown paper wrapped parcel. "I just deliver'm, miss."

As he turned to walk away, Sonnya retreated to her quarters, closing the door and locking it. She barely realized she'd done it; her attention was entirely on the mysterious package in her hand.

She sat down at her desk, placing the package on the table top, just...staring at it. Who could have sent it? There was an address on it from somewhere in Lion's Arch, but that might not mean anything; as long as you put an address from Lion's Arch, no one would bother looking it up. It might not even exist.

"Well, time to find out what's in this thing." Sonnya declared, and ripped the package open. Her eyebrow rose slightly as she pulled out the small, hand-sized comm device. It kind of looked like the standard Pact communicator that unit leaders and commanders had, but it was almost half the size.

The structure and layout were different as well. Instead of an On and Off button being the only keys, there was an entire set of number keys, some symbols she didn't recognize, and a few adjustment dials. Embedded into the top left corner appearred to be a micro-golemite eye. "....the hell?... why would a communicator need to see? Is it a golem or something?" She mumbled quietly, turning the device over in her hands. Satisfied there were no other secrets to it, she flicked the 'On' switch. She expected to hear one or another commander somewhere, talking to their companions; Pact comms were always open to anyone who had a comm, so the idea of private conversations was kind of an illusion.

Instead, there was silence. After a few seconds, the micro-golemite eye raised from its alcove, did a quick scan of everything in front of it (including Sonnya) and settled back into its groove. While the eye turned off, apparently the device finally activated. "Hello? Is this one Sonnya Danae I am speaking to?"

Sonnya waited for the no-doubt dozens of confused responses from others in the commnet, before realizing none were coming. So she hesitantly replied. "Uh, yes. This is Sonnya here. I received this comm unit in the mail?"

"Yes! Then it worked as I had planned! I am very pleased to make your acquaintance!" The voice on the comm was quite enthusiastic, but crystal clear. "I was unsure how to properly reach you, and this seemed most appropriate. I regret we cannot meet in person, but I am...on task in Elona at the moment."

Sonnya gave the comm an odd look. "Oh...kay?... Sorry, but I'm honestly surprised no one else has broken in to ask how I'm comming, or who you are? There's no way everyone turned their comms off."

"Oh, this comm is on a secure channel." The voice replied brightly. "Sadly, Pact comms are pretty basic. They are designed to be used as a single network, with everyone connected. I do not believe any research was ever done into solitary, private commlinks. At least, not until my Father suggested it and the rest of the crew figured it out. I helped of course."

"I'm...sorry, but I'm still really confused." She scratched her ear, placing the comm down on the table top. "So the comm is on its own, private line or something? The only people who can talk and hear are you and me?"

"Unless we cut someone into the signal, or they cut themselves in somehow, yes." There was a thoughtful pause in the line. "Of course, they would have to decrypt about a hundred and forty-four thousand lines of code to even FIND the signal. There's a lot of radio, ley, and Mist spectrum to work with. If we cut them in manually though, it would be a simple matter of dialing their number, provided we knew it, into the comm and then pressing the little button that looks like three dots connected by lines."

"I saw that, but didn't know what it was." Sonnya admitted, before shaking her head. "Wait wait. Okay. Hang on... WHY are we even talking? Why did you send a comm to me?"

"Oh! Right! I was so pleased with having made contact, that I placed the reason for it in the back of my memory!" Sonnya was pretty sure that the person on the other side of the comm was clapping their hands, though she couldn't hear the sound. "I wished to speak to you about the construction of your wonderful powered-armor suit, and your integration of technical devices into your biological structure!"

Her jaw dropped. No one knew, apart from the Warmaster, knew anything about her implants, or her suit. No one...except maybe Tenna. If Tenna even knew. "How... I mean, what makes you think I have anything like that? I don't know what you're talking about."

The person on the other end laughed pleasantly. "Oh please. There were recordings from all angles in the battle against that Shatterer. The Charr Legions were recording because they wanted to see the result of their new weapons. The Priory was recording for archives' sake, and the Order of Whispers and the Vigil were recording for references for future battles! Your little stunt might not be explainable to them, but I assure you, I understand exactly what was going on."

"You...have me at a disadvantage then." Sonnya frowned, crossing her arms. "My...implants won't work with anyone else. I only ever designed them to work with me."

"Oh do not worry about that. I am not interested in that. Not really." There was a smile in the voice. "I am planning something that requires... let us call it a very fine integration of biological and mechanical components. I wished to pick your brain, as it were, for ideas on how to smooth out some of the issues I have encountered in my simulations. Basically, I want you to double-check my ideas, and make sure I have not done something foolish or impossible."

"So, you don't want to steal my tech or anything like that? You just want to ask questions on how to improve your own? Your own tech that is similar to mine, but less refined?"

"Precisely."

"...Well, what did you have in mind then?"

***

Several hours later

"... so the circuitry integrates with the implants directly via surface-to-surface interface." Sonnya explained. "I can't give you the specifications of the implants themselves, but based on the ideas you've thrown at me, this should allow for a faster information rate and a tighter connection."

"I see! Thank you for the insight." The voice on the comm acknowledged. "I believe you're right. While I have no intention of using your implants, or trying to extrapolate them based on available information, I do believe I can manage to decrease reaction times by half at least, and muscle-load by a factor of five! I am sure if I work at it a little more, I can coax even more out. My investigation into magitech-neuromuscular modification is still rudimentary, but I'll soon have a few prototypes to test out."

"Glad to be of service." Sonnya smiled. She took a sip of beer from the bottle she'd gotten from her personal cooler. "Do you have any ideas on what you'll do with it all? I mean, you weren't looking to make a suit at all it seems. Or rather, the powered armor suit is almost a secondary item to whatever you're making."

"Publically, when it all is arranged, I will be setting up the sale of fully-working, personally customized prosethetics. The market will be for those individuals who, through birth or injury, are suffering from lack of limbs. I understand there's a similar market in Rata Sum, but it is small because everything is based off Golem-limb construction. Which, if you ask me, Golems are remarkably...brutish."

Sonnya shrugged. "True. But the refinements in magic circuits and power systems is making them more powerful and intelligent by the day. Shape doesn't really mean much, does it? Just look at that golem that kid in Dragon's Watch had. What was her name again?..."

"Taimi." The voice supplied reluctantly. "And yes, her Scruffy models are aesthetically pleasing, and very unique with their ability to be a conveyence AND a powered mecha suit, as well as a fully functioning autonomous golem...but they are still not the angle I am going for."

That brought a frown to the guardian's face. "I still don't know what you mean. The only other examples of golem-type things I know of are like, the Exalted, which AREN'T golems but kinda look like them, the Jade Constructs which are closer to Elementals in nature... and the Watchwork nightmares."

"Oh yes... the Watchworks. I know them well." The comm replied quietly and cryptically. "Very interesting designs, those."

"Scarlet was a maniac." Sonnya said flatly, frowning before draining her beer. "Her Watchwork creations made Steam creatures look tame by comparison. And we still have to wipe out infestations of THOSE in Lornar's Pass every year! They just keep making more of themselves!"

There was a pause, a silence over the comm. Then, "...Perhaps I should investigate how they replicate? If I can figure it out, it might come in handy for self-repairing prosthetics."

"Be my guest. Just don't come crying to me when a Steam Brain zaps you with lightning for coming too close." She laughed. She could still remember seeing Priory researchers bounding across the ice, backsides singed while an angry Steam Brain chased them, lightning arcing from its central eye, while the entire time it swore at them in machine-language. She assumed it was swearing of course. Wouldn't you, if some know-it-alls tried to shove a stick in your ear? Or whatever a Steam Brain has?

"Duly noted. Thank you again, Miss Sonnya."

"Well, it was my pleasure. It's not often I can talk shop with anyone." Sadly truer than Sonnya would like to admit; most soldiers in the Vigil were more concerned with using things rather than making things.

"....In that case, allow me to make you an offer." There was a nervous note in the voice's tone. Sonnya had the impression that, had someone been present, they would have been talking behind a cupped hand, afraid someone would hear. "In a week's time, my ship will dock in Lion's Arch at airdock 42 in the Aerodrome. If you show up, say, around noon, I will let you see the secret project I have been working on. The one that your information has come in quite handy in its completion."

A clandestine meeting at a secured, out-of-the-way airdock? Sonnya had flown on ships from the Aerodrome before, and remembered how it was laid out; Dock 42 was the furthest out, on the backside of the Aerodrome, facing Bloodtide Coast. It was so far out that merchants refused to park ships there because it would take so long and was so complicated to get things on board. Why would anyone willingly park there? "Uh, sure... A week from now, noon, Lion's Arch, Dock 42. Sure thing."

"Excellent. Perhaps when you see it, you will be able to offer a more hands-on, practical examination. You might see some things that need improvement from the prototype to a production model."

"Alright. Sounds fine to me!"

"Good, good. I must go now. Needs of the ship are building up on my task-list. I need to focus on that for a while."

Sonnya picked up the comm, surprised and a little worried. "Wait, before you sign-off or whatever... When I get to your ship, which ship am I actually looking for? And who should I tell them invited me?"

There was a pause, and then the voice replied, a smiling, almost devious tone to it. "... The ship is called the Forsaken Aspect. You just need to ask to see Alice."

A chuckle rolled from the comm. "I assure you, the person you meet at the dock will know exactly who you need to see, and why. Just trust me."

"Okay... Well, I will see you then... Alice?"

"See you then, Sonnya."

#gw2 fanfiction #short fic #tyrias-library #My Characters #Sonnya Danae #Forsaken Aspect #Female Asura #Asura #Asura Guardian #Talking shop

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ithaerielbrenagh · 7 years ago

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Changes...(Part IV)

Autumnhold, Northern Elwynn Forest, Kingdom of Stormwind, Five Months After the Fall of the Burning Throne

Ithaeriel smiled softly to himself watching the construction of the sixth and final of the concentric walls around his new barony, noting that once again the gate of the wall had changed location from that of the previous gate. There were times he could not help but marvel at the efficiency of the Dwarven Clans and the ingenuity of the Gnomes. Despite its age...Autumnhold had remained in surprisingly good shape...sure the wall needed repairs...the portcullis of each of the six walls and their respective ironshod doors needed replacing. Yes, the yett (massive iron gates) of the first wall would need to be rewrought...and the merlons restructured, the murder holes maintained...and don’t get me started on restocking the keep’s armory...but still...progress was progress.

Ith shook his head ruefully, there were times when he was thankful of the resources placed at his disposal, under normal circumstances a keep such as this would be considered...somewhat of a burden to maintain and upkeep. However, at times, holding a high militant rank came in handy. Fort Integra had...perhaps the better word would be being...overcrowded. The influx of new recruits during the Legion’s invasion, had bolstered ranks to an all-time high. It had become near common practice to have companies break camp outside the Fort itself...making what at one time had been a humble military outpost, look more akin to an army massing for war.

He chuckled to himself recalling Marshal Bennas’s, “gift.” Oh yes...join the peerage they said...have a barony they said...it will be fun they said...no no it’s in great shape they said. He smiled shaking his head as he continued to watch the men and women of the 10th Company work alongside Bronze beards, Dark Irons, Wildhammers, and men and women of Gnomeregan on the restoration of hold and its surrounding territory. He smiled as he walked through what could only be referred to as a small city unto itself, passing through gates with wall over fifteen feet thick...yes, he thought to himself. He had spared no expense in the restoration of Autumnhold. In part because it would act as the northern choke point into the duchy of Summerfast, securing Duke Theodore’s northern borders, and partly due to the fact that it was the first true new home for the men and women of the 10th since the fall of Gilneas. It had to be perfect, it needed to be impregnable, well-armed, provisioned, able to undergo a siege for years if need be. Most importantly...it had to be self-sufficient. This was the reason for the construction of the greater outer wall which surrounded the entity of the borders of his land. Expensive...yes, but then what was cost, when it ensured the protection of your people, the insurance that raiding the outer farming settlements would be damned near impossible, and that in the unlikely event of an invasion, his civilians would have more than enough time to seek refuge within the greater walls.

He ran his hand across the seamless pale stones making up the greater gate, marveling at their magnificence. He’d have to remember to thank Summy and Gereion for them input in regard to the mason workers they’d recommended for the restoration. He’d never seen stones to tightly interlocked with one another, what wonders the dwarves could make when so inclined. He shook his head withdrawing his hand from the cool stone and continued his walk, looking about as the Worgen of the 10th aided with the emplacement of the artillery at the top of each wall, spacing each heavy piece out at equal intervals, ensuring that at any point in time, two of the large canons would have overlapping ranges. Ah what marvels the Master of the 9th’s Engineering Core could make when inspired to. He shook his head noting men and women getting use to their new postings throughout the keep, walking the ramparts, working with carpenters to shore up older buildings and shops. Yes...life would come back to this old place...slowly but surely Autumnhold would rise from the shadows to reclaim its past glories. The thought made him smile uncontrollably as he continued his stroll through the tiered city and out to the encampment to where his sister Bonshi was staying.

“Bon! Is it done yet? Ye’ve had damn year six months to work on it?” Ith shouted out as he approached his sister’s craft tent.

“Ah...Ith...as loud as ever I see.”

“Cut the shite Bon, I need to know if it’ll be ready for tonight...I’ve something special in mind and I’ve been putting it off for far ta feckin long.”

“I assume dear brother you’ve heard the phrase patience is a virtue?”

“Aye...it be me weakest...yer point.”

“Perfection requires time.”

“A fancy way o’ saying ye’ve had better things to do whilst I’ve had ta stall and wait. Ye know e‘er since little Lori made her wee debut Lala’s had nae but babbies and family on her mind...and ye know how bloody persuasive that elf lass is.”

“Not really my problem.”

“Bon...”

Bonshi shook her head before tossing a small ebony box inlayed with intricate knotwork. She gestured for him to open it and examine the work a soft smile played at her face upon his expression.

“So...I did well?”

“Aye little sister...ye did damned well.”

Hours Later:

He was nervous, Allfather above he had never felt this way before, shaking his head as he whipped his hands off on his pants. It had been a pleasant picnic under the stars. The meal had been excellent, the wine superb, in truth, the perfect evening, and one he had been planning for near seven months. With all the conflict with the Legion, the training of new recruits, the construction and restoration of Autumnhold...there had been little time to do this earlier. Still, at times one had to wait for the perfect moment to present itself and Ith knew, his mate deserved nothing less.

“You wanted to speak to me beloved...” came the sultry voice of Lala, his mate of near three years now.

“Aye...and I know this may be a bit sudden...or mayhap I’ve been putting it off ta long...but...with my new rank and station...and finally having lands of me own. A means to provide...” he drawled on, each word a shaking and a bit unsteady...he’d faced down demons without so much as blinking but this...this evening had robbed him of his confidence...his courage. His knees felt weak before the lass he viewed as Elune herself walking amongst we unworthy mortal. Aye, he thought the world of his lady love...he honest had nae feckin’ idea what she saw in him...but he knew he was beyond ken in luck when it came to her.

Lala gave a teasing smile, “why Marshal Brenagh, is there a point to all of this, or like your brother, do you merely enjoy the sound of your voice so much that you choose to ramble on and on, that you might partake of it ever more?” A soft twinkle lit her eye, she knew he was uneasy about something and as ever...moved to set his mind to rest with humor.

“Aye...I suppose Love, what I mean ta say...is,” he dropped to one knee and reached for the small ebony box, opening it slowly with shaking hands, “Miss Moondancer...I...I’d be honored...iff’n ye might consider...that is ta say...would ye marry me?”

@integrabrenagh @summysparklesprocket @theodorebennas @gereionkingston @malien-moonray @vordasblackspire @rukunhouquanshi @oathswornvanguard

#building a new home #taking the plunge #popping the question #construction of Autumnhold #waiting on your answer

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blog-optimisticcoffeestuden-blog · 7 years ago

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