#outlander/one tree hill cross over

[eftinanish]

rainy rooftop [xiao x lumine]

slight natlan AQ spoilers!

characters: xiao, traveler (lumine)

notes: i feel so upset after completing the natlan archon quest and had the urge to write this. hopefully it's good enough. not proofread. 😔

🪻----------

how long has it been since the traveler called out for him? how many days has it been since she went on with her journey, leaving liyue and all its terrain behind to search for the lost one? he had no way of knowing what lumine was up to, or if she was doing well and safe. the yaksha could just go see her, if possible, but his duty that has him bound to this land was never-ending, seemingly forever—

a soft breeze touched his face, the rustling of leaves accompanied the declaration of someone's arrival. xiao clenched his fists, overseeing the vast valleys stretched out. he felt a sense of relief knowing that the blonde haired traveler was close now. he wondered what could be the reason for her visit. did she come for business with rex lapis or the qixing, or perhaps just to meet up with old friends?

xiao turned his head, swiping away the thoughts and focused his attention back on his duties, he couldn't let this distract him. so what if the one he's been a little concerned about was so close he could go and see her in a second, his responsibilities are far more important, and he won't let these trivial thoughts swindle his mind.

the sun slowly slid down behind the hills, leaving only slight shadows of red and orange in the clouds. the yaksha leaned his back against the tree he had taken as a shelter to sit and guard, close to the wangshuu inn. only a while ago he had defeated a hoard of abyss mages, effortlessly driving them to their end. his eyelashes rested down, fluttering ever so slightly whenever the cool puffs of air bumped into them.

“..xiao..” a soft voice resonated with the pitter pattern of light rain that just started to fall. the adeptus did not have to guess twice whose call it was, or how far the caller was. in fact, he has been waiting for this one, he would not admit, but somewhere inside of him he wished desperately to find an excuse to go see her, to check up even once if she was doing well.

lumine’s golden hair danced along, fanning over her cheeks and forehead, causing her to move them behind her ear. her amber eyes stared off in the dull distance, trying to make out the huge mountains and ruins hidden behind the fog. she flinched, sensing heavy elemental energy behind her, but before her hand could have gone to grab her sword, the familiar gravel held her back—

“you called?”

lumine's vision met the sight of the vigilant yaksha standing behind her, arms crossed and the usual stolid face, “xiao? it's been a while.”

“indeed,” the latter nodded, his gold accessories making a little sound bumping into each other due to the wind, “i heard you calling me.”

“i did?” the traveler looked genuinely confused for a few seconds, standing still and trying to figure out when exactly had she actually done that before letting out a dry laugh, “i must have done it unconsciously.. i mean, i was thinking about you.”

the yaksha flinched, feeling a sudden spill of warmth inside his chest. he had always admired the honesty of this outlander, sometimes too crude and blatant for her own good. she was not afraid to admit her affection or hatred for others, she had no need to, and xiao knew how well she preferred his company, and he was sure she was aware of him having the same feeling.

“i'm sorry, i hope i did not disturb you.”

“no.” he responded this time, almost too quickly, “no, you did not.”

the lamps barely lit the roof of the wangshuu inn, but xiao could read the shadows forming on the traveler's face. he noticed her lips twitching into a small smile, a few seconds before she faced away from him again. he almost-- almost reached out to grab her arm and make her look at him, because it was cruel. so cruel of her to visit after so long only to display her face to him for not even a good amount of time.

“is something troubling you?” he held back his words from getting laced with worry, however it was still evident. he desperately hoped lumine wouldn't notice how much he is aching to have her talk. to know what is going on inside her head.

the traveler refused to answer for a few minutes, admiring how the darkness has now stilled down. the hills that were outlined with fog were now nothing but distant structures, barely noticeable through the crowd of small raindrops that were now on their way down. she flinched when a drop fell on her shoulder, instilling a chill down her skin.

“no, not really. i just missed liyue.”

“did you really?”

“yes.”

the soft pitter patter on the roof was starting to get loud. xiao noticed how she trembled, but did not bother to move under the shade. he tried following the trail of her eyes, where she was so focused on, and found nothing but stretches of lands. he gripped his own arm, feeling so helpless and spiralled in that moment.

he wished, perhaps for the first time, to be able to understand how she felt.

“xiao, can i ask you something?”

he hummed to her question, taking a step forward so his own figure was exposed to the rain. he wanted to feel as cold as she did, to have his veins drown in chills so he'd quiver alongside her. if she won't get away from the shower, then he'd stand beside her.

“all these years you've been carrying out your duty, you've seen so many deaths, witnessed so many ends..” her face was unmoving, “doesn’t the tragedy scare you?”

“it doesn't.” he murmured, feeling a strange rush of pulse. maybe he should have been honest. “it used to, at one point, but i got used to it.”

he closed his eyes, chasing away the image that flashed, from before he became of the yakshas, before he met the rex lapis. it was no use remembering, or worth mentioning.

“what happened?” he asked.

lumine gripped the handrails, knuckles fighting to keep blood running. “if i was fast enough, maybe i could have saved them..” her eyes wavered down, “all the people, old and young, and even the baby saurians.. it was so cruel.”

xiao heard a crack in her voice, after which she fell silent. he looked at her hands holding on the rails like that was the only thing keeping her on her feet. her eyes were no longer searching the lands but fixated on her shoes. he wondered if the drops were of rain or her tears.

he did not see the reason to ask what she meant, or what she witnessed for her to break like this. the adeptus stood there, getting drenched under the rain, forgetting about his promises for the time, and only focused on the blonde haired traveler next to him. he stared at her wet hair sticking to the side of her face and neck before swiftly raising his arm over her head, the long sleeve around his arm dangled, barely stopping the water from reaching down on her. his hand felt slightly numb, but that was the least of his concern.

he heard a sniffle, and the traveler raised her head. “thank you.”

the yaksha did not look at her, he didn't have to. his feet stayed glued, as well as his expression. he didn't move his arm, but only when the traveler pushed it away with her own was when he put a little distance between them.

“you will get sick if you stay like this.” he warned, and as if on cue, the outlander sneezed, chuckling afterwards.

“what about you?”

“adepti don't catch cold.”

lumine laughed again, before walking under the shade, followed by xiao. she grabbed a small stool kept in the corner, settling down. “you didn't leave, like you usually do.”

xiao averted his eyes, “there is nothing to do tonight.”

he heard the traveler's hum, then let out a long breath. there were no works exchanged afterwards, only the presence of two people silently reading the tunes of the falling rain. it wasn't too loud, but the sound has drowned out their surroundings.

xiao knew he shouldn't be straying away from his duties, but he couldn't think about how the traveler would be all alone. he wondered if she'd be crying in the rain by herself if he had left after seeing there was no threat. a part of him felt a sense of relief knowing that he was there, to share the dread she was feeling— even though all he did was to stand next to her.

“there are new geovishap hatchlings at dihua marsh.” he mentioned, catching lumine’s attention, “they didn't look as aggressive as usual ones.”

the traveler stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

“if you don't have anything to do tomorrow, i can take you there..” he paused for a second to look at her, “to see them.”

the rain had stopped by then, only a few stubborn drops were still rushing down. lumine’s lips lifted, and xiao could have bet anyone that it was one of the most beautiful smiles he'd seen on her face. it was accompanied by tears, perhaps it was the water dripping down her face from her wet hair, but what mattered was the chuckle that she let out.

“yes, please. i’d love to see them.”

🪻----------

[greenglasslov3]

Rewrite The Stars

A/N: This is my contribution to One Quote/One Shot Book 2! Many thanks to @balfeheughlywed and @notevenjokingfic for organizing this event yet again - you two are rock stars. My quote is included in the story below in bold.

As for the story, it’s been in my head for quite some time to write a very specific high school au - a One Tree Hill/Outlander crossover. While the idea of writing another full-fledge story with a complex plot seemed very daunting, writing a series of one shots felt a little less so. This fic is the first one shot in this crossover series, which I’ve titled Always & Forever.  Shout out to my awesome betas/cheerleaders @anoutlandishidea, @notameeksassenach, and @walkinginland for pushing me to get back in the saddle and write this story.  If you want some background music while reading, soundtracks for this fic include Style by Taylor Swift and Rewrite The Stars from The Greatest Showman. I hope you all enjoy it!

Rewrite The Stars

Midnight

Pebbles skip across the panes of my bedroom window, cracking like a whip, loud and sharp.  Once… then two more times… then once more.  The steady staccato of their barrage beats against glass, matching his persistence, his stubbornness.  He knows he could just text me - which would be far more discreet than pegging my house with tiny rocks - but he prefers the old-fashioned gesture, says it reminds him of simpler times and grand declarations made with boomboxes raised above one’s head.  He doesn’t worry about waking anyone with his racket because he knows I’m alone.  Uncle Lamb is gone once again on some fantastical adventure in search of ancient artifacts, and the rest of the street slumbers, blissfully unaware of any impending mischief.

He lobs another pebble, which ricochets off of a shutter and skitters across the roof line below my window.  Beneath the waves of bed linen, I roll onto my hip and flip on my bedside lamp, a shining beacon calling out to my lover below…

He’s not actually yours.

I chide myself, hissing at the pain that not only blossoms in my chest from my own cruel reality check but also from my big toe, which finds the corner of a forgotten textbook.  I’m a tangle of limbs, all sharp edges and knobby knees.  I shimmy into a pair of jeans and slip on my Keds in a completely uncoordinated ballet.  A blush creeps up my neck when I realize that he can see the shadows of my not-at-all graceful extremities behind my closed window curtains.  With no time for make-up, I bite my lip in hopes it stains the flesh just red enough to give the illusion of lipstick.

My heart hammers against my ribs, and I inhale deeply in a feeble attempt to calm my rattled nerves.  I’m shaken to my core before I even step outside.  My eyelids slide close as I swallow against the hard lump of self-doubt at the back of my throat.  

Buck up, Beauchamp.

With my chin held high, I dramatically toss back the drapes and flick open the locks.  The heels of my hands press into the wooden ledge.  Whispered curses pepper my tongue when a stray splinter catches the fleshy bit of my palm, but I carry on in spite of the pain.  I duck through the narrow opening and push the window sash back into place, all while balancing precariously on my tiptoes.  Half sitting, half crouching, I crab-walk down the angled porch roof.  When I reach the end, I slide onto my belly and catch the column below with my legs before scampering down the taper with the agile reflexes of a cat.  Swaying slightly as I steady myself against the porch railing, I find my footing in the grass below until a low chuckle catches me off guard.

“I didna ken ye were part wee cheetie, Sassenach.”

I swivel quickly on one heel, and the world continues to spin around me even though I’ve stopped moving.

Jamie.

He’s waiting for me, leaning against his black Ford Mustang with his arms folded across his chest and his cock-sure confidence tucked behind his stupid (yet horribly attractive) smirk.  His windswept curls are nearly black at night, but the streetlights tinge the tips rose gold, framing his in an angelic halo like some deity (though he’s definitely more devil than god at times).  Not one for high fashion, he’s dressed simply in his signature trainers, jeans, and a white T-shirt… the sleeves of which capped the bugle of his bicep just perfectly.

Damn him.

A breeze filters in and lifts the stray curls from my neck, but I still feel warm.

“Hi,” I say weakly.  My chin is tucked downward as I watch my own toes scuff the earth, but I peek through my eyelashes, hoping to catch Jamie’s eye.  My pulse thunders to life when I realize he hasn’t taken his eyes off of me.  Not once.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and I think I might faint.

“I didn’t see Lamb’s car…” he asks as he pushes himself off of his car.

“You wouldn’t,” I interrupt, taking three steps forward before I stop myself from seeming to eager. “He’s not here. Arizona.”

He glances up at my bedroom window and then back at me, his brow furrowing while his question takes form.  “But you...”

Pride floods my body, warming me to the tips of my fingers.  A small giggle bubbles from my lips as I trot towards him, shaking my head in slight disbelief that I’d actually pulled one over on him.  When we meet in the middle of the brick path in front of my house, we pause - a little awkward and mostly unsure of ourselves and the newness of whatever this is exactly.  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the fingers of his left hand twitch, fluttering against his thigh.  I press my hands to his chest and silence his nerves with a small peck on his cheek before I whisper in his ear.

“Gotta keep you on your toes somehow, Fraser.”

~*~

We speed off into the night with only the moon and the stars to light our way.  Hurtling down back roads in Jamie’s convertible reminds me of a rollercoaster as we peel around hairpin curves and crest mountainous hills before flying down the incline.  The radio plays music softly in the background, low enough for us to easily converse over the dulcet melodies but neither one of us speaks.  We ride along in silence, with Jamie’s hand resting on the seat mere inches from mine.  When he taps his fingers along to the beat, his pinky occasionally brushes mine, and each time, my belly clenches before melting into molten silver.

“Where to?” He asks, breaking through the quietness but keeping his eyes trained on the road in front of him.

His words reach my ears and my brain stutters to start and then suddenly launches ahead like a speeding train.  I hadn’t thought about where’d we go.  Jamie always randomly picked a place for us to meet - the River Court, Moira’s Cafe after my shift, or one of our houses depending on who’s legal guardian was around (a phrase in which we found both humor and sympathy).  Tonight, I blindly dressed and tossed myself out the window without a single question, let alone as where’d we go.

“Anywhere…” I sigh as I shrug my shoulders.  The leather beneath me squeaks loudly, emitting a sound that could dissolve only us into a fit of immature laughter.

“Laoghaire is throwing a party,” Jamie suggests casually.

Laoghaire MacKenzie.

The very mention of her name turns my stomach sour.  We whip around another turn, and I’m caught off guard.  My knuckles turn white from gripping the door handle as I try to swallow back the bile that’s flooded my mouth.  Memories flood my vision of the last party I attended with Laoghaire MacKenzie in attendance: special trinkets and secret letters revealed for all to see… Jamie and I further divided by the cruel hierarchy of the high school caste system… my tears masked by a steaming shower later that night while I sobbed from the embarrassment of it all.

I wouldn’t dare be caught in her presence unguarded again.

“Anywhere but there,” I request, my voice as sharp as the turn Jamie takes down a hidden, one lane road before I can even finish speaking.

~*~

“What is this place?” I ask as we roll to a stop, half afraid Jamie’s brought me up here to fulfill some psychopathic, horror movie fantasy, half in awe of the beautiful sight before me.

The thick forest gave way to a clearing, jagged branches breaking off to reveal a small, wooden structure and a sky of winking stars overhead.  As I slam the heavy metal car door behind me, a breeze rustles the leaves, making me shiver in its cool wake.  I know we are somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains from the way the once flat roads rose to startlingly steep hills, but I didn’t have the foresight to grab a jacket.  Completely unphased, Jamie jogs ahead of me and takes the steps at the front porch two at a time.

“My grandfather’s,” he explains as he jimmies open the first lock.  The screeching of ancient metal tumblers echoes throughout the clearing, disturbing the peaceful night and doing little to sway my mind from more macabre paranoia.

Rubbing warmth into my arms with my palms, I say through chattering teeth, “I didn’t realize you were so close with him that you’d have a key.”

Every shred of confidence I had before is gone, leaving me a shaking and stuttering nervous wreck.

“I doubt he’ll mind…” he grumbles as he negotiates the second lock to open and the heavy, timber door swings open on creaking hinges. “He’s dead.”

Well, that’s comforting.

“You know, this is how most scary movies start…” I rock back on my heels as I nervously ramble.  “Guy takes girl up to his cabin far from civilization… lulls her into a false sense of security… and BAM! He turns out to be a serial killer or a werewolf or...something!”

In the moonlight, Jamie’s blue eyes twinkle with mirth as the corners of his mouth tug upwards into a slight smirk.

“No werewolves here, Sassenach,” he promises as he wraps an arm around my shoulders and ushers me inside. “But I might just have to take a bite out of you.”

He tucks his head into the crook of neck and nips at the sensitive flesh there.  My half-delighted, half-terrified squeals peal through the night air, and suddenly, I’m not so cold anymore.

~*~

We’re not inside long.  Jamie quickly gathers supplies and deposits them into a basket for easy carrying: a thick, plaid blanket, a bottle of whisky, and a flashlight.  

While he’s preoccupied, I acquaint myself with my surroundings.  I take note of the wide, hand-scraped floor boards and the large boulders stacked tall to form the fireplace.  The entire space smells faintly of wood smoke from long forgotten fires and greasy lanolin from well loved sweaters.  Above the raw timber mantel rests a hand-carved sign, the words Fraser’s Ridge etched into the marker.  

As my hand lifts to trace the letters with my fingertips, Jamie materializes beside me and beckons me to join him outside.  We walk out into the night with his fingers intertwined with mine.

Fifty yards behind the cabin, the earth suddenly drops into oblivion.  I’m sure the views are spectacular in daylight, but tonight the night sky steals the breath from my lungs.  The inky shadows of the geography below layer the scenery in varying shades of purple.  Wine-stained hills roll down the ravine and eggplant colored silhouettes of tree tops dot the horizon.  Above us, the heavens explode with starlight, thousands sparkling crystals spattered across a velvety indigo canvas.

Lost in the beauty of this place, I hardly notice Jamie, who has brought a roaring fire to life with little else but his bare hands and some kindling.  The warmth of the flames draws me back from the cliff’s edge as I wander closer to the hearth.  Halved-logs surround the fire pit in a circle, the make-shift benches just wide enough for two to share.  I sink into the empty space besides Jamie, and he wraps us both in the thick, woolen tartan before offering me a tin cup.  In comfortable silence, we casually sip our whisky as we lose ourselves in the glistening nightscape above our heads.

“See that grouping of stars just to the west?” Jamie whispers.  His lips graze the outer shell of my ear, and my skin erupts into goosebumps at the sensation.  I nestle closer into the crook of his arm as he continues.

The low hum of his voice lulls me into sleepy complacency.  His Scottish burr rumbles deep in his chest and vibrates against my ribs like a purring kitten.  Despite the chill of the autumn air, warmth tingles throughout my entire body to the very tips of my toes.  My head is thick and fuzzy partially from the late hour, but mostly from the nearly empty cup in my lap (my third helping of whisky).

Jamie’s voice carries on steadily, never once wavering as he teaches me about the constellations - a twist on our normal tutor/student relationship.  With each formation, he explains the mythology behind them.  Canis Major and Canis Minor.  Hercules and Hydra.  Orion and Scorpius.  Like most Scots, he’s a born storyteller with a gift to color any tale with vivid language and dramatic pauses, and I’m completely captivated.  As he speaks of the lovers Perseus and Andromeda, his hand cups my cheek and tilts my face towards his.  I blink, my eyelids fluttering open and close as I lean towards him.  His lips hover inches from mine, when my brain decides to intervene.

What exactly are you doing, Beauchamp?!

I press my hands against Jamie’s chest, pushing him away and pressing myself backwards as I mumble “Not so fast, soldier.”

“What’s wrong?” Jamie asks, but I’m untangle my limbs from the blanket and stand up before I can stop to answer him.

Propelled by doubt, my legs stumble over the bench and march back towards the cabin.  Fear settles into a lead pit in my stomach.  Its icy fingers trace frost-laden trails down my spine, and before long I’m shaking… from the cold… from the bone-weary uneasiness that has never left the back of my mind.

What on earth does Jamie Fraser - the most popular guy in school - want with me?

“Claire!” He shouts over the crunching of leaves beneath his feet as he chases after me.  “Will ye even tell me what I did to offend ye?”

I spin on my heel and charge towards him, ignoring the loose curls that sharply smack against my face.

“What you did?” I scream back. “The rumor mill is churning with all sorts of stories about you, Fraser.”

I’m bluffing for the most part.  Sure, everyone talks about Jamie Fraser - star point guard and hottest boy in the junior class.  Who wouldn’t?  But no one is exactly sharing these stories with me.  I am now a part of these stories, a starring role at times even.  The clumsy nerd Jamie’s taken to his bed.  To most, I’m a charity case or the unfortunate consequence of a lost bet.  To all, I could never be worthy of the title girlfriend.

Jamie stops and sighs, his head dropping to his chest.  He clutches the blanket wrapped around his shoulders a little tighter as he asks, “What have ye heard?”

What had I heard?

Very little, truth be told.  I caught the tale end of a story when I was waiting for Jamie after practice one afternoon.  The cheerleaders never thought much of me anyway to consider stopping their mindless chatter as the exited the gym, though I’m certain they meant for me to hear this particular story.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words catch in my throat.

Do you really want to do this?

When our tutoring arrangement turned into something more, we allowed our relationship to develop naturally, albeit secretly.  We never once agreed on titles or labels; we never even stopped to have the conversation.  It crossed my mind plenty of times - when we’d search for a new secret spot to meet or when we passed each other in the halls without nothing more than a quick glance.  And yet, each time I stopped myself, my inner cheerleader chastising me for being less than cool.  It was easier this way… or so I thought.

“That you’ve been out with some other girl…” I admit quietly, my voice cracking along with my heart as I finally allow myself to feel the bitter sting of betrayal.

Jamie reaches for me, his own voice shaking as he speaks. “It’s no’ what ye think…”

“Oh it isn’t, is it?” I scoff as I shuffle backwards.  My heels collide with something solid and rough behind me as my palms find the lip of a concrete ledge.

“Damn it, Claire, d’ye have to do this all the time?” he demands.

“In a word - yes,” I say, sinking exhaustedly onto the rim of an ornamental fountain.

From my perch, I watch Jamie seethe before me.  Tempered rage boils beneath his flushed cheeks, and I imagine steam billowing from his ears.  The fingers of his left hand drum a steady tattoo against his thigh as he chews his bottom lip.  The tempo matches the beat of my racing heart.  

Squeeze.  Release.  Squeeze.  Release.

“Who?” He asks after an eternity passes.

“Laoghaire.”

Her name blooms on my tongue like poison, sickeningly sweet before turning to bitter ash.  The languid L coats my tongue with a thick, syrupy medicine for my own grand delusions; the long E whistles through my gritted teeth, the melody for my own funeral (cause of death - social suicide).  My eyelids narrow and I cross my arms over my chest as I wait - for the lie that will grant me sweet relief even if it’s just for one night… for the truth that will certainly destroy me…

Tracing some invisible path on the ground, Jamie’s gaze darts back and forth, but it doesn’t once meet mine.

“Oh…” I choke back a sob that bubbles at the back of my throat.  Pushing myself off to the ledge, I rise to leave - the back door to the cabin in my sites.

“It’s no like that!” He roars.  His hand wraps around my wrist and he pulls me back, drawing me close to him.  His strong arms clasp me tight to his chest, iron bands holding me firmly in place as I struggle to break free.

“Explain it to me then!” I loudly screech into his face, continuing to fight his embrace.  “What’s it like, hmm?”

Slowly, Jamie softens.  The muscles in his arms relax and his gripping fingers release until his hands are gently palming my hips.  The tension in his furrowed brow melts.  His shoulders sag, rounding gently inward until his curving around me like the delicate shell of a caterpillar’s cocoon, the tartan blanket protecting us both from the chilly night air.

“What you’ve heard is true,” he whispers, releasing his secret to the universe.  “I’ve been out wi’ the lass once or twice but it’s not… I can’t…”

His words stutter and stammer until his finally silent, rendered speechless by a myriad of emotions I watch flash across his eyes.  In his own face, I see my own fear and doubt mirrored back at me.  I hear a small cracking sound from deep within my chest - my own heart breaking for him… for us...

I brush a stray curl from his temple as I ask him, prompting him where he left off. “Can’t what?”

Suddenly, he looks up at me - eyes wild and bright.

“I can’t stop thinking about this.”

Jamie’s lips are on mine before my subconscious can put up a fight, allowing my heart to fully give in.  We are no longer shy or awkward.  We are hungry.  Dizzy with lust, I steady myself, gripping his shoulders as his tongue laps at my lower lip, begging entrance.  Arching into him, I moan against his mouth while my hands palm the muscular planes of his chest.  He hooks his thumbs into my belt loops and jerks me forward, our hips colliding in delicious friction.  As I press into him once more, our uncoordinated efforts to climb inside the other’s skin knock the tartan loose from our bodies.  Jamie shouts at the sudden shock to his system, and I whimper in the cold.

While he gathers the discarded blanket from the ground, I shyly whisper. “I can’t stop thinking about it either… us… I mean.”

Once he’s fully upright, Jamie pauses.  He stands before me.  He holds the blanket bunched in his palms, and the flesh of his low belly is bare, the hem of his shirt rucked up over his hip.  Perfectly disheveled, I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so beautiful in my whole life… and I think I could maybe love this boy.

Gently, he wraps the tartan around my shoulders.  When he steps towards me, I return the favor and nestle us both beneath the thick wool.  

He presses a kiss to my forehead as he mumbles into my hair.

“We best get ye inside, Sassenach. Yer shiverin.” 

~*~

Daylight catches us by surprise, even though we sleep well past noon.  Well, at least I do.  When I finally untangle myself from the mountains of bed sheets and stumble my way out into the land of the living, I find Jamie outside once more.  

“That looks like a nutritious breakfast,” I comment as I walk towards him, noting the red and blue box of Cracker Jack clutched in his fist.

“S’all I could find,” he mutters between bites.

I sit down next to him, and he tilts the box towards me, sharing his meager meal.  We sit quietly munching on the crispy snacks.  In the daylight, I can now see the brilliant shades of autumn across the valley below.  Deep burgundy, brilliant copper, and shining gold all merge together as one against the forget-me-not blue sky.  There’s not a cloud in sight, and the warm sun replaces the bitter chill from the night before.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Jamie as we eat.  He’s comfortable up here in the mountains, relaxed and naturally himself - for someone I thought of as a true city boy.  He’s at peace as the ruler of his own domain with no one for miles.

This is my Jamie - the real Jamie. 

It doesn’t take long to finish our breakfast.  A small box of Cracker Jack is no match for two hungry and hung-over teens.  Jamie’s fingers dive in once more, reaching for the bottom in search of crumbs.  Instead, he unearths a bracelet.  It’s clearly meant for a child with its mismatched, brightly colored beads strung along an elastic band.  He doesn’t hesitate.  He takes my hand and gently threads the bracelet onto my wrist before pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

“Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

Fin.

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There:  5.1

Author’s Note:  How’s everyone liking the story so far?  Kinda getting into my head about how stiff the writing is.  Maybe it just feels stiff to me, idk.  Anyways, here’s an early chapter!

"So, why are your eyes different colors?"  Childe caught you alone while you gathered firewood a few yards away from the camp.  The sun had long set, leaving you to rely on a lantern and the dim light of the distant fire.  He was limping from your sparring session earlier.

You had beat him.

And man, did it feel good.

"We crossed paths with a merchant that was traveling from Fontaine.  He said they're 'contacts.'  Basically little objects a person can put across their pupils and change their color," you repeated the rehearsed words a little too perfectly for Childe to believe.

"Oh?  I've never heard of that invention before," he tested.

"I guess it's new?  Like the kamera devices they recently developed? Aether has one of those."  You watched as he kept his hands idle at his sides.

"Interesting.  And Aether was the one who told you to say this to me?"  He blocked your path to the fire by placing a hand against the tree that stood behind you.  What a terrible liar you make, ojou-chan.  His friendly smile never left his lips, but it never reached his eyes.  They were cold and demeaning as they examined yours.

"I-I," you stumbled over your words.  "Why are you acting so weird, Childe?" You tried to laugh him off and attempted to duck under his arm.  What to say, what to say! Oh, maybe this'll work?  "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're acting like a schoolboy crushing on one of his friends."

It might have been a wrong move.

He pinned your shoulders to the tree and made sure no one had their eyes on the two of you.  "On the contrary, you began acting strangely the minute I found you today."  Something in his gaze faltered as he replayed your words in his head. Perhaps I am acting like a schoolboy. But I can't help it if I'm infatuated with my target.  His eyes fell to the shimmering necklace resting against your collarbone, and he gently touched it.  "This is new."

"Don't touch that," you slapped his hand away.

"I don't recall you wearing such a genuine cor lapis charm before.  Where'd you get this from?"

"It was my Granny's."

Childe scrunched his nose at the answer, a brief look of internal conflict passing over his face like a cloud.  'Was?' The woman passed? I made sure she wouldn't get hurt by my men.  So then how did she--  He wanted to ask until the realization struck him.  They went to Quince Village after my leaving.  She saw the Fatui there--

You were too enraged to notice him visually fight himself and approached the campsite with an armful of branches.  You made a point to sit next to Xiao and glared at the Harbinger as he returned.

He maintained eye contact with you, even after sitting across the fire from you and the yaksha.  Your pupils seemed to glow from his perspective.  The fire licked the air in between you until all he could make out was the anger in your eyes.  She knows.  He mentally kicked himself, but only partially because of the possible complications this could pose for Signora and her grand plan.  If you were this angry, there was a chance you had told the yaksha.  And if the yaksha saw the Fatui, or at least heard of what you thought happened, then there's a chance he told Mr. Zhongli.  While he could not break the contract with the Tsaritsa, he'd find a way around the stated rules.  He made a fool of Childe once; he could do it again.

Childe didn't care in the slightest about fighting the entire group--though he was a bit afraid of facing the yaksha despite his urge to fight every living thing on Teyvat.  The only thing that mattered to him was you.  And if you were angry enough to fight, vision or not, he'd have to take you by force.  You may hold a special place in his heart, but his feelings for you meant nothing compared to his loyalty for the Tsaritsa.

One chance, the harbinger strengthened his resolve. I'll give her one chance to prove herself.  If she fails, I won't hesitate to take that which will secure Snezhnaya's future.

...................................................................

Several days passed by without incident--

--Is what I'd like to say, but unfortunately, that didn't hold true for you.

Childe and his unrelenting pleas for battles continued to reach your ears day in and day out.  He was the one that was attached to your hip, not Xiao.  You had only realized today that Childe was around you more often than the yaksha ever since he greeted you with a jumpscare at Luhua Pool.  To make matters worse, Xiao neglected to make a move towards him.

She can handle herself, he thought after witnessing the stunts you pulled on Childe.  Xiao recognized that the movements you were using as his own; perhaps there was an upside to you unconsciously peeking in on his memories.  He put himself on standby when he came to the realization.  But make no mistake, he would and will protect you if things got out of hand with the harbinger.  He just figured he'd take a step back and quietly observe his weak points, just like the old days.  The days in which Childe did not pose a serious threat to the group; when all that was between you and the harbinger was harmless bickering.

It would seem like those old days were still fresh to an outsider, but as the days passed by, you were growing increasingly frustrated with Childe's behavior.  After all, how could he continue to play the part of an oblivious comrade, when it was clear as day that the tensions within the group were growing?  How could he even call you a comrade with a straight face? How was it that he felt no remorse for his actions toward Granny when he looked you in the eye?

How was it that he could be so carefree?

Maybe part of you envied him for it.  Your inner grumblings did you no favor in the present moment though; the team had stepped into the western side of Dragonspine.  Your four coats made almost no difference against the sheer cold, and your body shivered uncontrollably even though warmer weather was only a hundred yards behind you.

Everyone except Xiao and Aether wore warm clothes, and it looked like the poor outlander regretted his decision to forego the garments.  Xiao appeared to be unbothered and more energetic than usual.  Childe looked like he was right at home with the weather, his shirt still sloppily unbuttoned to reveal his toned body underneath.  Bennet walked alongside you and was replacing Zhongli for the time being.

Snowflakes lazily floated their way down to earth, but they did nothing to grab your attention when the wind continued to howl against the team's direction.  You caught Xiao letting snow collect in his hand with an almost childlike wonder, but he glared at you when he found you staring.

"I want to find some dragon teeth for a sword and since you haven't been here before I thought it'd be a good idea to show you around," Aether called out to you over his shoulder, his arms crossing over his bare stomach for an ounce of warmth.

"You're insane!"

Aether's laugh mixed with the clattering of his teeth.  "You only live once, right?"  You removed two of your coats and threw them over his head.  "T-t-thanks."

You rolled your eyes despite the fact that you were smiling at him, only for your gaze to lock with Xiao's look of disapproval.  'Mortals are fragile,' you interpreted his frown and giggled.  

"Here we go!" Bennet lit the firepit with his flaming sword and knelt down in front of it.  Everyone joined him;  Aether was especially close to the flames.

"It's kind of annoying to find fire every five minutes," you shivered violently.  "And you practically go up here for fun?"  

"It gets easier the more we do it," Paimon giggled with a nervous smile.  "Besides, we get to mine starsilver and find cool dragon stuff that we can sell--"

"Don't lump me in with you," Aether piped up without moving away from the fire.

The distant sound of a conversation was carried over by a bone-chilling breeze.  "Huh?  Should we go check it out?"  Paimon stared in the direction the vague voices were coming from.

"U-uh-huh," nodded Aether.

The group stumbled over a hill only to find the body cavity of Durin.  While it threw you off, the sight around the remains was what chilled you to the bone.  Of course there's Fatui here, you scoffed.

"I see a tooth over there too,"  Aether whined.

"What's everyone looking at me for?"  Childe let out a nervous chuckle and awkwardly scratched the back of his head.  "These aren't my guys."

"We know," Paimon cooed.

"That's why we want you to go talk to them and let us pass," Aether held the smuggest expression you've ever seen him pull off.

"Uh...I'm not under any jurisdiction to--"

"Do it," you ordered with cold eyes.  When he locked eyes with you, you stood on your tip-toes and spoke in his ear.  "Prove your loyalty to the group."

"My loyalty, ojou-chan," his eyes narrowed significantly, "lies with Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa."

"Uh-oh," Paimon poofed out of existence.

"Uh, guys?  Those Fatui agents are approaching us reeeaal fast," Bennett warned.  

The two of you broke eye contact to find that he was right.  One electro and two geo skirmishers were walking towards the group.  Poofing would be a more accurate description.  Childe gave you a final look before he hopped over a log to greet them.

"Greetings!"  He didn't smile, and the skirmishers stopped in their tracks.

"Master Childe?  We didn't realize you'd be joining us on the mountain."  The three of them knelt out of respect.

"It's a surprise visit, really.  I came to check on your progress--"  The group made their way around the Fatui and Aether yanked the large tooth out of the ground while Childe chattered away with his subordinates.

[geethedentist]

The Sassenach Warrior

Catch up with Chapter 9 here and read this chapter on Ao3!

Chapter 10: Honorary Scot, Official Jacobite

“Claire?” 

My first instinct was to blurt, “Shit!” and jolt three feet into the air. So concerned with poking all my bumps and trying to stop the blood from leaking down my face, I had allowed someone to sneak up on me. I still hadn’t turned around. Maybe I had finally gone insane and imagined the voice, God I hoped so. 

“Claire it’s almost dawn, what the hell are ye doin’?” 

“I … How long have you been standing there?” I had finally turned to face him.

Angus crossed his arms. His boot began tapping on the ground. “Long enough to ken you’ve just done something incredibly sneaky … and I’d wager this isna the first time.” He would have taken on the air of a disappointed parent, had it not been for the confusion and blatant curiosity also present in his expression. 

And just like any manipulative schemer would do, I turned it around on him. “What were you doing out before dawn? You all love to accuse me of being shifty, so let’s hear it!” 

“Claire, ye ARE being shifty!” He almost shouted at me. “And for yer information I was visiting with Margaret, since we’re leavin’ soon.” His cheeks turned light pink. 

Oh yes, his big breasted friend. How horribly anticlimactic and boring. I supposed telling him I went for a walk was not even worth the breath.

“And Christ, what happened to yer face?” Now he mentions my face.  

“I um … fell?” 

He gave a short laugh and shook his head. “I ken I’m not terribly bright Claire, but ye insult me so. If I ken but one thing about ye, it’s that ye did not maul up yer face because ye fell.” 

His eyes fell to the skin just below my elbow and they popped wide open as he quickly grabbed it and shoved my own hand into my face.

“Is that a bite mark?!” 

Oh dear. Any chance of lying my way out of this was quickly dissipating, not that I had had a good shot in the first place. They were in fact, teeth marks. Small indentations lined the top and the underside of my arm; they were an angry red color, and quickly becoming tinged with purple. I inspected them more closely. It seemed that my opponent had extremely crooked teeth. 

“Um yes, but …” 

“Are ye drunk?” He cut me off. 

I crossed my arms in defiance. “Well not to brag but I don’t need alcohol to do things that I’ll regret.”

He looked at me long and hard, his hand scratching at something underneath his beard. I had been edging my way towards the door, although I knew I would have to demand his silence somehow. 

“Oh no Claire, if ye dinna tell me what ye’ve been doing, I’m going to make sure everyone in this whole tavern knows ye’ve been running late night errands.” 

“All right all right!” I said quickly to shut him up. “But nobody knows and it better stay that way.” 

“Can I be there when ye tell Dougal and Jamie that ye fell?” He smirked. 

A dog barked somewhere in the distance and I jerked him into the stables. Brushing stray hairs out my face, I winced as some of them caught in the mass of curdled blood on my head. 

“I’m going to tell them I fell, and you are going to back me up. Got it?” I hissed in his ear. “Now if you insist on knowing where I went, I had been fighting in the ring for the past week or so. Gavin has been paying me.” 

Angus’s eyes popped open again. “That’s why ye’ve been keeping us away from there!” It was then he heard the jingling in my pocket. “Jesus how much has he been payin’ ye?”

“Enough.” 

“Ye’re going to run. Aren’t ye?” An unnecessary question really. They’ve all known this from the second they met me. 

“That’s … I … Dougal has all of it. For the Jacobites.” 

He softened a bit. “But why?” 

And the words came gushing out of me. “Because I want my damn ring back and I want to get as far away from Dougal as I can. All of the mistrust and all the shite I get for being English is quite honestly draining me. I want to go home.” 

Home. 

I shouldn’t have used that word. 

You are an outlander no matter where on this earth you think you can run to.

I sat down heavily. “But that’s the thing. I’ve spent years as a ghost and I don’t even know where home is anymore, I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to be doing. I thought I did. But the fighting, it was like medicine to me, it makes me feel passionate, it makes me forget. After we leave this town, nothing is going to change. I feel trapped. Directionless.” 

  It was true. It was as if somebody plucked me from Uncle Lamb’s side and plopped me into the middle of a vast ocean. I could stay afloat but for what? Everywhere I turned there was a huge expanse of nothing. 

Angus sat down next to me. “Can I tell ye something? For what it’s worth, I trust ye, and ye look right at home, covered in blood and stinking like a man.” 

I gave him an honest smile, “Thank you.”

“But what about …” Angus closed his mouth and scooted away. Clearly what he about to say might result in my elbow colliding with his ribs. 

“What about what? Jamie?” I answered harshly. “What about him?” 

I don’t know why his question made me bristle as much as it did, and what I said next did not improve matters in the slightest.

“Please don’t tell him about this.” 

He caught the note of extreme seriousness in my voice. “Aye.” Was all he whispered in return. I traced the path his eyes took, out the wide stable door and up to the candle in Jamie’s window. 

Inside, he helped me clean the wound as quietly as possible, and we trudged up to bed. Stripping off my sweaty garments, I groaned as I tugged loose the strip of fabric I used to bind my breasts. I had tried a corset once, but declined to ever do so again in favor of proper breathing and being able to bend at the waist. 

Knowing that I wouldn’t sleep, I still tried in vain. I supposed I felt better, but only in the sense what I was able to get everything off my chest and hear my feelings out loud. Angus was a good listener, but the conversation should have been had with Jamie, and there was no telling how that would have gone and who would have walked away hurt. Although it probably would have been both of us.  

My body so desperately wanted to be unconscious but my mind wouldn’t let it. About two hours had passed and the first light of day gently lit the room. There was a soft knock on the door, and I heard Dougal’s voice from the other side. 

“Get up, lass.” 

Of course he’d be wanting the money. I hurriedly tugged on some pants and a shirt and grimaced at the blood stains on the pillow. Evidently I had been oozing. Opening the door halfway in an attempt to cover my face, I thrust the pouch into his hand. “I know it’s not as much as last time, I’m sorry.” 

“Never mind that lass. Get yerself together. Yer comin’ on a little trip wi’ me today.” Then he briskly walked away toward the stairs. Clearly the matter was not up for discussion. 

This is it. I thought as I retied the knot on top of my head. He’s gotten all the money he can out of me and now he’s going to take me somewhere and kill me. I quietly slid the small knife Jamie had left in my room the other day into my boot. 

Not if I kill you first.

Up close and personal, no arrows. He’d never see it coming. I imagined how it would go down. He’d lunge at me, I’d grab his throat and press the knife into the very spot I knew would bring death. A slow death, but death nonetheless. I wanted him to watch me reclaim my ring and finally be free of him. 

“So kind of ye to finally make it.” Dougal said when I reached the stables. He’d already saddled a horse for me. “Daydreamin’ up there?” 

“Actually yes.” 

He didn’t question me further as we set out. After riding in silence for about an hour I had worked myself up to the point where my hands were quite clammy and I was overly aware of the sgian dhu waiting in my boot. The tiny knife couldn’t have been more than one pound but it felt like ten. 

The hilly moor began to give way to forest. My horse followed Dougal’s of its own accord, allowing me to slouch back in the saddle and stare off into space. The trees that blurred by were becoming denser, and something caught my eye. Someone had set up camp on a distant hill. Strange, the hill seemed to rise up relative to everything around it, why expose yourself like that? 

Squinting and craning my neck back to the mysterious hilltop, it was enough for me to break the silence that had stretched for the entire ride. “What on earth is that?” I said it more to myself, but Dougal answered anyway. 

“Ancient faerie stones called Craigh na Dun.” He sounded almost wary. “Used by our ancestors for rituals, and said to be a gateway between worlds.” 

My mouth twisted. That concealed more than it illuminated. These Scots and their superstitions. I thought back to those wretched tea leaves and supposed anything was worth believing. 

The gentle thump of hooves striking grass gave way to the sound of crunching leaves. Dougal’s head was turning this way and that. We were close to our destination. My muscles tensed further in anticipation. The small spring looked peaceful enough, but Dougal had succeeded in choosing a secluded place. Then the smell hit me, and my face involuntarily contracted. Rotten eggs. 

Dougal caught it and laughed; I was not about to turn my back to him. “I ken it doesn’t smell like roses, but there’s a reason I took ye here.” 

There must have been a reason. Why ride over an hour for a drink from a spring that smelled like hell?  I stiffened. To conceal the smell of a corpse? 

He stared at me for a long moment, eyebrows raised. “There seems to be a bit of blood comin’ out of that head wound ye still haven’t told me about.” 

I started and then gently touched my fingertips to the wound in question. They came away bloody. “So there is.” I smiled sweetly. “Please excuse me a moment.” 

Kneeling by the edge of the spring, I made sure to keep him in my peripheral vision. The water was cool and it had an odd slippery quality. Throat parched with nerves, I took a big swallow before proceeding to wash the cut. Bracing myself for a taste to match the smell, it never came. The water was crisp and pure. Face dripping, I turned to find Dougal staring at me with an odd expression.

I shortly exhaled through pursed lips, causing the water to spray outward. “What?” 

“I’m going to ask ye once more.” He said, tone turned quite serious. “Are ye a spy for the English?”

I stood up and crossed my arms impatiently. “For the final time,” I seethed, “I am not a fucking spy! Are you going to tell me why you’ve taken me here?” 

His eyes narrowed as he sneered back at me. “Are ye going to tell me what’s happened to yer face? Or do I have to attend one o’ yer fights to get a better idea?” 

I would have liked to maintain a cool, collected expression at this remark. I also should not have been surprised at Dougal’s knowledge of my clandestine activities in the slightest. My eyes had widened nonetheless and he laughed humorlessly. 

“Angus …?” I said weakly, although I already knew it wasn’t him. 

“Angus didna tell me ye wee dolt. Gavin did when I collected the rent from his family’s farm.” 

“Ah.” I breathed, weaker still. It seemed I had failed to discuss the secrecy of my appearances with my sponsor. So Dougal knew my plan. He’d taken me here in order to kill or threaten me, thus preventing my escape and subsequent report back to my imaginary English superiors. 

He had turned his back to me before he resumed speaking. “Ye’re verra messy, Claire.” 

His back thus turned, I saw my chance. Of course the leaves underfoot would make sneaking up close difficult. A charge then, and a quick jab in the kidney. My heart instantly began pounding. 

He was shaking his head and laughing, genuinely this time. “Verra messy, not to mention clumsy. Ye’d make a terrible spy, and I’m sorry its taken me till now to believe ye.” 

My hand froze on its way toward the knife. “Wait what?”

He tilted his head and regarded me with considerably less menace than he had in all the time I’d known him. “Well ye drank from the Liar’s Spring aye? And yer still standin’ here.” 

I gawked at him. If it had been this easy I would have dragged him here a long time ago. Evidently this place was called St. Ninian’s Spring. Anyone who drank from it and then told a lie would meet a fiery end quite swiftly, what with the reek of hell so close by. 

“Dinna look so relieved yet, I’ve a few more questions.” 

I sat down heavily and looked at him with raised eyebrows and expectant annoyance. As long as I didn’t burst into flames, he’d be satisfied. And if I did? Well, he would probably still be satisfied.

“So ye really are a fugitive of the Crown?” 

“Yes. It wasn’t just some cover up. Neither was the money I gave you.” 

He nodded solemnly. “I must admit ye had me a bit confused when ye began yer … donations. Give me money and with it, a false sense of security and trust? Yer right clumsy Claire, but I wouldna put that past ye.” 

Indeed. For that had been my plan the entire time. Or had it?

“So now you see why I kept the fights from you. To be caught sneaking off in the middle of the night?” I laughed ruefully. “You’d never believe me.” 

He nodded again but there was a long pause before he spoke, very softly. 

“Can I ask why?” 

My teeth momentarily clenched together. Hard. 

“I’d rather you didn’t.” The words sounded strained and dry, barely above a whisper.

The air shifted; a chilling breeze blew tiny ripples across the stinking pool. Dougal had turned, and was staring at the wall of boulders on the side of the clearing. But he was seeing something else. 

“You’ve seen his back.” 

I inhaled sharply, and that was all the encouragement he needed to continue. 

“I was there, ken.”  

Whether I offered a response or not didn’t matter, for he meant to tell the tale either way. I found that my hands had clenched themselves tightly together. I did not want to hear this. I couldn’t. It felt like a betrayal of Jamie’s trust from when he first showed me the scars. But I had to. 

So I listened to how Jamie and his still raw wounds were paraded out of his cell at Fort William. I imagined Jack Randall’s eyes lighting up upon seeing him. I imagined the cords of Jamie’s neck taut with pain as he attempted to remove his shirt, which Dougal had described as barely more than a rag and almost completely crusted with the red-brown of dried blood. Jamie had carefully folded it as if it were made of silk, his last shred of dignity. And he meant to keep it. Hearing this part of the story almost wasn’t as bad as the flogging itself. He had hung unconscious by the wrists for the latter half or so, unaware of Randall’s deranged face behind him, splattered with Jamie’s blood. 

When his account had ended, my shoulders slumped and a shaky breath rattled out of my mouth. 

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I ken ye care about Jamie and I ken ye care about Scotland.” 

Perhaps I needed Dougal to say it before I truly realized it. Murtagh had tried to tell me as well. The truth was that I felt more Scottish than English, and I really didn’t want to leave my Highlanders. They looked out for me. I could be whoever I wanted around them, and it didn’t matter if who I wanted to be was a hunter and fighter . . . a protector. I wanted to be myself. 

“Well ye’re already a fugitive aye? Might as well be full blown traitor while you’re at it.” 

An unexpected laugh rose to the surface. “Do you know what? That doesn’t sound so bad.” 

It was strange how nonchalantly I had made the decision to change my life. The first time had been an accident, but now I was the one drawing my own map. Scotland was flailing under England, and it had gotten worse during my short time here. I saw it everyday. Whether it was in the form of hunger, poverty, families being torn apart, or religious persecution, England was not just using Scotland for revenue. It was threatening their way of life, a rich and ancient culture that I respected and cared for very much . . . as much as I had resisted it. Then there was everything that had been done to Jamie, including double flogging and exile to France. 

I supposed my deal with Colum was broken, as I had now effectively joined his brother in the exact kind of reckless acts he was looking to prevent to protect the Mackenzie clan. 

“Why did ye no tell anyone the Crown was after ye?” His last loose end. 

That was an easy one. “The fewer people that knew, the safer I felt. I’m sure you knew I had planned to leave your company as soon as possible, and I wasn’t looking to leave a trail leading right to me.” 

He made a Scottish noise in his throat which I took to indicate understanding. The breeze had returned as we sat in silence for a while. Dougal purposefully rose to his feet, smoothed his kilt, and extended a hand to me. 

“Welcome to the fight then, Claire.”

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 94

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

THANK YOU all for reading, liking and leaving your thoughts on the first chapter for 2020.  I really love reading your opinions and interpretation of what I have written. It also helps to clarify in my mind that what I have scribed resonates in regards to the characters in this story. I hope you enjoy the next chapter when …

SYNOPSIS: Jamie and Karen finally reach the monastery but it is fortified with many sensors around the perimeter.  Back at Section One a backup plan is being organised and someone volunteers to go into the field. Meanwhile Claire is threatened with the very thing she fears most.

This chapter contains some violence.

Previous chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

  CHAPTER 94(V)

Relief flooded through Jamie's body at finally finding the monastery where Claire was being held. Taking out his binoculars, he surveyed the building in the distance. The view that lay before him was of an expanse of trees that went as far as the eye could see. To the left however, there was a clear view over a wide valley with the jagged peaks of the mountain range to the right. Although nestled in a well forested and remote location which had an almost tranquil and serene feel about it, the monastery held sinister secrets within. The complex was extensive with gardens and pavilions dotted around the perimeter. There were steep steps leading up to the courtyard and at the main entrance of the building, Jamie made out the figures of what appeared to be guards dressed as monks roaming the grounds. No doubt there was around the clock surveillance too. The triad was obviously prepared for any assault as the monastery appeared fortified, so there was little chance of him storming its fortress alone. The building looked impregnable. He would have to find a way in without being detected. Approaching the monastery, however, may be difficult. Seeing that this was the only road leading to and from the monastery, some of the journey would have to be done on foot to avoid detection. Once Claire was rescued egress would not be easy. They would have to make their way through the woods to where the landing strip was and leave by air in the helicopter he'd seen. All that was left now was to retrieve her, but where was she? Jamie wondered observing the size of the building. Claire could be anywhere. It looked like there were at least fifty rooms or more, so where could he begin his search? Karen would just have to give him the location. Returning to where he'd parked the jeep, Jamie went around to Karen’s side and pulled her out of the vehicle. He then took the bag Murtagh had given him off the back seat. Indicating that Karen was to come with him they made their way into the woods that led to the monastery. Meanwhile inside the monastery …

It had been well over twenty-four hours since Claire had seen anyone but her battered body was still suffering the effects of the torture techniques used to try and make her talk. Although she ached with every step she took, she endeavoured to keep herself alert to try and diffuse some of the pain she felt. Gingerly moving around her room, she wondered and waited for the next visit she knew would come. She was certain someone would return for her soon for another torture session. The triad had not obtained the information they needed and Claire knew that they wouldn't want to lose face because of their failure to do so. Hence it was inevitable that someone would come for her again. When they did, she speculated who would be the interrogator this time ... Would it be Karen ... Andy Ma or ... someone else? Claire had managed to have a fitful sleep and the only respite she got was from her dreams and the vision of Jamie's face. He gave her courage to not lose hope. He would come for her. He would. But when? Claire wondered if she could sustain another session like the one the other day. She knew that she would have to find the courage and resilience to do so somehow. Sitting back down again, she closed her eyes. No sooner had she done so, than the door opened. Not wanting them to see her defeated, Claire jumped to her feet with renewed might and looked at the person who had entered the room. "Come with me." Ever defiant she asked, "And if I refuse?" "I wouldn't like your chances ... but you can try." Looking up she watched as the two interrogators Ronald MacNab and Andy Ma appeared from behind Jonathon Randall. "I see you have your cheer squad again." "Get her," he ordered gruffly. When the two men approached, she kicked out knocking MacNab to the floor then she turned to do the same to Andy Ma. Claire was ready to fight her way out, but unfortunately having anticipated her next move; he sidestepped her and lunged at Claire with a blow to the ribs. This winded her and she was unable to recover quickly enough. Ronald MacNab was able to regain his footing, then with Andy's help, they overpowered her and shackled her hands behind her back. "You still have that spirit I see ... You guys are good ... Section One must have trained you well Claire." Jonathon Randall stated then looking at the two men standing guard ordered, "Take her away!" Putting up resistance she struggled against their hold. "Where are you taking me?" "Are you wondering what I'm going to do?" "Section's going to come after you." "Who's gonna tell them?" "If I don't report back, they'll come after me ... whether you want them to or not." "Yeah? ... I don't think your Jamie would really want that. He'll come after you himself." "Jonathon, let's be real. How is he going to find me?" "Well, you know what? ... I think it's going to be a really ... big ... challenge. Jamie will want you alive so badly that I think he might just be able to pull it off and then we'll have the two of you where we want you." "And if he doesn't?" Jonathon Randall's eyes showed no emotion whatsoever as he answered her question philosophically. "Then we'll kill you." Claire felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck but kept her face expressionless. They knew that she was Section ... but as far as they were concerned Jamie was just her lover until proven more. How much did they know? Did they know he was Section too? If not, Jonathon Randall and those at the monastery had no idea how ruthless Jamie would be when he arrived for her. What more did they want to know from her? She hadn't revealed much information the first time they had tortured her ... could she hold her tongue this time too? Grabbing her forcibly, Andy Ma and Ronald MacNab ushered her roughly from the room and marched her back to the torture chamber. Meanwhile outside in the woods …

All the while they were hiking through the bushes Karen kept a look out for the sensors that the Rising Dragons had strategically placed around the perimeter to detect intruders. They were nearing the boundary of the monastery and she knew that some had been placed in this area. Jamie noticed that she had begun to slow down and hurried her along as they were beginning to lose the last rays of daylight. When that strategy didn't work Karen thought of another way to distract him. She pleaded for a rest. "I need to stop for a while ... I'm exhausted." Ignoring her request, Jamie insisted that she keep going. They travelled on for another half an hour. The daylight had completely gone by now and darkness had begun to settle in. Noticing the huge pine tree ahead of her Karen lost her footing and fell to the ground.

"I can't go any further ... You'll have to leave me here," she said her breathing laboured with the exertion of the steep hike. 

Jamie took her and dragged her over to the tree and tired her up. Taking a small cylindrical bottle out of the bag he ordered, "Give me yer hand!" 

"Why should I?" "Because I have something for you." Karen eyed the bottle in his hand and studied it for a moment before looking into Jamie's face. Refusing to comply he grabbed her hand, opened the bottle, and poured some lotion onto her palms. "What's this for? She demanded staring down at her hand, then Karen looked back up at him with anger in her eyes. "Something that will stop ye from trying to escape." The ointment began to seep into her skin and Karen could feel a warmth burn through her palm. "That's pretty strong stuff. What kind of lotion is it?" "An isotope ... It will do limited damage as long as an extracting agent is applied within twelve hours. I should be back by then." "And what if you're not?" Jamie unemotionally recited what continued exposure to the isotope would do should Karen fail to stay put. "The skin peels off yer hand. Three hours later, you lose the feeling in your arm. Six hours after that, ye're dead ... Good luck." Startled, Karen swiftly brought her eyes back to her hands trying to come to terms with what he'd said. A look of panic, then sheer terror crossed her face at what James Fraser had told her. She peered at him lost for words, but finding her voice she warned forebodingly, "You kill me, she dies." Walking around the tree where Karen was, Jamie said and did nothing, he just gave her a swift look. Picking up his bag, he left her tagged, gagged and tied to the tree then headed down the hill and made his way to the south side of the monastery. Karen's eyes followed Jamie into the bushes until he disappeared from sight. Could she find a way out of this situation? There was a hidden sensor located near this tree, so surely once Jamie had gone the triad would be alerted to where she was and would rescue her. Once they had James Fraser, she could get the antidote. Controlling her emotions Karen waited for rescue. Back at Section One ... Entering the briefing room Operations took his seat at the table then leaning forward, his eyes moved swiftly over the operatives gathered. Rupert Mackenzie and Geillis Duncan, Jamie's team members, were assembled around the table with operatives Abernathy, Wakefield and a new operative Jasmine Kwong who had also been called in to assist in the mission as well due to her fluency in Cantonese. Along with Madeline and Fergus, Murtagh too had been asked to attend as he was well versed in Asian weaponry that the teams may need. They all watched their leader as he swung his reading glasses from his fingers and waited for what he was about to say. Determination hardened his features. Operations surveyed the Briefing Room once more before beginning. "What I'm about to tell you is level one classified which means your panels will not be loaded. What you need to know will be said here." He continued. "The details of Jamie and Claire's mission have been leaked to the Rising Dragons. Claire has been compromised. They have kidnapped and tortured her and know that she is Section but are not sure of Jamie's role."

 Operations' steely gaze skimmed those gathered before turning to face Fergus. He asked for the holograph to be displayed. He typed in the command and a visual, aerial picture of the monastery appeared automatically. Those gathered around peered at the screen as Fergus relayed the Intel of the location.

"This is the Tsz Hsing Monastery in the south-west of Lantau Island. Claire is being held captive here. The monastery is in an isolated wooded area inaccessible except for one road that is not sealed." 

"A Contingency Three has been enacted. Jamie is in retrieval mode but by land. Due to the remote location, he will need backup for this mission ASAP," Madeline added. "What progress has he made?" Geillis Duncan inquired as to ascertain how to carry out this new profile when they arrived at the monastery. "We've lost contact with him so we must assume that Jamie has been able to reach the monastery. He does have a hostage with him ... Karen Yee was seized two days ago at Victoria Peak. Since then, the last communication with Jamie has been spasmodic." Analysing what had been said already, Geillis voiced another question. "How do you suggest we proceed then? ... Going overland will take hours." "The best mode of rescue is by air. The monastery's location is about five miles as the crow flies from here ... the fishing hamlet of Tai O," Fergus announced pointing to the village. "As there is only one access road and the triad would see you coming, the teams will have to enter from the woods to avoid detection. We know that the monastery has surveillance around the perimeter so you will need to disable the system as well. Approach will be on foot." "What about hostiles. How many are there?" Rupert asked. "I have no Intel on how heavily guarded the monastery will be. Unless Jamie communicates with us, you'll all be flying blind. However, once you are on site, if you plant a scanner ... then I'll be able to give you an accurate body count reading." "Even so Fergus, our chances of getting Claire and Jamie out are no more than fifty percent ... even if we don't know how many hostiles there are on site." Geillis Duncan replied. To Operations her question was superfluous. "60%, 50%, they're just numbers. We trust that the team will be successful and will get them." Continuing their leader laid out his requirements for the mission retrieval. "The Rising Dragons are a Class-A Threat. We'll Increase density and add backup. I want two-man shadow teams, wide coverage. Abernathy will have point. Once the triad surfaces to engage, he will move his team in and eliminate the faction. If there are any survivors, they will be returned to Section One for interrogation. Geillis, Mackenzie and Jasmine will enter and retrieve our captured operatives." Section's leader had obviously seen fit that this mission would be successful and had provided the extra operatives for the two teams to converge on the monastery. There was no room for failure. If they suspected that there could be numerous triad members at the monastery it was important to provide the necessary manpower to capture or eliminate them all. Operations glance at those around the table.

"Murtagh will explain and provide the necessary weaponry for your use. You can pick them up when you leave. That is all." 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Suddenly a craggy voice broke the silence in the room. "I would like to volunteer for this mission." 

Everyone glanced over in surprise to the person who spoke. 

Murtagh Fitzgibbons had been sitting at the briefing table biding the right time to interject. It was his intention to do more than just verse the team on the weaponry they'd need on this mission. He was going into the field and nothing would stop him. It was his intention to be there when his Sugar was rescued. Operations glanced at Madeline then back at Murtagh, but before he could reply Madeline interjected. "I think that would be an excellent idea ... especially given the expertise he has with firearms and explosives." The look she gave Section's leader was compelling. "Murtagh could be a great asset to the team." Interpreting her thoughts on this occasion came easy to him. Operations faced his weapons expert. "Very well then permission granted." "Thank you," he replied pleased as punch at his coup. Although he hadn't been in the field since the Terrogamo mission with Fergus, Murtagh felt a rush of adrenalin at Operations’ answer. Claire was in danger; he may be older than the other operatives, but Murtagh knew he had the smarts to be a valued member of the team to rescue her. "That will be all ... Prepare your teams." Operations rose and left the Briefing room with Madeline. At the monastery ... Claire hung from the rafters once more as Ronald MacNab and Andy Ma prepared her for another round of interrogation from Jonathon Randall. "I'm sorry it has come to this Claire but you have not yet given us the answers we want." "Go to hell!" Silence stretched between them and Claire wondered what he would try next. "Pain is a lethal weapon ... It makes people tell you what you want to hear. Are you prepared to suffer more pain for the sake of an organisation that has abandoned you and a lover who will never find you Claire Beauchamp?" Her steely eyes were defiant and Jonathon was finding it difficult to find a crack in her doggedness. He signalled to the two men to bring forward the display case on the table to the side. Claire's eyes followed their movement then rested on the implements he boldly displayed before her. "I'm sure you are familiar with some of these devices ... but I'm sure you don't know how the triad uses them to elicit what information we want." Claire watched as he picked up a particularly fearsome looking gadget. "Many of these instruments date back for centuries. They were very effective then ... they are very effective still ..." He gave her a wry look, "Need I continue?" Although weak and suffering from the position they had placed her in again, Claire looked at Randall with murderous eyes and clenched her teeth with rage. "What is it that you want from me?" "The truth ... I want the truth." "You wouldn't know the truth if it hit you in the face." She looked deeply into the emotionless eyes of her captors. “One way or the other, I will get the truth out of you Claire Beauchamp!”

 Jonathon glanced at Claire then nonchalantly removed a cloth covering one of the objects on the table and revealed a cage full of rats. He picked it up from the table. "I'm told everybody's afraid of something … something that causes an emotion beyond terror; a horror that defies description or definition. The senses shut down, the mind leaves the body, and … reason is no more. Do you believe that?" 

As Claire saw what he had, she nervously looked away, her bravado quelled temporarily. She avoided eye contact and stared directly ahead at the rats; her face fearful. Her heart rate began to climb steadily. "I'm not telling you anything ... you'll have to kill me." Well aware now of her trepidation Jonathon boldly stated. "I know where your fear lays Claire." He stepped to her side and touched her face. "Can't take your eyes off them, can you?" Claire instinctively tried to pull away from his touch. Randall smiled a pleased, cruel smile, before adding. "This is a very simple technique ...The case fits onto your head. I will remove the wire screen and torch the rats. I'm told they'll do anything to get away from the fire. Anything … including … eat through you. Their teeth will gnaw through your flesh voraciously ... then leave the bone exposed ... in order to escape. Yes, these lovely rodents are very useful indeed." He looked at Claire and saw the way her eyes were transfixed in fear as she watched the cage full of rats. He persisted once more. "Why did Section One send you to Hong Kong?" "For a holiday." "That's a lie. "Well ... seeing that you have all the answers ... why ask?" Irate with her answer Jonathon yelled at Claire. "Now ... you tell me what I want to know! Look at me! Tell me what I ask and it stops." Advancing on her with the cage, he came within a breath's whisper of Claire's face ... something he should never have done. Summoning all her strength, she lifted herself and kicked out; knocking the cage he was holding out of his hands. However, unbeknownst to her the force of her kick also activated a tracker in her shoe. They eyed one another, trying to read each other's next move. Jonathon Randall bent down to retrieve the cage from the floor, and as he did so, Claire locked her legs around him tightly, crushing him as hard as she could. He yelled for someone to come and rescue him. With his gun drawn, Ronald MacNab rushed back into the room and took aim at her. However, he couldn't get a clear shot as Jonathon and Claire were jostling all over the place as they struggled against each other. Holding on to Randall’s body for dear life, she refused to let go and used her leg muscles to exert greater pressure. Finally seeing a chance, MacNab fired his gun but the shot ricocheted off the wall.

  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Without Jonathon Randall's body to protect her, Claire was left in a vulnerable position exposed to Ronald MacNab trigger happy finger but that is not who she should have been concerned about.

“Andy!  I need your assistance!”  Randall bellowed.

Coming to his aid Andy Ma managed to forcibly free Jonathon from Claire's clasp as she kicked out with her legs at both men.

“Go to hell you bastards!” She shouted as Claire eyed the two men with disdain.

 Jonathon Randall was livid that she had managed to catch him off guard and turning to Andy with fury in his eyes asked, “Have you ever kicked a woman Andy? It's very freeing.”

“Punched but not kicked Jonathon,” he replied with glee in his voice at the thought of doing just that.

“Come then. Kick her.”

Andy followed through, but his foot failed to connect to Jonathon’s requirements, which only incensed Randall all the more.

“I said kick her Andy, not like a milksop!”

Kick her like this!” he demanded as he himself laid a brutal blow to Claire’s body demonstrating what he needed Andy to do. “You see? They're so soft. Now do it again.”

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Just as the two men were about to lay into Claire once more Wang Yu and other triad members entered the torture chamber.

"Hey! ... What's going on?" Wang Yu demanded to know furiously. "Put that gun away MacNab. Jonathon and Andy ... I told you we don't want her dead ... she's still useful to us."

However, ignoring Wang Yu, Jonathon Randall came forward and punched Claire in the ribs. "Shit! ... you'll keep ... don't think I will forget this ... because I won't." 

Claire tried to relax her body but to little effect. The pain was unbearable especially when Randall gave her another blow for good luck. She endured the first blow but the second was her undoing. Claire closed her eyes. Her heart pounded, her body tensed, and pain shot through her. She cried out in agony ... "Rot in hell ... you bastard!" 

"Jonathon!" Wang Yu admonished leading him away from the hostage. "There is another way ... Come with me ... I will explain."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued on Friday 17th

[liilyjane]

❛ her mother told her she could grow up to be anything she wanted be, so she grew up to become the strongest of the strong, the strangest of the strange, the wildest of the wild, the wolf leading wolves. ❜

cis woman / she/her. ┊ if you’re looking for LILY EVANS, you’ll probably find HER in the GRYFFINDOR dorm with the rest of the SEVENTH years. they’re the TWENTY year old MUGGLEBORN who looks kind of like KENNEDY MCMANN. they seem DYNAMIC, HEADSTRONG & EMPATHETIC to me, but apparently they’re also DOMINEERING, POSSESSIVE & MORALLY ABSOLUTIST maybe that’s why they remind me of the sweet smell of rain after a storm, heart shaped cookies burning in an oven, promising forever only to be met with the end of the world, initials carved into trees that you wish would burn, smudged eyeliner, stacks and stacks of unread books.

links: stats, pinterest character parallels: jane villanueva (jane the virgin), claire randall (outlander), amy santiago (brooklyn nine-nine), erin (derry girls), donna pinciotti (that ‘70s show), shirley crain (the haunting of hill house)

the evans family, circa 1960 — practically perfect in every way. xavier evans was rising in the ranks of his job as a bank teller; petunia evans had recently learned how to walk and spent most of her time prancing around the small cokeworth estate; and annabelle evans had just given birth to the most beautiful baby girl, lily. nothing here could possibly go wrong.

and for the longest time, nothing did. little lily grew up in a household full of smiles, forming a particularly strong bond with her older sister and learning to love only in the largest of doses. for five years, the evans family were so picture perfect you might have even thought it fake, but no amount of love could ever be pretend with this small bunch - they simply knew that happiness was around every corner and chased it with all the childlike optimism the world had to offer.

it was once lily turned five that things took a turn for the worse. the little toddlers happiness and excitement could no longer be contained in such a small body and so instead decided to lash out on the house. beds floating, cats hurtling across the room, the bushes out the front blooming with red in the middle of winter. the simple and mundane had suddenly become anything but - lily jane evans was a witch.

but of course, that wouldn’t be explained for at least another three years. from the ages of five to eight, xavier and annabelle liked to believe that it was miracles that followed their beautiful baby girl. petunia, however, was not so forgiving. she feared for what her freak of a sister was capable of, but for the most part, she kept her fears to herself. her sister was still her sister, after all, and she would still try her best to love her as before.

it was in the summer of 1968 that lily first met severus snape - an odd little boy from the bad side of town, as petunia liked to call him. lily simply preferred to call him her best friend. lily and severus got on like a house on fire for the simple fact that severus seemed to be the only one who truly understood her. it was severus that first explained to lily what she truly was, and lily wholeheartedly believed him. petunia, of course, was furious for how the greasy little boy drove a wedge between her and her sister and was even more horrified to learn of what he was telling her - no one could do magic. not really. lily and severus were simple freaks.

the first time petunia called lily a freak, lily cried herself to sleep. what could possibly drive her sister, one of her closest friends, to say such a thing? she wasn’t lying. she really could do magic, and it was beautiful. and yet petunia refused to believe it, and for that, lily was devastated. all she wanted was to share her gifts with her sister and instead her gifts were exactly what drove them apart.

lily always lived to regret how she handled this gradual separation. her fervent heart turned quickly from love to anger, furious that petunia refused to share this gift with her, but of course she should’ve realised that it was still enough to love without magic getting in the way. she feels as though she shoved her magic in her sisters face and that is why petunia hates her, and if she could go back in time and pretend magic was nothing all for the sake of the sister, perhaps she would.

when a strange owl dropped a letter on the evans’ front door step explaining that magic really was real, lily couldn’t really say she was surprised. after all, sev had told her this day would come. she was over and done with the surprise and confusion and was now able to be wholly and completely ecstatic for her start at school.

what she didn’t expect, however, was to be torn away from her best friend on the first day. severus had explained the house system to her before, and she’d always wished to be in the house of the ferocious lions, she just hadn’t realised how polarising it would be to be a lion and to love a snake. for a while, she was seen once again as a freak, this time by her peers, and this time for many reasons: one, for fraternizing with the enemy, and two, for being a muggleborn.

just as when she had been called a freak the first time, lily cried when she was first called a mudblood. where had she gone wrong? severus had described hogwarts as somewhere magical, somewhere inviting, a home away from home, and yet here she was just as equally criticized, ostracized, and bullied as back at cokeworth. severus ended up being her only friend for months as she tried to find a way to fit in, and a part of her almost resented him for that.

but of course, lily jane evans is not just going to sit back and accept a terrible fate. lily jane evans is a fighter, first and foremost. lily jane evans fought tooth and nail to be accepted within hogwarts, to be loved and, most of all, to be respected. and it didn’t take long for this to come true. lily was bright and cheery and had all the boisterous enthusiasm of her housemates, and for that reason she finally found friends outside of severus.

slowly, these friends became her best. they surpassed that of her sister, that of severus, and became her main priority. severus was not forgotten, of course, though perhaps he liked to act like he was. lily tried to keep their friendship alight for the first few years, but it was far too clear in this context that lily evans and severus snape were from two different worlds - they didn’t fit. they drifted and drifted until fifth year came - and everything came crashing down.

hearing severus call her a mudblood was not just heartbreaking, it was blood boiling. lily thought that she could trust this boy, this friend who had been there for her since she was eight, but that clearly wasn’t the case. he was done with her, and she was more than done with him.

after this incident, lily became a lot less trusting of people’s intentions. there was a tension bubbling in this exciting and mystical world she was now a part of and some people were always going to be on the wrong side - and she might not even know it. and so she was cautious, she chose her friends carefully, she learned how to let go. things were only going to get tougher.

proving herself tough and intelligent and a true leader at hogwarts, lily has been awarded the title of head girl in her last year, a role she takes very seriously despite some of her misdemeanours in previous years (punching someone for calling you a mudblood shouldn’t give you detention, anyway). she pushes herself hard in her final year, some would say to the brink, but she has a purpose now - the tensions are boiling over and she is about to be thrust into the real world, where life is no longer so protected...

MISCELLANEOUS

lily has a very black and white way of looking at the world. to her, there is good and there is bad, and you choose which one you are. a good example of this is what happened with severus - for the whole time she’d known him, lily had thought severus to be a good person, no matter his house or his limited supply of friends. he might’ve been odd but he was good, but the moment he called her a mudblood, something in her switched, and severus was bad. she went from trying to talk to him every day to never talking to him again, from viewing him as her best friend even in the toughest of situations to her worst enemy. lily feels everything very strongly (love, hate, anger etc.) and this only feeds this somewhat toxic way of thinking. basically - don’t cross lily. she will write you off in a second.

the only exception to this rule is petunia dursley - push and push and push enough and lily understands that petunia is not wholly good, but she cannot bring herself to say her sister is wholly bad either. lily wasn’t invited to her sisters wedding, she hasn’t even so much as met vernon yet because petunia refuses to see her, and yet still lily would drop everything if it meant she could spend the day with her sister. it’s very complicated. yikes!

another note: lily starts to move away from this type of thinking when she gets closer to james and realises that maybe her impressions of people are wrong but... we have to wait and see that one out, don’t we!

lily loves baking. no, she is not good at it.

lily taught herself how to cast a patronus last year, but she tends to keep this information to herself. she knows she is strong and talented, but she doesn’t feel the need to show it off.

[lilyjanevans]

❛  her mother told her she could grow up to be anything she wanted be, so she grew up to become the strongest of the strong, the strangest of the strange, the wildest of the wild, the wolf leading wolves. ❜

( ciswoman | she/her | madelaine petsch ) — isn’t that LILY EVANS? yeah that is them, sitting there at the GRYFFINDOR table with those other SIXTH years. when sybill looks into that crystal ball of hers, she sees he sweet smell of rain after a storm, heart shaped cookies burning in an oven, promising forever only to be met with the end of the world, initials carved into trees that you wish would burn, smudged eyeliner, stacks and stacks of unread books. anyway i’ve heard they’re pretty DYNAMIC, HEADSTRONG, and DOMINEERING. apparently they’re A MEMBER FOR THE LIGHT and MUGGLEBORN but i’m sure that’s not related.

character inspiration: jane villanueva (jane the virgin), claire randall (outlander), amy santiago (brooklyn nine-nine), erin (derry girls), donna pinciotti (that ‘70s show), shirley crain (the haunting of hill house) links: stats, pinterest

BIOGRAPHY

the evans family, circa 1960 — practically perfect in every way. xavier evans was rising in the ranks of his job as a bank teller; petunia evans had recently learned how to walk and spent most of her time prancing around the small cokeworth estate; and annabelle evans had just given birth to the most beautiful baby girl, lily. nothing here could possibly go wrong.

and for the longest time, nothing did. little lily grew up in a household full of smiles, forming a particularly strong bond with her older sister and learning to love only in the largest of doses. for five years, the evans family were so picture-perfect you might have even thought it fake, but no amount of love could ever be pretend with this small bunch - they simply knew that happiness was around every corner and chased it with all the childlike optimism the world had to offer.

it was once lily turned five that things took a turn for the worse. the little toddler’s happiness and excitement could no longer be contained in such a small body and so instead decided to lash out on the house. beds floating, cats hurtling across the room, the bushes out the front blooming with red in the middle of winter. the simple and mundane had suddenly become anything but - lily jane evans was a witch.

but of course, that wouldn’t be explained for at least another three years. from the ages of five to eight, xavier and annabelle liked to believe that it was miracles that followed their beautiful baby girl. petunia, however, was not so forgiving. she feared for what her freak of a sister was capable of, but for the most part, she kept her fears to herself. her sister was still her sister, after all, and she would still try her best to love her as before.

it was in the summer of 1968 that lily first met severus snape. an odd little boy from the bad side of town, as petunia liked to call him. lily simply preferred to call him her best friend. lily and severus got on like a house on fire for the simple fact that severus seemed to be the only one who truly understood her. it was severus that first explained to lily what she truly was, and lily wholeheartedly believed him. petunia, of course, was furious for how the greasy little boy drove a wedge between her and her sister and was even more horrified to learn of what he was telling her - no one could do magic. not really. lily and severus were simple freaks.

the first time petunia called lily a freak, lily cried herself to sleep. what could possibly drive her sister, one of her closest friends, to say such a thing? she wasn’t lying. she really could do magic, and it was beautiful. and yet petunia refused to believe it, and for that, lily was devastated. all she wanted was to share her gifts with her sister and instead her gifts were exactly what drove them apart.

lily always lived to regret how she handled this gradual separation. her fervent heart turned quickly from love to anger, furious that petunia refused to share this gift with her, but of course she should’ve realised that it was still enough to love without magic getting in the way. she feels as though she shoved her magic in her sisters face in retaliation for how petunia acted and that is why petunia hates her, and if she could go back in time and pretend magic was nothing all for the sake of the sister, perhaps she would.

when minerva mcgonagall knocked on the evans’ door to explain to the family that magic really was real, lily couldn’t really say she was surprised. after all, sev had told her this day would come. she was over and done with the surprise and confusion and was now able to be wholly and completely ecstatic for her start at school.

what she didn’t expect, however, was to be torn away from her best friend on the first day. severus had explained the house system to her before, and she’d always wished to be in the house of the ferocious lions, she just hadn’t realised how polarising it would be to be a lion and to love a snake. for a while, she was seen once again as a freak, this time to her peers, and this time for many reasons: one, for fraternizing with the enemy, and two, for being a muggleborn.

just as when she had been called a freak the first time, lily cried when she was first called a mudblood. where had she gone wrong? severus had described hogwarts as somewhere magical, somewhere inviting, a home away from home, and yet here she was just as equally criticized, ostracized, and bullied as back at cokeworth. severus ended up being her only friend for months as she tried to find a way to fit in, and a part of her almost resented him for that.

but of course, lily jane evans is not just going to sit back and accept a terrible fate. lily jane evans is a fighter, first and foremost. lily jane evans fought tooth and nail to be accepted within hogwarts, to be loved and, most of all, to be respected. and it didn’t take long for this to come true. lily was bright and cheery and had all the boisterous enthusiasm of her housemates, and for that reason, she finally found friends outside of severus.

slowly, these friends became her best. they surpassed that of her sister, that of severus, and became her main priority. severus was not forgotten, of course, though perhaps he liked to act like he was. lily tried to keep their friendship alight for the first few years, but it was far too clear in this context that lily evans and severus snape were from two different worlds - they didn’t fit. they drifted and drifted until fifth year came - and everything came crashing down.

hearing severus call her that was not just heartbreaking, it was blood boiling. lily thought that she could trust this boy, this friend who had been there for her since she was eight, but that clearly wasn’t the case. he was done with her, and she was more than done with him.

now in her sixth year, some like to say that lily’s loud-mouth activism for muggleborns and half-bloods is a way to get back at severus - but that’s not ever even crossed her mind. when lily punches a slytherin for calling her a mudblood, or screams at a purist for spitting on a younger student, it is not severus she is thinking of. it is all those months she spent by herself, feeling ostracised by the community she was supposed to belong to, only to realise she was just as strong, if not stronger than anyone else. lily is proudly on the side of the resistance because she knows what it’s like to be hated for your blood - and she won’t stop until every purist scum is wiped off the face of the earth.

MISCELLANEOUS

lily has a very black and white way of looking at the world. to her, there is good and there is bad, and you choose which one you are. a good example of this is what happened with severus - for the whole time she’d known him, lily had thought severus to be a good person, no matter his house or his limited supply of friends. he might’ve been odd but he was good, but the moment he called her a mudblood, something in her switched, and severus was bad. she went from trying to talk to him every day to never talking to him again, from viewing him as her best friend even in the toughest of situations to her worst enemy. lily feels everything very strongly (love, hate, anger etc.) and this only feeds this somewhat toxic way of thinking. basically - don’t cross lily. she will write you off in a second.

the only exception to this rule is petunia dursley - push and push and push enough and lily understands that petunia is not wholly good, but she cannot bring herself to say her sister is wholly bad either. lily wasn’t invited to her sisters wedding, she hasn’t even so much as met vernon yet because petunia refuses to see her, and yet still lily would drop everything if it meant she could spend the day with her sister. it’s very complicated. yikes!

another note: lily starts to move away from this type of thinking when she gets closer to james and realises that maybe her impressions of people are wrong but… we have to wait and see that one out, don’t we!

after the incident in which severus called her a mudblood, lily has become a lot less trusting of people’s intentions. there is a tension bubbling in this exciting and mystical world she is now a part of and some people are always going to be on the wrong side - and she might not even know it. and so she is cautious, she chooses her friends carefully, she doesn’t get close. that’s just how it is.

lily loves baking. no, she is not good at it.

[whenfrasermetbeauchamp]

Jenny recovered rapidly after Margaret’s birth, insisting on coming downstairs the day following the delivery. At the combined insistence of Ian and Jamie, she reluctantly refrained from doing any work, only supervising from the sofa in the parlor where she reclined, baby Margaret sleeping in her cradle alongside.

Not content to sit idle, though, within a day or two she had ventured as far as the kitchen, and then the back garden. Sitting on the wall, the well-wrapped baby in a carrying sling, she was keeping me company as I simultaneously pulled dead vines and kept an eye on the enormous cauldron in which the household’s laundry was boiled. Mrs. Crook and the maids had already removed the clean wash to be hung and dried; now I was waiting for the water to cool sufficiently to be dumped out.

Small Jamie was “helping” me, yanking out plants with mad abandon and flinging bits of stick in all directions. I called a warning as he ventured too near the cauldron, then raced after him as he ignored me. Luckily the pot had cooled quickly; the water was no more than warm. Warning him to keep back with his mother, I grasped the pot and tilted it away from the iron contrivance that held it and kept it from falling.

I sprang back out of the way as the dirty water cascaded over the lip of the pot, steaming in the chilly air. Young Jamie, squatting beside me on his heels, splatted his hands joyfully in the warm mud, and black droplets flew all over my skirts.

His mother slid down from the wall, yanked him up by the collar and dealt him a smart clout on the backside.

“Have ye no sense, gille? Look at ye! There’s your shirt’ll have to go and be washed again! And look what ye’ve done to your auntie’s skirt, ye wee heathen!”

“It doesn’t matter,” I protested, seeing the miscreant’s lower lip quiver.

“Weel, it matters to me,” said Jenny, giving her offspring the benefit of a gimlet eye. “Say ‘sorry’ to your auntie, laddie, then get ye into the house and have Mrs. Crook give ye a bit of a wash.” She patted his bottom, gently this time, and gave him a push in the direction of the house.

We were turning back to the mass of sodden clothes, when the sound of hoofbeats came from the road.

“That’ll be Jamie back, I expect,” I said, listening. “He’s early, though.”

Jenny shook her head, peering intently toward the road. “Not his horse.”

The horse, when it appeared at the crest of a hill, was not one she knew, to judge from her frown. The man aboard, though, was no stranger. She stiffened beside me, then began to run toward the gate, wrapping both arms around the baby to hold it steady.

“It’s Ian!” she called to me.

He was tattered and dusty and bruised about the face, as he slid off his horse. One bruise on his forehead was swollen, with a nasty split that went through the eyebrow. Jenny caught him under the arm as he hit the ground, and it was only then I saw that his wooden leg was gone.

“Jamie,” he gasped. “We met the Watch near the mill. Waiting for us. They knew we were coming.”

My stomach lurched. “Is he alive?”

He nodded, panting for breath. “Aye. Not wounded, either. They took him to the west, toward Killin.”

Jenny’s fingers were exploring his face.

“Are ye bad hurt, man?”

He shook his head. “No. They took my horse and my leg; they didna need to kill me to stop me following.”

Jenny glanced at the horizon, where the sun lay just above the trees. Maybe four o’clock, I estimated. Ian followed her gaze and anticipated her question.

“We met them near midday. It took me over two hours to get to a place that had a horse.”

She stood still, for a moment, calculating, then turned to me with decision.

“Claire. Help Ian to the house, will ye, and if he needs aught in the way of doctoring, do it as fast as ye can. I’ll give the babe to Mrs. Crook and fetch the horses.”

She was gone before either of us could protest.

“Does she mean…but she can’t!” I exclaimed. “She can’t mean to leave the baby!”

Ian was leaning heavily on my shoulder as we made our way slowly up the path to the house. He shook his head.

“Maybe not. But I dinna think she means to let the English hang her brother, either.”

— Outlander/Cross Stitch

Photos: Starz, Season One, Episode Thirteen, May 2, 2015

Book: Outlander (Cross Stitch), Diana Gabaldon, 1991

Tumblr: September 21, 2018, WhenFraserMetBeauchamp 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿❤️🇬🇧

WFMB’s Tags: #Outlander #Season One Episode Thirteen #S1E13 #The Watch #Outlander/Cross Stitch #Chapter Thirty-Three #look what ye’ve done to your auntie’s skirt, ye wee heathen! #I dinna think she means to let the English hang her brother #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Jenny Murray #Ian Murray #Ian Mòr #64 #092118

[rememberthattime]

Chapter 54. Scotland

“Sing me a song of a lass that is gone

Say, could that lass be Chelsay?

Merry of soul she sailed on a day

Over the sea to Skye”

Those lyrics are from an 1870s song about Scotland’s Prince Charlie fleeing from the British after his failed Jacobite rebellion. ...They’re also from the Outlander theme song, but just ignore that.  

I’m using them because the lyrics are a perfect introduction to Chelsay and I’s Scotland escape following lockdown.

I wrote about the lockdown in the last post, but the past five months have been… uncomfortable. Chelsay and I made it through relatively easily, but months of stay-at-home orders, minimal social activity, and the daily onslaught of terrible news take their toll.

Chelsay and I also hadn’t taken a single day off since we started in London six months ago. Without the chance to travel, we didn’t want to waste our vacation days sitting at home. All of this culminated in a pent-up desire for adventure. To get away from the house, the city, and the news.

Flights and international travel aren’t quite safe yet, but luckily we have Chelsay’s favorite travel destination in our own backyard: Scotland.

One of the only small benefits of lockdown has been the extra time to plan trips. I mentioned in the last post that I booked fully cancelable trips throughout the year, preparing for whenever lockdown measures eased. I knew the Puglia and Lakes District trips in April and May had little chance, but a road trip to Scotland in July MIGHT be possible. I scoured the news throughout lockdown, interpreting every story in the context of possible travel: “Did you see France is opening up in May - good sign. And the UK said they might open restaurants in June...”

Chelsay quickly got tired of my over-analysis, but finally, in June, the Scottish government announced they’d reopen for tourists on July 15. I’d booked the trip back in April, but nailed the start date: July 17. Nostra(vel)damus.

With a flood of confidence and excitement, I used our remaining lockdown time to smooth any potential hurdles throughout the trip. Downloading offline maps, saving every possible location we’d visit, researching the best trails and how to avoid crowds - even trawling Google Street View to find where to park (difficult given how rural Scotland is).

We left a bit later on Friday afternoon than planned, so our six hour Day 1 drive had us crossing the Scottish border around 11 pm. That said, Chelsay downloaded some excellent podcasts to pass the time: Dolly Parton’s America and Serial Season 3.

Day 2 is when the trip really began. And within 5 minutes of arriving at our first destination, Glencoe, the dream of our Scottish escape became reality.

We’d visited Glencoe on our 2016 road trip through Scotland, but I planned the 2020 visit slightly differently. Namely, I accommodated a dog. I found a quieter trail far from the road, but still providing dramatic views of the undulating valley.

Maybe it was freedom from the previous day’s drive, but Indy seemed entirely in his element. He was darting off path, investigating small waterfalls along the trail, and thoroughly enjoying every bit of his border collie homeland.

Chelsay and I were swept up in the setting too. This wasn’t stuffy London – it was nature… Raw nature… Raw nature happening all at once: wind, clouds, sun, and rain all within 10 minutes. These are the elements in Scotland, but it didn’t bother us at all. In fact, it was invigorating. After months of being cooped-up at home, we felt so much freedom just steps into our first walk.

I was also overwhelmed by another emotion: adventure. It’d been so long that I hardly recognized the feeling. You start the day in one place – at home, in your routine.  Then, suddenly, you step out of the car, train, or plane, and you’re transported to a different planet. What happened to your routine? Work, cooking, doing the dishes… all gone. Your attention is completely captured by what’s in front of you: colourful Italian villas, wild Australian outback, open Indian Ocean. Glencoe may only be a few hundred miles from London, but this adventurous feeling took Chelsay & I worlds away.

Now, when I say Scotland took us worlds away, I could have been more precise: it took us specifically to the Wizarding world (of Harry Potter).

This was especially true when visiting Glenfinnan Viaduct. Here, the Jacobite steam train passes through a scenic valley along a viaduct twice a day… But the picturesque backdrop isn’t what makes this experience so popular. It’s the fact that the train & viaduct are portrayed as the Hogwarts Express in Harry Potter. As steam billowed into the air and the locomotive let out a whistle, Chelsay jumped around and triumphantly pumped her fist. Indy had the opposite reaction, running away from the booming train as it chugged by.

After a quick stop at fairy-tale castle Eilean Donan, Chelsay and I wrapped up our long journey from London, finally arriving in Balmaqueen on the northern tip of Skye. This trip was really to celebrate Chelsay’s 30th birthday, so I splurged a bit on a holiday cottage. Immediately upon our arrival, Chelsay and I wished we could move here permanently.

First, the cottage was completely renovated – it’s rare for a place this remote to offer Nespresso, Netflix, and digitally-controlled shower, but the owners had thoughtfully accommodated every modern comfort.  Second, and far more significant, the cottage maximized its stunning scenery. Two reclining chairs faced out through the cottage’s wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling windows. Some of my best memories from this trip are the quiet mornings Chelsay and I spent in these recliners, sipping coffee while staring out at peaceful pastures and the surrounding North Atlantic sea.

We spent the next three days exploring Skye’s wild landscapes. We’d visited Skye in our 2016 Scotland roadtrip, but despite being a relatively small island (two hours from end-to-end), the 2020 itinerary was almost entirely unique. Chelsay & I only repeated one experience from the previous trip: the Quiraing, our favorite hike in the entire world.  

Minutes into the hike, we were reminded of the Quiraing’s desolate beauty. My description from the last Scotland trip is still spot-on:  

“I’ve never seen solid land twist and turn in this way – the blending brown and olive hues, the fact that there were no trees, and the smooth bending earth made land look like waves.

For some reason, there’s something about this desolate sight that I love: just us, empty space, and open sky (Skye, pun?). There are no city sounds or buildings or buses or people, and there are no boundaries. Just boundless expanse.”

Despite repeating many of the same views, this experience was still unique for two reasons:

First, Indy introduced a new dangerous element. In London, we worry about him invading an unsuspecting picnic. At the Quiraing, a wrong turn could lead him off a cliff. He earned our trust by staying nearby for the first 15 minutes, and we figured border collies are smart enough to safely stay on-trail. We let him off-leash and immediately regretted it – he’s an idiot. He started bounding around the bouncy moss and, next thing we knew, he’d jumped off a 12 foot crag. OMG – is he dead!? I was taking a picture at the time so you can see how big of a vertical drop it was... Thank god he popped up like nothing happened! The only reason he didn’t break both legs was because he awkwardly landed on his face and chest. Needless to say, he was back on leash until the path became safer.  

The other difference from our previous visit was the weather. In 2016, Chelsay & I had to have visited on the hottest day in Scottish history (consequently, we packed extra water this time). In 2020, the weather was back to its normal, turbulent self. The hike started with patches of blue sky – Chelsay and I actually took our jackets off during a quick lunch. It was perfectly pleasant, until Chelsay quietly mumbled “Uh oh” under her breath. I turned around to see billows of rain tumbling over a cliff face about half a mile away. An entire ocean of rain. It looked like the dead invading Hard Home in Game of Thrones.

You could tell it was moving fast so as you read, keep in mind, the following sequence of events happened in under 20 seconds. First, I yelled “Initiate protocol!” (as if Chelsay & I had trained for this) and we hastily packed everything, especially hiding our electronics. Chelsay crouched behind a hill to brace from the wind & rain, and god bless him, Indy INSTINCTIVELY darted underneath her! I’ll never forget his terrified little body sprinting over and literally diving into the hillside. He’d seen exactly what I’d seen (the Army of the Dead) and wanted no part of it. The dowsing ambush only lasted 10 minutes, and thanks to our waterproof gear, we survived... though I’ll never forget Indy’s panicked reaction.

There was actually a second memorable weather-induced experience this trip. Although the storm had passed, heavy clouds remained and completely enveloped the peak. The fog line was very unusual though: there was a distinct line between dense fog and unspoilt views, which gave us two entirely unique feelings. At the top, the brooding clouds felt ethereal and mysterious. We couldn’t see more than 50 yards. Meanwhile, the descent ensured we wouldn’t be robbed of the spectacular setting, providing pristine views of the sweeping landscape.

Similar to our 2016 trip to Skye, the Quiraing was the highlight of our time on the island. That isn’t a surprise: as I said earlier, it’s our favorite hike in the world. That said, our other adventures on Skye were similarly invigorating.  

After the Quiraing, we made a brief some at Neist Point, where a lonely lighthouse sits at the edge of a craggily outcrop. Chelsay, Indy, and I looked on as the North Atlantic waves crashed below, seagulls squawking as they swooped toward the water. What makes Neist Point especially unique is its undulating shape: similar to my quote from the Quiraing, I didn’t know solid land could twist & turn this way.  

The next day, we’d embark on our longest hike of the week: Camasunary Bay, a secluded cove only accessible by foot or boat. This hike doesn’t really have a peak, but rather a long journey through open farmland, leading to a secret beach at the base of the Black Cuillin Mountains.

Along the way, Indy met a fellow border collie named Clyde. I’ll first say that it was extremely rare to bump into people in Scotland (which I loved), but when we did, they often had border collies (which I also loved). Indy had only met one other border collie while in London… and its name is ironically Skye! He met at least 10 in just four days on the island.

Anyway, Indy and Clyde played around in an open heath overlooking the quiet bay. Indy again jumped off a ledge from way too high, this time falling into a bush… He really is an idiot, but again managed to avoid injury.

We completed the long walk without further issue, though Chelsay and I were exhausted by the end. After the Quiraing and Camasunary Bay on back-to-back days, we could hardly feel our legs. Our massive Amatriciana dinner that night revived us, and was hands down the best meal all trip.

We moved very slowly the next day – I’d say we didn’t want to overwork Indy’s juvenile joints, but really our >30-year-old knees couldn’t take anymore. We managed one shorter walk: Old Man of Storr. This is actually the most famous attraction on Skye, but Chelsay and I had previously avoided it due to its popularity. Thanks to Covid though, the crowds were scarce, and we pretty much had the trail to ourselves.

The next day, we departed Skye for Scotland’s far north, Assynt, which is somehow more topographically extreme than Skye.  This terrain pushes most Assynt hikes out of Indy’s (our knees’) range, though there was one feasible option: Stac Pollaidh. “Stac Polly” is just a four-mile hike, but its 1,700 foot elevation provides both a healthy challenge and a view that ‘punches above its weight.’

This view is hidden throughout the ascent, but once you reach the top, the scenery is stunning. It’s like nowhere Chelsay and I have been – like a Scottish Monument Valley: lonely monoliths looming over a basin of stony cnocs and boggy lochs. The setting beneath us had the topographical diversity of an entire continent!

We were due to stay in Assynt for a few days, but decided to make a rare mid-trip audible for two reasons:

Our entire Assynt itinerary was hikes, and we were exhausted. It was time to rest.

Our AirBnb was haunted.

In our 50+ trips while abroad, we hardly ever make such drastic mid-trip changes, but we’ve gotten to the age where we want a little relaxation in our vacation… free from ghosts. Thanks to my Booking.com status (and the Covid-induced absence of travel demand), we found a shockingly affordable alternative:  Thainstone House, a country mansion in Aberdeenshire.

Aberdeenshire is in Scotland northeast, just above Inverness. Its known for its pastural setting (and steak), but also its salty sea coastline. It’s a few hours away from Assynt, yet our couple stops en route proved our audible was the right call.

First, we stopped in the small fishing village of Lossiemouth. I don’t remember anything about the town… We were really just visiting for the four-mile long beach, accessible by crossing a short bridge over the surrounding canal.

Well, the bridge was closed, but the canal’s water levels seemed low enough. After getting drenched at the Quiraing, crossing this dry creek wouldn’t be an issue.  

Wrong. The next hour was eventful, so I’ll break it down in bullet form:

First, the creek was slightly deeper in certain places, but Chelsay remained dry in her tall rainboots. My duck boots were too short, so our solution was that I’d jump on Chelsay’s back, and she’d carry me through this short stretch…

This plan lasted two small steps before she dropped me in the river. My feet were soaked, but no worry. We had all our clothes in the car, so I’d just change when we get back.

We arrived at the beach, an immaculate stretch of empty sand and surf. Apparently, no one else ‘braved’ the canal, because Chelsay, Indy, and I had the beach to ourselves. Well, except the dolphins and seals we saw along the shore! The entire setting was gorgeous: wind-swept grass, endless sandy expanse, and clear waters quietly crashing along the shore.

After thoroughly tuckering Indy out, we decided to head back to the car. One problem, the tide had changed, and the dry creek was now a FLOWING RIVER! WHAT!? We hadn’t even considered the tide when we ventured out… It was too shallow to even think about!

…The emptiness of the beach now made a lot more sense.

Already wet (from being dropped earlier), we decided the only way back was through. The below video is from the SAFER portion of our fording experience. Imagine the scene on the deeper side: Chelsay and I. Waist deep in the river. Fully submerged in shame.

This story may sound familiar… In fact, it’s happened to us before. In Scotland. It was Loch Coruisk, and Chelsay & I were forced to ford a river to catch a once-a-day ferry. What is it about us and Scottish rivers…

Back on dry land, Chelsay and I continued our Aberdeenshire tour through three more small towns: Fordyce, a 13th century hamlet where we stopped at the town’s Old Kirk (church) for lunch; followed by Crovie and Pennan, two salty fishing villages with single-row housing along the seafront.  …After the river ordeal earlier, we didn’t stick around to see what high tide was like.

We pulled into Thainstone House around 4 pm on Thursday, and the car didn’t move until Saturday around 10 am. That kind of dormancy is RARE for Chelsay & I. The only other vacation where we didn’t leave our accommodation for 36 straight hours was Fiji… where the entire island was our accommodation.

The grounds of Thainstone served as an ‘island’ of sorts for Chelsay & I. There was no reason to leave because the manor met every need: elegant dining, dog-friendly trails, cozy rooms, soothing lounges, and plenty of wine & scotch to occupy our leisure time. Chelsay thinks the staff even tailored to our Americanness: they kept playing Chris Stapleton whenever we were in a room alone.

We were sad to leave on Saturday. Not only had we appreciated the slower pace, but we also knew the next two days required driving 11 hours on our way back to London. That said, we had a few noteworthy stops.

First, a brief visit to Castle Fraser, where we stopped for coffee, scones, and walk. This short break was a reminder of the perks of living in Europe: even road trip stopovers included a fairy-tale castle.

We also stopped in St. Andrews, a small, charming college town north of Edinburgh. Over the next few hours, we walked the campus grounds (regarded as one of the best universities in the world and alma mater to Prince William, the future King); took in St. Andrews cathedral (built in the 12th century); and walked the St. Andrews golf grounds (known as ‘home of golf’ and site of the first round in the 15th century). Indy wasn’t impressed – he pooped on the Old Course.

And that was it. That was our trip. We just had one overnight stop in Peebles, Scotland before arriving back home in London…

Well, except… This stop turned out to be the highlight of our entire trip. I’ve genuinely rushed through the last 3,000 words to finally get to this part.

Chelsay & I had an entire castle to ourselves!  

Backing up: I’d initially reserved different accommodation in Peebles, but the owner had accidently double booked. They were very apologetic, and offered an alternative: the ‘Queen Mary suite’ in Neidpath Castle.

I had no idea what she was talking about… I checked the website: a 13th century castle that has hosted Mary, Queen of Scots, her son King James, and poet William Wordsworth. …Yeah, I’ll take the castle!  

Despite this anticipation, our stay still exceeded my expectations. When booking, I thought we’d only be staying in the ‘Queen Mary suite’: a bedroom with accompanying lounge. There were probably other guest rooms though, right?  

Wrong. We pulled up, the owner gave us the keys to the entire castle, and wished us a great stay.

We immediately began running up and down spiral staircases, through corridors, past dungeons, into dining halls, and around the castle’s chapel. We were like little kids. The only other time our hotel had elicited this reaction was in the Maldives (and two days earlier at the country manor… and four days before that at the Skye cottage…).

The castle is so large that we actually lost one another multiple times. One time, Chelsay & I were together but had no idea where Indy had gone… I whistled, but we didn’t hear anything. No movement. We started to worry that maybe he’d gotten hurt or stuck somewhere. We whistled again, but still nothing.  

Suddenly, a *scraaaaaaaaatttcch* came from behind a door.

Chelsay yelped, assuming it was a ghost. Maybe the same one from that Airbnb in Assynt.

We carefully opened the door *creeeeeek*, only to find Indy staring up at us with his mouth wide open. He was having just as much fun exploring the castle.

It had to have been at least two hours before we finally settled down, cozying next to the fire with a bottle of wine. We reminisced on what a spectacular trip it had been, scrolling through the photos to remind ourselves of all the jaw-dropping landscapes we’d visited.

We couldn’t believe some of the scenery… We had just visited these places… We were in the pictures… Yet the settings didn’t seem real.  Glencoe, Skye, that train Chelsay loved, Stac Polly, the river in Lossiemouth…

Scotland’s rugged beauty seems unbelievable in normal circumstances, but the past week felt like even more of a dream given the preceding months. After nearly half a year in lockdown, our Scottish escape was a reminder of how effortlessly adventure awaits while abroad.  

[yetanotheremptypage]

Happy Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day!

Last year, I put together this list of fic recs in honor of the day. They are all amazing, so you should definitely check them out, but in the mean time, here’s some more. I tried to tag most of the ships and/or fandoms, so if you ship any of those or are in the fandom, check out the recs below the cut. Of course, there are plenty more amazing fanfictions/writers out there, and to them, I give a huge THANK YOU! Finally, if you have any interest in any of my stories, links can be found here.

All Aboard the Dreamland Express (Swarkles, How I Met Your Mother) FF [Complete]

Farhampton, 2017. The gang convenes on the fabled front porch at long last, to regroup and address a pressing concern. Written for ficathon suggested by Beneath the Umbrella.

If the finale of HIMYM greatly upsets you, try this instead and it should solve those problems.

Between Universes (Martha Jones/Mickey Smith and Mickey Smith & Rose Tyler, Doctor Who) AO3 [Complete]

Whilst jumping universes using the Dimension Cannon, Rose meets an old friend, and one she has yet to meet, and finds out she will unknowingly give them a wonderful gift. In return, she's given something that could keep them all together even when they couldn't be further apart.

You gotta love Rose Tyler and her Dimension Cannon. In this story, it helps Martha keep fighting during the Year That Never Was, and helps Martha and Mickey find each other. It’s so well written, too.

Falser Than Vows Made In Wine (Rosaline Capulet/Benvolio Montague, Still Star Crossed) AO3 [In-progress]

In which Romeo and Juliet try to be impulsive and romantic, Rosaline and Benvolio get drunk and stupid, and what happens in Vegas... does NOT stay in Vegas.

This. Fic. Is. FANTASTIC. All of the characters are perfectly written, and the story retains the same super slow burn quality of the show, and it’s perfection. Gotta love a good Vegas Wedding AU.

Family Pond ‘Verse (Amy Pond/Rory Williams and 11/River Song, Doctor Who) AO3

This is a beautiful AU series in which Amy and Rory have another child after River, and River and the Doctor also have a kid later down the line. It is beautiful and adorable and just perfection, and features appearances from several other Who characters like Martha and Mickey.

Flood My Mornings (Jamie Fraser/Claire Fraser, Outlander) AO3 || Tumblr (@bonnie-wee-swordsman​) [In-progress]

Two years after Culloden, Jamie accidentally falls through the stones, finding himself in 1950.

Bonnie is such an amazing writer and she keeps Jamie and Claire in character so freaking well and this AU is one of those where you see canon and you’re like, “But wait didn’t-- No, no that was fanfic.”

Gretel (Swarkles and Ted Mosby & Robin Scherbatsky, How I Met Your Mother) AO3 [Complete]

Robin and Ted are sitting in the bar. They actually talk. A bit.

Post-Swarkles engagement where Robin and Ted talk about their feelings and don’t shove them down.

I Got It Bad (But It Feels So Good) (Peter Parker/Michelle, Spider-Man: Homecoming) AO3 [In-Progress]

The first time she kissed him, it's a joke. Michelle knows that it's Peter under the mask. He was supposed to reveal his identity to her.

Instead, he kissed her back.

So Spideychelle consumed my life reaaal quick after seeing Homecoming and this fic is just completely amazing and I love it.

If It’s Not Too Late For Coffee (Jack Harkness & Martha Jones, Doctor Who) AO3 [Complete]

Five times Martha Jones and Jack Harkness had conversations over coffee and one time they didn't.

Martha and Jack’s friendship is just the best, and this explores that over the years. Also features Martha/Mickey.

If Only, If Only (Sanrion, Game of Thrones) FF [In-progress]

How Tyrion and Sansa's wedding night might have gone, and how their stories might have altered because of it. Show-verse.

This is the same beautiful writer who is writing Winter’s Thaw, which I talked about on my last list. This story is just as beautiful, and every time I get the email with an update, I stop what I’m doing and read it. It is so so so good and I love it.

I’ll Find You (Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, The 100) AO3 [Complete]

In every life she's granted, Clarke loves Bellamy Blake's eyes.

Every time Clarke Griffin is reincarnated, she finds Bellamy Blake. They don't always fall in love, they don't always end up together, but they find each other all the same.

I think this is such a great reincarnation fic-- they never remember each other, but no matter how shitty a situation they’re in (War, child cancer patients, and more) they always cross paths. It’s a cool exploration of the way lives can cross, and it even follows history, with an early portion existing in the days of the Roman Empire while later portions chronicle post and pre Ark life. Basically, it’s so good!

Just A Pack of Sweets (Martha Jones/Mickey Smith, Doctor Who) AO3 [Complete]

You know you wondered, and if you do the maths, it's only six weeks from the day Mickey and Martha meet to the day when Martha is said to be on her honeymoon.

Six months after that we learn that Mickey and Martha are married.

Fast work... unless it's timey wimey

I love Martha and Mickey, so this fic exploring their relationship is amazing and wonderful and awesome and I love it. Also features Rose/Tentoo

Life Is What Happens (Sybil x Tom, Downton Abbey) FF [In-progress]

A post-3x05 rewrite of Downton Abbey Series 3 and Series 4 in which Sybil lives. Previously posted on my tumblr blog as a series of drabbles re-imagining scenes in S4 with Sybil present.

Lady Sybil Lives AUs are my fav, and I love this one. Sadly *spoilers* it still kills off Matthew *end spoilers* but everything is handled so well. It’s so good.

Looks Like We Made It (Quicketh, Glee) FF [In-progress]

Future Fic. This is a sequel to "Just Let Me Try" and "We Can Do This" set 5-6 years after Quinn and Puck graduate high school. Follow them as they embark on a new phase of their lives with their family and friends.

This is so so so good. It’s the life I wish Quinn, Puck, and Beth could have had, and the other ones in the series are also perfection.

Moments (Cartson, Agent Carter) FF [Complete]

Peggy Carter, Agent, not coffee girl, not office gopher, not simply Captain America's girl, but Agent. Welcome to the new era that is my life...and Jack's as he gets taken along for the ride

Post-Season 1, including a Season 2 AU, with all of Peggy, Jack, and Daniel’s misadventures. I devoured this thing in like a night because I loved it so much, and the sequel/companion is also amazing.

Nothing Was Ordinary (Sizzy, The Mortal Instruments) AO3 [Complete]

"Isabelle was beautiful, not that Simon was biased or anything. It was a fact he knew so well, but sometimes it would just hit him; like when he was going to retrieve some fallen arrows after their fight with a Shax demon. He probably should keep cleaning what he could, making sure he wasn’t cut anywhere, wasn’t burned by ichor but he found himself just staring."

Filled with endless feels on the ending of Lady Midnight, here's a take on the scene Simon mentions in "A Long Conversation". Spoilers for the ending of Lady Midnight.

If you also flailed upon learning that Simon and Isabelle were engaged, this is the one-shot for you.

Pretty Wings (Leyton, One Tree Hill) FF [Complete]

The decision to leave is made quickly, but rationally. The goodbyes are hard, but everyone understands. When Peyton tells Lucas this is their happy ending, he just shakes his head. He tells her it's their happy beginning. Post 6x24 and future Oneshot. LP

I really wish is this is what happened with Leyton after they left. It’s beautiful and I love it.

Redemption Harbor (Leyton, One Tree Hill) FF [Complete]

One man's ferociously cruel obsession causes turmoil in Tree Hill and has our much loved characters striving for salvation, but is it too late? Faith and hope are challenged in a quest for redemption. AU LP

This is so freaking sad and angsty but so beautiful too. The sequel is also awesome.

Speak Aloud What Until Now I’ve Only Sung (Auslly, Austin and Ally) FF [Complete]

It takes eleven years of bad timing and miscommunication, plus one called off engagement, but eventually they figure it out. Austin/Ally through the years. "Austin is her best friend. Having him in her life is more important than anything else ... even if it means having her heart broken from time to time." Complete.

This slightly AU fic is just the right amount of angsty that you have to keep reading, and of course, these two idiots are perfectly in character to boot.

Stay With Me, Go Places (Swarkles, How I Met Your Mother) FF [In-progress]

"No, we really did get divorced. It just kind of turns out that we sucked at it."

If you also were destroyed by the HIMYM finale and need a new canon to accept, may I suggest this one?

To Build A Home (Frary, Reign) FF [Complete]

"The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that - a parent's heart bared, beating forever outside its chest." -Debra Ginsberg / Nine months, nine moments, and the building of a family.

Frary baby feels that I sometimes forget aren’t canon because this story’s that good.

And now, some awesome writers:

quantum-oddity (Mostly Hamilton) AO3 || Tumblr (@my-dearesteliza)

If you love Hamliza and/or Philtheo you need to read these fics. If you love family fluff you need to read these fics. If you love smut you need to read these fics. Long story short, you need to read these fics.

gotham-ruaidh (Mostly Outlander) AO3 || Tumblr (@gotham-ruaidh​)

Gotham’s absolutely amazing Jamie and Claire fics are amazing. My personal favorite is the Modern Glasgow AU, where Jamie and Claire raise their children in modern-day Glasgow. So many Outlander characters appear in various different forms and it makes me so happy.

[austinausten]

In addition to seeing 25+ shows, 30 scenes from Transmission, plus networking/marketing/last minute revisions for said show, I did manage to do A LOT of sightseeing in Edinburgh.

My solo tourist came out and couldn’t be stopped. Even when my feet hurt at the end of the day or I was tired and hungry, I found a way to go see or experience something else.

But alas, much like when I went to England for my semester abroad, I realized that I will still have to come back to Scotland. There’s so much more to see outside of Edinburgh and even still within that old, literary city.

Here are my highlights:

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Book Lover’s Tour

I was buzzing with excitement and caffeine when I ran out of the hostel for this tour–my first official tourist activity! It lived up to the hype. We walked through Old Town, around Southbridge and the University of Edinburgh mostly, because that’s where a lot of Edinburgh’s literati spent their time. Why? It has been the cheaper area where they could afford to live and work.

I loved seeing where Sir Arthur Conan Doyle went to his medical lectures, the bar where he and Robert Louis Stevenson hung out, the place where RLS met his model for Long John Silver from Treasure Island, and so many more places of interest for these and the two main literary influences from Scotland: Sir Walter Scott and Robert Burns.

Our guide also pointed out a few of the notable Harry Potter spots. I went back and found them all on my own, in a spread out, unofficial tour of my own making. I did have coffee at the Elephant Cafe one morning, but hated the over-crowded and tourist-y feel. My brunch at Spoons, the place where Rowling wrote the first few chapters of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, put me much more in tune with my own muse.

One night when I felt lonely, wandering the streets alone while crowds pushed past to find the next Fringe party, I did cheer myself up by finding Rowling’s handprints by City Hall.

Again, I didn’t make it to all the famous spots–like the house where RLS was born, or the Arthur Conan Doyle Society–but it’s worth going back. What other cities have monuments to authors so big and tall as the Sir Walter Scott monument? Not many.

Finally, an unofficial new spot on my writer’s tour was The Brass Monkey. Though it’s a pub, I never had a chance to grab a drink there. I did push through the crowds on my first Saturday there to inquire for a postcard my best friend had left me. The bartenders smiled and retrieved it for me. Letters are still magical.

  Edinburgh Castle and Stirling Castle

View from Edinburgh Castle

Saint Margaret in her chapel

The first I saw at the beginning of my trip on my own. The second, Stirling Castle, I saw with a crew of my Transmission friends at the end of our Highland tour.

Unlike the castles in Germany, these did not feel like fairy tale castles, but much more like forts where important battles were fought. Even in sacred spaces like the 13th century Margaret’s Chapel, it felt like so much history had been hard won both within and without its walls.

In Edinburgh Castle, I’m glad I fought past the crowds to see the room where Mary Queen of Scots hid to give birth to James VI of Scotland/James I of England. Though I must admit a panel beside the portrait of James I’s wife has me more interested in Anne of Denmark’s life. I did see the crown jewels of Scotland but I skipped the war memorial in favor of more time in the dungeons–less to see, but fascinating imagining the many different types of criminals and “criminals” kept there over the centuries–from the Jacobites through to WWII POWs.

Stirling Castle had even more amazing views of William Wallace’s memorial and more of the Scottish hills. Without Edinburgh surrounding it, I found it easier to imagine what it would have been like centuries before. The re-created rooms were much prettier than Edinburgh Castle, especially with the tapestries and painted ceilings.

“Imprisoned” at Stirling Castle

Cecelia Lynn-Jacobs and Margaret Sulc take the throne at Stirling Castle

Day Trip into the Highlands

Stirling Castle was the end of a day-long trip into the Highlands with Timberbush tours. Our day started with a fantastic story-telling introduction from our bus driver–who said I was a fairy because of my purple hair. We drove out of Edinburgh to tales of William Wallace, Robert the Bruce, and other folklore of ancient Scotland. Our first stop included three Highland cows–the cutest farm animals I think I’ve ever seen.

The best part of the day by far was Loch Lomond. An hour long boat tour across this flat, wide, perfect lake felt like heaven on Earth. Though we did snap many pictures–including silly “Jack I’m flying” style ones–it felt less like a tourist adventure and more like balm for the soul. I can see why the Romans called this loch the prettiest one, the one with the best light. It captured my soul for sure. These pictures don’t do it justice.

On the way back, the bus driver told us all the ways that Braveheart messes up history. Thistles, by the way, are not romantic. They are Scottish because they kept the vikings from invading for many years–believe it or not. They are NOT what you’d give to your favorite lad or lass.

View of Loch Lomond

Me on Loch Lomond

Highland cow aka snuggle monster

Nature within the city

When I say my feet hurt from walking, it wasn’t just from the cobblestones. I climbed Arthur’s Seat only once–but I walked so many other places within the city to find the best views and monuments: Calton Hill, Princes Street Gardens, the Meadows, Water of Leith, and the Royal Botanical Gardens.

On my second or third night, Cecelia, Megan and I climbed up the crags near Arthur’s Seat. I tested myself by going near the edge as close as I could get to see both the astounding views of the city’s electric lights going on for the night and down to the heather and thistles on the hillsides. It made me think of the moors from Wuthering Heights–though that of course is in Yorkshire not Scotland.

View from Crags near Arthur’s Seat

Water of Leith

Sir Walter Scott and bagpipes

I was super proud of myself for climbing a tree to write on my first day in the Meadows. Until Cecilia climbed it higher than me. But then she pushed me to take my longest adventure day when we went ranging far into New Town to find the Water of Leith after I’d already spent a few hours wandering through the monuments (and rainbows!) at Calton Hill and climbing up the steps of the Sir Walter Scott monument.

Even though I undertook some of these walks alone, I never felt that way. So many travelers and locals frequented these paths. I could have been annoyed, but instead I felt lucky that these are not forgotten in the hubbub of city life. For instance, one day while strolling through Princes Street gardens, I heard a young man belting out operatic tunes. I couldn’t tell if he was rehearsing or busking, but it was lovely all the same. Performances welcome you into all portions of the city.

View from Arthur’s Seat

Museums

I missed the National Portrait Gallery, Art Museum, and Real Mary King’s Close (must go back!), but I did hit the Museum of Childhood, Writer’s Museum, National Museum of Scotland.

First off: all of these were FREE. How amazing is that? It made walking through them that much more enjoyable.

The Museum of Childhood enchanted and terrified me at the same time. For those of you who have seen or read any part of Raggedy’s Kingdom might know why. The scariest part? Amazingly, not the room full of dolls but the dioramas with life-size mannequins that played sound and lit up when you walked near them. Motion sensored. Megan and I laughed to keep from crying out in fear–or at least I did, while she taped the whole thing. The history of how trains, board games, and even mechanical toys came into being was fascinating and beautiful to trace.

The Writer’s Museum I could do on my own in about an hour. I could have read more of the plaques, but it was enough just to see all of these artifacts of Robert Louis Stevenson, Sir Walter Scott, Robert Burns, and even Ian Rankin collected in a restored 18th century house. But it was worth it for a bibliophile like me.

Me and the dolls at Museum of Childhood

The Caledonian cross flag, National Museum of Scotland

Pulpit, National Museum of Scotland

The National Museum of Scotland is now my second favorite museum (after the Kafka Museum in Prague) of all time. And I only had time for about 3/5 of the History section–which is probably less than a THIRD of the museum as a whole. They also have three floors on technology, three floors of natural history, and more than three floors on fashion, art, and culture. Over in the Scottish history section, I learned that tartan, while important, was never officially aligned with the different clans until the 19th century. Commercialization at work as always… As a Christian, looking at the history of the church in Scotland was very interesting. Would I fight for my beliefs in the same way?

I wish I could say I’ve cleared up Scottish history timelines for myself, but I’m afraid that’s not true. It’s so interesting and intricate that even after taking a course in Scottish history at Rice, the Highlands tour, plus reading Outlander (fictional so wrong of course) I’m still fuzzy on the details. Just an excuse to keep learning!

Cemeteries

I spent time in at least two cemeteries: Greyfriars and Calton. And oddly enough, I found them to be just as relaxing as the many parks and natural wonders. Maybe I’ve spent too much time thinking through horror plays to find them creepy–but again, I think it’s more the way they are occupied in Edinburgh that made them so welcoming. In addition to the tours going through, I noticed people stopping to write down notes, have a picnic, or sketch.

Greyfriars was a convenient meeting spot, being so close to the main streets but not actually on High Street or Southbridge. I spent a lot of time passing by Greyfriar Bobby’s statue and gravesite. Even if it’s just a legend, I like the idea that a dog could be so loyal and honored–like Hachiko in Tokyo.

Calton Cemetery

Greyfriars Cemetery

Greyfriars Bobby

I may not be Scottish by blood, by I feel so because of my name. While the rest of the tours crowded around the James Potter, Tom Riddle, and other allegedly Harry Potter-related tombs, I found myself marking the many Margarets buried around me. It felt right to honor them and to imagine that my name made me connected to this place.

Especially since so many were marked as wives and mothers only, seeing their names and thinking of the innumerable unmarked graves of women around the world makes me want to make something much more of my life to honor those who were kept silent in any way, shape, or form.

Ceildh and Haggis

I did fit in two very Scottish traditions while in Edinburgh: Scottish dancing and that infamous dish, haggis.

The ceildh didn’t last long enough. Even with all the soreness from walking, I could have hopped, kicked, and spun around that room all night. The bagpipes on the street sounded great, but they never sounded better than when we were splitting the willow or dancing the Dashing White Sergeant in an Irish pub (go figure) in Edinburgh. The best part: a Scottish lad stepping up to dance with me when there weren’t enough partners for the last dance.

Megan, Ellen, and I and our haggis.

Haggis I swore I would not try again on this trip. I’d had it back at Rice when a classmate had made it special and hated it. But as it turns out, having haggis in a traditional pub after a long day of walking, seeing shows, and sightseeing was just right. Plus the mashed potatoes and turnips it tasted like a slightly less moist version of meatloaf. The next day I even ordered it on a hamburger because I liked it so much.

Most of the time I ate from the Fringe tents, but here’s a list of a few other notable drinks and eats I had:

Innis and Gunn Beer Kitchen–great selection and the Scotch egg tasted as good as it looked

The Doric–had my first dram of whisky here, amazing service

56 North–my FAVORITE bar in Edinburgh because it’s filled with so many different types of gin

Frankenstein pub–tourist attraction with meh food, but the animatronic Frankenstein’s lab show and kitschy decor was worth it

Clarinda’s Tea Room–clotted cream and the best scones in Edinburgh

Panda and Sons–my first speakeasy! The cocktails were fantastic, and sometimes very theatrical

  So I’ll meet you again in Edinburgh for Real Mary King’s Close, more ceildh dancing, a Brazilian crepe by the Doctor’s pub, and way more time hiking in the Highlands and hills around Edinburgh–sound good?

Featured image: view from Stirling Castle

Beyond a Travel Review: Edinburgh In addition to seeing 25+ shows, 30 scenes from Transmission, plus networking/marketing/last minute revisions for said show, I did manage to do A LOT of sightseeing in Edinburgh.

[robertkstone]

2018 Mitsubishi Eclipse Cross First Drive: Reinvention

A thick, smoky haze blanketed Santa Monica. The beach and coastline were not visible. The Santa Ana winds were howling—slanting palm trees and fueling wildfires just a few miles north.

Those apocalyptic surroundings only made the media drive of the new Mitsubishi Eclipse Cross all the more interesting.

Mitsubishi hasn’t had a new product in years, and it is betting big on this compact crossover. It’s a cruel fact of a cutthroat industry: The automaker’s lineup is not very competitive, and executives hope to change that with the Eclipse Cross. They wouldn’t let a fire get in the way. Masks were handed out as product experts gave presentations. Photographers scrambled to stay ahead of the ash.

The Eclipse Cross fills the space in between the company’s best-selling smaller Outlander Sport and the larger and more expensive Outlander. It has the same wheelbase and width as the Outlander Sport and has a mere 1.5 inches more overall length—which raises the question whether there’s enough room in the lineup for two similar-sized vehicles with such a large price gap.

The Eclipse Cross is designed to be the sportier-looking, fun-to-drive alternative to the Outlanders. Designers hit the styling mark with the sloping roof, high beltline, raked rear window, and a thick body line. Mitsubishi’s signature Dynamic Shield grille, tubular-LED taillights, and large fenders lend to the sporty styling. It’s an attractive design from the front and profile. The rear end, however, is another story. The split rear window will get mixed opinions, but it stands out in a sea of similar crossovers.

But does the sporty design carry over into driving character? Mitsubishi didn’t invite us to Santa Monica for the beach, smoke-choked air, and famous pier. They set us up right next to the hills of Malibu, which provides some of the best twisting, climbing roads in America. Scenic canyon carving made up most of the drive. After driving the not-fun Outlander Sport, I wasn’t sure what to expect. However, I couldn’t forget the brand’s sports car heritage. It takes guts to borrow the name of one of the iconic coupes of the 1990s and slap it on a crossover.

After cruising north on Pacific Coast Highway, we turned onto Topanga Canyon and the fun began. From the first turn-in, I knew this was no Outlander Sport. That’s a relief. As the twisty canyon road continued, I found some initial body roll, though plenty of grip followed—nothing extraordinary but one of the better-handling utes in the segment. In certain cornering situations, the Cross felt momentarily unsettled, but product planners took careful notes regarding our impressions of these preproduction models. Expect the Eclipse Cross to be tweaked before going on sale in March.

An all-new engine powers the Eclipse Cross—a 1.5-liter direct-injection turbo-four that produces 152 hp and 184 lb-ft of torque. A CVT with eight simulated gears backs the engine and routes power to the front wheels (only in the base trim) or to Mitsubishi’s S-AWC all-wheel-drive system. The powertrain provides plenty of power with decent throttle response for daily driving, but it feels a bit shy on torque. It’s a definite improvement over the 2.4-liter I-4 found in the Outlanders.

The AWD system did a fine job providing grip coming out of corners, but like most AWD crossovers, understeer quickly ruins the party (or saves your butt). Not watching the road because of the beautiful scenery, I found out that the Eclipse Cross does well under quick trail-braking. I have no complaints about the brakes—the power, feel, and travel is acceptable for a crossover.

The Eclipse Cross comes equipped with Mitsubishi’s best-ever budget-minded interior. It’s not the best in class, but it’s much better than those in the Outlander and Outlander Sport. Most noticeably, Mitsubishi designers created a much quieter interior. The steering wheel and some of the switchgear are shared with the Outlanders, but overall, the quality is much better. The new-to-Mitsubishi touchpad did a better job of navigating the infotainment system than expected.

The Eclipse Cross lineup consists of four trims. The base ES trim starts at $24,290 and comes standard with front-wheel drive. But the S-AWC system—with Auto, Snow, and Gravel modes—is available for $600; it’s standard on other trims. Standard features for the ES trim include 16-inch wheels, foglights, LED running lights, LED rear combination taillights, Bluetooth, automatic climate control, a 7.0-inch touchscreen, and a USB port. That’s pretty good out of the gate.

The LE trim adds black 18-inch wheels, SiriusXM radio, Apple CarPlay and Android Auto, and dual USB ports. It takes moving up to the SE trim to get standard blind-spot warning, rear cross-traffic alert, and features such as heated front seats and keyless entry. LED headlights, a head-up display, and a multiview camera system are standard on the SEL trim.

The Eclipse Cross introduces a new service called Mitsubishi Connect, which consists of automatic collision notification, emergency services, and alarm notification, among other things. The Remote Services package can remotely start the crossover, adjust the climate settings, lock the doors, honk the horn, turn on the lights, find your car in a parking lot, and offer parental controls. It’s standard on the SE and SEL trims and free for two years—it’s $99 a year after that.

The Eclipse Cross’ biggest problem could be pricing. A $24,290 starting price is not that low, especially for a brand that is not known for superior build quality. It’s also a three grand jump from an Outlander Sport. That price tag also puts it above all subcompact rivals. Perhaps a worse equation: The Eclipse Cross has a price ladder just shy of the larger Honda CR-V, Toyota RAV4, and Mazda CX-5, and it is almost identical in starting price to the Kia Sportage and Ford Escape.

If Mitsubishi is betting on its bold looks, all-wheel drive, and new features and technology to steal buyers away from other brands, they might be in for a tough ride. Our upcoming First Test review will give us a better idea of its real-world prowess. Regardless, the Eclipse Cross is currently the automaker’s best product and shows that Mitsubishi has evolved and can again be competitive.

2018 Mitsubishi Eclipse Cross BASE PRICE $24,290 VEHICLE LAYOUT Front-engine, FWD/AWD, 5-pass, 4-door SUV ENGINE 1.5L/152-hp/184-lb-ft turbocharged DOHC 16-valve I-4 TRANSMISSION Cont. variable auto CURB WEIGHT 3,300-3,500 lb (mfr) WHEELBASE 105.1 in LENGTH X WIDTH X HEIGHT 173.4 x 71.1 x 66.3-66.5 in 0-60 MPH 9.2-10.8 sec (MT est) EPA CITY/HWY/COMB FUEL ECON Not yet rated

[vanaereis-blog]

World of Warcraft: Misfits

****Chapter 1****

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/98381323-world-of-warcraft-misfits

Fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12514136/1/World-of-Warcraft-Misfits

Netherstorm, Outland - Legion

Veiled by Shroud, Vanaereis steps off the elevator platform onto Stormspire. The two Nexus-Guards at the entrance are oblivious to her existence. Vanaereis smiles, relieved that she was able to remain hidden. 

Since Stormspire no longer required the aid of adventurers, sneaking in was the only means. Unless, you could talk your way in, but Vanaereis was never very good at that.

She sneaks past the guards at the entrance and heads towards the Inn. She then sinks into the bushes located to the left side of the Inn's entrance. She crouches low and out of sight.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She holds for four seconds then exhales. Once all of the air has left her lungs, she takes in another deep breath; repeating the process a couple of more times.

When her mind is clear of all thoughts and distractions, she begins searching for a familiar feeling. A couple of years ago, she discovered that she could sense the power emanating from magical objects that were within her vicinity, and with practice, she was able to pinpoint their locations.

The market for these powerful long forgotten relics, tomes, and weapons are new and in demand. Especially, with the Exotic Dealers at the Black Bazaar. She has made a killing selling to them and plans to continue doing so; no matter the risk.

Suddenly, a rectangular outline of white light emerges in her mind.

'It's a tome!'

Her starry eyes perk open. They glow beneath her black hooded cloak, as she peers at the path before her. She needs to head straight, towards the southeast portion of Stormspire, then along the wall of the second level.

Vanaereis pulls her hood down, making sure it was still shielding her eyes. Then she slowly exits the bush; crouching her way towards Dealer Jadyan. He's an Ethereal that she has had a few dealings with before. Vanaereis recalls the many ways he has tried to undercut her. Luckily for her, that is one of the things she can talk her way out of.

She soon passes the lone Stormspire Nexus-Guard, who she assumes is guarding the corner for some odd reason, then makes her way up the small hill that runs along the wall of the upper level. When she reaches the top, she knees down before the tree. She begins digging through the loose soil. It doesn't take long before she pulls the leather bound tome out.

With a bright smile on her face, she makes her way to the elevator. Her white eyes dazzle with pride; pride for being able to unearth this forgotten relic --- undetected. She calms her excitement; as her mission isn't over until she is miles away from Stormspire.

Once she is on the elevator, she begins flipping through the pages of the tome. She still feels the powerful aura that it’s emitting.

This may sell for a high price....if I can find a buyer.

She thinks to herself as she runs her fingers along the parchment. She's not familiar with tomes and their worth, but she does know that if someone wants it bad enough; they'll pay any price to have it.

Vanaereis feels a dainty hand grasp her shoulder, spinning her around. She comes face to face with a golden-haired green-eyed Blood Elf. She just stares at him wondering how in the hell he knew she was there. And in her confusion, he manages to grab the tome from her hands. "Hey!" she yells reaching for it. "That's mine!"

He shines his pearly whites as he holds the tome high above his head. His 6'4 height towers over her 5'9 frame. Vanaereis is unable to reach it; even as she jumps for it. "Thanks." He says as the elevator begins to descend. "Saved me the trouble of getting my hands dirty."

The Blood Elf looks up as Vanaereis clings to his free arm. "Give that back!" She demands as she desperately claws at him, still unable to reach the tome.

"You should be more concerned about them." He gestures for her to look up. Vanaereis stops in her tracks and looks up. She not only sees the two Nexus-Guards that were guarding the elevator but additional Ethereals looking down the shaft. "Those guys can glide, right?" The Blood Elf asks. "They don't look too happy."

"Great." Vanaereis steps back and takes out two ornate daggers from their sheaths located on each hip. She eyes him down. "This is the last time I'm going to ask -- nicely."

When the elevator stops at the bottom the Blood Elf just stares at her. After a few seconds of silence, he blurts out "Well?"

"Well, what?" She retorts.

"Aren't you going to ask, nicely?" His demeanor smug and his tone mocking hers.

Vanaereis rolls her eyes then exasperates a sigh, "Please, can I have it back now?" the words painfully escaping through her gritted teeth.

"See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" He then throws the tome towards her. As she sheaths her daggers in anticipation, his free hand catches it. "Just kidding!" He then turns and bolts off of the elevator, startling the two guards at their post on the ground level.

Vanaereis clenches her fists and bolts after him, leaping off the rising elevator platform. She sprints and manages to be inches behind his heels followed by a horde of Ethereals at hers. "Give it back! I found it!" She demands.

The Blood Elf turns and begins jogging backwards. "Finders keepers." His grin fades as he looks over her shoulder, "Oh, shit!" He turns forward and runs faster.

"You didn't find it!" Vanaereis voice has now escalated into rage. She uses that rage to run faster, trying to keep up with him.

The Blood Elf laughing, "I found it in your hands!" He yells over his shoulder. They both soon exit the purple dome of Stormspire onto the main road. Vanaereis follows him off the road down the steep hill. They soon enter the area of the former Forge Base: Oblivion.

As they come closer to the cliff, Vanaereis sees a Gnome leaning against a ginormous metal vessel; smoking some kind of herb. Probably Felweed, she quickly notes.

"Cuber!" the Blood Elf calls to the Gnome as he approaches. "We have to go!" He looks over his shoulder, "Like now!"

The Gnome throws the herb down to the ground. "Damn it, Quen! What did ya do?" The Gnome grunts, sounding like a very angry grandpa. Vanaereis determines that the Gnome must be an Engineer as he is dressed in leather with goggles tangled in his green hair. He pounds on the metal vessel and a hatch begins to lower beside him. "This better be worth it!" He mumbles as begins packing up his picnic blanket and lunch.

Vanaereis slows down as she and the Blood Elf approach. She has never seen anything like it before. As she gets closer she sees that the metal vessel has, what appears to be, wings.

'Does it fly?'

She shakes herself free of her trance, and thanks to the Gnome, she now knows the Blood Elf's name.

Now, for the tome...

She manages to get close enough to Quen without alarming him and as she reaches for the tome, which is situated between his arm and his torso, the Gnome's grumpy voice startles her. Stopping her in her tracks.

"Is her boyfriend coming after you?" The Gnome asks as he stands in the open hatch of the vessel.

"What?" Quen's eyes meet Vanaereis'. He furrows his brows and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Great...you're still here..."

"What is this?" Vanaereis asks trying to distract them from her true motives.

The Gnome's grumpy demeanor changes to excitement, "It's a masterpiece that's what it is. Built her from an inactive Fel Reaver. And yes, she does fly." He smirks crossing his arms; his stance proud.

The Gnome turns his attention to Quen, "So, this Blood Elf coming with?"  

Quen sighs and points beyond Vanaereis. "Ugh, I kinda owe her a ride."

The Gnome looks to where Quen pointed. "Ah, good. Thought the Felweed was causing a hallucination again."

Concerned, Quen lays a hand on the Gnome's shoulder. "You need to lay off of that stuff."

"It doesn't happen all of the damn time." The Gnome defensive.

"Huh, if you say so." Quen chuckles. "By the way, that invisibility potion was crap." He casually states before heading deep inside the vessel.

"I told you! I'm an Engineer, not an Alchemist! You go buy it yourself next time!" The Gnome hollers after Quen. The Gnome begins to mumble, "Help a friend out and they can't say thanks...always complaining..." he continues mumbling as he disappears into the vessel.

Not wanting to be left to the horde of Ethereals, Vanaereis runs up the ramp after them. When she is in the belly of the vessel, she stops in her tracks. Frozen in awe of her surroundings. It was definitely the inside of a Fel Reaver. At least from what she would expect it to look like, minus the modifications of course.

She watches as the Gnome approaches the other end of the vessel that is modified with a tall and wide window. Beneath the window, are two seats and a console full of buttons. The Gnome uses a stool to climb into the chair, located on the left, and begins pressing some buttons.

The Gnome nods at Quen and presses a big button on the console. Air escapes as the hatch begins to rise shut. "You might want to hold on to me." Quen smiles as he grabs onto a strap hanging from the ceiling.

"I'm good." She says apprehensively.

"Suit yourself." Quen's eyes lock hers suspiciously. Suddenly the vessel rises upwards, with a ferocity that knocks Vanaereis off her feet. She falls hard on her derrière.

"Hold on to your knickers!" The Gnome roars with laughter. The vessel then jerks forward.

Vanaereis is able to brace herself, preventing herself from sliding into the wall at the back of the vessel. She begins rubbing her bottom as she looks back up at Quen. 'Him with that smug look again.'

"What is this thing?" she asks.

Once the momentum stabilizes, Quen releases his grip on the strap. He reaches his hand to her. "Cuber calls it an Air Pod."

"Used to!" Cuber interjects. "Air Pod is copyrighted." He spats angrily. "Now, it has no name. If ya can think of anything for a flying ship let me know." He voice directed toward Vanaereis.

Vanaereis nods in acknowledgment at the Gnome, then looking up at Quen, she takes his hand. "And you are?" She asks.

"Quen'salas Bloodwatcher." He says pulling her to her feet. "And you?"

"Vanaereis." She shakes his hand. Her confident eyes locking his. She may be different, but by looking at whom this Blood Elf keeps in his company, she may not have to worry if he knew. When she tries to remove her hand, Quen refuses to let go.

"What kind of Rogue are you? I couldn't see you, but I could smell you." He inquires.

"Obviously, a better Rogue than you." Vanaereis bluffs, not wanting to explain her skillset to him. "You're the one that alerted the Ethereals, after all."

"Alright, if that's how you want to play." Quen releases her hand. His eyes still studying her. "So, then you must have Safe Fall?"

Vanaereis simply nods, confused by the question. "What about a parachute?" Vanaereis ponders his question then slowly shakes her head no.

Quen sighs, "Cuber?"

Cuber doesn't take his eyes off of the horizon. "I can't fly and cast spells at the same time. Besides, she's your problem."

Quen sighs again. "Fine. We over Hellfire?" Cuber nods. Vanaereis furrows her brows; even more confused.

"What are you guys up to?"

They ignore her. "Just make sure to cast after she's out of the hatch or she'll be levitating in here. We don't need that mess again. That Goblin nearly shot me in the EYE!" Cuber rants.

Quen gestures with his hands in a talking motion, mocking Cuber. "Yeah, yeah." Quen then turns his attention back to Vanaereis. Cuber continues to grumble to himself.

Quen looks Vanaereis in the eyes and takes her hand in his once more. His eyes beaming as he drags her to the center of the vessel.

"Hey, I just met you and this is crazy, but here's my mailbox, so write me maybe?" He then shoves a piece of paper into the palm of her hand.

Vanaereis looks down at the paper in her hand; then slowly back up at Quen. Her expression utterly confused. Quen backs away from her. He smiles and reaches up to a remote that is dangling from the ceiling. It has a big red button on it. When he presses the button, the floor beneath her splits open.

Vanaereis begins falling. Wind swirling around her. Her cloak and platinum hair tangle in a wild mess. As she scrambles to remove the hair from her face, she sees that she is too far up to land safely. In that moment, everything begins to slow down.

She is able to shift her body so that she continues to glide downwards feet first. Once she lands on the red soil of Hellfire, she looks back up. She sees Quen waving to her as the hatch closes. She watches as the ship and HER tome fly off! Vanaereis crosses her arms. A scowl look on her face.

She had been bested.

Her fault. She knew better.

Vanaereis looks to the horizon, her eyes flaring with rage. She kicks the sand at her feet. A red dust cloud blows away in the wind as she begins her journey across the barren plane of Hellfire Peninsula. 

After a few minutes of walking, she tugs her cloak and tilts her head down towards it.

Curious -- she sniffs it.

She cocks her head up, "I don't smell..." she snarls.

[whenfrasermetbeauchamp]

We reached the first stopping-place near noon of the second day. It was no more than a cluster of three or four huts, set off the road at the foot of a small glen. A stool was brought out from one of the cottages for Dougal’s use, and a plank—thoughtfully brought along in one of the wagons—laid across two others to serve as a writing surface for Mr. Gowan.

He withdrew an enormous square of starched linen from the tailpocket of his coat and laid it neatly over a stump, temporarily withdrawn from its usual function as chopping block. He seated himself upon this and began to lay out inkhorn, ledgers, and receipt-book, as composed in his manner as though he were still behind his lace curtains in Edinburgh.

One by one, the men from the nearby crofts appeared, to conduct their annual business with the laird’s representative. This was a leisurely affair, and conducted with a good deal less formality than the goings-on in the Hall of Castle Leoch. Each man came, fresh from field or shed, and drawing up a vacant stool, sat alongside Dougal in apparent equality, explaining, complaining, or merely chatting.

Some were accompanied by a sturdy son or two, bearing bags of grain or wool. At the conclusion of each conversation, the indefatigable Ned Gowan would write out a receipt for the payment of the year’s rent, record the transaction neatly in his ledger, and flick a finger to one of the drovers, who would obligingly heave the payment onto a wagon. Less frequently, a small heap of coins would disappear into the depths of his leather bag with a faint chinking sound. Meanwhile, the men-at-arms lounged beneath the trees or disappeared up the wooded bank—to hunt, I supposed.

Variations of this scene were repeated over the next few days. Now and then I would be invited into a cottage for cider or milk, and all of the women would crowd into the small single room to talk with me. Sometimes a cluster of rude huts would be large enough to support a tavern or even an inn, which became Dougal’s headquarters for the day.

Once in a while, the rents would include a horse, a sheep, or other livestock. These were generally traded to someone in the neighborhood for something more portable, or, if Jamie declared a horse fit for inclusion in the castle stables, it would be added to our string.

— Outlander/Cross Stitch

📎

🎶 Mo Nighean Donn 🎶

Gur e mise tha fo ghruaim ‘S mi ‘n taobh tuath dhan an Stòr [Sèist] Mo nigh’n donn hò gù Hì rì rì hù lò Mo nigh’n donn hò gù  Mo nigh’n donn shònruich mi fhéin thu ann an broad nam ban òg [Sèist] Hì rì rì hù lò Mo nigh’n donn hò gù  ‘S bidh mo làmh na do làimh [Sèist] Hì rì rì hù lò Mo nigh’n donn hò gù  Dh’aindeoin èildeir tha beò.

— Outlander TV Episode “Rent”

🎶 My Brown-Haired Girl 🎶 (English translation)

Oh how my mind is heavy as I’m northwest of the Storr (1) [Chorus] My brown-haired girl hò gù Hì rì rì hù lò My brown-haired girl hò gù. My brown-haired girl, I remark thee At the fair of the young women. [Chorus] Hì rì rì hù lò  My brown-haired girl hò gù. And we will walk hand in hand [Sèist] Hì rì rì hù lò  My brown-haired girl hò gù. Regardless of any living elders (2)

1. The Storr is a rocky hill on the Trotternish peninsula of the Isle of Skye in Scotland.

2. Similar expressions are recurrent in popular songs when a young couple “swims against the tide” about courtship and doesn’t followed tradition.

Photos: Starz, Season One, Episode Five, September 6, 2014

Book: Outlander (Cross Stitch), Chapter Eleven, Diana Gabaldon, 1991

Song Lyrics: Mo Nighean Donn, http://terreceltiche.altervista.org/outlander-wool-waulking-songs-2/

Tumblr: September 8, 2018, WhenFraserMetBeauchamp 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿❤️🇬🇧

WFMB’s Tags: #Outlander #Season One Episode Five #S1E5 #Rent #Outlander/Cross Stitch #Chapter Eleven #Ned collects the rent #I thought you said no pigs #Waulking by Highlanders on a Sunny Evening #Claire Fraser #Donalda Gilchrist #22 #090818