#priscillas last petal

[haveihitanerve]

Priscillas Final Petal Commentary because one of you lovely children requested i do more of my comments and this was the first video i came across anyway-

(ok i came back afterwards and like good gods its a lot so umm, yeah if you dont care, dont click more bc its a lot to scroll past otherwise)

Luke giggling from the get go at Tom struggling to understand the word Petal

Tom getting the audience to agree the title is pretty good- meanwhile AJ and Luke making eye contact like 👀 you gonna be Priscilla or??? And then AJ nodding. So im pretty sure Luke was just like “you're gonna be her” 

Luke zoning in to Tom’s speech to give a laugh and then immediately moving on to contemplate- meanwhile sam has been dissociating for like a few minutes already- looking to the cosmos for inspiration

All three background boys immediately tensing up when tom says applause bc the scene is starting- are they about to battle over who gets to be Priscilla???? We shall see…

Oh Sam made it there first but AJ was crawling so he's obvi the young girl- and Luke lost he has to stay seated :(

Tom’s little half chuckle at AJ’s “mummy” a split second before it registers with Luke that Sam is, in fact, not AJ’s mummy and cackling

AJ needing to physically touch Sam to be like “that's my bad dude” while grinning

Aj’s weird laugh at “just as cute as you” and then not letting the mummy thing drop bc ofc not why would he XD

“Wide girlish hips” Sam building himself to be the mother lovely lovely pre-planning

“Its a buttercup” beat of surprise because wow Sam didn't expect AJ to know a flower type

Luke’s neck stretch when Sam says “they’re magical” like oh really sam, are they?

“No could you tell… me” idk why he stuttered over that but very interesting and it got a luke laugh and AJ smile so no complaints

Aj complicating things as always, love our confused king

“....” AJ contemplating how he’s about to say this while still being a child.. “.... its magic” Luke and Tom losing it quietly in the background

The way Tom and Luke genuinely look when he holds up the NONEXISTENT FAKE FLOWER TO SEE IF SAM LIKES BUTTER

Also idk if it was intentional or not- but if Sam really is lactose intolerant, AJ just casually knows that he doesn't like butter and actually incorporated it in which is really cute actually- anyway-

“Or a- sandwich!” yes brilliant counter Aj, no one butters a sandwich-genius!

“I spent a lot of time making sure this garden looks lovely” as much as I appreciate the thought sam- hes already picked the flower. Its dead. it doesn't matter what AJ does to it now- its important to the plot moving on..

Aj once again trying to think of something clever to say- “why are you being weird?” nailed it!

“Ey-ey priscilla” yes tom, thats exactly how a mother speaks to her child in this- idk victorian era 

“Is that my mummy this time?” just checking for the scene

Sam once again pointing out story flaws rapid quick- “no time for flowers” “why do you have me?” Luke laughing at it as always- also Tom i saw the flower movement- good stagecraft

Tom contemplating murder. “Because we don't have time.” 

“Not anymore” very nice setting the tone for a plot i can feel it…

“Not.     anymore.” yes it was necessary a second time… 

Those english degrees coming in clutch “ivories tinkling” 

AJ loves being a child character because it means he can ask questions to stuff he doesn't know in the scene lol

“When you get an elephant.” brilliant way to speak to a child again Tom, 10/10 mother

“And when you kill it reaaaallly good.” brilliant- got Luke to clap laugh, lovely

Sam working on stagecraft, good good

“Awww. No.” 

“Can i take this?” “My pen?” for once its not AJ’s fault that the story breaks for a second! victory!

“Her stagecraft is remarkably weak.” oooohhhh shots fired

Tom tensing up like he’s about to jump back into the scene at that second to restore his honor

Yay luke made it into a scene!

Aj’s almost spit take- dude ur the main character you don't get breaks cmon!

Ok but seriously- they were all just going to sit there and watch luke sit in a chair on stage by himself and deliver a monologue or smth??? Like tom is completely at ease, hand propped on his leg watching him, sam is chilling, and aj is drinking- not one of them wanted to join/help him in the scene???? Anyway-

“Um.. da-du-de-” Luke cuts him off- Aj: oh thank god-

For a dude renowned for his lack of skill for remembering names he certainly picks very dangerous ones i gotta say

Luke attempting to make it easier for him. Helga

Luke's massive grin making Tom laugh- bc seriously what does that mean- “sense of familiarity with my students' with the creepiest smile??? Luke what-

“Four hours straight” gorgeous- we got a sam laugh

Why does luke look at the camera like he's in the office???

Luke is struggling to maintain the accent but its good, its good, you got this

“Perhaps selling her body” oooh were gonna have to rewind four times to see everyones reaction- number one- sam laughs loud in shock and surprise and then crosses his legs and covers his mouth- luke i sense a disciplinary meeting in your future- number two- AJ claps a hand over his mouth like a victorian widow learning shocking news(my personal fav of Aj’s laugh tendencies) number three- Tom actually laughs at that- mouth open in surprise, and we get a delightful little “oh wow” look/grin and number four- luke knows the words before they exit his mouth and he is enjoying it- recovers wildly quickly but that's our out of pocket king

“What’d you mean “selling her body”” oh now AJ is using his child question asking for evil hehehehe

And luke shutting it down.. Sigh

“Don't change my name.” oh AJ you were so close!!!

Tom’s mounting amusement as Luke says “jingle bells” 

“Sometimes when im sad I tear off a petal” Tom laughing at the audacity but also- aj- thats terrifying- tf- imagine a little girl looks at you, pulls a flower out of her pocket, and rips off a petal. Like god damn im having nightmares ok-

“WHY ARE YOU SAD HELGA!” um- his name is priscilla, ur helga, also- also terrifying thanks

“No- i-im having a really good time.” uhuh yeah. Me too :) *afraid*

Idk if AJ actually forgot or just wanted to be annoying but how do you forget jingle bells-

“Darling.” *shuffle shuffle* “hi :)” oh sam is afraid- that smile- tom is gonna get him back for the stagecraft comment now, i can feel it. Ohhh sam can too

“Such a shame we couldn't send her to boarding school the old fashioned way.” “..??” “paying for it.” thats actually brilliant- im stealing that for everyday use-

While Tom is speaking about Priscillas talent- AJ watching from the corner with his tongue in his cheek- just waiting for his musical talent to be insulted lol(also very attractive look gotta say-)

“Earl of saxony.” idk why this made luke laugh but its such a delight to see him slowly spiral into heavier laughter

Also- he snaps out of it so fast- immediately joins the scene- brilliant

AJ amused because Luke’s getting yelled at and not him

Poor luke cant even sit down because theyd still come after him lmaoo

“I hope your kid dies of tuberculosis” damn! Again, stealing that

The really awkward Tom reach forward to put his hand on Sam’s shoulder kills me every time. Especially because his arm flexes like a beat before he does it- should i, should i not- before going for it lol

“Garden.” oh rumpled has some feelings he’d like resolved…

“We used to go through strolls…” “we did used to go through strolls, i cant go through any more of them.” This entire scene kills me so much i adore it yes Tom, preach. Sam always gives everyone else so much shit- uno reverse baby!!! XD

Luke and AJ loosing their minds is also my life blood

Sam confused as to how its wrong- but wants to correct “You didn't let me finish.” 

Tom put his entire cunt into that leg cross and perch of his fingers against his chin, slay king

“We used to go through strolls through the orchard.” Oh- now tom seizes the opportunity to do some stage craft just to add extra salt on the wound-

Tom’s disappointed head shake as Luke and AJ explode with laughter is my everything

Sam’s angry rant of “is that not correct?? No- no- no- because you've got two english degrees” idk but the fact that he just knows that so quickly is everything to me

AJ and Tom are enjoying this far too much- both arching forward to listen because they're little shits :)

“It is both incorrect and Im busy on my stagecraft right now so-” (ok to anyone who is just as confused as sam- the correct terminology would be “we used to go for strolls” not through or “we went on strolls” etc etc)

“Darling borrow my newspaper.” Oooh sam I see you- trying to mess with Tom’s stagecraft make him seem like its so poor he’s “reading newspaper” when hes clearing eating… smth, idk but very clever, very clever

Also- pointing it out- firstly its probably because they know the other person would never let it go- but secondly, they're so dedicated and such good actors to their craft that Sam literally reaches over and removes the nonexistent newspaper off the nonexistent food- idk it just makes me happy. Also they do it so well

‘WHOS STAGECRAFT IS WEAK NOW DARLI-” yes tom, get your revenge lol

“...doesn't it?” oh yes sam, create a new plot point and then require Tom to expand upon it and create the actual story. Brilliant thinking and a dick move but its so funny

Shit eating grin the whole time too

“It. does.” tom said calmly

“Why are you laughing at me now, i cant fire you.” lol tom never change

Ok Tom didn't like Sam’s interruption so now he's changing the plot and making it a horror story- we love, we love

Aj’s hand covering mouth laughter again, love it sm

“That should be quite obvious. The fact that were having to discuss it at all is inane and foolish” ok so tom is still not over the stagecraft comment- got it

Luke's laughter from backstage- still not sitting down because hes afraid

“This is the prettiest i ever saw her.” SAM HES STILL MAD ABOUT STAGECRAFT NO- “WOW.” aaand there it is. ofc tom is now an ally of the dead wife just to spite sam lmaooo

“A girl like me-” AJ’s hand laugh again <333

“Selling your body.” smooth tom, smooth

“No more violence” veryyy smooth sam

“That bitch.” he had to- also, Tom, where’d the cigarette come from- when’d you light it- stagecraft people!!!

“I lit this cigarette on a candle.” ah- there it is “what wonderful stagecraft-” and AJ ends it because otherwise they’d keep it up forever i just know. Entertaining- but not very helpful to the story sadly lol

Luke pointing out the flaws, “which is a region in germany, despite half the workforce being english and the other german” slay king slay

Excellent stagecraft AJ, 10/10 of opening the window

Excellent voice acting, all around- Sam’s… owl hooting thats the one, perfect- and Tom’s really creepy “come to the garden” is top notch- so thats why he was so insulted on… Annabelle's behalf- he is her

“Buttercup im a little bit scared” why is he talking to the flower now- this wasn't in the trailer-

“But ill use you to- *breaks* shine a light- *laughs* so i can see*grinning*” everyone breaks and its beautiful

Wholly shit- AJ understanding immediately and perfectly that Sam standing up and going “fwoosh” was him pretending to be the owl and not being confused like “tf are you doing” is such good subtle accuracy and just shows how long they’ve been together and- i need to calm down 

“Strange mound by a tree” subtle aj, very subtle

Oh!- oh!- oh, nope Luke, sorry, Tom beat you to it again. Damn. now he gets to be the dead wife- not you. (as much as you want to be sam’s lover- who said that?)

Pointing the flower like its a glock… very nice stagecraft aj, wonderfully done

“I cant see, I don't have my buttercup with me” brilliant work luke, smashing really- call back and humor, all in one five stars 👏

AJ being taller than sam- randomly standing now also, instead of kneeling like before, Priscilla had a random growth spurt- anyway- and not making a single effort to even pretend be shorter for the crying scene gives me life

AJ DOING BETTER MATH THAN SAM!!! YAY!!!

“Why are you speaking in the third person?” good recovery sam, now the attentions back on AJ

“What will really happen?” “you'll become lactose intolerant.” AJ side eyeing Tom, currently sitting with the audience like, “you sure? Thats all thatll happen?” 

Whoever was sitting in the audience and did a dramatic inhale when Sam went “and you'll break the c-” i love you

“You were going to say break the curse.” AJ's so proud he managed to piece that one together

“No thats not- no!” AJ let himself come out a lil- sweety, baby, you're supposed to be a three foot tall little girl, not a six foot tall man, he is towering over Sam, thats not how Priscilla works- moving on

“Y'know before i was a groundskeeper here…” “oh boy.” yeah aj, you regret tempting him now

Assassin was the last thing on my bingo card of things i thought sam would say but ok

“I feel like this is above my paygrade.” so now luke is trying to weasel out of a scene instead of into it… hmmm

“Im part of the yorkshire reserves.” idk what kinda inside joke this is, but it took luke out, dude literally did a disappointed tom dad head shake and covered his whole face with only one hand, goodness sam

“You say ‘would you like a nice cup o’ tea?’... and then you stab ‘em.” Sam i love you, never change

“When i went over to that buttercup… nest.” Ig AJ doesn't know the name for flowerbed but okay(even tho im pretty sure he said it earlier but wtv) Luke’s laugh literally gave me chills, firstly it was delayed, secondly its the deepest its ever been and just like-wow

“I have a real mum!” “no!... no.. no.” so i guess everyone is taking their cues from Tom and repeating things more than once to highlight the importance. Also Aj barely holding back a smile is so cute- especially since Sam can smile at him bc hes not facing the audience

And luke loosing his mind to laughter again, always a classic

“Uh i went scottish there-” just amusing to me

“But luckily im also a wizard.” very very very smooth sailing sam, classically done, nice way to round out the story

Luke loosing his mind, AJ almost breaking on stage, and we cant see Tom but im pretty sure hes losing it as well

“Magic!” I just adore every time AJ says magic in his little girl voice, its so precious

“Leave it. Or I’ll bleed you.” well thats a threat if i've ever heard one oh my gods- AJ looks terrified

“I will protect you with the best stagecraft you've ever seen.” Ahh good ol tom with the one liners who breaks everybody

(sam and aj leaning against each other with their laugh ahdtbdjhfgtgewbsdc- too cute<33)

“Don't bitch out on me” -luke moved too fast, AJ broke before he was sitting back down XD

“What are you sinking about?” ok idk if Luke knows or not, but thats a common german meme, im not gonna write it all down rn but no one laughed so im assuming he doesn't know, anyway made me chuckle, moving on

Sam losing his mind at “i called you helga” as he should

TOM HOPPING ON STAGE FROM WHERE HES SITTING IN THE AUDIENCE TO JOIN THE SHOW- i cant with this man seriously XD

“With you two bvitches!” you tell 'em Aj(also yes the v is intentional, he said with with pizzazz and thats what the v adds)

“I don't like music it sounds the same!” as a person who pursues music- y'know what ill let it lie nvmind

“You always make me playing fffff-fucking jingle bells” y'know what its understandable now, carry on,

“Whos annabelle.” ok screw this audience- no one gasped dramatically or ooohhhhed- HE JUST REVEALED A MAJOR PLOT POINT GUYS SHOW SOME EMOTION- i need to calm down

Ok Tom chuckled in the audience and its redemption enough for me- he even moved his shoulders with laughter- ok im back in it

Sam’s forced smile at “rumple told me” is so iconic he did that so well omg-

“GET PLUCKING!” might be the scariest thing i've ever heard- but it was accompanied by a lovely luke laugh so its balanced

“She was not… well.” “OH. WOW” tom can be offended on his own behalf this time

“She was cruel, she was cold… and her stagecraft was terrible.” YES SAM- SNAP SNAP- SLAY DIVA YESSSS

Also everyone breaking on stage is lovely, always love the shared laughs

“I will accept two of those three criticisms.” how gracious tom

Complaining about past skits/productions, sam is just airing out all his grievances i love them so much omg-

Luke literally folding from laughter

“Well if you bury all your women..” Sam’s hand snapped up so fast. “One. I've only buried one.” ☝️

AJ SINGING!!! YESSSS

The utter chaos in this scene is the best thing in the world, all four of them on stage at once is always a treat

… is tom sucking Luke’s soul out of his body through his face using his hand? I have so many questions...

…why did it make him snap his own neck????

Why are they harmonizing?!?!?!

Sam literally she hates you because you always insult her stagecraft and when she digs her way out of hell the first thing you do is insult her stagecraft??? I mean, it is, admittedly, confusing stagecraft… but THATS NOT THE POINT!

“Oh i don't like this at all!” nor do i sam… nor do i… *the writer is horrified… and very amused*

THEY KILLED SAM?!?!?!?!?!?! 

Also AJ casually successfully mouthing every word Tom says is insane skill and very well done

“Mummy…” ok.. And aj takes the most terrifying person crown again…

“Piano lesson.” yeah im sensing a lot of pent up anger…

"Plinky plonky. Every day.” sounds like a legitimate reason, but if she thinks plinky plonky is the sound a piano makes then i understand why shes in lessons-

Also- aj successfully made tom crack a smile on stage, well done

Also aj- made eye contact with luke off stage and made him fold again

“You look different.” Ok but Tom’s hand raised and like, little crimp is so totally a mom move his stagecraft is excellent-

“Have you had your-*stutters* first period?” now thats class A humor, and im so glad it broke aj and sam

AND IT MADE LUKE DO DISAPPOINTED DAD HEAD SHAKE AND HAND OVER FACE. good work tom

“Is it a light, medium or heavy flow?” y'know what im so fucking glad he knows what those all are, and i know the others do too, love them all truly

Tom having to run back and forth as both mothers… ahhhh i love when they play two interacting characters its so funny

“Get out of my daughter” careful word choice tom… yep- sams exploding with laughter, luke is dying, and even AJ is blinking at you in concern(tbf tom immediately regretted it, but it was worth the laughs)

“Mummy help!” “can you clarify which one you're talking to?” Tom never change, i love you. “Im talking to my mummy!” im assuming he means the one thats not possessing him, and honestly thats so cute, aj knows what the people want, and the people want priscilla to love her adopted/found family?? Mother- anyway keep watching to see..

… what is it with them breaking Tom’s fingers??? 

… did sam just “rumple” charge his wand by like..  Loading it like a shotgun??? stagecraft…

Oh ok they're two separate things…

The slow mo i adore these idiots omg-

“You're only making our bond stronger-” before he even finished AJ is pulling closer again, damn to have that instinctual friendship is insane

AJ SINGING!!!!

“Shut the fuck up” aj hes trying to further the plot- shhhh

Quick thinking Luke- Priscilla, Queen of the Dessert, real song, totally real, good good great, you could've said literally anything else, but ok

Tom switching to the adoptive mother because thats the one who really knows her is honestly so sweet- my heart

Sam getting to shoot Tom is always great. Working out their anger in a calm, reasonable manner

“Wow.” tom is really milking these wows huh

“I mean she did raise you.” Tom just cause he doesn't know the word “biological mother” doesn't mean- y'know what whatever- Aj i understand what you mean- you're a good daughter !

“No don't fuck with me like that okay?” yes aj! Fight back(casually drops the girl voice to become AJ to actually yell at Tom, ugh i love him)

“Ill be seeing you… ill be seeing youuuu” again with the repetitions goodness

“Byebye.” damn it tom he almost made it without breaking!

“AND SCENE!” From both Sam and Luke. perfect ending. 

Tom finally rejoining the stage and exiting the audience

Anyway thats all, thanks for reading this entire like book worth of comments, lots to say and lots of it is meaningless but anyway hope it added a dash more humor to their brilliance and yeah… my thoughts 🙂

@dawn-speckled you said you wanted my thoughts and damn do i have a lot of them lol, anyway hope it brought you some joy:)

[i-may-be-an-emu]

SFTH Fic Masterlist!!

someone said that they wanted a fic masterlist so I made one :))

These are all the sfth fics on ao3, wattpad and tumblr that i could find- they’re not really in any order but they are organised into the plays and stuff that they’re from. I have not read all of these, just compiling them here :)

the number at the end refers to how many fics there are in that category.

A big thank you to all these fic writers you’re amazing!

**full credit to the authors for these fics**

(note: no sexually explicit fics are on this list, though some are mature and some have serious warnings. Please read and consider the warnings.)

ao3:

#1. Omg Is This A Joke (3)

#.3 Lost In Your Eyes (3)

#5. Long Johns - STRIKE! (7)

#.10 The Midnight Mystery (2)

#11. Inside The Mysterious Cube and Part Two (19)

#13. All Eyes On Nigel (8)

#14. No! I Always Loved That Caravan (1)

#15. Wild, Wet & Worrisome (2)

#16. The Cardboard Stegosaurus (8)

#20. The Leftenmost Window (9)

#21. The Neighbours Under The Bed (3)

#22. The Milkman (10)

#23. Beetroots And Murder (3)

#24. Susan’s Holiday (1)

#25. The Evil Make a Wish Kid (1)

#26. Priscilla’s Final Petal (2)

#27. The Mystery Of The Midnight Circus (1)

#29. Wine Under The Bridge (2)

#30. The Unrelenting Aubergine And part two and part three and part four (32)

#31. The Lighthouse (1)

#32. Murders In Space (1)

#33. Marigolds Bluebells and Hugh (2)

#35. Burglary And Bobsledding (1)

#36. Toby’s Secret Pocket and part two (12)

#37. Ballet On The Battlefield (2)

#39. The Grape Depression (1)

#40. Strange Noises From The Hole In The Wall (2)

#41. Divorces And Teddy Bears (1)

#42. The Detective Versus The Christmas Tree Bandits (4)

Crossover Fics and crossover part two and crossover part three and crossover part four crossover part five (45)

Skits/Scenes (games/flurries) thirsty vamps(1) genre from huge(1) coming out timewarp(1) devils daughter (flurry?)(1) two therapist genre(1) total (5)

Headcanons/Lore/Other stuff (6)

Patreon Fics (you’re still welcome to read these if you’re not a patreon but it might not make sense) (3)

Live Show Fics (HOW!?!?!? Amazing. I think this play will be released and I’ll edit this when/if it does to be with fics from that play.) (1)

DND (not putting it in the patron list since some people bought tickets so it doesn’t really fit the patreon category) (9)

RPF and RPF Part Two and RPF Part Three and RPF Part Four and RPF Part Five RPF Part Six and RPF Part Seven and RPF Part Eight and RPF Part Nine Part Ten (If you don’t like rpf please don’t engage with these fics or authors, I just want to prevent arguments yk) (99)

RPF x Reader (making it its own category since all the others are with the boys that I know of I think and idk maybe people wanna find things easier?) (1)

Tumblr:

Improvised play fics (5)

Wattpad:

Improvised play fics (2)

if you’ve written any sfth fanfiction that’s up on ao3 and it’s not on this list and you want it to be then let me know and I’ll add it :)) (or if you’ve noticed any missing fics too)

Total fics on this masterlist: 318

(that’s if my dyscalculia didn’t fail me and I somehow counted right^^)

Last Updated: 31st December 2024

[amiterum]

"Princess?"

The back of Sain's knuckle knocks twice. Hers is a chamber akin to sacred ground: it houses a goddess, inside walls stained with glass, and sunlight petering onto flowers of holy ambrosia. It is a temple--of birds and love, and all sorts of pretty things--demanding the most of his respect. He'd bow his head, were the door made of more than humble wood. Still, rather than barge in of his own volition, Sain makes his presence known. He trusts that the sound of his voice would be enough of an identifier.

The knob turns. The knight enters.

"Ah... Your face. My love, did the simulation treat you harshly? I should have that monk's head, making a fair maiden put up with so much!" He's joking, mostly. A smile brighter than spring buds stretches over his cheeks, and a cheerful lift pushes his eyelids shut. Sain is the very picture of glee: a sensation no doubt brought about by seeing Priscilla's face. "You need not frown anymore, my dear. Your stalwart defender is here to mend your broken heart!"

Stepping closer, he takes her hand into his. Gentle fingers are treated like a newly hatched chick the way they are handled so delicately. Sain is sure not to tug on her wrist, nor stress her out with a grip too firm. Soft skin is smoothed by his own, and after a wink, brought to his lips to kiss. Once, to say he loves her. Twice to worship her beauty and grace. Thrice, for no manner of time nor space will ever keep them apart. She is the apple of his eye, capturing his heart with her song sweet as dove's.

"But... It is good to see you safe. I might wallow for a hundred years if forced to part with you again!" He parts with Priscilla's hand, but not without leaving it with a parting gift. A chamomile, freshly picked and with petals white as a cherub's wing, enters her grasp. It is the wordless way of saying I wish healing upon you, and I am here, should you falter.

He returns his hand to his side, but leaves a loop open for her to sling hers around.

"Do tell me if any part of you aches, though. I'll treat your wounds as tenderly as you treated mine."

She need only raise her voice loud enough to be heard through the door, for Sain required little more than an answer that wasn't no.

Not that his company is unwelcome. Hardly so, in fact. Quietly, Priscilla covets these things. In Etruria they had been allowed only in daydreams -- meant to be told only in a blushing maiden's whisper, hidden behind a carefully cupped hand.

The door closes behind him, and so Priscilla takes in the figure of her knight within the threshold of her room. Such is a thing she still has the instinct to savor, for the concept that their days together are not numbered is one that she has still yet grasped.

"That would hardly be necessary," she says with a soft shake of her head. Though, to his credit, the corners of her lips have quirked just so slightly.

He does not need to know how frequently she thought of him, then -- how the image of his lance or the singed corpse of his most beloved friend had filled her with enough grief to last a lifetime.

And as he approaches, stepping across the expanse of her room as though it is something greater than him, Priscilla feels butterflies flutter unbidden in her chest. Curse him, she thinks, unable to move from where she has perched at her windowsill.

It is with a care greater than she has perhaps ever seen that he handles her. Priscilla prays he does not notice how her hand trembles at the brush of his lips, that the warmth creeping up her neck has not reached her cheeks.

"I... yes, the feeling is mutual..." Fingers close around his own for a single heartbeat, holding them hostage just long enough to claim a moment of this affection as her own.

And when she lets go, when his touch is replaced with delicate ivory, Priscilla shuts her eyes.

"It would seem that, in your company, I have forgotten what ails me."

Princess rises, brushing wrinkles from the fabric of her skirt, and carefully threads her arm within his.

"Thank you, Sain..."

[decidentia]

◈   @divinehr said: ❛ "🌿🍒” / for farkas eheh ❜ //  send “🌿🍒”

A man rooted in all things earthly.  With forge burns and scars pitted into his skin, like runes of punch-pink and birch-silver.  Farkas stood tall, snowflakes strung like stars in his mane of dark and unkempt hair.  Those frozen fractals were as close to thoughts of the heavens as he came.  His concerns were far more tangible, terrestrial – his littermate, his pack, the sweat salting their skin, the blood that pumped thick and wolf-sick through their veins.

And the woman at his side.

In gentle and unpressured intonation, Priscilla had shared with him the teachings of Mara.  Perhaps she sensed that he was fatherless, motherless.  Perhaps she had guessed that he had been dry-nursed, growing strong on the milk of mare and goat and milch cow.  Whatever the truth, he listened to her, in that affable, open-minded way he listened to all those he deemed more canny than himself.  He watched her too, finding she reflected the same traits of tenderness, loyalty and honour that were revered in the Mother-Goddess she served.  

Subconsciously, he shifted his bulk between the ethereality of Priscilla and the wind that swept frost-toothed over the tundra.  As to be expected of something hulking when in the company of something delicate, he moved slowly, mindfully.  Evening Star cold nipped at his exposed fingers, but could not hope to quench the furnace of his lycanthropy. 

Bunting strings zigzagged along Whiterun’s cobblestone streets above their heads, swaying lazily in the breeze.  Curled around the twine were thick garlands of dark pine and ivy, ruby clusters of snowberries brilliant against the deep green – but not all of the berries were red.

It was with slow-dawning realisation that Farkas understood they stood beneath a sprig of mistletoe, its glistening berries huddled together like an immaculate clutch of freshwater pearls.  He could not stop the slow spread of his smile, shedding years in this moment of roguish amusement.  From somewhere deep in his barrel of a chest, there came a low rumble of laughter.

“It’d be bad luck not to.”

Silver irises scraped over Priscilla’s fair face, peach-soft next to the coarseness of his own bearded jaw, his crude features caked in warpaint.  A broad hand rose, calloused thumb sliding over the plump petal of her lower lip.  A precursor, a promise.  Movements were slow and intentional as Farkas stooped from his great height to kiss that holy mouth.  At the last, his argent eyes closed, and he found her lips in the sightless dark.

[oh-austin]

going method, part five (austin butler)

summary: you're playing priscilla presley in the new elvis biopic, when your co-star asks you if you would like to date him during the filming of the movie to better understand elvis and priscilla's relationship.

word count: 3,743

authors note / warnings: no warnings! trying to write more and get these out for you quicker, but life is hectic right now! but here's the fifth part- five left! we're halfway there <3 I hope you all love it x

series masterlist / previous + next part

────── ∘◦❀◦∘

It was a big day today on set. Sure, every day was becoming bigger than the last for everyone; but this one was especially big for you. Everyone seemed a little more on edge this morning, but you were panicking. Priscilla was coming in to watch some scenes today. 

It would be the first time she had seen you in your hair and makeup since the first week of shooting, it never got any less daunting. Portraying a woman to only have her come and watch you attempt to fill her shoes and display her legacy. You felt pathetic today.

Austin spent the morning filming some individual scenes before a re-shoot of Priscilla’s first scene. He knew you would be in hair and makeup, most likely inches away from losing your mind and maybe your breakfast. 

Austin quickly slipped into your trailer, with his present in hand and placed them on the table so that you would see the array of pink and purple petals as soon as you came back. He pulled the gift card from the bouquet and scrawled a message on there for you. Austin left quickly, needed to rush to wardrobe- he knew that he was pushing for time, but you were worth it.

“You look like you’re going to pass out,” Louise, your hair stylist, looked down at you with her eyebrows raised. 

“I might,” You couldn’t stop looking yourself in the eye as you sat in front of the mirror. You didn’t feel like yourself, which you guessed was a good thing; you’re not supposed to be Y/N, you’re supposed to be Priscilla.

“She helped cast you, Y/N” Louise reminded you, “She wouldn’t have picked you, if she didn’t think you could handle it,” She fiddled with the bangs she needed to clip into your unruly wig. 

“I wouldn’t have picked me,” You sighed. It was hard to remain level-headed when you were so close to facing a huge moment in your life. The woman that you had been dedicating your craft to was about to see the outcome, you just wanted to make her proud. 

“Well,” Louise clipped in the hair-piece, “She did,” 

“She did,” You nodded. You were now ready to film, hair and makeup done and in costume. You didn’t look like yourself, a good thing. Over the past day of your increasing anxieties, you had begin to understand Austin’s imposter syndrome. He was something else, you weren’t sure how he did it- you couldn’t.

“You’ve got ten minutes still you need to be on your mark, why don’t you go take a minute in your trailer or your car? Sit by yourself and chill out,” Louise held your face in her hands, “You look like you need it,” She smiled.

“Thanks,” You rolled your eyes, “I’ll see you later,” You hugged her with a thank you falling from your lips as you left hair and makeup.

The walk to your trailer felt longer than it usually was. You heard whispers between crew members that Priscilla was here, you felt your stomach drop. Waves of anxiety fell over you. You stumbled into your trailer. 

There sat a bouquet of pink and purple flowers, tulips- a flower that you loved. You felt your heartbeat slow as you walked over to the vase they were sat in. A white card sat against the base of the vase, you instantly recognised the handwriting. It read:

For my sweet ‘Cilla

Make her proud today,

You’ve got this - Austin

You would have cried if you didn’t have to be on set soon, but you couldn’t stop yourself from tearing up. Austin really had won you over, heart and soul. He was the kind of man that you felt you could love forever unconditionally. He was everything. 

You felt better, knowing that Austin had your back today- he knew how much you had been stressing yourself out over today. He had developed a talent for noticing when you were in your own head, just like you had for him- it was a beautiful mutually shared talent. You weren’t drinking as much water as usual, or eating your lunch with everyone- rather hiding away in your trailer with your script glued to your hands. You were extra grateful for Austin as you left your trailer. He was slowly becoming one of the biggest parts of your life, a welcome change. 

Approaching the soundstage is when you saw Priscilla, her back turned to you- but it was her. She was talking to Baz, you weren’t sure if you should interrupt- but you wouldn’t want her to think you were rude for not saying hello. So you decided to talk to her. You swallowed the lump that made itself present in your throat before walking over to her, trying to hold your head as high as you could. 

“Y/N!” Baz smiled as you walked over, Priscilla turned around at the call of your name. 

“Y/N, how are you darling?” She asked. Priscilla’s voice was softer, you worried that you were making her appear too gutsy when acting. Suddenly all of your negative thoughts came flooding back.

“I’m alright, how are you?” She pulled you in for a hug. Baz had left you alone with Priscilla now, so you had no one else to fall back on if you began to panic.

“Just wonderful,” She smiled, “I can’t wait to watch this scene, very special to me,”

Your swear your heart dropped into the pits of your stomach. “Well, if you want me to change anything or do anything different, please tell me-“ You could have been borderline hyperventilating with the way you were laughing awkwardly, your breaths fell from your stomach- “I want it to be perfect for you,”

“Darling, you’ll be great,” She held onto your shoulders, “Just relax”.

You couldn’t. You had Priscilla Presley reassuring you that it was okay to step back and take a breath, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to do it. 

“Hey mamas,” Austin’s hand was now sat on the small of your back as he came over to you both, “Priscilla, how are you?” He had such a gentlemanly smile on his lips. 

“So great,” She told him, “You look very strapping,” Priscilla admired the military outfit that Austin was wearing for the scene. “And you-“ Priscilla put her hand on your cheek, “It’s like looking in a mirror,” Okay, maybe you could breathe a little, “Fifty-odd years ago, but still-“ She laughed- “A mirror,”

“Doesn’t she look beautiful?” Austin looked down at you. Priscilla watched as Austin admired you, her heart skipped a beat seeing two people who were such visions of herself and her true love. It was surreal, she wished he was here to see it.

“Just gorgeous,” Priscilla nodded.

Soon, Baz was calling both you and Austin to your marks, ready to film the scene. You shook your hands out as you stood up and on your mark. Austin tapped your leg with his foot from his position on the floor. “Hey,” He whispered, “You’ve got this, I promise”

You swallowed the lump in your throat once more, a persistent and pestering trait of your anxieties. You looked down at him before nodding.

“I got this,” You whispered, trying your best to convince yourself. 

“Ready,” Baz began to call. You closed your eyes and listened for him to cal action, “Mark.. And action!”

“And then he said to me…” You cleared your throat, deepening your voice with a gravelly tone, pretending to inhale from a cigarette- blowing out imaginary smoke into the air. “‘You know what, Priscilla? You gotta listen to me, sweetie, because this guy, he’s got girls all over the world, okay?’” You looked down at Austin who was looking up at you in awe, “‘He’s got girls waiting outside of his house and girls writing him endless fan mail.” You abandoned the deep and rough tone, “And then mommy decides to pitch in and go, ‘ooh, what could he possibly see in you, okay? What do you two do up there all night?”

And…” You looked over to see an extra peering into the room. 

You softly scoffed, before closing the door slightly. "And I just said, ‘mom, dad… We talk and we listen to music, okay? That’s all.” You leave the door and walk closer to where Austin was sat, “And then they were going on and on about that photo of you and Natalie wood riding around on that bike in Memphis, and-“ You took a quick deep breath- “And then what I said- and I said this really calmly, I said, ‘listen, okay? He’s just really lonely. And quite frankly, so am I’” You shrugged.

You and Austin sat in a pause of silence before you giggled softly, “And then they didn’t really know what to say after that, so I went upstairs and I went to bed,” You smiled. Austin still sat with the same face staring back at you. It was beautiful sight.

“Never met anyone like you,” Austin’s southern drawl present once again, deeper than usual. 

“Well, I hope not,” You leant back against the bed, looking at Austin, “So… what is Natalie wood like?” You raised your eyebrows at him.

“She’s nice, you know. She’s been writing me about acting. I’ve been asking her stories about working with James Dean and… God-“ Austin sighed whilst shaking his head- “I just hope to one day be as good as him, you know?” He looked over at you. You hummed a response before Austin continued. “Colonel’s promised me that when I get back he’s gonna set me up in Hollywood to be a serious actor. That’s really what I dream of,” He admitted.

“Hey, E.P,” Another extra called out, the door now open once again. Austin was now stood up, “E.P, now, you promised the captain that you’d get her home by 7:00.

“Hey, Charlie. What’s that behind you?” Austin walked over to the door, pointing behind the extra. 

“What?” The man followed Austin’s gaze but when he looked back the door had been closed in his face.

“He don’t boss me around,” You and Austin moved over to the bay-window seat. You were leant against the wall as Austin sat closer to you.

“You know, I think if you dream it, you’ll do it.” You told him, your voice soft.

“You do?” He asked.

“Yeah,” You whispered.

“Cut!” Baz called. You let out a breath you didn’t know that you were holding in. Austin grabbed a hold of your hand, squeezing it tight to let you know that he was proud of you. 

Baz came over to talk to you about the scene before another take, you were enthralled with every word Baz ever spoke to you. As you were busy talking, Austin walked over to Priscilla who had a smile on her face.

“What did you think?” Priscilla almost had to take a double take whenever speaking with Austin. He radiated the same energy as her Elvis- scary really, but she knew he would be proud of Austin. He would be honoured.

“Isn’t she just great?” Priscilla had her arms crossed over her chest as she marvelled at your performance. 

“Oh, tell me about it,” Austin shook his head as he watched you deep in conversation. The way you spoke with your hands, he found it so endearing. “She’s just-“ He sighed- “Amazing,”

“How long’ve you two been together?” Priscilla asked. Austin’s heart stopped beating in his chest. Technically, she wasn’t wrong.. you two were ‘dating’, but the fact that Priscilla wasn’t aware of your agreement and still noticed your chemistry shocked Austin. 

“Oh uh- well,” Austin cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, “We’re not actually together, we’re just ‘dating’-“ He air-quoted- “For the film. We’re method acting,” He explained.

“Oh,” Priscilla was confused at his answer, startled really. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed or anything, you both just have this..” She searched for the right word, “I’m not really sure,” She shrugged. Priscilla knew that she was lying, she had seen this before- had felt that way before. 

“No, don’t worry,” Austin brushed it off, “I’m not offended or anything-“ Austin tripped over his words, reaching for the right thing to say- “I wouldn’t be offended by anyone thinking we were actually together. You know? She’s great, but we’re just ‘together’ for the film, that’s it” Priscilla watched as Austin nodded as he spoke. She wondered if he was trying to convince her, or himself.

“Well alright,” She nodded at him, the two of them looking back over at you, “Could’ve fooled me,” Priscilla shrugged. As Austin turned his head to look back at her, she was still watching you speak with Baz.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if people thought you were really together, Austin wouldn’t be opposed to that. A happy accident maybe.

As the day went on, you were feeling more comfortable in your own skin. Priscilla was kind as ever, offering you tidbits about her life and telling you how she felt in that exact moment so that you could bring your performance to the next level. Having her on set was the little push you needed to believe in your abilities, Austin was right- you’ve got this.

You were done with your scenes around lunchtime, though you and Priscilla sat together on set. In between takes you would speak about the film and how you both were feeling about it all. You were grateful to even get to be in the same room as her, let alone have genuine conversations.

Austin was filming another performance, you honestly had zoned out at this far along in the day- you weren’t even sure which number it was. All you knew is Austin was standing on a stage, rhinestones adorning whatever jumpsuit he was wearing and he was probably looking very good while doing it.

You felt bad for not paying attention to the scene being filmed, but you and Priscilla were having such a great time whispering like little school girls in the back corner of a classroom- you didn’t even notice when Austin hurt himself.

It happened quite quick. You heard Baz call ‘cut’ louder than he usually would. Then the words ‘you’re bleeding’, that caught your attention.

When you looked over to the sound stage, Austin held a guitar in hand and was telling Baz he was ready to do another take whilst blood dripped down his forehead.

“No, you’re going to get checked out” Baz ordered. You watched as Austin tried to stumble his way from the stage, his hand on his head. You mumbled a small ‘sorry’ to Priscilla before rushing over to Austin.

“What the hell did you do?” You grabbed his arm, trying to help him down from the stairs. Austin had a gash in his forehead, it didn’t look too deep- but it looked like it hurt.

“I threw the guitar off,” Austin mumbled.

You rolled your eyes, “You hadn’t practiced that enough yet to do that, Austin. You know that”.

“It felt right in the moment,” Austin opened his eyes wide and blinked a few times. “Mamas, could you please walk me to the medic, I’m a little woozy,” His breaths began to deepen, as they did you placed yourself under his arm, trying your best to support his large frame.

“You’re not going to a medic, you’re going to a hospital,” Baz told him, “I’ll re-work some schedules, you’re back on Monday unless a doctor or myself says otherwise,”

Austin opened his mouth to try and argue, but you whisked him away before he could. You whispered a quick goodbye to Priscilla as you walked Austin from the lot and tucked him into the passenger seat of your car.

“Baby, I’m fine,” Austin tried to tell you.

“I’m ignoring you,” You shook your head, “Cannot believe you smacked yourself in the head with a guitar”. Shooting a look over at Austin, you saw his eyes slowly drifting. You smacked him softly in the chest trying to him keep awake as you drove to the hospital.

“Austin,” You hit him again, “Stop that, don’t do that to me,”

“My head is killing me,” He groaned.

“Yeah, because you almost knocked yourself out, idiot” You scoffed, “Stay awake please, we’re like ten minutes away- not even”. You moved one of your hands from the steering wheel and on top of his, grabbing onto it. “Squeeze my hand if you need to, just don’t pass out on me please” You squeezed his hand twice to get his attention. Austin gave you a squeeze back, before looking over at you.

Did you push the speed limit? Sure. But as you walked Austin into the emergency room, you knew it was worth it. You knew that Baz must have pulled some strings to get Austin looked at straight away, you felt guilty for the other people having to sit in the waiting room for who knows how long.

It didn’t take long for the doctors to say Austin could go home. They put four stitches in the gash and ruled out a concussion. You felt more at ease knowing he was going to be okay.

Austin thanked you incessantly as you took him back to his apartment. You tried your best to play it off, you didn’t feel like it was a big deal. You were doing what any friend would do. Austin wouldn’t have it though.

Back at his place, you told Austin to get changed into different clothes- he was still in a glittery jumpsuit, one you would need to return to wardrobe tomorrow morning. As Austin got ready for bed, you slipped into his bathroom, brushed your teeth and pulled the old shirt from the box of things Austin had put away for you. It felt good to be in something fresh that didn’t smell like a hospital.

If Austin noticed that you were wearing his shirt, he didn’t say anything. You tucked the duvet underneath him to get him comfortable. “Hey, you seriously don’t have to do this, Y/N,” He told you.

You ignored him as you pulled his water bottle out of your bag and handed it to him. Austin whispered a soft thank you as he unscrewed the cap off.

“Can you be more careful next time please?” You took the water bottle back once he had finished with it. You put it on his bedside table so it was close to him during the night.

“Yes, mamas- I promise,” He nodded. Austin grabbed your hand from where you were sat on his bed, “You gonna stay tonight?”

“I can if you would like me to,” You shrugged.

“I always want you to,” Austin closed his eyes with a sigh. His head throbbed right behind his stitches, he regretted trying Elvis’ guitar-throw move more than he ever thought possible.

“Okay,” You whispered, “Then I’ll stay”.

You tidied up Austin’s room as he called obstructions from the bed, in too much pain to stop you from picking up after him. “The room is a mess, please don’t” He said, “I’ll clean it up tomorrow, I just haven’t had heaps of time,”

“I’ve got time,” You told him, “So I’m doing it. Close your eyes,” You watched as he rolled his eyes before closing them, a wince following in suit.

“You okay?” You stopped in your tracks from picking up a pair of jeans from the floor.

“Yeah mamas,” He nodded softly, “Just.. sore”

You left Austin’s bedroom and headed down into the kitchen where he kept his medicine. You pulled an almost empty box of ibuprofen from the cabinet before heading back upstairs.

“Take this,” You popped out two pills from the foil packaging into Austin’s hand, then handed him his water. You continued to put his clothes into the hamper as Austin took the pain medication, especially grateful for you in that moment.

When you were done, you slipped your bra off and out from underneath Austin’s old t-shirt before getting into bed next to him. You shuffled around for a second, trying your best to get comfortable.

“Come ‘ere” Austin whispered. You rolled over and moved closer towards Austin. His face and yours were inches apart.

“Thank you for taking care of me, baby” He whispered, his eyes still closed. You smiled.

“Of course,” You laughed slightly, “Wouldn’t want you to bleed out on set, we’d lose our leading man”.

“Could stick you in a wig and let you do it,” You watched a small smirk crept onto his face.

“I couldn’t pull of black hair like you,” You chuckled, “You look very very good with black hair, very pretty”.

Austin opened his eyes to meet your gaze. He could only just make out your face in the dark, but he knew you looked beautiful, you always did.

“Thank you for today,” He whispered to you.

“Always,” You smiled. You watched as Austin’s eyes flickered down to your lips. You couldn’t help but copy his actions afterwards. After your eyes both met, and it was unspoken where the conversation was heading- but you both knew.

You closed your eyes as you leant forwards, Austin doing the same. You let your hand rest softly on his cheek as his moved to your neck. His lips met yours.

They felt soft and plush, exactly how they looked. You had thought about what it would be like to kiss Austin, but now that it was happening, you were pleasantly surprised by the innocent kiss.

You pulled away first, suddenly shy in front of him. Austin but his lip as your eyes met once more, his hand still sat on your neck. Your brain rushed through a million things to say to him, you weren’t completely happy with what you came out with.

“You’re a great actor, Mr Presley,”

Austin’s heart dropped as you spoke. His entire conversation with Priscilla came flooding back, that you weren’t really together and no matter how much the idea of you being his and not Elvis’ made him happy- you had confirmed that it wasn’t going to happen in six small words.

For he came to the conclusion that you were never going to kiss him as Austin, but only as Elvis.

─── ∘◦❀◦∘

@rainydayz101 @sammybutler @klizzie93 @rockerchick05 @fanatics30 @sh-aniah @little-rythmix @austinsrealgf @hallecarey1 @catertotshitposts @abloversblog @inkpot-winters @adrientte715 @gabrielajimenez @butler-trouble @rodrig-hoe @b1llzb1tch @duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-blog1 @behindmygreyeyes @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker @teti-menchon0604 @sparklemarysunshine @xy05m @onecrazydirectioner @knivqs @dre6ming @gigisworldsstuff @namoreno @all-lit-up @aesthetic-lyssa @butlersantics

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Beneath the Surface: A Retelling of “The Frog Prince”

If I’d had any choice, I never would have taken the underground train. I had accompanied Roger to a political summit in the city of Roshen, but spouses leave after the opening speeches, and since I couldn’t leave Roger without the hovercar, I had to use public transportation. The train--built by the natives decades before humanity absorbed Arateph into the Interplanetary Coalition--was a horrible excuse for technology. It rattled me to my destination, jolted me into an underground station, and left me so shaken that I could feel my bones clattering as I climbed up the stairs to the street.

The crowd surged around me as I emerged onto the sidewalk. There were far too many tephans. You know what Arateph’s natives look like—almost like humans, but it’s an unsettling almost. Their eyes just slightly too high on their heads, their ears just slightly too far back, and hands (ugh) split into only three fingers and a thumb. Like a person shaped by a sculptor with a hazy memory of how humans look. I can take them in small doses, but in groups? My skin was crawling. I powered through the crowd as quickly as possible and tried not to let any of them touch me.

I sped several blocks away from the train station before I realized I was nowhere near my hotel. The buildings in this neighborhood were old, made of crumbling stone bricks that had been stacked by physical labor rather than printed by machine. Half the windows were made of colored glass, and half of those were broken. Garbage rustled in the gutters, holes marred the concrete sidewalks, and all the signs were written in an unfamiliar alphabet. I was, somehow, lost in a tephan neighborhood. And not a nice one.  

I turned in circles, trying to figure out which way I’d come. Tephans watched me from storefronts and doorsteps and alleyways, and I kept walking to prevent them from figuring out just how lost I was. I was Priscilla Overton, wife of a Coalition finance minister, pillar of this planet’s elite—and human. Some groups violently opposed human rule, and tephan attacks against humans were on the rise. Who knew what these savages would do if they knew how helpless I was?

I rushed through narrow, dark streets until I reached a wider thoroughfare--a residential area with slightly less grimy apartment buildings. Still not a nice neighborhood, but not a place where I suspected otherworldly rats would tear the flesh from my bones or criminals would murder me for my technology.

I pulled my datapad out of my purse to look for directions. Dead.

I unfolded my wristcomm and tried to call for help. No signal.

I put my fist to my mouth to stifle a frustrated scream. Why did these things happen to me?

I stormed further down the street, cursing Roger for ever bringing us to this planet. We’d been happy on Earth. Comfortable. Respected. With no chance of wandering into streets where aliens stared at you with their off-kilter eyes. The rewards we got for helping to civilize this backward planet weren’t nearly enough to make up for this torture.

I turned a corner and found myself in front of a long, low yellow-brick building with dozens of small windows. The window boxes had flowers in them—fist-sized bundles of tiny red and gold petals. Not something you’d find on Earth, but...nice. Nice enough to pull me down from my fury and make me think I could give my wristcomm another try.

I powered down the wristcomm and stood next to a pink metal lamp post (Arateph has strange color trends) while I waited for it to restart. A metal grate was below my feet. These primitives still used storm drains! I shouldn’t have been surprised, since the road clearly wasn’t made of Draincrete, but it was still jarring. Living on Arateph was a strange combination of living on another world and living in the backward past.

My wristcomm buzzed, still powering up. I was ready to explode with anxiety. There were tephans straggling by—not many of them, but too many and too poorly dressed for my taste. To calm myself, I played with my wedding ring—a gold band with a spray of amethysts and pearls. The ring had been in Roger’s family for centuries. Some days, it felt like my last tie to a familiar world.

I kept my life on Arateph as Earth-like as possible, but it could never be the same as living on Earth. Alien things always lingered at the edges. Trees that turned purple in autumn instead of familiar orange. Toothy red-and-purple-feathered birds that rooted through the trash and woke me with their awful screeching. And around every corner, people who looked like grotesque parodies of my own kind. An entire world conspiring to make me constantly aware of how far I was from home.

My sisters were going about their own lives on Earth, and the few times we could afford appointments at synced comms stations, we found little to talk about--we literally came from different worlds. If Roger and I ever had children--doubtful but possible at our age--our families would only know them as data-images.

This was why I hated being alone on this wretched planet. Gave me far too much time to think about these things.

My wristcomm chimed—finally awake. I unfolded the screen and attempted to bring up my list of contact codes. I found Roger’s; he’d be in the middle of a meeting, but I couldn’t help that. I pressed the code and waited.

A discordant note sounded. No signal. I threw down my hand in frustration. My ring flew down with it. The golden band slipped off my finger, tumbled toward the ground, bounced off the edges of the grate, and fell into the drain.

I gasped in horror and fell to my knees. It couldn’t be, not now.

The ring sparkled in the sunlight, caught on a lip where the structure of the drain met the tube of the deeper pipe. I put my purse on the ground and slid my arm through the grate, but my arm got stuck just above the elbow. The ring was still a foot beyond my reach.

I burst into tears. I couldn’t help it. After the day I’d had—lost among tephans, fighting faulty technology, no hope of help from people who looked like me—this was the last straw. This planet had taken me from my home, my family, my friends, everything familiar, and now it was taking my one reminder of it all. Anybody would have cried.

Long before I felt any relief, a harsh voice broke through my sobs. “Are you finished yet?”

I looked up, furious at whoever was rude enough to interrupt my misery.

A tephan girl sat in the stairwell of the long yellow-brick building next to the gutter. I yelped and reeled back, tears still flowing. Have you ever seen a tephan child? They’re ten times worse than the adults; all their slightly-wrong features stretched even further out of shape, their eyes big and bulging in their heads. This girl was gangly. Her skinny limbs dangled out of baggy green clothes, and a wild brown bush of curls frizzed around her face and over her eyes. By human standards, I’d have judged her to be about twelve years old (though I have no idea if these creatures age like humans). By any race’s standards, she looked positively feral.

I couldn’t believe the creature had spoken to me. “Did you say something?” I asked.

She held up a thick book, bound human-style but with blocky tephan letters on the cover. “Can you cry somewhere else? I’m trying to read.”

She spoke Anglese with only a lightly slurring tephan accent. Somehow, this child spoke the Coalition’s language better than most of the tephan diplomats at Roger’s interminable meetings.

In my shock, I blurted, “How do you know Anglese?”

The creature rolled her eyes. “I go to school. With humans and everything.”

Roger hadn’t been in favor of the integration policy, but it apparently had some benefits. Or would have, had I any interest in talking to the child. Before I could decide if I wanted to reply, I glimpsed the ring again and burst into another involuntary round of tears.

The girl closed her book with a sigh. “What are you crying about anyway?”

I couldn’t tell her that I was crying because of her terrible, technologically backward planet and all its inhabitants, but I had to talk to someone and it was so good to hear human words, even from an alien’s throat. I pointed to the drain. “My ring,” I gasped. “It fell...”

She picked up her book, scrambled down the stairs, and peered in the drain. She huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re making that much noise over that?”

I drew back my shoulders and snapped, “It’s an irreplaceable heirloom! Centuries of human history! You can’t get those stones anywhere but Earth!”

“Then you should have been more careful with it.”

That made me want to scream, but before I could gather enough breath, the child gathered the book to her chest and turned away. “Can you at least try to keep it down?”

As the girl sat on the building’s stone stairs, the wind tore a scrap of paper out of her book and sent it fluttering. She reached up and snatched it out of the air. My gaze fell on the girl’s arms—long, lanky things that were thinner than human arms. With four-fingered hands that could easily slip between the bars of the grate.

“Wait!” I shouted. “Little tephan girl! What’s your name?”

The girl cast me a dark, distrustful expression, but she finally intoned, “Tanza.”

Not bad, as far as tephan names went. I could pronounce this one. “Tanza,” I said, “Do you think you could reach it?”

The girl shifted her hand behind her back, her face becoming a hard mask. “What do you mean?”

I pointed to her, rambling in my excitement. “Your arms are thinner than mine. Just as long. You could probably reach...”

Her brow furrowed.  “You want me to dig in a sewer?”

“Not a sewer,” I said. “A storm drain.”

“Still dirty.” She looked at the storm drain with narrowed eyes.“If I get it for you, will you go away?”

I wanted nothing more. “Immediately.”

"What'll you pay me for it?"

I felt like I'd been hit by a train. "What? Who said I'd pay you?"

The child pointed one long finger at the storm drain. “If I get dirty digging in there, it’ll be my tenth laundry demerit and I don’t get supper. I’m not doing it for nothing!”

The building behind her held one of the few signs I’d seen with Anglese translations beneath the tephan words: Alogath Charity Home for Unwanted Children. I could see why this child was unwanted.

“I don’t carry cash,” I told her.

“Do you have a credit stick?”

I put a protective arm over my purse. “It’ll be deactivated the moment you touch it.”

She rolled her eyes. ��I don’t need the whole stick. Just buy me something with it.”

A truck—a noisy, clanking tephan thing that actually rolled on the ground—roared past us. The glimmer on the ring shifted closer to the drain pipe. If I didn’t act fast…

“What do you want?” I asked her.

“A lot of things.” Her eyes went blank as she stared at imaginings only she could see. Finally, she declared, “A meal at the High Palace.”

She really said that! As if it were a reasonable request! I don’t know how this urchin even knew about human restaurants, much less the finest of fine dining establishments.

“That’s ridiculous!”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I lose a meal, you buy me a replacement. That’s fair.”

“Do you know how much a High Palace meal costs?”

“A lot less than it’ll cost you to replace that ring.”

I growled in frustration. The child had me backed into a corner and she knew it. I shuddered at the thought of taking this…thing into the sparkling society of a High Palace dining room.

I pointed a fierce finger at the child. “Only if you give me the ring immediately. Understand? There’s not a place on the planet a creature like you could sell it without suspicion.”

“I don’t want your ring. I’ll live up to my end of the bargain. And you’ll live up to yours, or that ring’s staying where it is.”

Of course I couldn’t really take her to the High Palace, but one more street-rattling truck could take the ring forever out of anyone’s reach. I’d have agreed if she’d asked for a hovercar.

“Fine!” I shouted. “I’ll buy you the meal. Just save my ring!”

The child placed her book on a clean patch of sidewalk and returned to the edge of the street. I snatched up my purse and stepped aside while the girl laid face down in the gutter. She slid her arm through the grate, all the way up to the shoulder. I held my breath for an eternal moment and didn’t release it until the girl emerged with a ring of gold and amethyst in her hands.

The ring sparkled merrily at me, grimy but whole. I snatched it from Tanza's hands and tucked it into an inner pocket of my gray blazer. I wouldn’t wear it again without resizing it—and not until I was in a neighborhood where I didn’t have to worry about it being stolen from my finger.

The child picked up her book and looked at me expectantly. Demandingly.

I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She was a complete stranger. I’d made the promise under duress. Not a court in the universe would hold me to it. What right did a tephan child have to make such ridiculous demands of a woman of my stature?

“Thank you,” I said. “You did a very good thing.” Then I sped down the street.

The creature was right at my heels. “The High Palace is the other way.”

I didn’t know if she was telling the truth. It didn’t matter. I walked faster.

She yanked at my arm. “You promised me a meal!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t get you into the High Palace.”

“A human lady dressed like you? You could get me in if you wanted to.”

I yanked my arm away from her. “What a pity I don’t want to.”

She gave a feral yowl. I started sprinting—or as near as I could manage in the heels I was wearing. The girl kept pace with me. I was a foot taller than her; why couldn’t I outrun her? Could I lose her in her own streets when I was lost myself?

Just when I thought I’d never be able to escape, I rounded a corner and saw the green-and-silver uniform of a Coalition policeman. My heart soared as I raced toward him. Help, protection, guidance, all only a few steps away. Something wonderfully human in this alien world.

“Officer!” I shouted to his retreating back. “Please, I need help!”

The officer stopped and raised a hand. A four-fingered hand. When he turned around, his face had the skewed proportions of a tephan face.

I nearly screamed. I’d stumbled into a nightmare.

The officer said, with the crisp diction of a tephan overcompensating for an accent, “Have you a problem, morik—madam?”

I’d heard that a few tephans had been admitted into the police forces, but I’d never thought I’d meet one. This tephan was young. Wiry and blond. Almost insignificant-looking if it weren’t for the uniform and the stolen sense of authority. Would he help a human?

Tephan or not, he had an obligation to assist the public. “Officer,” I gasped. “I need directions to the nearest train station. I’m trying to get home and this child is harassing me.”

The girl stormed up to him and shrieked, “She’s a liar!”

She shouted a stream of gibberish, and it wasn’t until the officer responded with similar sounds that I realized they were speaking the tephan language. Flowing, musical vowels were interrupted by harsh consonants, like rocks in a river. The sounds sent chills down my spine that only grew fiercer as the officer’s expression grew darker.

When the girl finished, the officer looked at me, not like an innocent victim needing help, but like a criminal who needed hauling to one of their barbaric tephan jails. “You have wronged this girl.”

I lifted my chin. “She’s lying! I’ve done nothing to her!”

“She claims she rescued your ring in exchange for a meal at the High Palace, and you are attempting to break your word.”

“I owe her nothing!”

“Did you promise her a meal?”

I threw out my hands in frustration. “It’s not like we had a contract or anything!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your promise means nothing without a legal document?”

“She had no right to hold me to a promise. I was desperate!”

He put a brotherly hand on the girl’s shoulder. “And she was kind enough to help you.”

I scoffed. “For a heavy price.”

The child shouted, “It’s one meal!”

The officer examined my face carefully. “You are Priscilla Overton, are you not? The wife of the finance minister?”

My jaw dropped. I’m prominent enough in human circles, but I’d never dared to consider that my face was known among tephans. It terrified me, but I knew it could be my ticket out of this. “I am, and when my husband finds out about how I’ve been treated—”

“Your husband is not a popular man. Not among tephans.”

I had never cared about Roger's reputation among the tephans. These primitives didn’t know what was best for their planet. But that wasn’t something I could say when I was alone in a strange neighborhood with two of them.

The officer continued, “It will not help his reputation if his wife is known as a promise-breaker.”

I couldn’t believe it. “Are you threatening me?”

He leaned toward me and said in low tones, “I am helping you.” He gestured to the street around us. “Do you think I’m the only one who heard the girl’s story?”

I shuddered to see a handful of tephans staring at us from among the crumbling buildings.

The officer said, “The Coalition doesn’t care much for tephan opinion, but if there is enough outcry against one man, even a human representative can be released from his job.”

At first, the thought lifted my spirits. Sent home! To Earth! It was what I’d wanted from the moment we’d stepped foot on this planet. But sent home in disgrace? Roger would have no future in government after such a public failure. It would mean everything we suffered here would be for nothing.

I asked the officer, “You really think they’d protest? Just because I didn’t bow to a child’s ridiculous demands?”

“If a person can’t keep a promise made to a child, how can anything they say be trusted?” His tephan gaze raked over me, like he was dissecting my inner thoughts. “Your people may have different ideas, but tephans still value virtue.”

How dare he—this puffed-up primitive in a human position of power—accuse humanity of being inferior?

My opinion didn’t matter. These creatures thought it a matter of morality that I feed this ragged brat finer cuisine than their planet had ever produced, and nothing I could say would change their minds. Now it seems ridiculous to think that those tephans could ruin us, but in that moment, alone in those unfamiliar streets, seeing how these two strange aliens teamed up against me, I could believe their kind capable of anything.

I looked down at the child. Her big eyes. Her frizzy curls. Her long limbs clutching the book to her chest. The grimy, bog-green clothes that fell short of the wrists and ankles. The smug smirk of a spoiled child who knew she was about to get her way. I had never loathed anyone more in my life.

“Do you have a name?” I asked her. “I’ll need a full name for the restaurant register.”

“I told you,” she said, as though she’d expected me to remember. “It’s Tanza.”

“What’s the rest of your name?” Most tephans I’d met had at least three or four names and were obnoxiously eager to explain them.

The girl's face darkened like I’d offended her. “Just Tanza.”

The officer looked at her with new pity, and even I understood why. You know how important names are to tephans. One name was a badge of dishonor--forever marking her as a child who’d never been claimed by any family, who’d never been given anything beyond the minimum necessary label. Tanza would have felt the shame of that, and I wasn’t quite so surprised that she’d turned into such an irritating little brat.

But I had no room for pity. “Do you have anything better to wear?”

She tugged at the cuffs, trying to stretch them over her arms. “Just more green. And all in the wash. Laundry demerits."

The officer said, "It'll do." He knelt in front of the girl, then looked at me and held out a hand. "I'll bet a fine lady like you carries all kinds of cleaning tools."

I sighed and handed him the nanocleanser from my purse. I showed him the power button, then he waved the metal wand over the stains on Tanza’s clothes. After a few seconds, the stains evaporated and the dirt from the gutter fell away as dry sand.

“Good as new,” the officer said, while Tanza gaped at her freshly-cleaned clothes. These primitives were astounded by the simplest things.

The child brushed through her wild curls with her fingers, swept them back over her shoulders, then stood with her hands at her side and feet apart, as if presenting herself for inspection.

I sighed. “I guess it’s as good as we’ll get. Let’s get this over with.”

Tanza tucked her book beneath her arm and her eyes sparkled with victory.

I looked balefully at the tome. “The book’s coming with?”

“Well, I can’t leave it here.”

I considered insisting that she take it back to the home, but I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Bring the book.”

I was seriously planning on entering the dining room of the High Palace with an alien who thought the proper attire included a set of green work clothes and a giant book. I had gone insane.

The officer stepped aside and gestured for both of us to walk past him. “I’ll escort you there.”

And there went my last hope of escape.

#

The officer escorted us through winding streets, side alleys and dried up canals until we finally crossed a bridge into a civilized portion of the city with human-designed buildings. One sprawling building of white stone-print bore a black sign with elegant script that proclaimed it The High Palace.

As we approached the building, Tanza suddenly skittered across my path. I almost tripped over her feet.

I glared at her as she fell into step on my right side. “What are you doing?”

She glanced warily to the street corner. “Kids from school.”

I glanced back and saw a pre-teen human boy with short black hair and immaculate clothing. He leaned against the corner of a building while he spoke with a handful of human friends. Well-groomed, friendly, human—why couldn’t that child have rescued my ring? I’d have been glad to take him as a guest to the High Palace.

As I engaged in fruitless wishes, the human children disappeared, and I arrived with my tephan escorts at the entrance doors of the High Palace. Wide glass windows showed a sparkling three-dimensional display of Old Paris in springtime. Tanza studied the images of bakeries and floral shops and fluttering Earth songbirds, as if attempting to dissect the technology. The few people passing by looked askance at the tephan pair with me.

Tanza asked, “Are we going in?”

I looked back at the officer. He just smiled at me and waved us toward the door.

I took a deep breath, put a hand behind the girl’s shoulders and pushed her inside.

The interior was a vision of white and cream: pale artwork on the walls, a glass fountain trickling crystal-clear water, rugs in intricate shades of vanilla, beige and ivory upon white marble floors.

The street sounds disappeared when the door closed behind us. No foot traffic, no rumbling vehicles, no screeching of alien animals. Just the hush of quiet voices, the gentle strings of a European symphony and the trickle of the fountain. It was like we'd stepped into a different world. My world. Except for the alien next to me.

The host standing guard at the dining room entrance stared at Tanza, then looked at me with the horrified compassion of someone trying to tell you there’s a wasp on your shoulder. “Madam, are you aware…?”

The only way to get through this with any dignity was to brazen my way through it. “I’d like a table, please. Two seats. For Priscilla Overton and guest.”

I thought his eyes would pop out of his head. “Your guest? You mean she—?”

“Is my guest. Is that a problem?”

He stared as if incredulous that I didn’t know the problem. I didn’t even blink.

Finally, he put a stylus to his datapad. “Does this guest have a name?”

The girl stood as straight and dignified as I did. “Tanza.”

He poised his stylus over the datapad. “Anythin—”

“Just Tanza.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he set his stylus aside. “Two seats for Priscilla Overton and…Tanza.”

The host led us into a blindingly beautiful dining room. A full wall of windows overlooked a river that glittered in the afternoon sun. The other walls were meshed with holonet that made the room look like a small nook in a formal European garden, with the tables and chairs surrounded by roses, tulips, lilies, and a thousand other flowers whose names I’d forgotten in my years away from Earth. Real potted plants scattered among the tables added to the reality of the image and the string quartet played some of the finest music from Earth's history. The room was a bastion of civilization in this barbaric world. A taste of home. It was more filling than any food could be.

The host led us to windowside tables with an excellent view of the river. My heart lifted. Prime seating—a sign of my place on this planet, which not even a tephan could take away. And it was flanked by two potted gardenia plants that would screen my guest from the handful of other diners.

I took the right-hand seat and motioned for Tanza to take the chair that sat closest to the shrub. Its branches brushed her as she sat down.

The host left us as a waiter handed us our menus. As Tanza sat down, she reached toward the branch above her head, plucked a single white gardenia blossom, shoved it in her mouth, and began to chew.

I froze in terror, then glanced at the waiter. Had he noticed?

If he had, he’d been well trained. He didn’t even stumble in his recitation of the day’s lunch specials.

“Would you like a few minutes to make a selection?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, yes,” I said, waving him away before my guest could decide to take another nibble of the greenery.

He bowed and vanished toward the kitchen.

When he was gone, Tanza spit the flower into a gold-embroidered napkin and wiped her tongue on the far corner. While her mouth contorted in the most disturbing shape, those tephan eyes glared at me. “That’s not a spiceblossom bush.”

“No,” I said, my tone stretched with scorn. “It’s a gardenia. And the blossoms aren’t for eating.”

She wiped her tongue on another corner of the napkin. “Why do they put flowers by the table if you’re not supposed to eat them?”

“For decoration,” I hissed. “And if you can’t behave in a civilized manner, we’ll leave this restaurant, promise or no promise.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t know all the fancy human rules of eating.”

Her sarcasm made my blood boil—until I saw her blush. She was prickly, yes, but unless I was very much mistaken, she was embarrassed. Now she was lost in an alien world, and I’d experienced that sensation too recently not to feel a little sorry for her.

But only a little. She had demanded this, after all, at great expense to me. Let her suffer the consequences.

“Rule one,” I said. “Don’t put anything in your mouth unless I tell you to.” I tugged her napkin out of her four-fingered hands before she could run it across her tongue again. “That includes napkins.”

With the napkin gone, Tanza's tongue was on full display in front of her chin as she kept the taste as far out of her mouth as possible. I don’t know if you know this, but tephan tongues can stretch further and thinner than human tongues, and this child made hers come almost to a point. I couldn’t look at that for the entire meal, but I couldn’t have the child destroying all the table linens either.

I waved over a waiter carrying a carafe of water, and I pointed him to our empty glasses. He leaned over our table and filled my glass almost to the brim. Then he turned and saw my guest—her pale skin, green clothes, those big eyes and that long, thin tephan tongue. He yelped, recoiled, dropped the carafe, and knocked over my glass. Water flooded the table and spilled onto my lap.

The child yelped, shouted something in her alien language and scrambled to pull her book out of the path of the water. An old man at the next table dropped his fork and stared at her. Fortunately, the few other diners in the room were too far away to see.

I hushed the child and found myself in the strange position of apologizing to the waiter while I was the one standing drenched. I didn’t know what reznat meant, but I was sure it wasn’t a nice thing for a tephan to say to her waiter.

“Could we...” I asked as I ran the nanocleanser over my clothes, “have another table?”

“C...certainly, madam,” he said, looking at Tanza as if waiting for her to pounce. I half-expected it myself, from the fierce way she curled around that book.

Once my clothes were dry, the waiter brought us to an empty table nearer the center of the room. No window view. No shielding plants. But it was further from the kitchen—where I was certain all the servers would be gossiping about us as soon as this klutz left us.

Once we were settled with new water glasses and dry menus, the server scurried away as if the girl were a poison frog. Tanza muttered alien words while she brushed water from the edges of her book, and gulped water until she got the taste of the flower out of her mouth. Then she glared at me and reverted back to Anglese. “He almost wrecked my book.”

After watching her lug that book around for an hour, my curiosity—and frustration—were mounting. “What’s that book about, anyway? And why are you willing to curse out waiters over it?”

“It’s a biography of Queen Marastel.” She set the book deliberately on the table, and looked around the room as if daring waiters to spill more water on it. “And it’s mine. I finally have a book of my own, and I don’t want it wrecked by an idiot with a water pitcher.”

The book was thick. What I’d seen of the print was small. It was not a children’s history book. I hadn’t expected this grimy alien child to be the biography type. Was there a developmental disorder that gave children irrational attachments to academic texts?

“Who is Queen Marastel?” I asked.

Tanza showed me the book’s cover. It had a picture of a young tephan woman—in her mid-twenties, to my human eyes—with a pale, narrow face, and deep eyes. The woman's dark hair was covered with an elaborate system of veils, and she wore a dress covered in so many white jewels and so much gray and white beadwork that I almost couldn’t see the ivory fabric underneath.

“Her,” Tanza said. “The last queen of Arateph.”

“Arateph had queens?” I asked in surprise. They hadn’t had queens when humanity had found them. It must have been part of their history.

I’d never thought of this planet as having a history. If I’d considered it at all, I suppose I’d assumed that they’d been muddling along the way we’d found them for the last few centuries, waiting for us to show up and drag them into modern civilization.

Tanza said, “The planet was ruled by a monarchy until about forty years before the Coalition showed up.”

“The whole planet?”

Tanza sat straighter and her diction became crisper—she looked like a little lecturer at one of those cultural symposiums that Roger and I always had to make appearances at. “After Kepha joined the other eleven kingdoms, the entire planet was united under the monarchy for three hundred and fifty-eight years.”

Not just a monarchy, but a planet-spanning monarchy. Such a thing hadn’t happened in all of human civilization, and these people had accomplished it when they were still on their home planet, believing themselves alone in the universe. I hadn’t thought such an archaic form of government could rule an entire continent without overextending itself, yet it had ruled their world for centuries. For the first time, I found myself wanting to learn something from the tephan people. How had such a government come about? How had they managed it?

Why did the woman on the cover look so sad?

I didn’t ask any of these questions because just then, a waiter appeared—not the water-spilling one, thank goodness. (I didn’t trust my guest to look at that one without throwing something at him.) This one was older, with crisp lines in his clothes and face. He looked like he could have won a staring contest with a statue—perfect unshakable professionalism.

“Are you ready to order, Madam Overton?” He didn’t even look at my guest.

Tanza’s eyes brightened as she picked up the menu, flipping through the pages to examine the options.

I asked her, “What you want to eat?”

“I don’t know.  I’ve never had human food.”

My jaw fell. “You wanted to come here and you didn’t even know what you wanted to eat?”

She gave me a withering stare, as though I was the stupid one. “I wanted to try it.” She closed the menu. “Besides, you said I can only eat what you tell me to eat. So what am I allowed to eat, Priscilla?”

I picked up the menu and realized with horror that I didn’t know the answer. What could tephans eat? Were there foods that were delicacies to us and poison to them?

I asked the waiter, “Do you have any suggestions?” I doubted these people served many tephans, but food was their area of expertise, and we were on Arateph.

The waiter looked at Tanza for the first time. “I’ve heard that people of her...race...are rather fond of the amphibian.” He pointed to an entry on my appetizer list. “The frog legs are popular. And a specialty of the chef.”

I hadn’t eaten frog in years. But if I could choke it down for Roger’s political dinners, I could manage it to satisfy a petulant tephan child. “We’ll have that.”

“Excellent. Is there anything else?”

I didn’t want to give Tanza any more chances to upset the wait staff. “No. Just get us our food as soon as possible.”

As the waiter walked away with our menus, an afternoon crowd filled the dining room; within a few minutes, we went from being nearly alone to being surrounded by other diners. I could tell by the sideways glances that most of them noticed my tephan guest. And I could tell that Tanza noticed them. She sat silently at first, growing more and more tense as we all tried to ignore each other, but when a bald man at the next table stared at her for several long moments, she finally snapped.

“Can you stop it?” she barked at him. “You’re giving me the shivers.” The man, red-faced, studied his menu as if his life depended on it.

Tanza turned back to the table, muttering, “You humans look so creepy when you stare.”

I was too stunned to scold her. I’d never considered that the distaste for the other race’s looks went both ways. If she’d lived her life in a mostly-tephan neighborhood, a human face would look just as slightly wrong to her as a tephan face did to me. It sounds strange, but the idea that she found us ugly made me like her more. It certainly made her more relatable.

But I couldn’t have her making a spectacle. “Please, don’t bother the other diners.”

She seemed ready to protest, but I spoke before she could argue. “That woman in your book. You said she was the last queen of Arateph. What happened?”

Her eyes lit up, rude diners forgotten, as she flipped open the book. “Revolution. The People’s House took over and had her and the king executed.”

I shivered. “So violent. And so young to die.”

Tanza gave me a confused look, then glanced at the cover and understood. “Oh, that’s from her first years as queen. She was almost seventy when she died.”

I pictured the woman on the cover with hair turned gray, but the same dark, sad eyes, facing an angry mob as they led her to the scaffold or the firing squad or however these people killed their leaders. It was brutal, but humanity had often been equally brutal, so I couldn’t dismiss it as their backward alien culture.

Tanza flipped through the pages. “They say she was weak and self-absorbed, but this book gives her more depth.” She looked at a page near the cover. “Verai’s a good scholar. Uses lots of primary sources. Very readable.”

Now that her interest was unleashed, Tanza talked on and on, taking me through an alien history, the tale of a queen beset by tragedy upon tragedy as she helped her husband rule a crumbling planet and struggled to produce an heir. All the scholars at those Coalition events were nowhere near as enthralling as this alien child sharing her favorite book.

As fascinating as the story was, I was even more entranced by the pictures—dozens were embedded through the text. Tanza condescended to turn the book around so I could see. It was grandeur like I’d never seen, buildings in alien colors and shapes and patterns, but bringing to mind the grandest palaces in human history, from Versailles to the Forbidden City to the red spires of the North Martian Emperor's summer home. The people in the pictures wore elaborate, brightly-colored clothes, and feasted upon vast tables full of unfamiliar food—including blossoms from the potted trees next to the tables. No primitive civilization could have created such a culture. No wonder this alien urchin was enthralled, and no wonder she’d seized the chance to attend the closest modern equivalent to such feasts that she knew of.

The return of the stone-faced waiter snapped me back to reality. He planted himself next to the table, passing blank-faced judgement by how thoroughly he didn’t look at the book or the way we bent over it. Face burning, I sat back in my chair and felt ashamed to be caught hanging upon an alien’s story like a dim-witted child.

Tanza swept the book under the table and sat primly as the waiters placed the food in front of us. First a gold charger, then the crystal plates bearing the food—ten frog legs, crisply fried in butter and lemon, dotted with parsley and surrounded by a handful of greens.

Half a dozen nearby heads surreptitiously craned in our direction.

The waiters set a similar platter in front of me, and after I’d arranged my napkin on my lap, I thanked the waiter, picked up the silverware, and began to cut the meat.

Tanza watched me carefully as the waiters left. She picked up her silverware, examined it closely—did tephans even have silverware?—and tried to imitate me, but when she touched the food, the prim little professor became the feral street child again. She still used the silverware, but that was her only concession to decency as she gobbled her foot, downing the frog legs almost whole. The butter sauce ringed her mouth and splattered on her clothing. She made the most inhuman snorting noises as she swallowed.

Now everyone was staring—the red-faced man at the next table, his three dining companions, the ten people sitting at the other nearby tables, the waiters who'd halted on their way to the kitchen. People murmured to their companions. Diners flagged down waiters and asked discreetly if there was something that could be done.

My face burned in embarrassment, but I couldn’t stop the girl. With all these eyes watching me—watching me, Priscilla Overton, entertaining an animal at the finest restaurant in Roshen—I couldn’t even speak. I wanted to sink into the carpet. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to run from the restaurant, flee from this planet, and return to comfortable, civilized Earth. But mortification left me paralyzed. I just sat and did nothing as Tanza devoured her food and licked every last drop of sauce from the plate.

Finally, she dropped her plate back on the charger and leaned back with satisfaction. Her big tephan eyes were bright. “That was amazing.” She licked all eight of her fingers, so lost in the euphoria of her food that she was unaware of the horrified crowd surrounding us. She looked at my plate with confusion. “You’ve barely touched yours.”

I let my fork drop to the tablecloth. “I’m not very hungry.”

Her eyes brightened. “Can I have it?”

“No.”

She gave me a disapproving look. “You can’t waste food. At least try to eat it.”

After that display, I’d never be able to stomach another frog leg. “It doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Then I’ll eat it.” Before I could react, she leaned across the table, speared a frog leg with her fork, and was chewing it before she settled back in her chair.

I wanted to scream. I could have tried to correct her, but I had no idea where to begin, and by now, it was far too late.

The stone-faced waiter leaned over my shoulder. He was pale and his eyes were wide—apparently there were some things that could rattle him. “Madam, if you cannot eat your food here, we can send it home with you.”

He was offering me a doggy bag. The finest restaurant in the city, which usually recoiled in horror from such vulgar practices, was so desperate for me to leave that the staff were sending me home with leftovers. I was, in effect, being kicked out.

I didn’t even care. “Yes, thank you.”

In seconds, another waiter appeared, carrying a green box that had probably held some kind of produce in the kitchen, repurposed into this restaurant’s first take-home container. I sat in silence as they poured the frog legs into the container, then I handed them my credit stick, and when I examined the payment screen of their datapad, I added on a gratuity that cost twice as much as the food did. Perhaps with a tip like that, they’d let me show my face here again. At the moment, I doubted I’d ever want to.

I gathered my purse and stood. That creature gathered her ridiculous book and followed me, smiling, out of the dining room.  

When we reached the lobby, I thrust the box into the child's hands. “Take it. I don’t want it.”

The girl's eyebrows rose. “You don’t? Are you sure? It’s really good.”

“I think it appeals more to tephan tastes.”

She thanked me as though I’d given her all the jewels that the queen on her book was wearing, then tucked the box under one arm and the book under the other.

I put a hand behind her shoulders and pushed her out the door. When we emerged onto the sunlit sidewalk, all my frustration exploded.

“There!” I snapped, giving her one last push beyond the awning of the restaurant. “You’ve had your meal. Take your food and go!”

She stumbled forward, then stared at me in bewilderment. “What set you off?”

My laugh was tinged with hysteria. “What set me off? Maybe I’m just a little peeved at being disgraced in front of some of the richest people in the city by a tephan who gobbles her food like an animal.”

She stood with her mouth open, struck speechless. Those big green eyes showed surprisingly human-looking hurt. “Was it that bad? I know I’m not fancy, but...”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t notice all those people staring.”

The creature turned red. She stammered, “I thought it was because I’m tephan. You told me not to bother them.”

I couldn’t bear to have that creature looking up at me with those big, sad eyes. I didn’t want to feel sorry for her. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Maybe in a few years they’ll let me dine there again.” I pushed her steadily but firmly away from the restaurant. “I have more than paid you in full. Thank you for saving my ring. Goodbye.”

Still looking baffled, the girl trudged away from the restaurant. I walked in the other direction.

My anger started fading the moment the child was out of my line of sight. Each step away from the restaurant felt like a step back into a normal world. There were humans around me. I could read the signs. I even knew how to find my way to the train station. I’d be back at the hotel within the hour and I could pretend that this whole horrible afternoon had been a bad dream.

Light footsteps skittered behind me. A green-clad tephan child with a book and a box appeared to my left.

I yelped and reeled back. “What are you—?”

Tanza fell into step beside me. “I’m really very sorry for embarrassing you. I need to make it up to you. Let me show you the way to the train station—”

My previous anger felt like a candle flame compared to the volcano that those words set off within me. “Leave me alone!” I towered over her in my fury. “I gave you your meal! I fulfilled the promise! Now leave!” I stormed away, but at the first sound of footsteps behind me, I whirled around. “I swear, if you take another step toward me, I will see you arrested!”

The child’s face hardened into the petulant mask that I recognized from my first sight of her from the gutter. “Sorry for helping.”

“Helping,” I mocked. “Your help comes at too high a price.” I gave a short, cynical laugh. “I see through your plan. You think you can trail after me demanding handouts all day. Well, I have had enough.” I secured my purse over my shoulder like I was holstering a weapon. “Get out of here!”

Face white and lips tight with anger, Tanza bowed her head and turned away. I strode away in triumph.

An old man looked at me sideways, shaking his head. I made it to the end of the block before the guilt hit me. The old man had reason to disapprove. Tanza had made an offer of help, and I’d responded by screaming at her in a public street. Perhaps she had felt remorse. As embarrassing as it had been to be seen with a girl who ate like an animal, how much worse would it feel to be the one who’d done it? I thought of those pictures in that book of hers. Would I have fared any better at a tephan feast?

I turned around. “Tanza, wait—“

“Hey, Tanza!”

The voice, coming from the other end of the block, was louder, harsher, and younger than mine. A crowd of boys stampeded down the sidewalk—all humans, about twelve years old, and led by a boy with slick black hair and gray and white clothes in the latest crisply-cut fashions. The children Tanza had noticed when we’d first arrived at the restaurant.

Tanza—standing near where I’d left her—tried to move away from them, but hesitated when she saw me standing at the other end of the block. In seconds, the boys had her surrounded.

The ringleader prodded her shoulder. “Escaped from your cage, Tanza? What are you doing among civilized people?”

His yellow-haired friend poked at the box of frog legs. “Looks like she’s looting houses.”

Tanza yanked the box away. “I’m not a thief!”

The ringleader tugged at the book under her other arm. “That’s a big book. Still playing at being smart, small-brain?”

Tanza pulled it back. “Don’t touch that!”

One boy pried up her arm while two others slid the book away from her. “Ooh, it’s a small-brain book!” the ringleader said in mock delight. He flipped through the pages with dirt-stained fingers. “It’s even written in their pretend letters.”

Tanza snarled, “Give that back!”

He slammed it shut and pulled it toward his chest. “Why? Scared it’s too complicated for me?”

“It’s mine!”

He looked at it thoughtfully. “Is it, though? I don’t think a charity case like you can afford a big book like this.”

“It’s mine!” she repeated, nearly shrieking now. “Teacher gave it to me!”

“Bet she stole it,” said a voice from the crowd. “She’s just a grubby little nameless charity house thief.”

Tanza, driven past the breaking point as the ringleader held the book just beyond her reach, shrieked in outrage and pounced. She tore at the book while the boys yanked it away from her. The individuals disappeared into a storm of arms and legs and paper. Five against one. I watched in terror for a few moments before thinking to call for help. I had my wristcomm. I could hit the emergency button….

It was over before I could lift my wrist. Tanza was sprawled across the sidewalk, surrounded by the shredded, dirty pages of her book. Her box had been torn open. Fleshy frog legs were scattered on the ground as though the animals had been thrown against the wall.

The boys, barely scuffed, loomed over her, mocking. They lifted the empty binding of the book like a trophy, cheering over it and slapping each other on the back. Then, satisfied with their destruction, they ran off the way they came, leaving their victim on the ground.

Numbly, I shuffled toward her, feeling lost in a different sort of nightmare--one where I was one of the monsters. Those boys had been waiting for her. If she’d had an ulterior motive for coming after me to apologize, she had been hoping for protection, not handouts. And I’d thrown her to the wolves.

Tanza pushed herself onto her knees and pulled the pages toward her, like a mother hen gathering up chicks. She looked more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her, eyes wide and glistening, her face slack with horror. Her emotionless mask was gone. She pressed an armload of shredded pages to her chest, curled into a fetal position, and cried.

Curled up like that, face and hands hidden, she didn’t look like a tephan. Not like the rude negotiator at the gutter. Not like the little professor or even the animal at the table. She was just a friendless little girl, surrounded by the wreckage of her most prized possession.

I thought of the last time I’d seen her lying in the street, arm threaded through a storm drain while she reached for my ring. The ring was in my pocket, safe and whole. How had I thanked her for her service? Tried to duck out of the promise, treated her like a savage, screamed at her in the streets, and left her at the mercy of bullies.

The ring I loved so much was one of dozens that I’d brought from Earth, and my day had been destroyed at the thought of losing it. This book was the only one she owned, and it was gone forever. I couldn’t imagine her distress.

How had I thought her the savage?  

My stomach twisted with loathing, and for the first time all day, it was directed toward myself. I could fool myself no longer; I’d done nothing to be proud of today.

But that could change.

Approaching Tanza with soft, careful steps, I crouched next to her. “Tanza?” I brushed a finger across her shoulder.

The girl recoiled from my touch and turned away. She came up on her feet, but stayed scrunched into a ball, protecting her pages and hiding her red eyes.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

Her voice was thick with tears. “Go away.”

I grabbed one of the pages. “I can help—“

She whirled her head toward me and snapped, “I said go away!”

I stumbled back, and for a moment I was ready to do as she wanted. This was not my problem and she didn’t want my help.

Then my good sense returned, and I barked, “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to leave a child in the street.” I started gathering pages. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

I looked around for help. The crowd had merely started taking a wider berth around us, but after a moment, I saw the green and silver flash of a Coalition policeman’s uniform—on a policeman with tephan hands.

I’d never thought I’d be glad to see that officer again. I waved toward him, shouting, “Officer! Please, can you help?”

My voice startled the officer, and his surprise turned to concern as he neared and saw the devastation. He crouched next to us and asked me, “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” I said. The twist in my stomach reminded me that those words weren’t the complete truth, so I amended, “I didn’t destroy the book. There was a group of boys...”

The officer had already turned his attention to Tanza, speaking low-toned words in their tephan language. When they finished, his demeanor toward me was less hostile but more disappointed.

“Now you want to help her?” he asked.

That now was an accusation that cut like a knife. I deserved it, but I met his gaze boldly. “Yes,” I said, daring him to deny me.

He spoke a few more words to Tanza, then told me, “Gather pages.”

He helped Tanza to her feet while I gathered what I could of the paper. Torn edges, smeared alien words, and pictures of long-dead royals who stared at me with accusing eyes. The queen providing food to the poor, shelter to the homeless, clothes to shivering orphans. She’d done all that and wound up executed; looking at Tanza and the tephan officer, I couldn’t help wondering how much worse they thought I deserved.

#

When I’d gathered all the pages I could into a crinkling, crunching mess, I followed in silence as the officer led us along the route we’d taken, every block seeming as long as a mile. When we reached the familiar yellow building where everything had started, I gave the pages to the officer, and he motioned for Tanza to go toward the stair of the building.

“Is there anything else I can do?” I asked Tanza, almost desperate.

Tanza just turned her head away.

“I think you’ve done enough,” the officer said. The words were soft, but I heard the condemnation in them.

I shouldered my purse more firmly, avoided Tanza’s eyes, then asked the officer, “Can you tell me where to find a train station?”

The officer pointed down the street in the opposite direction from where I’d originally approached the building. “The nearest one is just beyond the Killing Square.”

The words shocked me out of the numbness I’d been feeling. “The what?”

But the officer was already rattling off directions, and I was too busy memorizing the steps—left, then right, past the purple tower, turn two blocks after the bridge—to ask what exactly a Killing Square was. I didn’t think a uniformed police officer would purposely send me to my death, so I assumed something had been lost in the translation.

“Thank you, officer,” I said when he finished. Then I looked at the girl and added, “Thank you, Tanza.”

Tanza's green clothes—now scuffed from battle—hung loosely off her slumped shoulders. After a long moment, she raised her head and looked at me from beneath lowered lids. “Goodbye,” she said.

Her tone meant, “Good riddance.”

My pride flared at that. I thought I'd been rather compassionate--helping her gather the pages, hailing the officer, even trailing her all the way to her home to make sure that she arrived safely. Surely she could show a little gratitude.

But as I walked through the narrow, battered streets, it was my own rudeness that haunted me. Snatching the ring from her fingers as though afraid she'd contaminate it. Fleeing from her rather than fulfilling the promise. Leaving her to fight five against one when a moment's action on my part could have saved her. All day, I'd thought myself better than her because I was human, but my actions had been inhumane.

I tried to put it behind me. There was nothing else I could do. The book was gone, beyond repair. Tanza probably never wanted to see me again. It was best to move on and forget all about the tephan girl and the dark-eyed queen that so fascinated her.

Then I turned the corner and came face to face with Queen Marastel. A picture on the gray stone wall, larger than life, showed the woman whose face I’d seen a hundred times in Tanza’s book. I stopped in my tracks, mesmerized. The image was a photo, more or less, but not like any photo or holo-image I’d ever seen from human technology. The colors were more muted than reality, while a strange vibrant shimmer added depth to the image, so it looked as though I could walk inside the pictured scene with a little effort.

The queen’s hair had gone completely gray, her jewels were gone, and her vividly colored gowns had been replaced by a white fabric sheath. What I noticed most were her eyes—they were striking in most of the book photos, but here, her gaze knocked the breath from me. Surely no human gaze could show that much sorrow.

How was she here? Would this queen haunt me wherever I went on this planet, reminding me of my sins against the child?

I noticed a small plaque next to the picture, with a tiny Anglese translation at the bottom, which explained that the image showed Queen Marastel in front of this very building, moments before she was led to death in the center of the square. “Oh,” I said aloud, turning slowly to examine the streets and buildings around me as understanding struck. “The Killing Square.”

This was the center of the revolution that had ended this planet’s monarchy. It was a hauntingly bland neighborhood; no sign of the violent destruction that Tanza had told me of, not after more than eighty years’ worth of repairs.  But pictures and plaques decorated almost every building I saw, telling the story that time had erased. Seven brothers from Kepha stood scarred but proud before a jeering band of executioners. A red-haired older woman tried to cheer up three children as armed rebels escorted them all to prison. The king himself stood tall and white-haired, every line of his face showing his fierce love for his planet even as his people tried to kill him.

I could list examples all day, but I could never make you understand the feeling of being there, gazing at these people in the moments before their deaths. They were young and old, tall and short, had hair and skin in every imaginable shade. They came from regions I hadn’t known existed--desert wastes and mountain ranges and snow-covered tundras. These people had families they’d hated to lose, homes that were as familiar to them as the cottage by the Atlantic had once been to me. They’d made mistakes and suffered for it. They, too, had regrets.

Fear, anger, hatred, love, bravery, cowardice--every possible human emotion filled those alien faces, and it didn’t take long for me to stop seeing them as alien at all. They were people, who’d lived on this planet just as I did, who had loved it the way I’d loved Earth.

I’d never even wanted to know about this world before, but now I was desperate to understand every story these pictures presented. Without Tanza’s book providing context, would I even have paused to look at these pictures? Would I have cared about these people? I doubted I would have. Tanza's childish enthusiasm for a book had upended my world--as I’d upended hers.

With that thought, I found myself back before the picture of the queen. Her sorrowful eyes pinned me in place. It seemed, to my overworked imagination, that she was disappointed in me.

I glared at her. “What else do you want me to do?” I demanded. “What’s done is done. I can’t fix it. I don’t even know what book it was.”

In that hall of death, it seemed a pitiful excuse.

I tore my eyes away from the picture, and my gaze landed upon a door I’d wandered past in my history-induced daze. It was brown and wide, with a sign above proclaiming it the entrance to the Museum of the Alogath Execution Center. I wandered toward it, then froze in my tracks only a few steps away. Next to the entrance was a window—and through the window, I saw books.

This was a museum! Museums—even tephan ones—had gift shops! If there was one place in this world that sold books about Queen Marastel, it was likely the museum that displayed her face on a public street.

I raced into the building, almost giddy, and found the shop just beyond the main entrance. The tiny nook held pamphlets and trinkets, and at the front of the room, a big, silver BookVend machine printed and bound volumes with lightning speed.

I raced through the door. The tephan woman behind the counter dropped her book in surprise as I leaned, panting, against her counter.

The woman asked in smooth Anglese, “Can I help you?”

I stood up and tried to look less like a maniac. “Yes,” I said, in my best politician’s-wife voice. “I need you to help me find a book.”  

#

The door to the charity home loomed large in front of me. I hesitated with my hand before the door. Was I doing something stupid? The freshly-printed book under my arm might not change the fact that the child would want nothing to do with me.

This wasn't about me. I had to try.

My knock was answered by a pale, knobby tephan woman with wisps of blond hair hanging around her face. She stared when she saw my face and clothes. “Madam?”

“Excuse me," I asked, "but does a girl named Tanza live here?”

The woman's eyes glazed over as she struggled to translate my Anglese.

I tried again, speaking more slowly. “Is Tanza here?”

“Tanza…” She trailed off in confusion before her eyes lit with understanding. “Oh!” Gently, she corrected, “It’s pronounced Tanza.”

It sounded exactly the same to me. I was starting to believe those people who said tephans could speak and hear sounds that humans couldn't.

The woman called into the building, and after a storm of voices and footsteps, a slight tephan girl in green clothes came to the door, her curls making a curtain over her still-puffy eyes.

Tanza scowled when she saw me. “What do you want?”

I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “I wanted to apologize,” I said. “For what happened. How I treated you. You saved my ring and I treated you like an animal. That was wrong.”

Tanza crossed her arms. “Glad you noticed.”

This child kept finding ways to irritate me, but I swallowed my words before I snapped back in response.

I pulled a book from under my arm. “I know this doesn’t erase what you went through, but I wanted to undo some of the harm that I’ve done today.” I handed her the book, which had the same cover as the book she’d brought to the restaurant. “This is for you.”

Warily, Tanza examined the queen on the cover. “It looks the same.” She flipped through the pages, and her eyes brightened. “It is the same!”

“I printed a new copy. There’s a BookVend down the street. You rescued my ring; it was only fair that I replace your book.”

"Yes, but I didn't think..." She examined the book in amazement before turning that astonished gaze upon me. "This is really mine? To keep?"

“Yes, of course,” I said.

Tanza clutched the book to her chest and smiled at me, positively radiant. That smile transformed her from a feral orphan into a polite little princess.

I couldn’t keep from smiling back.

“Thank you,” Tanza said. Then she saw the other book under my arm. “What’s that one?” she asked, as though hoping it was for her and not daring to ask.

I pulled it out and showed her the cover. It showed the same image of the queen, but this time above an Anglese title—The Queen of Sorrow. “The Anglese edition,” I explained. “This one’s for me.”

If I’d thought she was happy before, it was nothing compared to her radiance now. “You’re going to read it?”

I shrugged. "I couldn't resist. You made it sound so interesting."

She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Wait until you get to Chapter Five. That’s when she first meets the king, and you would not believe the uproar it causes."

She set down her book, grabbed mine, and started flipping through the pages, desperate to show me the start of the story.

From down the hall, an adult voice barked, “Tanza! Don’t bother the woman. I’m sure she’s busy.”

Embarrassed, Tanza closed the book. She pushed it back into my hands. “Sorry. I don’t get to talk about it much.”

“I don’t mind. You’re an excellent instructor.”

Her eyes brightened with hesitant hope. “I could show you more. If you want.”

“I’d be grateful.”

Tanza called over her shoulder. “Garsa! Can I have a visitor in the study room?”

The tephan woman appeared in the entryway. She blinked, taken aback. “As long as she leaves before supper."

Tanza looked up at me. “Do you want to stay?”

No tephan had ever asked me that question before. In all my time here, I’d been an outsider. An invader. I’d never had the desire to be anything more. But those words, coming from Tanza, felt like a welcome.  

I was glad to receive it.

I put a hand on Tanza’s shoulder and smiled. “I’d love to.”

[jaskierswolf]

Hi Wolfie! I saw you were wanting some fic prompts, and here’s another Dandelion/Priscilla one because I’ve loved the last one, and I do promise this will be the last, so forgive me! 😂 Could I please request something where after Priscilla recovers..Dandelion treats her to a romantic date where there’s lots of cute things happening, and talks of their future such as marriage, children, etc. Thanks so much!! 💕

Look who finally got round to writing this! It’s a bit of a follow on I guess from the other two so... I’m gonna link them! (1, 2) ________

Their duet at the Chameleon had been a raging success. Dandelion wasn’t surprised. Both of them had wonderfully prominent solo careers. Whilst Dandelion’s was arguably more wide spread with his time travelling around the Continent with Geralt, Priscilla had, before the accident, been the most in demand soprano for any event worth its coin. He was proud of them, of her. It couldn’t have been easy for her not being able to sing but she persevered. Their act became a regular and highly anticipated event at his cabaret. It was bringing in more and more clients each week. Zolton was almost tearing is beard off trying to man the bar whilst Dandelion was on stage with Priscilla.

The best part was she was slowly regaining her singing voice. She could now talk almost as well before. Her voice was more gravelly and her range was severely reduced but she could hold a note without coughing. They were getting there.

Their relationship seemed to be going pretty well as well despite what a certain witcher might think. Yes ok, maybe there was a slight buzz under his skin that was telling him to run away from Novigrad. The wanderlust that was calling him back to the road but he loved Priscilla, he was sure of it. Maybe once she was fully recovered they could tour the Continent together. Plus with the mages gone from Novigrad he was starting to get peculiar looks in the street. The Eternal Fire had started going after non-humans and just like in Rivia all those years ago, people often made assumptions about him due to his elf like features.

So maybe his wanderlust wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

He hummed thoughtfully under his breath as he waited outside the Chameleon. Priscilla was due to meet him there and she was late. He bounced from one foot to another, wishing he had his lute with him. His fingers were itching for something to do so he planted both hands on his hips to keep himself from fiddling.

“Dandelion.” Priscilla called.

His gazed searched the crowds in the street until he saw the long golden hair of his lover, and to all the gods did she look beautiful. He skipped over to her and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lip. “My dear Priscilla.” He greeted her with a bow.

She laughed and snatched her hand away. “Don’t you ever change?”

He pouted and looked down at his outfit. He supposed he had worn his vibrant pink, and purple ensemble quite a lot recently but that was his way whenever he bought new clothes. He made a note to visit Elihal before leaving Novigrad. He probably was due new clothes.

“Are you ready for our date?” He asked instead.

Priscilla gestured to her own outfit. A soft sky blue dress that fell to her ankles with a belt tied around her waist. She looked like a nymph or some other kind of ethereal creature, which was just perfect for what he had planned. They were to go and watch the sunset up on a nearby hill. He’d packed a hamper for food and wine, copious amounts of wine, and he was pretty proud of it all.

“You look absolutely divine, my love.” He told Priscilla, brushing his lips against her cheek. “A goddess would be jealous of your beauty.”

Priscilla shoved him in the chest. “You and your poetry.” She teased with a roll of her eyes, although there was a playful smile dancing on her lips so he knew he wasn’t in trouble.

“It’s not poetry. It’s fact.” He replied with a wink. “Now if you would like to follow me, my petal.”

He picked up the hamper and they were off. The walk to the hills outside of Novigrad was uneventful and thankfully free of any sort of monsters. If Geralt were here they would have inevitably stumbled upon a rogue wyvern or griffin or something monstrous that was trying to kill them but today the path was quiet.

“You really do look beautiful.”  He hummed as they clinked wine glasses. Priscilla smiled a radiant smile that took his breath away and then snuggled up against his side.

Oh if he could remain in any moment, to the gods that moment was it. The sun large and orange as it journeyed towards the horizon, Priscilla dressed like a dream and his favourite red wine in hand.

“Am I just a pretty picture for you to enjoy, Dandelion?” She teased as she pulled off his hat. “Beauty fades.”

“Never yours.” He vowed.

“I’ll go grey.” She hummed.

He laughed and captured a lock of her hair between his fingers. “Grey hair is still beautiful. Look at Geralt.”

She sighed. “Point taken, what about wrinkles? You seem to never age a day, Dandelion.”

“Every wrinkle tells a story, my darling.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb and brushed a chaste kiss to her lips. “I will be there for every one, if you’ll let me.”

Priscilla hummed and leaned into his caress. “Careful, Dandelion. That sounds almost like a proposal.”

That thought made him pause.

Marriage? With Priscilla. Sure he’d probably had more fiancées that Ciri had had birthdays but… marrying Priscilla?

Wasn’t that a thought….

Could he really marry and settle down?

He licked his lips and sipped his wine absentmindedly. By human standards he was already considered a life long bachelor and he’d never minded that. He enjoyed being a bachelor. He enjoyed dating and new love. It was the never-ending source for his inspiration.

“Don’t think too hard, Dandelion.” Priscilla cupped his cheek and he blinked a couple of times. “It was a joke.”

“A joke.” He repeated. “Maybe, maybe.”

Priscilla sighed and leaned into his chest as they watched the last light of the sun fade from view. “I know you, Dandelion. You are not the marrying kind.”

He pouted even though she couldn’t see. “I could be.”

She shook her head. “No, but that’s no matter. I love you and I know you love me.”

“More than anything.” He vowed and kissed her hair.

“And for now, that’s enough. We’re enough.” She breathed and as the stars began to shine in the night sky Dandelion couldn’t help but agree.

“We are enough.” He whispered against her hair. “My gorgeous Callonetta.”

[incorrectlooneytunesquotes]

Gossamer: [picks last petal off a flower and throws it into the well] Priscilla Pig: Now throw a kiss and say "Bye bye." Gossamer: [throws kiss, waves, and grunts "bye bye"] Priscilla: Oh dear.  Nothing left.  What shall we throw in now?

[smallsalon]

Blossoms

She recognized him immediately; she needn’t have worried.

           “Christopher.” He was exactly where he said he would be: sitting on the park bench, a basket at one side on which his arm rested protectively.

           How could someone look exactly the same and entirely different in the same instant? There was Christopher’s face, the blue eyes the slanted jaw, just as she remembered him when he was eighteen, but with fifty years added: mottled skin and a veil of wrinkles.

           He stood. “Constance.” His smile was deep and, she thought, pure.

           She laughed. “How can we be so old?” For she could read the same surprise in his eyes: the last time he had seen her she had been twenty-five. Her hair had been dark and glossy, her waist had been narrow, and she had been wearing a dress that she still had folded deep in a trunk. A dress she had been unable to discard.

           A loud, strangely clad group of men passed between them. Tattooed and smelling of cigarettes, she was furious at them for being so close to Christopher, for existing in the same place. They made him seem fragile, a thin old man standing in front of a park bench. Vulnerable. Absurdly she wanted to vanquish them, but she just waited until they had continued their foul-talking way down the path, then crossed and stepped up to him.

           For a moment they just looked, joy made a bridge between their eyes, and then their hands clasped and cradled, swinging back and forth.

           “Shall we?” Christopher turned toward the row of cherry blossom trees that lined the lake.

           Constance nodded, and he took up the picnic basket and they began to walk, side-by-side.

He had waited exactly a year and one day after he had read Will’s obituary in the newspaper to contact her. “The extra day made it seem less mercenary,” he said, then added quickly, “I wasn’t happy to read of his death. Don’t misunderstand me.”

           The cherry trees made a glowing tunnel above them. She turned her eyes up. Tomorrow the petals would start to fall in earnest, but today they drifted down only occasionally.

           “We had a contented marriage,” she said firmly.

           “Contented?” He paused to shift the basket and she wondered if it was heavy for him.

           “Contented. Happy. Unhappy. Boring. Fun.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It was a marriage that lasted—however it did.”

           “While mine did not,” he said this lightly.

           But she knew this. She had kept track of him, through friends, newspaper articles, and more recently, the Internet. She remembered the strange mix of nausea and euphoria that had overwhelmed her when Valerie said, “Oh, and you know that Christopher finally left that horrid wife of his, what was her name? Priscilla? Patricia?”

           “Pamela,” Constance had said quietly.

           Valerie waved her thin wrist. “In any case, he left her. Or she left him. Not that you care, right Connie? That was all ages and ages ago.”

           “Ages.” Constance nodded. And when she could get away she had found the bathroom, pressed her coat to her mouth and laughed and cried, hysterically, and in tandem.

[i-may-be-an-emu]

Your guy

(watching Priscilla's Last Petal and dying halp-)

AAAAAAAAA YAYAYAYA :DDDDDDDDD

it is my guy!!!!! :DDDDDD

THATS AWESOME :)))))))) THAT ONE IS SO FUNNY EEEEEEEEE (<happy noises) :DD

[amiterum]

‧ ₊˚  @liegebound asked:

“ It was not too long ago that I had seen you for your birthday. Do pardon me for preparing you a gift for the Winter Festival too then... ”  Perhaps it was a bit excessive, but while he was preparing gifts for everyone else, it felt unfair to exclude Lady Priscilla merely because her birthday landed so close to the holiday season. No, that wouldn't do! So here he was again, present box in hand, larger than the last.   “ Here you are, ”  he hands it to her, and upon unwrapping the box, she'd find a set of different piping bag tips in there, each creating different shapes with which to pipe with. “ This time I wished to give you something with which you could use. You seemed to put great care into the decorations of the confection you gave me last time, so I sought something that could increase your repertoire. I do hope you find them useful in your baking endeavours consequently. And, ah, before I forget: a happy holiday to you, Lady Priscilla! ”

This time, she's prepared.

"How generous..." Her eyes glitter as she accepts the box, but she makes no move to open it just yet. Instead she tucks it beneath one arm, freeing a hand to rummage around in the basket draped over the other. From it, Priscilla produces a package not unlike the last she had given him. This time it is wrapped in a much more festive crimson, an outlier amongst her other parcels of glittering gold and silver. "For the holiday and my gratitude both."

And within it rest three tarts; one topped with carefully drizzled with honey, another in a fine dusting of powdered sugar, and the third with pale pink petals. The prettiest of the season's batch, hand selected for none other than him.

Only once her offering has changed hands does Priscilla begin the work of opening her own gift. It's a delicate process, handled with the utmost care so as not to tear even a corner of its wrappings. And once they have fallen away, she cannot suppress her smile.

"I will most certainly make good use of these." Already, she can imagine a hundred ways to do so-- Kent will certainly be among the first to find a sampling of her newest experiments. "Thank you, Sir Kent... Happy holidays."

[jaskierswolf]

Just thought of a cute prompt!! How about Jaskier/Dandelion visiting Priscilla when she was recovering from the attack to see how she was doing, and there’s lots of romantic fluff!! Please and thank you!! 💕

Also on my Ao3 - I hope there's enough romantic fluff! The prompt sort of led more to the hurt/comfort but I tried to get some cute moments in there too!

Dandelion straightened his hat as he stared up at Vilmerius Hospital. Then he grumbled and adjusted it again so it was tilted on his head. He cursed and adjusted it again, running his fingers through the long white feather. He sighed forlornly before pushing open the door, he’d been putting this visit off long enough.

He hadn’t meant to avoid the hospital after he’d left Priscilla the first night after her attack but seeing her, lying on the bed knowing she couldn’t even talk let alone sing. It had been too much. He knew how precious her voice was to her and he knew a thing or two about having one’s throat slashed open.

For a bard it was like a death sentence.

He slunk up the stairs, trying to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible, just in case he chickened out and ran away. It wouldn’t be the first time. Perhaps Geralt would be waiting for him at the Chameleon.

No. That was a stupid thought. Geralt had only just left to find Ciri. He wouldn’t be back just yet. It would take weeks to travel to Skellige and back, at least.

He fiddled with the bunch of flowers in his hands. It was cliché but flowers were a symbol of romance for a reason, there was a reason he’d chosen Dandelion as his name. It was an apt name for a poet.

He’d chosen peonies for Priscilla, to wish her a speedy recovery. He���d tucked a red rose into the middle of the bouquet and his nerves were taking the brunt of that decision. He was used to flirting and he was good at it. He had volumes of poetry to prove it but this time felt different. Priscilla was different. For the first time in his life he could imagine staying for her, building a life together in Novigrad. He could sing, she could play the lute. They would be unstoppable.

With that thought lingering in his mind he bounded up the last few steps and into her room. She was sitting up in bed, her soft long blonde hair falling down past her shoulders.

He held out the flowers as he bowed to her, his hat almost falling off his head. He stumbled out of the bow and caught his hat, grinning sheepishly at Pricilla. She was laughing silently behind her hands.

“I got these for you.” He announced. “I’ll umm, find a vase or something.”

Priscilla shook her head. “Dandelion.” She croaked.

He abandoned the flowers on top of the dresser and knelt by her side. “Don’t talk, Priscilla.”

She frowned and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Do you have a notebook?” He asked. “Damn it. That would have been better than flowers.”

Priscilla rolled her eyes and put a hand on his arm. His heart thundered in his chest at her touch. “Like the flowers.” She whispered hoarsely. “Rose?” She asked.

He laughed nervously knowing he’d been caught. “Well, I thought seeing as you almost died, there’s no time like the present.”

She smiled fondly and beckoned him closer with a finger. He swallowed and leaned in, wondering where all his famed skills of seduction had gone. She kissed his cheek and he felt like he was going to swoon like one of the ladies from his ballads. Was this what true love felt like?

To the gods he never wanted it to end. Who knew a kiss could mean so much?

He beamed back at the beautiful blonde who had stolen his heart. “Does that mean my affections are requited?” He asked hopefully, taking her hand in his and lacing their fingers together.

She smirked and shrugged.

“Wait what? What does that mean, Priscilla? Don’t you love me?” He pouted.

She squeezed his hand. “Need more than flowers.” She whispered with a twinkle in her eyes.

Dandelion laughed. “Oh of course, my sweet flower, my petal. I will bring you the moon, I will bring you the stars that dance across the night sky. I will slay giants and werewolves to prove myself to you.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, I might get Geralt to help with the last two.” He admitted.

She laughed but the actioned caused her to choke and his mouth snapped shut mid-ramble. He took her other hand in his and brought them to his lips. “I’m sorry it took me so long to visit, are you ok?”

She shrugged and looked up at him sadly. He wanted to burn the person that had put that sadness in her eyes. Priscilla had the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen, richer than the deepest ocean, brighter than the sky on a summer’s day. Those eyes were made to shine with radiant joy, not with tears of sorrow.

The bastard would pay for harming his Priscilla.

Well, they would if Geralt hadn’t already dealt with it.

He hoped they died a slow and painful death.

“Until you can sing, I will be your voice, my dove.” He vowed. “Anything you want, anything at all.”

Priscilla tilted her head and ginned mischievously.

“What?” He asked, trying not to regret his vow already.

“Your lute?” She asked.

He froze. His lute? Filavandrel’s lute? Every inch of him was begging him to say no. That lute was his everything. It was the start of his adventures with Geralt. It was the source of his fame and the instrument that had birthed so many ballads.

Could he just give that up?

Then he remembered that Priscilla may never sing again. His lute for her voice.

“For you? Anything.” He repeated. “It’s at the Chameleon. I’ll bring it with me next time.”

Priscilla stared at him with wide eyes.

“You were joking about the lute weren’t you?” He chuckled and she nodded. “Well it’s yours, at least until you can sing again!” He decided.

He stayed by her bedside for hours, filling the silence with tales, mostly true, and poetry, mostly lies. She tried to talk a few times but her voice was too sore. He didn’t mind holding the conversation by himself though and pleaded with her to rest, but he understood why she couldn’t.

Bards and silence were never a good mix.

Eventually, in the middle of a definitely not accurate retelling of one of his early quests with Geralt, he noticed she hadn’t made a peep in a while. He furrowed his brow and look down at her. She’d slumped against her pillows and her eyes had fluttered shut. She had fallen asleep.

He boldly pressed his lips against her forehead and brushed her hair from her eyes.

“Sleep well, my love.” He murmured before fleeing the room.

________

He visited Priscilla more frequently after that. It was like he couldn’t stay away. Zolton cursed him every time he left. He supposed he had been neglecting his cabaret and tavern recently but Priscilla’s well-being was more important than a former whorehouse! After about a week of conversing with paper and a quill, Priscilla was able to speak without flinching anymore.

“Dandelion, two nights in a row. That’s almost a commitment.” She teased as he swept through her door.

Her voice was still rough and coarse but at least it was there. He knew recovering her sweet dulcet soprano tones would be a long recovery. If it was even possible but he prayed to every god that he knew that one day she would sing again. She would probably never be truly happy until she could.

He bowed with a flourish and winked. “You sound better, Priscilla.”

She smiled sadly with a tilt of her head. “I haven’t spoken all day.”

Dandelion pulled at the lacy cuffs of his chemise that were poking out the end of his silky purple doublet and laughed. “Why, my dear Priscilla, were you saving your voice for me?” He teased as he flopped into the chair next to her bed.

“I couldn’t bear to hear you talk anymore.” She smirked.

He gasped and put his hand to his chest. “Priscilla! You wound me.”

She laughed and put her hand on his. “Your ego is large enough, Dandelion, without me stroking it.”

He grinned his mouth to respond but she put a finger on his lips.

“Don’t say it.” She glared at him but he saw the half smile dancing on her lips.

He captured her hand in his and kissed her palm. “I am a poet, my darling. I would never say something so crass.”

She scoffed. “Pull the other one, Dandelion.”

He winked and she swatted him over the head. His hat dropped into his lap and he pouted. “Hey!”

She giggled and placed his hat back on his head with a fond smile and kissed his cheek. “There we go, no damage done.”

He tilted his head and smiled dopily at her. She really did have the most beautiful eyes. He cupped her face in his hands and closed the gap between them so there was barely a breath separating their lips.

“May I?” He whispered.

She didn’t answer, instead she leant forward to capture his lips with her own.

Oh and it was heaven. She hadn’t just captured his lips, she had captured his heart, his soul.

She pulled away and the kiss ended just as quickly as it started. Dandelion fell forward, following her lips and she laughed. “I won’t become one of your conquests, Dandelion.” She smirked as she poked his nose.

He scrunched his nose up and squeaked. “I do not have conquests!” He pouted. “I have lovers. It’s hardly my fault that I fall in love easily.”

“You fall out of it just as easily.” Priscilla noted. “No, don’t protest. I know you, Dandelion.”

He huffed. “But with lips as sweet as yours, my flower, how could I forget you?”

Priscilla raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. “Honied words will get you everywhere.”

“Said one poet to another.” He laughed and moved in for another kiss but she covered his lips with her finger.

“Sing for me, Dandelion.” She asked with a tilt of her head.

He pouted at the loss of her kiss but gathered up his lute from the corner of the room. He offered her the instrument but she shook her head and pushed the instrument back into his hands.

“I’m tired.” She said hoarsely and cleared her throat. “Play for me.”

So he did. He cooed a soft heartwarming ballad of romance and true love. The lute sang under his fingers and he closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him, pouring his heart into every breath.

His eyes flashed open when he heard a low hum from the bed. Priscilla was quietly adding a deeper harmony under his melody. She had her eyes close and was smiling serenely. His voice wavered at the rush of emotions in his heart but he had decades of practice and managed to cover his mistake. Priscilla only managed a verse before coughing into her hands with a groan.

He finished the song as quickly as he could without it losing its beauty and put the lute to one side.

“Patience, my petal.” He cooed. “You’ll get there.”

She pouted and hid behind a curtain of blonde hair. “What if I never sing again?” She croaked.

Dandelion kissed the top of her hair. “I have friends who can help. I promise you, I’ll do all that I can.”

“Yennefer?” Priscilla asked quietly.

He nodded. “She saved my voice when the djinn attacked. I’m sure she can help you too.”

Priscilla sighed dramatically, as all poets were fond of doing and rested her head against his shoulder. “I hope you’re right, Dandelion.”

He stroked her hair and sighed. “I am. I promise.”

He settled onto the bed next to her and she curled up against his chest. He stroked her hair and hummed a soft lullaby under his breath until she fell asleep. He laughed under his breath as he watched the soft rise and fall of her chest. Gods he was in so unbelievably in love with her.

She was wrong. He wouldn’t fall out of love easily, not this time. This time was the last time that Dandelion the bard would in love. He was sure of it.

[xpwewarchive]

XPWEW Friday Night Pyro (4-3-2020)

Friday Night Pyro #420 April 3rd, 2020 Los Angeles, CA The Barracks

Opening Segment: Golden Bryce says Blitzkrieg was a success NOW ON TO THE RUMBLE....

Leonard McGraw enters with Ryu McGraw to Bryce: “And I plan on winning that Xtreme Rumble match in just 3 weeks and any piss pants punk in the back can file back cause come April 26th brother I’m coming for ya...

Alveno enters “Who’s to say I don’t have a chance to shock the world”

Leonard to Alveno “You wanna back that up kid”

GT and Bedlam enters “Leo you got more problems considering saving your bollocks. Last Sunday at Blitzkrieg you won that cage match within an inch of your life. You should be more concerned about me

Leonard signals GT “Get your finger out of Ethan’s ass. Cause Garrett I’m fixing to fight you right now c’mon son take your best shot”

GT to Leonard “Perhaps later”

Bryce “Perhaps you take your best shot against me. Because Garrett you know in this business and lately you’ve been beating around the bush with Leonard McGraw so I say this in this locker room you either act tough or talk tough and you a pussy

OHHHHHHHHHHHH SHITTTTTTT

Mandy Leon consort promo “The roaring 20’s-esq promo”

1 on 1 Non-Title / Exhibition Match M1: Golden Bryce defeats Garrett Thompson w/ Bedlam

Bedlam interference consistently but smarty Bryce avoids many of his antics. Referee Kevin Madrox officiates it well and doesn’t completely blind himself like the typical ref spot. He continuously is catching Bedlam off guard before he does heelish tactics. GT is able to get upper hand on Bryce for a long time so much so that commentary points out “Garrett Thompson a former Lockdown main event himself. Main evented Lockdown 5 unsuccessfully but despite never being a world champion GT has always remained IN THE HUNT. And a win over Bryce tonight can put him in that position; potentially in 3 weeks at the Rumble” Finish: GT is setting up Bryce for the Wasteland. But in the follow-through of the maneuver Bryce is able to cradle GT in for a crucifix roll-up for the 1-2-3 Bryce defeats Garrett Thompson After the match GT Irate calls for a “2” towards the ref. Bryce hits the 6 rings on him for good measure. And just like that the world champion is on nothing but a positive momentum swing as we treach toward the rumble.

After the match Leonard McGraw runs down to the ring and “gets a piece of GT’s ass” Bedlam tried to evade him but Leonard tosses Bedlam right over the top rope to the outside and then Lou Thez press on GT, punches him and then GT rolls out the ring. McGraw then all hype backs up into Bryce’s chest and turns around quick and fake him out with a Buckshot clothesline ONLY a fakie. Bryce DID NOT flinch and McGraw nods his head up and down then points up 3 fingers as to signal just 3 more Pyro’s until the Rumble. Then he points up at the Lockdown 7 sign.

Camera follows Bryce from the ring, up the ramp and even behind the curtain.

The Set is chilling right behind the curtain smoking weed “as ya do” Ruckus, Jordan Oliver, Myron Reed, Kotto Brazil, Siaka Lexoni & Chrissy Rivera Jordan Oliver to Bryce: Hah! Nice roll up champ. Bryce: It wasn’t pretty but it was a win Jordan: Yeah it was a win but c’mon I’m undefeated. You’ve lost a couple bucko. 2020 is the year of The Set. 2020 is my year. And in just 3 weeks I’m gonna throw out all those clowns and I’m gonna unify our titles pimp Myron & Kotto: laughing Ruckus: gets up from chair and looks Bryce up and down** psssk let’s get outta here Bryce: What? Ruckus: looks Bryce up and down again Bryce: What’s wrong Ruckus? If you don’t talk, I’ll talk to this talkative punk Jordan Oliver: Me? Bryce: Yeah..I don’t have the authority to unify titles. I certainly wouldn’t classify myself a “Junior”weight. So how bout this junior, take on the heavyweight. Champion. And we’ll see how long your solid that undefeated streak of yours is. Jordan Oliver: You want me? Your own. I just think it’s a bad marketing move to do the Lockdown main event next week but that’s cool. You and me. 1 on 1. Juniorweight champ vs Heavyweight champ. Bryce: And by the way “The Set” your welcome to be at ringside to play cheerleader for Jordan. Just know that if you step in my ring during the match. As soon as I see some ass I’m kicking it. Get it. (Looks at Myron) Got it. (Looks at Kotto) Good. (Looks at Ruckus)

Bryce walks off The Set stares at him walking off (((Clustered talking))) “Fuck that nigga” “Lame ass Busta” “Green Bryce lookin ass”

M2: Tag Team Action! Myron Reed & Kotto Brazil w/ Jordan Oliver defeat 3M3 (wearing 3M protective facemasks)

(((Ruckus and Lexoni on commentary put over Myron, Kotto & Jordan)))

Backstage: Amy Lee knocking on Kiera Hogan’s Dressing Room door. “Are you ready?” Kiera: I can’t open the door... Amy: I’m coming in Kiera: I need help... Amy: Ok I’m coming in (Kiera Hogan is screaming with both hands stuck to her weave not natural hair (not a weave that she typically sports) Amy: are you gonna put your hands down? Kiera: That bitch Priscilla has put glue all over my weave and now I can’t remove it from my hands. Amy: our match is next we gotta go Kiera: no no no no no I can’t no no no Amy: Oh yeah the title, I’ll hold your belt for you (Amy Lee practically pushing Kiera Hogan down the hallway) Amy: Champion’s don’t take breaks Kiera: that is the un-truest statement ever

Tag Team Action! (Kiera Hogan not in ring gear with hands glued to her head (on apron most of match, can’t tag in)

M3: Prisiclla & Doxy defeat Amy Lee & Kiera Hogan (c)

*comedy match with spots revolving around Kiera Hogan not being able to use her hands since they were glued meticulously by Priscilla when she put on her weave *Priscilla and Doxy have had a barbed-wire massacre match in the past so seeing them team up for once they weren’t very chummy but both have a grudge to settle with Kiera now

Finish: Priscilla hits osteoporosis on Amy Lee for the win and after the match Kiera is able grab her title and scram once she un-glues her hands but her weave is still stuck so she has just a basket use for hands. “I’m gonna finish you once and for all you tramp” *Doxy standing side by side in the ring with Priscilla *Doxy grabs the mic “Prisiclla tonight we were a team but there aren’t women’s tag titles In this promotion. So we are not friends. I’m looking at one thing. My women’s championship. Priscilla: Well I’m looking a two things. A bimbo with her hands glued. And the women that took that title from me. I’m not friends with ANYONE. Bite me

*Backstage: [Pre-Recorded Promo] ((Looks to be inside of a car)) Rosemary and Lotus with Slayer Slayer: 30. 30 dived by half is 15. 15 in 3rds becomes 5. And just like the lotus blossom. You can pluck it away 1 by 1 by 1 by1.........then that petal remains. That petal will always be remembered. In 3 weeks. I am that petal. And my seed is another. I’m not a betting man. But betting odds. Lotus or myself main eventing the biggest event in XPWEW history. I’m just waiting. I don’t have anything to prove.....

In Ring Segment: (((Joe Gacy needs to find a tag team partner worthy of being champion with him since Brodie Croyle is injured His first trial: Soloman Nasty

Tag Team Action! M4: Joe Gacy & “Soloman Nasty” defeat 2 jobber local talents Bully Jaxon & “Mr. Insane Replay”

After the match Joe Gacy gives Soloman Nasty a “thumbs up” Nasty smiles Gacy then gives a “thumbs down” and pounces Nasty Gacy then sets up a table in the ring and presses him through it Joe Gacy: “I guess Soloman Nasty isn’t Plagueground material and isn’t worthy of being my tag team champion partner” *lifts Soloman Nasty up and slams the microphone on his head! EMTs didn’t even bother helping the jobber Soloman Nasty tonight here folks

Main Event! 3 Way Match (first fall wins) Leonard McGraw defeats All Man & Slayer

Finish occurs when Slayer gets thrown to the outside. All Man is getting momentum he’s going crazy shaking the ropes but off the ropes on the other side of the ring BOOM! TEXTBOOK TITAN TRON LEVEL Leonard annihilates All Man with a CLOTHESLINE FROM HELL aka “The Buckshot” Leonard McGraw picks up the WIN by pinning the All Man

IN RING SEGMENT: James Westerbeck: Ladies & Gentlemen for the first time speaking in over 6 months. Troy Clausen

Champagne Clausen enters

Champagne about to speak...

Troy Clausen enters

“Troy: Well, dont look at me like I’m fricken Frankenstein you don’t wanna give me a hug. That’s fine. I don’t want it. 6 months ago I got into the ring for the first time and I got my ass handed to me. And since then that man hasn’t won a match huh huh (Hi Jacques, how ya doing) In those months we’ll we’ve entered a new decade. Kobe Bryant passed away. Terrible. Corona Virus has changed the everyday world, as we know it. Jacques Dudley has a losing streak...Jake Awesome doesn’t even work here anymore. Golden Bryce won a match on PPV. Champagne: I was the World HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION Troy: Yeah well I didn’t see it Champagne: I was Troy: Oh yeah you were, but not the Curtis Clausen I knew. Before you won that title 45 minutes before I was incapacitated. You were different. And then when you seen I was going to make a full recovery I was told you amped my meds? You amped up my dosage? How is that legal? You won that title and you became vindictive, vengeful, hateful, mean, calculating, heartless, relentless and god damned GUTERRRRAL .......Just like me! :) But Curtis you’ll never be evil as me :) You’ll never be as good at bein one VILE SON OF A BITCH LIKE ME! You’ll always be...a Troy. Clausen wannabe. You took me out of the picture because you wanted to be the center of attention well now you got it. You got it. I like it You know why? Cause I would have done the same DAMN THING!!!! But now your times up. Freight Train told me everything. But now I’m awake and I don’t care what title you won, you are a pissant. You couldn’t keep me down! And I love it! I love it! Vindictive! Calculated. Vile. You tried but Damnit son lol I’m just a whole lot better at it Now look at ya You got no title You have no sedated father Where’s all the attention you wanted Well that’s fine cause you’ve paid yourself an ass whooping And this means I got one more chance to beat the fuck outta you Champagne: You won’t Troy: Oh I won’t SLAPS CHAMPAGNE ((Champagne tackles troy and punches him repetitively over and over. ((Troy just Eats all those punches)) Troy laying on mat on his back: You got nothing.. heavily breathing ((Champagne looks under the ring and grabs a Singapore Cane)) Troy: Do it. Do it you Jagaloon Champagne: thwaks .......again.........again....then hits Troy on the back about 6 times (((Champagne goes back to punching Troy on the head over and over until blood is spilled and Troy has a crimson mask just flowing from his forehead (( Champagne un-do’s his tie and leaves the ring )) Troy: You and me...Lockdown Seven Champagne: mouthing since he has no microphone “I’ll be doing the main event” Troy: No heavily breathing I’ll make damn you won’t..... Camera zooms in on a bloody crimson masked smiling Troy Clausen SHOW ENDS

[justdreamichelle]

Andrea Sees SEAsia: Beginning the Journey, February 17, 2017

Many people were surprised when I told them I was going to Asia… as a 29 year old female... alone.  They would mention how they could never travel that far, or would be nervous to go alone.  To me it seemed kind of normal.  After how stressful and ridiculous the last handful of years had been, I figured I needed to be adventurous.  Feel free.  Experience the world around me.  Challenge myself.  My plan was not to be THIS ambitious on my first solo trip, in countries where I hadn’t the foggiest what their language was, but life seldom goes as planned, and rolling with the punches was a new trait I was working on.  So that’s what I did.

The curve balls started coming very early on in the planning this trip.  I had in my name a $1400 ticket through Delta.  I was told I could fly anywhere Delta or it’s partners flew, split it into different tickets, etc.  So I started looking at spending Thanksgiving 2016 in Spain.  I figured out my rough city itinerary, called Delta to book the trip, only to be told it was owned by Korean Air, so I couldn’t book the trip. After being confused and dumbfounded, I started looking at anywhere where Korean Air flew.  I decided to try out the Philippines, and had some ideas read, only for their president to make some remarks against American’s that made me nervous, so that wasn’t going to work.  I then decided to see several countries in SE Asia: South Korea, Thailand, and Singapore.  It took at least 5 hours to sort out the ticket, but at last, it was booked.

The next obstacles weren’t quite that bad, but still, stressful.  I managed to lose my license the week of my flight.  I didn’t want to be in Asia without a form of picture ID (other than my passport, which I don’t like to carry around).  I, of course, found it in the trunk of my car after I had looked there multiple times.  That same week, as I am packing, etc., the person I had lined up to watch Zara and the cats realized they had a conference that weekend and wouldn’t be able to help out with Zara’s daily needs until Monday.  I had already exhausted all the options I could to find this sitter for the week, that I didn’t know what to do.  I literally just fell to the floor in the fetal position and cried.  I mentioned my frustration to my boyfriend of 1 month, Mike, and he offered to take Zara not just for the weekend, but the whole week.  He even said he’d swing by and feed the cats a few times (even though he hates them and is allergic), but I settled for him watching Zara, and the other sitter popping in a few times to check on the cats.  He was certainly a life saver.  Not to mention, he gave me the AMAZING journal pictured above.  In all of my preparation for the trip, he heard me say repeatedly how I like to journal on my trips so I can remember.  I went to his house for dinner one night and in the middle of a conversation, he said, “Wait... I have something for you,” and left the kitchen.  He returned with the journal which he forgot he bought when living in Spain nearly a decade prior.  After seeing it had the elephant on it, he knew it was the perfect journal for me to take.  I’m not typically a crier about happy things, but I had to fight the tears.  it was so thoughtful, and beautiful.  Handcrafted by artisans in Gibraltar, with rose petals mixed into the handmade paper.  Just amazing.  Certainly a keeper, that Mike.

Anyway...

February, 17, 2017.  The day had finally arrived.  My bags were backed.  I was ready to go after the stressful week.   Mike dropped me at the airport for my first flight to NYC, only to be told my flight was cancelled and rescheduled for 10am the next day. 

Sounds fine, except the 14 hour flight to Asia would be a whole day later and I’d miss my first, and VERY exciting day in Thailand.  After breaking down, calling Mike, and asking a million other airlines what their next flight was, I ended up purchasing a $196 ticket to LaGuardia that a kind woman mentioned to me, and at least got through security.  I ended up bonding with the woman, Priscilla.  She was 40, pregnant with number 2, from Connecticut, and was in Charleston on a business trip.  She and I talked while we waited to board, then she even offered to let me take a cab with her from LaGuardia to JFK, where her car was parked, and where my next flight was in 4 hours.  I didn’t even have cash to pay her, but it was on her company’s tab, so she didn’t mind.  Before we said “goodbye” at JFK, she asked if I was religious.  It seemed out of the blue, but I said, “yes, I was raised Christian.”  She then handed me what she calls her “Travel Rosary.”  She was so happy that I was taking this journey, but she wanted me to be safe.  I promptly put it in my purse, and was so happy to have made my first new friend on my solo trip.  (Still bummed I didn’t get a picture with her, though). 

For a planner, like myself, all of these obstacles could have destroyed me for the rest of the trip, but I focused on the positive:  I already met an amazing, and helpful person; and got to see the AMAZING skyline of NYC at night, that I wouldn’t have been able to see if I flew into JFK, as planned.

[artsvark]

Nominees for 53rd Fleur du Cap Awards announced

The Fleur du Cap Theatre Awards will take place on Sunday, 18 March at 17:30 at the Baxter Theatre Centre in Cape Town.

These annual awards are regarded amongst the most valued and prestigious in the South African performing arts industry. This year’s ceremony will take place on Sunday, 18 March at 17:30 at the Baxter Theatre Centre in Cape Town and promises to be an “Elegantly Extravagant” evening.

The nominees in the various categories are, in alphabetical order:BEST PERFORMANCE BY A LEAD ACTOR IN A PLAY

André Roothman in Die Nag van Legio as Dogoman

Charlton George in Marat/Sade as Jean-Paul Marat

Craig Morris in Tartuffe as Tartuffe/Madame Pernelle

Ephraim Gordon in Die Dans van die Watermeid as Mills

Marty Kintu in Topdog/Underdog as Lincoln

BEST PERFORMANCE BY A LEAD ACTRESS IN A PLAY

Buhle Ngaba in What Remains as The Student

Charmaine Weir-Smith in Suddenly the Storm as Shanell

Faniswa Yisa in What Remains as The Archeologist

Tinarie van Wyk Loots in Hemelruim as Mariaan

Tinarie van Wyk Loots in Marat/Sade as Charlotte Corday

BEST PERFORMANCE BY A SUPPORTING ACTOR IN A PLAY

Bongile Mantsai in Marat/Sade as Duperret

Darren Araujo in Shakespeare in Love as Henslowe, Ensemble

Gerben Kamper in Die Nag van Legio as Oubaas Menge

Mark Elderkin in Twelfth Night as Malvolio

Wessel Pretorius in Twelfth Night as Feste

BEST PERFORMANCE BY A SUPPORTING ACTRESS IN A PLAY

Camilla Waldman in Tartuffe as Cléante

Faith Kinnear in Marat/Sade as Patient, Chorus

Jenny Stead in The Visit as Jackie Lodin

Renate Stuurman in Suddenly the Storm as Namhla

Robyn Scott in Shakespeare in Love as Elizabeth I, Ensemble

BEST PERFORMANCE BY A LEAD ACTOR IN A MUSICAL OR MUSIC THEATRE SHOW

Andile Gumbi in King Kong as King Kong

David Dennis in Priscilla Queen of the Desert as Bernadette

Jonathan Roxmouth in Evita as Che

Marc Lottering in Aunty Merle the Musical as Aunty Merle

Sne Dladla in King Kong as Pop

BEST PERFORMANCE BY A LEAD ACTRESS IN A MUSICAL OR MUSIC THEATRE SHOW

Ashleigh Harvey in Funny Girl as Fanny Brice

Edith Plaatjies in King Kong as Joyce

Emma Kingston in Evita as Eva

Nondumiso Tembe in King Kong as Joyce

Tarryn Lamb in Aunty Merle the Musical as Abigail

BEST PERFORMANCE BY A SUPPORTING ACTOR IN A MUSICAL OR MUSIC THEATRE SHOW

Anton Luitingh in Evita as Magaldi

Anton Luitingh in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat as Pharoah

Sanda Shandu in King Kong as Lucky

Tshepo Ncokoane in Priscilla Queen of the Desert as Miss Understanding

Tshamano Sebe in King Kong as Jack

BEST PERFORMANCE BY A SUPPORTING ACTRESS IN A MUSICAL OR MUSIC THEATRE SHOW

Candice von Litsenborgh in Priscilla Queen of the Desert as Shirley

Isabella Jane in Evita as The Mistress

Josslynn Hlenti in King Kong as Petal

Kate Normington in Funny Girl as Mrs Brice

Tankiso Mamabolo in Aunty Merle the Musical as Lydia

BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ENSEMBLE

The Cast of Marat/Sade

The Divas of Priscilla Queen of the Desert

The Cast of Shakespeare in Love

The Cast of Tartuffe

The Cast of What Remains

BEST PERFORMANCE IN A REVUE, CABARET OR ONE-PERSON SHOW

Daniel Mpilo Richards in State Fracture in Various Roles

Gideon Lombard in Die Reuk van Appels as Marnus

Jemma Kahn in In Bocca al Lupo as The Narrator

Sandra Prinsloo in Moedertaal as Nellie

Tony Bonani Miyambo in Kafka’s Ape as Red Peter

BEST PERFORMANCE IN AN OPERA – MALE

Fikile Mvinjelwa in Rigoletto as Rigoletto

Jaco Venter in Der Fliegende Holländer as Holländer

Lukhanyo Moyake in Rigoletto as The Duke of Mantua

Lukhanyo Moyake in Der Fliegende Holländer as Steuermann

Martin Mkhize in The Magic Flute as Papageno

BEST PERFORMANCE IN AN OPERA – FEMALE

Brittany Smith in The Magic Flute as Pamina

Johanni van Oostrum in Der Fliegende Holländer as Senta

Leah Gunter in The Magic Flute as The Queen

Noluvuyiso Mpofu in Rigoletto as Gilda

Nonhlanhla Yende in Rigoletto as Maddalena

BEST THEATRE PRODUCTION FOR CHILDREN AND YOUNG PEOPLE

Fred Abrahamse and Marcel Meyer for Peter Pan

Jon Keevy for The Underground Library

Marinda Engelbrecht and Margit Meyer-Rödenbeck for Vlooi en die Koninginby/Kipper and the Queen Bee

AWARD FOR MOST PROMISING STUDENT

Luntu Masiza, AFDA

Matthew Stuurman, UCT

Melani-Roxanne Breedt, AFDA

Tristan de Beer, UCT

Zoe McLaughlin, WTS

BEST NEW DIRECTOR

Dara Beth

Joshua G Ackerman

Nico Scheepers

Nwabisa Plaatjie

Thando Mangcu

BEST LIGHTING DESIGN

Nick Schlieper & Per Hording for Priscilla Queen of the Desert

Patrick Curtis for Marat/Sade

Tim Mitchell for King Kong

Wilhelm Disbergen for What Remains

Wolf Britz for Shakespeare in Love

BEST SET DESIGN

Brian Thomson for Priscilla Queen of the Desert (Bus Concept and Production Design)

Greg King for Suddenly the Storm

Jaco Bouwer for Marat/Sade

Nicola Mayer for Immortal

Nigel Hook for The Play that Goes Wrong

BEST COSTUME DESIGN

Birrie le Roux for King Kong

Birrie le Roux for Funny Girl

Leigh Bishop and Lieze van Tonder for Twelfth Night

Sasha Ehlers for Tartuffe

Tim Chappel and Lizzy Gardiner for Priscilla Queen of the Desert

BEST SOUND DESIGN, ORIGINAL MUSIC COMPOSITION OR ORIGINAL SCORE

Charl-Johan Lingenfelder for Original Music Composition (additional) for King Kong

Daf James & Michael Williams for Original Score for Tiger Bay the Musical

Neo Muyanga for Original Music Composition for Twelfth Night

Pierre-Henri Wicomb for Original Music Composition for Marat/Sade

Tarryn Lamb & Marc Lottering for Original Score for Aunty Merle the Musical

BEST NEW SOUTH AFRICAN SCRIPT

Die Dans van die Watermeid by Amee Lekas

Suddenly the Storm by Paul Slabolepszy

The Eulogists by Louis Viljoen

The Visit by Brent Palmer

What Remains by Nadia Davids

BEST DIRECTOR

Jaco Bouwer for Marat/Sade

Jay Pather for What Remains

Jonathan Munby for King Kong

Lara Bye for Die Reuk van Appels

Sylvaine Strike for Tartuffe

BEST PRODUCTION

Die Reuk van Appels – Theatrerocket (Johan van der Merwe and Rudi Sadler)

King Kong – The Fugard Theatre (Eric Abraham)

Marat/Sade – The Baxter Theatre (Nicolette Moses)

Priscilla Queen of the Desert – ShowTime Management (Hazel Feldman)

What Remains – Nadia Davids

For over 50 years the Fleur du Cap wine brand has proudly associated itself with the Theatre Awards as displaying the flair that is synonymous with the wine. “Theatre is the showcase for generations of artists; it is an honour to support such a pivotal part of the industry,” says SA Brand Manager for Premium Wines, Khanya Mashalaba.

Through awarding excellence in professional theatre Fleur du Cap wine and the Theatre Awards have played a significant role in the lives of South African theatre-makers.

Winners are chosen from productions performed at professional theatre venues in and around Cape Town. Theatre practitioners are recognised for acting, directing, staging and technical ability. These nominations reflect the excellent theatre talent seen on stages throughout the Western Cape last year. For the first time, awards will be made in the categories of Best Performance in an Opera (Male), Best Performance in an Opera (Female), Best Performance by an Ensemble, Best Theatre Production for Children and Young People and Best Production. This year awards will not be made in the category Best Puppetry Design.

The awards are considered in 26 different categories, including for Lifetime Achievement and Innovation in Theatre. The latter will be announced at the ceremony next month. The judges for the 2017 productions were Africa Melane, Dr Beverley Brommert, Eugene Yiga, Johan van Lill, Marina Griebenow, Maurice Carpede, Niel Roux, Tracey Saunders and Wayne Muller.

A total of 80 diverse productions from the year under review were eligible for consideration. They are, in alphabetical order:

A Handful of Keys, Angels on Horseback, Another One’s Bread, Aunty Merle the Musical, bash: latterday plays, Black, Boy Ntulikazi, Brother Love 2, Buzani Kubawo, Cathy and the Trolley Dollies, Chapter 2 Section 9, Cheers to Sarajevo, Der Fliegende Holländer, Die Dans van die Watermeid, Die Nag Van Legio, Die Reuk van Appels, El Blanco: Tales of the Mariachi, Evita, Evita Bezuidenhout and the Kaktus of Separate Development, Fiela se Kind, Funny Girl, Hamlet, Hemelruim, Immortal, In Bocca al Lupo, In Whorefish Bloomers: The Waitresses’ Lament, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Kafka’s Ape, Kidcasino, King Kong, Klara Maas se hart is gebreek, ensomeer: Die vloeistof-trilogie, From Koe’siestes to Kneidlach, Koöperasiestories, Kwamanzi, Macbeth: The Adult Panto, Mama Africa the Musical, Marat/Sade, Mate, Moedertaal, Nasty Womxn, Nice Coat (Lekker Jas), Niqabi Ninja, Peter Pan, Pieces, Police Cops in Space, Priscilla Queen of the Desert, Red Aloes, Renaissance, Rent, Rigoletto, Scenes from an Execution, Selwyn and Gabriel, Shakespeare in Love, Sherlock Holmes and the Curse of the Queen’s Diamond, Single Minded, So ry Miss Daisy, Songs of this Soil, State Fracture, Suddenly the Storm, Synergy, Tartuffe, The Eulogists, The Magic Flute, The Mother, The Mystery of Irma Vep, The Native Who Caused All The Trouble, The Play That Goes Wrong, The Rabble, The Visit, Thirst, Three’s a Crowd, Tiger Bay the Musical, Topdog/Underdog, Tswalo/Source, Twelfth Night, The Underground Library, Vlooi en die Koninginby/Kipper and the Queen Bee, What Remains and Who’s Your Daddy.

The student panel adjudicated another 35 student productions, bringing the total number of productions that were considered in 2017 to an astounding 115.

“The increased number of nominees in the category for Best New South African Script is extremely exciting as it means that local theatre-makers are becoming bolder in telling the stories that are at the heart of our collective lived experience. To see life imitating art in this way is truly exhilarating. We thank Fleur du Cap wine brand, the hardworking panel of judges, theatre-makers and all the creatives behind the scenes who made this possible,” says Melanie Burke, chairman of the judging panel.

Each award carries a cash prize of R15 000 and a silver medallion. All voting processes are audited and overseen by Distell Internal Audit and the legal firm Cluver Markotter Inc.

A limited number of tickets for the ceremony at The Baxter Theatre will be on sale at R300 per person.

However, there is no reason to miss this exciting annual event! For the first time in the history of the awards theatre lovers can share in the celebrations from the comfort of their own home, in real-time, through a virtual experience, at only R100 per ticket, standard data rates apply. Purchase your tickets from the Baxter Box Office on 021 685 7880 or Webtickets from 15th February 2018.

Share your Flair with Fleur du Cap wine and celebrate excellence in theatre with the award recipients! Follow the awards on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/FleurduCap/ and on Twitter at https://twitter.com/FDCTheatreAward. For more information on Fleur du Cap Wines www.fleurducap.co.za

Nominees for 53rd Fleur du Cap Awards announced was originally published on Artsvark