#quest for the ink machine shadows in the pages | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ziggyevenstar · 1 year ago

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scavenger hunt for halloween 2023, notes

Team 1

Clue 1: “In a joyful place where gifts are kept,

Look for me where dreams are wrapped and wept.

Beneath decorations that sparkle with glee,

I hide with the parcels, can you find me?”

Clue 2: Look in the place where hands wave goodbye,

In a place where germs are known to fly.

Search for a bottle, clear and clean,

With power to kill what can't be seen.

Where hands get wet and dirt is erased,

Your next clue lies in this essential space.

Clue 3: In a room where meals convene,

Where daily conversations gleam,

Look beneath the surface of wood and glue,

To find your next clue, hidden askew.

Hint: Seek beneath where plates are placed,

A spot unseen, neatly embraced.

Clue 4: "Seeking the aquatic realm where colors intertwine,

Within the brushstrokes of an artist's design.

In the gallery's depths, you must wade,

Find the canvas where vibrant scales are displayed.

Look for an artwork swimming with fins,

Where pigments dance and creativity begins.

Hurry, brave hunter, time's ticking away,

Find the beautiful clue, and bask in its display.

Clue 5: A place where DJs spin and dancers groove

Find a realm where music comes alive, a sonic behoove

In a cave of rhythm, a sanctuary of sound

Look high and low, search all around

Follow the wires that snake and intertwine

To amplify tunes, bringing joy divine

In this auditory haven, the music roam

Seek the kingdom of amplification, your quest's home

Clue 6: Where offerings are made, and prayers take flight,

Find the shrine where dark turns to light.

Look beneath a silvered canopy on high,

Where incense weaves dreams into the sky.

Where past candles flickering with sacred glow,

A hidden clue waits for you to show.

Clue 7: I am hidden, not out of sight,

In a place where two paths unite.

Pedal, pedal, don't you quit,

Look near a signpost, where trails hit.

Seek me out, with a keen eye,

Between the marker and the sky.

A prize awaits, for the one who's best,

To find me, your trusty two-wheeled quest.

Clue 8: "In the place where mysteries unfold,

search for a book that's weathered and old.

Beneath fictional branches of a tree that

whispers ancient secrets, with the help of bess and george, you'll find me.

Look close, sleuthing dear, for the answer to the riddle lies hidden within the pages of a forgotten

book on the witch tree.”

Team 2

Clue 1: "In the realm of waves and signals, where connections are made,

Seek out the hub of the digital aid.

Deftly tucked away, yet still within sight,

Look for a gateway that illuminates the night.

Find me where invisible networks convene,

Amidst the chaos of wires and the hum of machines”

Clue 2: "Look to me and you'll find your next clue.

Seek the object that measures and is sun placement in lieu.

Find me where seconds dance and hands move,

In a place that ensures you're never late to groove.”

Clue 3: A place of focus, where knowledge resides,

Where papers and things pile up, and thoughts collide.

Look for the spot when silence prevails,

Where the journey of learning never fails.

Clue 4: "Unlock the path to an icy delight,

In a chilly domain that brings culinary might.

Inside this abode of sustenance, concealed with might,

Seek within the chamber, where hunger takes flight.

Look beyond the doors adorned with handles bright,

For the treasure hidden within, oh what a sight!"

Clue 5: "In a realm of grape and oak so fine,

Search a place where glasses raise divine.

Seek the spirits that dance and flow,

Where labels tell of crafted glow.

Under the vine's shadow, day or night.

Raise a glass to toast, this clue has led your way,

In corks and bottles, the prize now lay.”

Clue 6: In a chamber of tasks and paper trails,

Where ink meets paper and creativity unveils,

Seek a device with buttons and lights,

That brings documents to life amidst black and whites.

Clue 7: "Look for me where files reside,

secrets and treasures to confide.

Connect me in, I'll store it all,

your data safe, both big and small.

Seek me where technology thrives,

where USB ports and backups thrive.

Find me now, oh puzzle pro,

beneath maybe, or I hide below!"

Clue 8: You've reached the Capitol, where the games begin,

Now search for the place where trust wears thin.

In a district renowned for mining coal,

Look for a building that stands apart, bold.

Find the tribute made of silver and steel,

And there you'll find the next clue to reveal.

Extra

"In the land of Halloween, where spooks and frights abide,

Search the graveyard shadows where a skeletal figure hides.

Beneath the moon's pale light, where pumpkins grin and cackle,

Find the resting place of Jack, inside a mystic anklet shackle.

But beware, for the clues are cunning and might leave you perplexed,

In the abandoned crypt, a key dressed in Jack's signature checks.”

In sacred pages of ancient lore,

The words of divine wisdom doth pour.

In a realm where faith and hope reside,

Seek the book that serves as a spiritual guide.

Head to a place where metaphorical pews align,

Where devout voices sing, intertwine.

Within this sanctuary, humble and grand,

By this place, your clue shall stand.

Embark on a quest within these halls,

Where knowledge thrives and learning calls.

In a classroom of buzzing minds and keys,

Seek the device that empowers and frees.

Find a spot where a screen comes illuminated,

And student goes to be educated.

In a haven where minds unite to learn and think,

Seek the classroom where pixels blink.

In the realm of triumph and academic glee,

Seek the evidence of a milestone decree.

In a time capsule of memories, where nostalgia thrives,

Find the memento that commemorates high school lives.

With tassel and gown in a timeless pose,

Find the image of a journey that greatly grows.

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lothirielswan · 5 years ago

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“Wanna Smell Books with Me?” [19]

Join the journey on AO3 too!

Quest Objective: Someone please hold Jaina's beer.

~Wrathion, the Violet Citadel~

“You have what was promised?”

The banners of lilac and cobalt churned at the top of the alabaster steps. Torches played games with shadows across the floor. Dalaran was known for its knowledge, and yet everything seemed hidden by a layer of smoke.

Grand Magister Rommath gestured with his hands, and a wooden crate settled on the cold ground.

Left and Right guarded the staircase at the bottom, so no one would interfere with our transaction. Anyone who came close was given a death stare along with a long rifle pointed at their nose. Such ferocity. Such power.

I lifted a talon. Two more agents descended from the shadows and cracked open the lid with their blades. Rommath raised a slender eyebrow, but gave no reply.

The artifact rested on cushions of silk. It's intricate golden design was uncanny, created by beings of much higher thinking. Certain parts of the strange machine gave off a soft glow. There was a subtle familiarity to it; it looked exactly like my visions from the Thunder King.

“Our archeologists scoured Northrend, the Badlands, Uldum. We found the pieces scattered throughout.” The Grand Magister explained. His features were bathed in twilight hues of gold, azure and violet that made up the room. The dark velvet of my robes were sun-kissed by the gleam of the artifact, like the first rays of dawn. A new beginning.

I hummed with satisfaction. No more hiding. No more shame. The Black Dragonflight will reclaim what is rightfully ours.

“It was a pleasure doing business, Grand Magister,” His title rolled off my tongue. I snapped my fingers, and two more lackeys emerged from the darkness of the room to carry the crate out of sight. Rommath’s quirked eyebrow grew more rigid.

“You have an abundance of recruits.” He said.

I lightly shrugged my shoulders with a pinch of modesty. “I’m comfortable. I’m afraid you can't say the same.”

I heard of the plight of the sin’dorei. The filthy remains of the Scourge still ran across their homeland, and the elves’ numbers were few. It was a shame, such powerful sorcerers turned to arcane addicts. They did not wander ruins simply for the joy of finding lost artifacts.

Rommath did not appear pleased to bring up the state of his homeland. “That is not a Black dragon’s business.”

“But it could be.” I said.

The bare muscles of his arms stiffened. Rommath muttered, “In what way?”

“I have plans, Grand Magister. Plans that will change the course of Azeroth,” Said I. I was poised and proud, shoulders out as if I had my wings on display.

“Your people are near extinction; I can modify that. Your forces can join mine, and I will reward you.”

Rommath was silent for a moment. “You sound like the Betrayer.”

Illidan Stormrage. Another famous figure. I never had the luxury to meet the former Lord of Outland, but he surely lived up to his reputation during the Legion’s recent invasion.

I replied, “The Betrayer did what was necessary to achieve a higher goal; he opposed the Legion-–”

“And many died in that campaign.” Rommath took another step closer. His fists were clenched like two threatening boulders of marble. The bridge of his nose creased like cracked alabaster. “Many suffered. Many are still paying the price. I would caution you with whatever plot you have come up with.”

“...So that's a no on joining me?” I remarked, unfazed by his closeness and the pain laced within his voice.

The Grand Magister’s head cocked to the side. “The fate of my people is not for me to decide; that is the Regent Lord’s will, what little remains of it. I will inform him of your offer, and the costs.”

Rommath gave a curt nod with his scarf still covering his lips, a last mockery that I still did not know everything he did.

His back was to me when I called out one last time. “Grand Magister?”

His shoulders slumped from exhaustion, and faced me with his expression still disguised behind scarlet silk. “Yes, Black Prince?”

My lips curled into a smile, baring my teeth with sharp points to be persuasive. “I urge you to consider my proposal. I doubt your people would like to be on the wrong side of history a second time.”

Rommath’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you should follow your own advice.”

~Eona, the Purple Parlor~

“Jaina, please-–”

“No. Jaina’s not here right now. Jaina’s on vacation.” Jaina held up a cautionary finger as she slumped down into one of the padded chairs. Her interest moved to the bookshelf near her as I pleaded with her.

“I don't know where Khadgar is and I got a bad-omens vibe from Chromie! Please? I’ll pay you back for the danish.” I replied.

Jaina shot me a foul look at the mere mention of the pastry. But she didn't answer. Instead, Jaina pulled a random book from the shelves, opened it, and hid her face behind the cover.

“Oh,” She moaned into the ink-smothered parchment filled with knowledge. “I miss that smell. I miss books. I miss my youth.”

I lowered her book so I could meet her gaze. “You’re still incredibly young.”

“Ha!” Jaina settled back in her chair and propped her feet up on the nearest table. “Young. What is young? Innocence. Ambition. Love…”

Her fingers suddenly clenched the leather cover of the novel. “Arthas is dead.”

I flinched and felt a pang of guilt. I managed a breathy response, “Yes, he is.”

Jaina gently tugged at the bottom of her braid. So much of her blonde locks had been consumed by the frosty white arcane. Her eyes were black and blue, like ice in the dark. Her voice was melodic like a river, and it had been frozen over. She was still young. But she looked exhausted, like the years had feasted on her spirit.

“It's an odd thing to say, but...I feel like him now.” Jaina’s attention was lost to some illusion that I could not see. Her fingers twitched towards the brooch. “Arthas, he was such a contradiction. He loved his people. He fought undead. He opposed dreadlords. Then he changed. He killed his people. He lead the undead. He took orders from dreadlords.”

Jaina stroked the crest with her thumb. “And now here I am. I used to have faith that everything would work out alright. I used to have faith in myself. Now...”

She shook her head, not for long, but with intensity, as if she could banish the thoughts like one could wring blood out of a healer’s rag. “Now I'm young. And my youth is gone.”

I didn't know what to say. I stole a chair from the other side of the table and dragged it next to hers. At random I plucked a book from one of the shelves and glanced over at her.

I bit my lip as I held up the novel. “Wanna smell books with me…?”

Jaina’s eyes were glassy as she stared at the cover. She nodded, a small smile on her lips. She wiped at her eyes. “I thought you would never ask.”

Our arms brushed together as I opened the first page and started to read. Yes, Khadgar and Dalaran needed us. But Jaina needed this more.

“The girl’s fiance dies in that one.” Jaina remarked.

I looked up at her smirk. “This is what I get for stealing your danish?”

“You brought a bookworm along to smell books, Eona. You should’ve known that something would get spoiled.”

~*~

We were still reading in the Purple Parlor when the air thickened from a teleportation spell. Arcane crackled across my skin and light filled the chamber.

I blinked a few times, stunned by the new change in the atmosphere. Jaina was used to the way of magics and was already standing, staff in hand. Her expression turned grim.

“Khadgar!” I ran to him as I made out his form.

I caught his arm as he stumbled, feeling the coldness of his skin through his dark blue robes. He was pale, and his forehead glistened with sweat as he swayed on his feet.

Archmages Modera and Aethas materialized on his sides. They wore the same drained expressions. Jaina helped Modera down as Khadgar teetered in my grasp.

“Eona...you never told me you had sisters,” Khadgar gasped. I held onto his arms, trying to still him as best as I could.

“Huh?” I said.

“Yes,” Khadgar held up a finger, pointing to the air around me. “There’s three of you...am I counting right? Aethas! What do your elf eyes see?”

“Stars...so many stars...” Aethas groaned and yanked off his hood to massage his temples.

I lead Khadgar to a one-armed sofa as he spoke in his dreamy state of delirium. “You know, I bet if Sylvanas raised me from the dead...I’d be like Beetlejuice.”

I sat the Archmage down and frowned as I leaned over him. “Please don't give me that mental image, Khadgar.”

“No, it's perfect! You can be Lydia! IT’S SHOWTIME-–wee!” I urged Khadgar down to lie on the sofa, smoothing out his hair as I did so.

I glanced over at Jaina as she examined the other two mages.

“What happened to them?” I asked. I wonder if Anduin is still here. He’s a skilled healer, he might know.

“You know, Eona, you smell really nice.” Khadgar rasped below me. “Kind of like strawberries. Which is funny, you look like a strawberry. You’re covered in seeds…”

I crossed my arms. My white linen shirt came down to my elbows, so the freckles drizzled across my arms were still visible.

“Where were you last, Modera?” I heard Jaina ask.

I joined the two mages across the parlor. Modera seemed less hysterical than Khadgar, but just as exhausted.

“Violet Hold,” She gasped. “the prisoners escaped...we went to track them...they trapped us there. Kalecgos is still with them-–”

My eyes flew open. Jaina and I exchanged a look.

“–-then we faced the Vampyr…” Modera’s head tipped back as she gulped in air.

Jaina nudged my arm. She didn't need to. The two red dots on Modera’s neck said it all. I sprinted back to Khadgar. His skin was branded with the same two marks.

“Aethas too,” Jaina said quietly, smoothing her robes as she stood upright.

We backed away from the three limp mages, watching as their movements seemed to slow.

“If they…” I swallowed. “does that mean they’re stuck that way?”

“No. We have spells to remove it, and it's usually temporary. I can ask Anduin or Malfurion to tend to them.” Jaina glanced up at her own staff, then quickly retrieved the long weapons from where the mages lay.

I nodded, moving my hair away from the front of my face. As I did so, Khadgar leaned up slightly, sniffing the air.

“What about Kalec?” I said.

Jaina returned to my side with their staffs and her eyes flickered over the sleeping bodies. “We’ll get him together. I’ll meet you at Violet Hold. Let’s clean up the Kirin Tor’s mess before the summit has the chance to notice.”

We stepped back into the shimmering portal and our feet echoed as we appeared at the staircase of the Violet Citadel. Jaina raced towards the Anduin; I took the steps two at a time with my thoughts on Kalec.

I squinted as a familiar face lingered at the bottom of the steps. Grand Magister Rommath looked to my coming, his eyes analyzing me like a spellbook.

“Eona, I must speak with you.” He said as I was halfway down the mountain of steps. My calves were burning and I didn't care. Kalec’s face kept flashing before my eyes.

“I'm sorry, now is not a good time.” I remarked.

“It’s important-–”

“Then we’ll discuss it later.” I finally reached the bottom of the stairs and sped past him.

“You are going to slip if you move too swiftly, Lady Sunstrider.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I love cliffhangers :3

Chromie: Me too! Although, I usually see them coming with my powers, but they're still entertaining--but that's not why I'm here. Author, you're messing with the timestreams!

Author: Don't worry, I have a permit.

Chromie: I'm sorry, Author. That bowl of edible cookie dough that you offered the Bronze Dragonflight was delicious, but it does not allow you to go willy-nilly with the past. The Dark Portal was closed for twenty years, making Eona's existence impossible!

*Awesome freaky lightshow happens. Nozdormu, Lord of Time, appears*

Nozdormu: Author, well met. I must say, your work with this new future for Azeroth is...entertaining, but Chronomu is correct.

Author: Jeez, Marvel didn't have these kinds of laws set up--then again, Deadpool was my co-writer. Protectors of Time, please hear me out! I have a loophole!

Nozdormu: Very well, Author. Do as you must. We will be watching...and if you can spare me a cameo, it would touch this old dragon's heart. You even let Kalecgos have a minor role in this story, and he's practically invisible!

Kalec: ...Thanks.

Author: Will do, Lord Nozdormu! Thanks for stopping by, Chromie! As for you Awesome Adventurers, you can actually witness the first time Eona's parents met now, in the recently updated "Protectors of the Present"! Hope you enjoyed c: love, fortune and glory to you!!

#featuring Khadgar the undead Beetlejuice #thrilling adventures of eona #World of Warcraft #khadgar #Jaina Proudmoore #kalecgos #archmage modera #aethas sunreaver #Eona Strider

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bloomsoftly · 7 years ago

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take your time (in a hurry), ch. 2

this is part 2 of @ragwitch‘s birthday gift! i’ll have one more up this week, on her actual birthday. if you haven’t read the first chapter, this one won’t make much sense. love you, queenie. ❤️❤️❤️

read: part 1, part 3

Chapters: 2/? Relationships: wintershieldshock (Darcy/Bucky/Steve), Darcy & Tony Rating: T (for now) Summary: Darcy is the bastard daughter of one Anthony Edward Stark, who was banished from New York for getting a girl pregnant out of wedlock. Now that her grandparents have died, she embarks on a quest out west to find her long-lost father. Twenty years later. Should be a piece of cake. (old west!AU)

Despite a restless night, Darcy was up just after dawn the next morning. There was too much to do; at some point in the middle of all her tossing and turning, she’d realized she couldn’t stay here. Not in this house, and certainly not in the shadow of Zola and his scheming machinations. Whether or not Peggy found a way to find her father, she wasn’t staying in New York.

She wasn’t looking forward to telling Maria. Not that she had to—the other woman had a knack for being able to read her thoughts almost before she’d even had them. In this case, it was easy. As soon as Darcy directed some of the servants to start packing up the house—starting with her grandparents’ bedroom and other, lesser-used rooms of the house—Maria was there at her elbow. “Not going to wait for Mrs. Carter to come back before you make your decision?”

“You know she’d yell at you for calling her that, Maria. And no, I’m not. We both know that there’s only one option for me. Can you see me tied down to a man too scared to tell Zola no?”

The other woman only snorted in reply. Dusting her hands briskly on her apron, she said, “Well, that's settled, then. I'll have the maids pack up in here, next.” She waved a hand around Howard’s study at all the books and his strange inventions, plus the keepsakes he’d gathered from his travels. Darcy looked up from where she'd been combing through the loose sheets of paper on her grandfather’s desk. She wasn't ready for this room to be packed up, and she opened her mouth to tell Maria that, but was sidetracked at the next words that came out of the housekeeper’s mouth.

“Then we'll go through your clothing to decide what will survive the trip.”

“What trip?”

Maria leveled her with a skeptical, don't-try-to-pull-one-over-on-me-missy look. “For the journey west. You trying to tell me that you're planning on leaving New York and it's not to go find your father?”

She hadn't said as much out loud, but Darcy couldn't deny that it had always been her intention, ever since Aunt Peggy’s words the night before. Even if she spent the rest of her whole life looking. She looked away. “I'm not ready for the servants to clean up in here.” That was all the answer Maria needed.

With a soft squeeze to her shoulder, she murmured, “I thought not. Well, I hope you find something that hints at where he might be. ‘West’ is mighty vague, even for an intrepid young woman like yourself. I wouldn't hold my breath, though.” She headed across the room, reaching for the chords for the drapes. “And while you do that, I might as well go see to the preparations for our journey. It's never too early to get the ball rolling.”

“Our?” Darcy muttered blankly, blinking owlishly against the light as Maria threw open the curtains. Dust floated in every direction, disturbed by the sudden motion. No one had been in this room in days, not since Darcy’s grandparents had died.

“Our,” Maria confirmed, her tone as hard as steel, and as immovable, too. “You didn't think I was gonna let my little girl go traipsing off across the country without me, did you?”

In between one heartbeat and the next, Darcy flew across the room. One second, she was staring at her friend from behind the desk, finger still tracing the line of ink across one of Howard’s ledgers. And in the next, she was in Maria’s arms, clinging hard and blinking away tears. The other woman’s arms were light and gentle against her back, rubbing soothing circles against the fabric covering her back.

Once she was sure she wouldn't embarrass herself by crying like a child, Darcy pulled away. Maria’s face was stern, but her eyes were understanding. “It's been a rough week for you, little dove, I know. But you'll get through this. You've still got me.”

Nodding her head quickly, Darcy stepped back. Smiling around a sniffle, she assured, “I know. I don't know what I'd do without you, Maria.”

“You'd figure something out, Darce. You're a resourceful one. But you don't have to. And whenever you find someone you can rely on—”

“—you shouldn't work alone,” Darcy finished.

(read more link here)

“Good girl.” With one last pat to her shoulder, Maria headed for the doorway. “Your grandfather never learned that lesson. I might suggest going through your grandmother’s things, instead. Of the two, she was the more likely to learn from her mistakes, don't you think?” She tilted her head toward the smaller desk in the corner, the one that had belonged to Darcy’s grandmother.

She had a point. It had been her Grandpa’s greatest weakness, to always think he could do everything alone. He’d never hesitated to shove away the people who disappointed him, and he never looked back. With that in mind, Darcy unceremoniously dropped the leather-bound book she was holding to the desktop—she didn't care about being sloppy, now that Grandpa wasn't around to yell at her for it.

Grandma’s desk was much less cluttered, and she was able to pick through its contents easily. The smell of her perfume still lingered on the pages of the books, and Darcy held them up to her nose with a pained inhale. She closed her eyes against the memories and the grief; it had always been so much easier to love Grandma. Less hard edges, without the alcohol and self-imposed isolation that had worn away at Grandpa.

But her work was also devoid of any mention of Darcy's Papa, which brought on grief of another kind. She'd been so hopeful—

“Mrs. Carter and Miss Carter are here to see you, Miss Darcy,” one of the maids said from the doorway, eyeing her with interest.

“Thank you, Anna.”

The girl—well, she was a little older than Darcy, so probably couldn't be considered a girl at all—lingered in the doorway. “Do you want me to pack e’erything up in here, next?”

She sighed. “Yes, you might as well. Thank you.”

With a bob and a curtsy, the maid was gone. Deciding it was best not to keep Aunt Peggy waiting, Darcy turned toward the door. She trailed a reluctant hand over her grandmother’s desk in a final goodbye. Only to stop dead as one of her fingers tripped a little wooden switch. With a quiet click, a secret compartment opened on the desk.

Inside rested a small book, bound in dyed leather and wreathed in dust.

For Darcy, the inside of the cover read. With excitement rising within her, she quickly flipped through the pages. Her heart sank as page after page was blank, but she persevered through to the end of the book. There, on the last page and written in Maria Stark’s distinct handwriting, was a message.

If I die before I’m able to tell you this in person, I’m sorry. Look for a friend near Santa Fe. I love you.

Tucking the book into one of her hidden pockets, she hastened for the door. With any luck, Aunt Peggy would have more information on her father’s whereabouts. Santa Fe. She had a direction, at least. With her pulse pounding in her ears and her heart lodged firmly in her throat, she practically flew down the stairs. She didn't care what any of the servants thought, for once. All she cared about was finally being able to find her father. Twenty years after her birth, she might actually have a way to locate him.

Peggy and Maria were already murmuring to each together as she walked in, shoulder to shoulder as Sharon looked on. “You’ve been doing what?” Maria hissed, dropping her voice as the door opened. Seeing that it was Darcy who walked in, she turned her glare back on the other woman.

“I’ve been keeping track of Anthony over the years,” Peggy repeated. “As best I can, at any rate. His wild streak doesn't seem to have abated at all, as far as I can tell.” She held a letter in her hands, which she brought up in front of her eyes. Peering at it, she said, “My most recent letter indicates that Anthony was holed up somewhere near—”

“Santa Fe?” Darcy cut in, eager to prove Grandma’s hint useful.

Peggy's sharp gaze met hers. “Puente Antiguo, actually. A little desert town near Santa Fe. But that's a hell of a guess, girl.”

Everyone's eyes were on her. “Grandma hid a note for me to find.”

“Ahh.” Aunt Peggy’s eyes were fond. “I always knew Maria Stark had a backbone stronger than she let on. Too bad she didn't use it while she was alive.” Darcy opened her mouth to defend her grandmother—how, she didn't know, when she secretly agreed with Peggy’s assessment—but the older woman waved her off. “But no matter. It looks like your grandmother wanted to reunite you, as well.”

No one knew what to say to that. “So, what now?” Darcy asked into the quiet of the room. “If I leave, what’s to prevent Mr. Zola from getting his hand’s on my grandparents’ estate anyway?”

“I met with the solicitor this morning,” Peggy revealed, heading toward the settee. The two younger women followed, but Maria headed to the hallway instead. Probably for tea and coffee.

“Mr. Fury?” Darcy liked the man, a lot. He was one of the few people—including Aunt Peggy—who had always been willing to speak his mind around the Starks, social consequences be damned. He had a strange sort of naked ambition that Darcy admired, if only because it meant she wasn't always having to read between the lines to assess his motives. She also liked his courage; as a black businessman—in banking, no less—he had more than his fair share of enemies in the city. But he never gave up. And he was ruthless, which was why Grandpa Howard had hired him in the first place.

“The very one. He sent a note for me while I was out yesterday, asking for a meeting. He implied it was urgent.” She paused, and Darcy barely restrained the urge to roll her eyes. Aunt Peggy was wonderful and her stories were so interesting. But she also had a serious flair for the dramatic.

After a few seconds, it was clear that she wasn’t going to immediately continue. Huffing a silent breath, Darcy prompted, “And?”

“Let’s not be uncivilized, dear. We can wait for tea.” Peggy’s eyes were shark-like, sharp and piercing, and her grin was borderline wicked. She’d never been this openly devious when Darcy’s grandparents were alive. At least, not that Darcy could remember. She liked this new version of her aunt.

That didn’t mean she wanted to have to wait, though. Turning her head slightly so that Peggy wouldn’t see, she caught Sharon’s gaze and rolled her eyes. Sharon bit her lip and stifled a laugh behind her hand. A bony hand reached out and pinched Darcy’s ribs, hard enough to make her jump. She squeaked and turned an accusing gaze on the older woman, rubbing the soreness away with a palm. “Aunt Peggy!” she whined. But her aunt wasn’t fazed; she just stared at Darcy with a challenging look.

The door opened, breaking their playful standoff. Maria looked between them with pursed lips, then rolled her eyes and moved to set up the tea and coffee on the low-standing table that sat between the three women. “Why don’t you pinch Maria when she rolls her eyes?” Darcy muttered under her breath.

“Because Maria would skin anyone alive if they touched her without permission.” That drew a reluctant grin from the housekeeper, who ducked her head to hide her pride at the statement. Darcy looked at her with new eyes, then turned back to Peggy with a hopeful look. Her aunt chuckled. “That’s her story to tell, darling. But I wouldn’t try to pinch her, if I were you.”

Maria cleared her throat and handed Peggy her cup of tea. “Anyway. What did I miss?”

“Nothing at all,” Sharon muttered grumpily. “Aunt Peggy refused to get to any of the good stuff while you were gone.” The woman clucked her tongue at her niece’s cheek, but Darcy drowned it out with her laughter. She and Sharon exchanged matching looks of mischief, and a little piece of Darcy’s anxiety drifted away. Sharon had always been the quieter of the two, but it was good to remember that she had a friend through all of this devastation. Someone her own age who could understand how she was feeling.

“It’s true, Aunt Peggy,” Darcy said, still chuckling. “You were playing up the suspense while we waited.”

Her aunt waved that away and turned her gaze on Maria. “Nevermind all that. Maria, I was just telling the girls that Fury sent me a note yesterday, telling me he needed to speak with me on an urgent matter.”

Maria’s cup clattered a little against the plate as she set it down. The hot coffee inside sloshed and turned, but didn’t spill over the edge. Her gaze was curious as it met Peggy’s, and all of a sudden Darcy remembered the fond way Maria spoke about Mr. Fury, and the rumors that had spread below-stairs about the two of them. She’d never given them any second thought; what Maria did and with whom didn’t seem to be her business, quite frankly. But now Darcy wondered whether she’d be taking her away from a man she loved, if she pulled Maria west.

The sound of Peggy’s voice had her putting that thought aside, to ponder over later. “The urgent matter Mr. Fury alluded to was the matter of your grandparents’ estate, Darcy. Zola got one thing right, at least—you are to inherit everything.” The information, for all that it was shared so casually, had the effect of shattering china on the room. Everyone froze. It was ridiculous, really, considering that they’d all expected such an outcome. Well, there’d always been the chance that her Grandpa would’ve changed his mind, especially after the fight they’d had.

She hadn’t said anything to anyone about it, but she’d been worried that in the end they would decide that she wasn’t worthy, their bastard granddaughter. The one whose name carried a smear of shame that wouldn’t ever go away, the product of a son they preferred to pretend they’d never had. Darcy hadn’t ever felt like she truly belonged in the Stark family home—she’d had little fantasies of her unknown mother coming to fight for her, or her Papa stealing her away in the middle of the night so that they could go on adventures together. She’d loved Grandpa and Grandma, at the end of it all, but they hadn’t ever truly felt like home.

Maria’s gentle touch on her knee had Darcy looking up. “They loved you,” she murmured, too quietly for the other two women to hear. It was soft and gentle, a reminder without recriminations. Maria had been a major part of Darcy’s life, practically since birth, and knew exactly how tumultuous the relationship between Darcy and her grandparents had been. Not too bad, clearly, or at least not bad enough that they’d cut her out of the will.

With an aching heart, Darcy found herself wishing that some had been set aside for her long-banished father. A sign of forgiveness, or even atonement, for pushing him away. She said nothing of her thoughts, though. Patting Maria’s hand, she offered a nod and a subdued smile and turned back to Peggy. “And once Zola finds out—”

“He won’t stop,” Peggy confirmed. “He’ll get much worse, if anything. His methods have been fairly subdued until now. But if he thinks he can force you into marriage, well…there’s nothing he won’t do.” The words she wasn’t saying hung in the air over them, and Darcy and Sharon both shuddered. They’d heard the horror stories.

“But the good news, if you wish to call it that, is that a marriage, forced or otherwise, is his only option. Your grandparents named me your guardian until your twenty-fifth birthday or marriage, whichever comes sooner.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

Peggy took one long drink from and set the empty cup on the plate with a decisive click. “Might as well get all the details out of the way, hadn’t we? Then we’ll know what we’re working with, here. Better call for more tea, Maria. This is going to take a while.”

The explanation was a long one, if only because Darcy was new to discussions of inheritance and legal verbiage. In the end, the Carters stayed all day and well into evening. There was a tense moment, right when they were discussing the arrangements that Peggy would have to make with Mr. Fury before Darcy set out west, when a maid scratched at the door. “Mr. Arnim Zola is at the door, Miss. He asked if you’re available to receive him.”

Everyone looked at her in silence, and it took Darcy a second to realize that she was the mistress of the house, now, even if Aunt Peggy was over for a visit. “Please tell him I’m indisposed, Beth.” The girl curtsied and went on her way, but the little ball of terror she’d felt at hearing Zola’s name didn’t fade.

When she turned back, there was a sympathetic glint in Aunt Peggy’s eyes. It was immediately swept away in the wake of pure determination. “Whatever you do, Darcy-girl, don’t let him in. Pretend to be ill or overcome by grief or whatever you have to do, but do not allow him entrance. Cease to go out altogether, if you must—actually, it would be best not to tell anyone of your plans, other than those already in the room. Zola has eyes and ears everywhere. I cannot stress how conniving that man can be, and how dangerous he is to your future.”

She already knew—that one conversation from the night before was enough to last Darcy a lifetime. Instead of saying so, she simply nodded her head in agreement. “I understand, Aunt Peggy.”

“Good. Then I will work with Nicholas on the legal aspect of things, Sharon will keep her ear to the ground on her social outings, to see if Zola has been stupid and let something slip. And you and Maria will sort out the house, Darcy. Decide what you want to keep, what you want to take with you, and what you would like me to sell for you. And I will take care of the rest.”

That was the plan.

And it was a good one, for Darcy’s physical and mental health. It was a huge task, to decide to pick up and move west. There was the house and the servants and all of her grandparents’ things—and her father’s, which she’d found hidden away in one of the attics—and even if Peggy could technically handle all of it, Darcy didn’t feel right leaving it all behind without a backwards glance. And she was grateful, too, for the time to breathe, to acclimate herself to the idea of moving west. Perhaps for the rest of her life, when all she’d ever known was New York. It was a daunting thought.

So, all in all, Darcy was in favor of the plan. And for a couple of weeks it went very well, and nothing seemed like it could possibly go wrong: there was not a peep from Zola and Peggy worked with Mr. Fury to make sure everything was in order, while Darcy and Maria took charge of packing up the house, divvying it into what would be kept for Darcy and what would be sold at auction. She should’ve known that it couldn’t be that simple, but she was caught up in the relative ease of the entire process.

Until, that is, someone decided to set the house on fire.

#wintershieldshock #darcy x bucky x steve #darcyland #darcy is tony's daughter #queenie and bloom forever #old west!au #fic update #take your time in a hurry

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decadententhusiastblizzard-blog · 7 years ago

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Collecting And Playing Classic Online video Games

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