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alixofagnia · 4 years ago

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OpheThorn III: Back to Rambling

The Memory of Babel…Wow.

If nothing else, this book GOES. We’re dropped onto Babel just as lost, bewildered, and determined as Ophelia to get to the bottom of this ark. Boy, was it worth the wait! Babel is exquisitely written and, incredible as it sounds, even more treacherous than the Pole. The backbone Ophelia shows in this book is awesome! I love that she’s taken the measure of her worth—all the things she’s been through and survived in the previous novels—and come out resilient As Fuck. This book is definitely a penultimate novel. Dazzling as it is, much of it feels like groundwork being laid for the finale.

OpheThorn is less nuanced and ambiguous in Babel. While I feel there’s less to analyze, I do really love this pairing and I like writing about their dynamic. So, I’m just going to put my thoughts down and see what comes up!

[There will be spoilers]

[All fanart images credited to @patricialyfoung]

Intro

One of the things that drew me into The Mirror Visitor series is the relationship between Ophelia and Thorn. Theirs is not a traditional love story at all; in fact, it avoids clichés and instead plays about with two romantic tropes: enemies to lovers and marriage of convenience. The series spins these tropes anew by offering subtle signs of attraction (discussed here) and giving both characters antisocial tendencies, as well as—in Thorn’s case—possible ASD traits (discussed here).

When we left these two in Clairdelune, Thorn had just put his feelings on the table. Before she could give her response, however, they were separated under upsetting, even traumatic circumstances. Years later, we meet Ophelia again…

Ophelia

…and, oh dear, she is in a sorry state indeed. We find her disastrously operating a waffle stand during a kooky Animist festival for, of all things, clocks. Just what the girl pining for Thorn needs, right? All is not well with Ophelia. As Aunt Rosaline points out,

“No, you’re not fine. You don’t go out anymore, you eat any old thing, you sleep at any old time. You haven’t even been back to the museum.” [19]

Although her mother, sister, and to an extent Aunt Rosaline all believe Ophelia is wasting away, shutting herself in her room, she’s actually been quite busy. She’s been studying and developing working hypotheses about God and the Other: where they are, there she’ll find Thorn. She’s convinced of it. Working from obscure clues dropped in Clairdelune, Ophelia settles on Babel as the ark most likely to yield some answers, and when the chance to travel there appears, she wastes no time at all.

She. Is. Going.

Thorn

In Babel, Thorn has made a name for himself as Sir Henry, rising to become a Lord of LUX, the gatekeepers of Babel who serve a similar function to that of the Doyennes on Anima. He is commanding, magnetic, and aloof as ever. It is unsurprising to find that he has been playing close to the fire again. But the stress and tension of his investigative life on Babel is certainly heightened in a way that it wasn’t at the Pole.

We also learn that his nickname in Babel is the Automaton due to his unceasing energy. Thorn, thus, has dealt with the separation by predictably burying himself in work.

The Reunion

To Ophelia’s disappointment, the reunion with Thorn does not go quite as she had envisioned, and that’s because she hadn’t really envisioned past the goal of finding him [203]. Ophelia is very much a character who takes things one at a time as she’s confronted by them. When Thorn seems less than pleased to see her, she must consider all these Troublesome Feelings and why his underwhelming reaction upsets her.

The thing is Ophelia is waiting for Thorn to take the lead. But he already did, and she didn’t follow—at least, not in a way that he could understand. As previously discussed, Thorn does not function well with non-verbal cues. He needs to be explicitly told how someone else feels, or how he is making someone else feel, in order to know when to adjust his behavior. That can be quite flustering, especially for someone like Ophelia who struggles to vocalize her feelings exactly as they are.

“Is that it?” Ophelia murmured. “You have nothing more to say to me?”

“I have, actually,” Thorn muttered, not stopping all his connecting. […] “And you?” he finally asked, in turn. “You have nothing more to say to me?” [263]

She doesn’t. Thorn coldly dismisses her and continues to keep her at arm’s length, especially when he gives her a second chance to confess her feelings and she still refuses to take it.

Ophelia has social anxiety. She’s not exactly shy, she just gets tongue-tied and befuddled sometimes. It’s part of her make-up, but it doesn’t just happen around Thorn—there are plenty of instances where she has trouble expressing herself to those she cares about, such as Ambrose and Blaise in this novel, or Fox in Clairdelune. She even struggles to express basic gratitude toward Aunt Rosaline in Promise. Unlike them, Thorn challenges her to uncomfortable levels. Her feelings for him are complex and utterly foreign; she has no idea what to do about them.

Unfortunately, Thorn is fresh out of fucks to give over her see-saw act. He’s well-past this stage of confusion and cowardice she’s experiencing because he’s been in love with Ophelia since Promise (“I’m starting to get used to you”) and dealt with the ramifications of that in Clairdelune (“I don’t give a damn whether people find me suspect, as long as I am not so in your eyes.”).

Thorn does nothing half-heartedly. In no uncertain terms, he left her with the bluntest of blunt confessions (“By the way, I love you.”), which was a milestone in his emotional growth. It is clear that he does not love frivolously or casually in the way of his foil, Archibald, so for him, nothing has changed in three years. Likely, he thinks this should be obvious to Ophelia, and it probably should be at this point. He’s done all he can, after all, what more can she want? From his perspective, it’s Ophelia’s turn to make a move, not his.

Ophelia, though, functions differently. She has always needed verbal reinforcement and reassurance. That need has been heightened by their long separation. Essentially, they’re out of touch with one another and, in Ophelia’s case, she’s completely out of touch with herself, which is why when prompted by Thorn she doesn’t provide an answer, even though there could be only one reason for her going to Babel. Things finally come to a head when Thorn loses all patience and replaces her as his assistant. Ophelia is pissed.

“You weren’t available. Waiting for you would have slowed me down in my research.”

“Slowed you down? For your information, I was also doing research of my own. It might interest you to learn…”

“Of your own, that’s precisely the problem,” he interrupted her. “I advised you never to leave your division, and you were supposed to warn me if you discovered anything new. Nothing has changed, you still always make your decisions alone.”

“I wanted to help you,” Ophelia hissed, through gritted teeth.

“I don’t want any of your finer feelings. I need efficiency. If you don’t mind, I now have a flight to take.”

Ophelia’s blood ignited in her every vein. “You’re an egoist.” She had wanted to anger Thorn, and she knew, by the way he had frozen on the spot, that she had succeeded. All the shadows of the night suddenly seemed to have been drawn to the center of his face. He threw Ophelia a look so hard, she reeled from its impact.

“I am demanding, a killjoy, obsessive, antisocial, and crippled,” he intoned, in a forbidding voice. “You can put all the defects in the world on me, but I will not permit you to call me an egoist. If you prefer to do things your way, go ahead, but don’t waste my time anymore. Our collaboration is over.” [305]

OMG, this is harsh. But it’s the kick in the ass Ophelia needs. Since taking up a secret identity as Eulalia and aspiring to become a Forerunner (essentially a scholar and a scribe), she’s already been confronted by the fact that she’s not as good a researcher as she’s prided herself on. Now, she’s being confronted by the suggestion that she’s not a very good partner, either. It leaves her feeling “drier than dust.” [321]

I think it’s interesting how Thorn’s dialogue here has a double meaning. He’s talking about their partnership as an investigative team, of course. But it just as easily applies to their personal relationship. He can’t keep waiting around for Ophelia to make up her mind. He’s got a God to hunt down, an Other to face. Having to wonder about where he stands with Ophelia is getting to be too much. By once again haranguing off on her own, Ophelia has made it plain to him that she prefers to do things without him. In his eyes, she’s pushing him away.

Eventually, she is able to see this perspective and she is ashamed to realize how badly she’s held Thorn to a double standard. He gave of himself through words and gestures as far as he was able, while she gave him nothing in return. Finally, FINALLY, Ophelia fully expresses her love for Thorn and, as he once did, asks him to forgive her shortcomings. It’s a very sweet scene, I must say.

Now, to go back for a moment, what’s really gutting about Ophelia calling Thorn an egoist is this:

“God said he would keep his eyes on you,” he muttered, in a choked voice. “Right in front of me. I make a lamentable husband, but I permit no one, particularly him, to persecute my wife. It’s impossible for me to tear you away from God, but I can tear him away from you. If a book exists that contains God’s secret, and allows his invulnerability to be punctured, I will find it.” [392]

For context, Ophelia had admonished Thorn for his dogged pursuit of this quest, expressing outrage that he should be doing this for a world that’s done nothing for him. At one time, yes, Thorn may have been acting in the interest of the world. Then, he met Ophelia (who is too curious for her own good) and he met God. God threatened her, and Thorn is not a man who could allow such a thing to go unpunished, no matter the consequence. Ever since they met—through every consideration, every move in this impossible investigation and despite each rejection from her—he’s been acting out of love for Ophelia.

As Thorn said, he is not an egoist.

The Blind Spot

After their “egoist” argument, Ophelia feels instant regret and tries to stop Thorn from walking away. She doesn’t succeed, however, because she is struck by his claws. At first, she believes he may have done this on purpose, the thought of which really scares her because it indicates that Thorn is absolutely done with her.

Later, after she finally makes her confession, we all learn that, in fact, Thorn has lost a bit of control over his family power. He has no idea that he used his claws on Ophelia. I’m a little bit unsure what caused this vulnerability—I don’t really follow the given reason, so I’m wondering if Thorn doesn’t quite know himself why this has come to be.

My theory is more euphemistic. Ophelia had reached out to touch his turned back and the gesture badly startled him. He overreacts then overcorrects, and they both take a memorable tumble. Thorn explains:

“Never again accost me from behind my back or from any of my blind spots. Don’t do any movement that I can’t see coming in advance, or then warn me out loud.” [389]

He further explains that he can retain control as long as his claws don’t perceive her as a threat and asks her not to be absent-minded with him. I think it’s entirely plausible that his control over his Dragon power has weakened due to his deep emotion regarding Ophelia. I also feel that this speaks closely to their recent conflict as well as Thorn’s coding as autistic. It’s like Thorn is saying, “No more hide and seek. No more games. Tell me straight, or not at all.”

Ophelia knows how deep his passions run. She once held his dice and thought she might die under the weight and intensity of his emotions. Perhaps it is her Animism that has wrought this change in him. Perhaps it is simply her existence. Either way, she can no longer afford to be careless when it comes to Thorn’s feelings. In the final chapter, Ophelia and Thorn have a true heart to heart, reaffirming their partnership. But Thorn has something to add.

“No half-measures,” he interrupted her. “I’m not and do not wish to be your friend.” [445]

What he leaves unspoken is that he wants to be her husband, in every version of the role: Partner. Protector. Lover. Now that Ophelia has given him an answer, Thorn is comfortable leading them forward and it is the role of lover that he specifically has in mind. Considering this is probably the first time he’s ever propositioned a woman for sex, he is understandably quite awkward. Ophelia quickly realizes that she’s added to his inner turmoil by repressing her own sexuality around him and inadvertently making him feel less than attractive. She also understands that she, too, wants to be his wife in every version of that role: Partner. Protector. Lover. What follows is a really beautiful expression of honest acceptance and true value.

Desire

My dudes, our girl is constantly at risk of exploding (or maybe imploding?) with desire in this book. It’s consuming her, emptying her, and driving every atom of her being. Look at this!

Ophelia had received no news from Thorn after his escape. Not a single telegram, not a single letter. She could keep telling herself that he couldn’t run the risk of making contact, that he was a man wanted by the law, perhaps by God himself, but it was eating her up inside. [22]

Whenever she crossed a man who was a bit taller than average, she couldn’t stop herself from looking back as she passed, with a frantic pounding in her chest. [83]

Ophelia would have recognized his voice out of a thousand. The resonance of a double bass, solemn and sullen, that echoed through her inner emptiness, shook her to the core, welled up to her throat, choked her. [240]

She waited until her heartbeat, taxed by the run, had returned to normal. But it didn’t happen. Her entire flesh seemed to be pulsating to a single chaotic rhythm. This evening, she would see Thorn again. [249]

She wanted to be with Thorn right there, right now. She’d wanted that every second of every minute of every hour, for almost three years. [249]

Although she knew the temperature of this place was strictly maintained at minus eight degrees, Ophelia felt as if it were fifteen degrees warmer. Never in her life had she cared about appearances, and yet she ran a nervous hand through her hair to tidy it up. [253]

She suddenly realized that there wasn’t much she would have refused him, had he but asked. [278]

Instead, he disinfected his hands for a second time, as if they really were repulsive. They weren’t in Ophelia’s eyes. From a distance, she took in the network of veins under the skin, the long, curved fingers, the bone that rose up on each wrist, and suddenly, she felt something like pain in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t the slightest idea what was happening to her, but looking at those hands made her want to scream. [283]

She felt it again, even more violently, this urgent call from deep inside her. [446]

Ophelia is so horny and I’m so here for it!

Closing Thoughts

Do I think Ophelia’s internal conflict over Thorn is drawn out? Yes.

Do I think it’s contrived? No.

I think it falls in line with Ophelia’s characterization and I think Thorn’s frosty reaction to her presence in Babel falls in line with his characterization. These characters aren’t perfect: Ophelia is quirky and endearing, but that doesn’t make her immune to cowardice; Thorn is highly skilled and competent but is deficient socially and sometimes emotionally. I can’t emphasize enough how well Christelle Dabos knows her characters and allows them to be who they are rather than force them to make weird changes to fill plot holes.

We can’t forget, either, the fact that they have been completely cut off from one another for years. Yes, we might think in that time Ophelia could have done more to sort out her feelings. But as we’ve seen, she just doesn’t focus on more than what she can handle at a time. She always thinks in terms of breaking a problem down into steps. The first step was following up on those clues from Claridelune. The second step was finding Thorn. The last step was dealing with herself.

Their relationship here, which has progressed in a way that felt natural and believable, is the most straightforward it has ever been. That made writing about them this time around kind of hard, actually, because it’s all plainly there in the text. For me, I think the notable takeaway is being able to mark just how far these two characters have come in their individual and mutual journeys. Now and together, they can tackle the gargantuan, perilous task ahead. It might all end on a bittersweet note. But for this couple…that seems about right, and I can’t wait to read the conclusion.

Thank you so much for reading these long posts and leaving such kind feedback! I’m glad that you, too, enjoy Ophelia, Thorn, and this magical series.

#ophethorn #the mirror visitor #La Passe-Miroir #the memory of babel #la memoire de babel #christelle dabos #long book report #slow burn romance

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auriel187 · 4 years ago

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Purgatory Ch.1

Word count: 8500 (around)

Warnings: Creepy Capitals being Creepy Capitals...

Pairings: None yet (ship who you want)

The Conclave

In times I tremble, I hold onto my heart knowing their safety is more important than my own.

In krono mhe slipp lowa, mhe kep onto mi beeta knowing demens secur is masal imprativ than mi own.

Eulalia

The cityscape was unapologetically urban. There were no trees or city planted blooms, just monoliths of concrete and glass soaring out of the sidewalk in an exact grid pattern. At night it was beautiful in it's own way, there were so many lights. By day you relied on the sky to let you know that it wasn't a monochromatic world; just one in which the people were too busy for life. For over a generation progress had meant the teaching of specific skill sets to the children of The Felicity and The Hope Rises. In most parts of this city we only work and eat, there was no time to sweep fall leaves or plant spring flowers, so they eliminated them. It was sad how mundane and rigid life became. There was no beauty, hardly even enough to notice the blue above. With no more designers, our clothing and cars never change, there are five styles of everything in Ellis, but you’ll very rarely see different districts dressed the same way. In this way our city outperforms those in the region.

In the mind of the young outcast I used to be, it was like a story to me. One that became more and more like a nightmare as time ripped every shred of innocence from my life.

The coldness of the slate tile and it's dampness seeped through the thin polyester trousers my brother, Hami, had stolen from the market. With knees pulled tight to my pronounced rib cage I shivered in the early morning chill. In this poor light the roof-tops spread in every direction like great grey serpents with rectangular scales. Only the red brick chimneys ruined the illusion, but in this light they were just as monochromatic as everything else, the slate, the swirling smog, the streets that were never deserted, the unfriendly sky with its dense cloud robbing me of the sunrise. From here I could see what a maze this borough was, every house three stories and each joined to the next. The streets curved as if laid down on a whim a few centuries ago before anyone had conceived of a grid pattern idea.

There I’d stay while I waited for school to begin, in my ripped khakis and oversized faded maroon shirt. There I’d stay telling myself stories of brave heroes who had it all wishing I could be one of them. Hungry, cold and tired from all the city had to give me, was it selfish of me to wish this on the little girl in my class who called me by the wrong name telling me I’d live the rest of my life covered in mud and shit and drinking out of a clogged gutter?

From the Mass, you could see all the things to love about the city, and there was a lot to love about this city. It was one thing I loved about Capital Hill. From the high arches in the towering glass buildings to the balconies that look over the sea of homes and businesses. It was one of the things I never had back home. The views from here were stunning. I could see The Torch glistening in the golden rays of sunlight, and the sense of safety that fills me is almost overwhelming. “Miss Suarez,” I heard behind me as I felt the soft breeze hitting the apples of my cheeks. The stray hairs behind my ears flailed about behind my ears as I turned to face the intruder now standing before me. He practically filled the doorway, in his uniform that made him look more like a cinder block than a man. His half shaved black hair glistened in the light before he took a step toward me. “The work day is over for you. There’s gonna be a Conclave later this evening at The Torch.”

I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible, but judging by the way he held back his laughter I guess I failed. “What for?” I proceeded on as if I didn’t realise the cameras were there, and Seraphineas was living for it. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes as he chuckled boredly, “Maybe it’s another execution...or maybe they’re announcing a new system in place that only benefits them.” It was impossible not to hear the humour in his deep voice as he mocked the Capitals and the past Conclaves. Of course, knowing that he would never say anything like this in front of his other guard buddies really put a damper on things. He must’ve seen my fading smile because he immediately turned to walk me out. I slipped into the elevator, the wall of glass turned into a mirror. I see why people assumed we were related. We were both relatively tall, him at six feet and myself at almost five foot eight. Thin figures adorned with muscle that came from our unique forms of exercise. “The Conclave begins at five. You’ll be charted too so be careful.” Phineas warned me as we exited the elevator just before we parted ways.

Well, that wasn’t ominous at all. You’d think something like that would bother a girl, but no. I’ve lived in this city my whole life. A girl gets used to the threats disguised as requests. They don’t just crash suddenly before you like lightning in a storm, I’ve known them to be the sudden raindrop before a downpour. It reminded me of the unease I felt every time I entered The Felicity. The Capital Hill district was beautiful. With their grand buildings and picturesque views, it was easy to say how much nicer it was then The Barrens or The Shadows. It was just another monster behind the curtain. A puppeteer pulling the strings of laws and lives of the people around them. They were an oxygen mask filled with poisonous gas to anyone that wasn’t their own. Luckily, I was close enough for them to view my life worth saving if shit ever happened.

I was a Regal now. Almost thirty eight percent of the population, we were almost untouchable in the eyes of society. We were privileged and we knew it, most of us acting like assholes because of it. I knew better. I used to be part of the forty two percent of Ellis. In short, my family was living ration to ration, sick and in a small house that was barely standing. I had a mother who worked her ass off just to come home to four kids and a father I barely knew because he was off working the most shifts he could. Unfortunately, the whole family plan didn’t work out when my mother and brothers all got Galixx, leaving only my dad and I.

I think we lived because we weren’t always home. I was the only one who went to school. Maybe if they didn’t think to send me away, I could’ve been with them. Instead, I left for school everyday and came home one day to my crying mother holding my brother, Devis, whose face was covered with sweat, dirt and tears as he coughed up blood. I turned and ran outside my home and began screaming until I found one of the town guard. I don’t know who long it took me to find him but when we got back, my mother was wailing and begging for the guard to take me away as she started coughing between her sobs.

I went to bed that night with tear stains running down my face, and to make matters worse, I was completely alone. I didn’t call anyone, simply sitting in my room with my eyes screwed shut until I eventually dozed off.

I woke up the next morning with a guard outside ready to escort me to my new home. My new home in The Hope Rises. It was nicer than my old home there was also more room up here not that my dad would be spending much time at home. It didn’t matter though, I was never completely alone. We all had our own family, mine just came in the form of Tauriel.

She was at the root of most of my happy memories. From my first day of school when she braided my hair and told me stories from books she had read from before the bunkers opened. I’d spend some nights at her house doing homework. She never really paid attention to anything aside from Earth Class. It was considered a Rogue class, but that didn’t stop a few Blends from coming in. Maybe she was interested because of the books she read of mountains that reached clouds, or butterflies with bright wings and this class was the closest thing to actually learning about them. She just wanted a world beyond these walls. I understood that. It just made us better friends. Even when I changed districts, we were still inseparable.

But, as Murphy’s Law dictates, “Everything that can go wrong will.” It was one of those days where Tauriel’s mom and I were baking for some Capital party. One of the snobby events where they needed catering and waiters. Zenobia, Tauriel’s mother, had been working for hours and seemed glad to have the assistance of a twelve year old. I had been decorating the large cake when I heard screaming from outside. Zenobia quickly ran to the window and nearly passed out. I muttered ‘Tori?’ before I was out the front door, seeing three guards trying to cuff her and shocking her into submission. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Her mom asked, trying to make it for her child. “Your child hacked into a government system with intent to distribute information.” I saw red, almost jumping on the guard closest to me. “She’s eleven, you lunatics!” Her mother reached for her daughter and the guard holding her hit her in the stomach. Tauriel and I froze. I didn’t know where to look. From the guard beating Zenobia to the guards dragging Tauriel to a large truck and throwing her in. I took a step in Tauriel’s direction and regretted it instantly.

A loud clang echoed behind me and Zenobia was lying on the ground, the guard walking to the truck without a second thought. When I ran to the unconscious woman, the truck drove away and I was stuck. Do I run for help or do I stay with her? I couldn’t shake the memory of my mom and Devis and what if I could just have faster? I need to stay with her. I’m not risking it again.

“Miss Fa Suarez?” I heard a voice say from behind me. I only turn my head but I stay pretty much in place as the swaying of the shuttle brings me back to the world I should be in. “It’s your stop.” He looks concerned. In his words, I’m usually ‘sharp as a tack’. I walk to the front of the shuttle and reach into my pocket. He’s here everyday. From my six AM trips to The Felicity straight to my trips back home at eight PM. “Take a day.” I say handing him my fair, plus another tip for waiting for me to get off. He never accepts my tips, but that doesn’t stop me from stuffing it in the small basket where he keeps his personal belongings. “This is why I got you these. Tell that sister yours I said to eat.” He handed me four wraps. I nodded my thanks at the sweet old man. “My love to the greats.” He laughed at my words before watching to make sure I descended the shuttle safely.

I turned towards my building. A large gold bricked building not very many stories high, but it was honestly much smaller on the inside than one would think when examining the building from outside. The air was cold here, it always was. With Tauriel constantly in the garage and having several pieces of machinery, the cool air prevented her and I from becoming casualties of her rage. She only ever got into tinkering when she was pissed. Based on the loud echoing clanking I could hear echoing from downstairs, I figured she’d need time to cool off and maybe put down whatever large metal object was colliding with her desk. In any sense, we had to be at a Conclave in a few hours.

My room wasn’t very big, only enough space to place my bed and two drawers. The room already had a large closet in the back so it’s not like I needed much in here anyways. The bronze and turquoise lights that swirled designs in my room. The premise of light and shadow was always appealing to me, maybe because it accrued anywhere and remained a natural part of life no matter what district you lived in. I headed towards my closet in search of something formal for the Conclave. I was never one for overt femininity, having been taught at a young age to not give a crap about what I look like and to just get the work done. That being said, I always managed to find a dress or two that I really did like. Scouring through pieces of cotton and linen, I stopped suddenly when I saw it again. A distressed brown leather coat.

It was just a jacket. It was just a stupid leather jacket with a padded quilt patch on the left elbow and a crap ton of buckles. There were faded letters on the left chest and a sort of mesh material that would cover my knuckles. It was just a jacket, and I loved it. Like a hidden piece of me that I never really show. This jacket screamed Rogue in uppercase letters. I loved that, even though I hadn’t been a Rogue in sixteen years. It almost felt wrong to wear it sometimes. Like I was an impostor trying to pass as something I wasn’t. I wasn’t even close.

I always envied Tauriel in that regard. Despite living here in The Regal Ward, The Hope Rises, with me, she never seemed to fear being shunned for not attempting to fit into the higher classed district. Fiercely adorning leather and denim in her everyday attire, she looked more like a Rogue than a Blend. Then again, why try fitting in when the world already looks down on you. Being that Tauriel’s district accounted for only one percent, and having been around Rogues most of her life it was easy to understand why she might be more comfortable in leather and studs.

“Are you wearing that tonight?” I heard her ask behind me. I should’ve figured she was on her way up when the banging and crashing ceased. I was holding the jacket in my hands, my fingers running over the cuff. “No...it doesn’t go with anything I own.” I gave my reply, letting my eyes drift past the coat and toward some of the other items of clothing in the confined space. I grab an old dress. The ornate gold dress collar along the black halter top matched the asymmetrical leaves on the red rose skirt. If it still fits like I remember, it should stop a little above my knee. “I’ll be in the shower. Do you…” before I could even finish asking, she responded. “Yes.” And with that, I left.

I spent almost thirty minutes in the bathroom, I was wrapped in my robe with my hair soaking wet. In the mirror, I hold my own gaze for just a second before taking into account how tired I must look. The bags under my eyes were devastatingly prominent. I don’t look at myself often, too afraid to not recognize myself from the old photos I had hanging in my room, and I was right. My features are sharper now, more pronounced jaw, higher cheekbones, and my eyes look more almond than monolid. I look like my mom. Though her hair was shiny black and mine was dark brown and my eyes are slightly darker than hers, I can still see it sickeningly clear. I placed my hand on the scar on my neck, remembering where my birthmark used to be. Descended from Natives and Malaysian ancestors, teachers at school would tell me that the very DNA in my bones held more history than our textbooks.

I’d know. I read them all.

It wasn’t much but keeping my hair down with a braid securely clipped behind my ears, neither Tauriel nor I had any makeup so my bare face and simple hairdo, Just dry your tears and fake a smile. Nobody wants to see a Regal cry. “You know, your eyes are going to get all puffed up. Here.” Tauriel stood behind me clutching a bottle of eye drops. I smiled at my oldest friend before I slung my arm over her shoulder and we walked to her room. I could never imagine my life without her. At this point, she was all I had to live for.

My little sister. I would walk from Heaven to Hell (and everywhere in between) for.

Tauriel

I always hated Conclaves. They always seemed too public. Ironic when you think about it. The word ‘conclave’ actually meant private meeting so the large citywide events seemed like a lie. I felt almost pageant-ish, told to look my best because of how many “eligible bachelors” there were. I honestly just think it’s because the Capitals would never want to be seen with the lower districts in our ‘rags and cheap coats’. In my opinion, the clothes the lower districts could afford only seemed to make the Capitals look more classy, almost like they were subtly jabbing at us in a way that said “haha, even in your best you’re not at level with our best.” And if we were looking to impress the eligible, more attractive people, The Rogues held that trophy for decades. Honestly, the glassy dullness of Capitals creeped me out. I wasn’t the only one who thought that either, the distinct features of each district were almost immediately identifiable.

The Capitals, born and raised in Capital Hill (aka The Felicity) had the most interesting eyes in the world, very distinctive for their central heterochromic irises that housed multiple colours at a time. That and the fact that most of them were fat faced from being able to eat was a dead giveaway. They look like the Bill Nye bobblehead Eulalia had on her desk. Capital also wore their hair short. I never understood why, but long hair was a sign of rebellion against the “oppressive and derogatory order of the Capital men.” I’ll give you one guess what demographic was saying shit like that. I’ll give you a hint, they steal daddy’s cards and mommy’s rocks to go flirt with the Rogue boys much to the disapproval of the elders. Acting like they were edgy for going through the same phase as their mothers did, before they realize that Rogue men don’t give a fuck about rocks unless it gets them paid.

The Regals were similar, wearing their hair slightly longer. Most had extremely lean frames due to the training most of them worked for since the age of six to become a guard. The Regal Ward housed most of the idiotic soldier boys, I was honestly surprised when a Regal came along and decided that they would rather sell booze to the city rather than tote a gun and act like you owned the place. Most regal women (like Eulalia) studied for the higher grades, like doctors and lawyers. It was cool to see Regals, though. Their tag was their hair. Yes it was usually cut short but I think they made up for it with the silver that rimmed their hair from birth.

Rogues were almost unbelievable in their district appearance. They had all the most beautiful features from their naturally sharp jawlines with either dimples or freckles (sometimes both). The boys usually had long hair, mostly because the Government didn’t think it was a good idea to give Rogues and Infects access to sharp edged tools, partly because most of them thought they looked tough. They were all ripped, boys and girls from years of literal heavy lifting. I always considered myself lucky to be a Blend in that regard. We always got some kind of Rogue gene. I dawned dimples. My Jawline wasn’t as defined but I had that feature and I was glad I did. Eulalia was of Native descent so her bone structure resembled a statue carved of marble.

Eulalia kept fidgeting with the metal collar on her dress, her jacket fitting her narrow frame as the dress hung above her knees. I know for a fact how much she hated wearing tight, single layers. Regales often wore baggy jumpers with tattered looking overlayers. It was the perfect look for her. Mostly Regal but with an obvious Rogue history. “Hey.” I whispered, her head snapping down to me due to her not only being a few inches taller than me but in heels nearly the same height Seraphineas. “You okay?” I asked. The huge influx of people walking towards The Torch, once a mighty statue.

She always had this moment where she stands just out of view of the guard. The Conclaves would separate people based on district and having only recently (not recently) turned twenty one, the word Regal was now branded on her identifications, she still felt like a traitor for standing with them. She nodded, softly patting my hand before walking towards the desk. I did the same.

“Hold out your hand please.” A woman asked, holding a large glass plate with a few small censors out to me. It was cold under my palms as it scanned the fingerprints. My face appeared on a small screen in front of the woman. It must’ve had the words Bruise in big block letters because the demeanor of this woman changed as she stared me down. She quickly gripped my arm and clasped a large silver cuff on my wrist. Could she feel me rolling my eyes at this? I huffed a laugh at her attempt to be nonchalant. She has to know how obvious it is that she now fears a twenty three year old. I stared at the blinking light as I walked through the stone arch that led to the city center. The four sectors were at least proportional to the Districts population, Blends/ Bruises having the least amount of people. I stood in the back, my eyes glancing over to the Regal section where I attempted to find Eulalia. I can see Seraphineas walking down the row and walking towards the back of the section. The silver streaks in his shortened hair I can recognize immediately, even in the sea of silver headed citizens. He liked to dye his hair darker, I know he tries to keep his hair as neutral as possible as to not get busted right away when he gets sent undercover, but that only made the silver look like a slate blue.

The microphone screamed. A short, sickly woman stood on the stage with a tall, semi healthy looking man. They were Capital to the heights accord. The Jevons to be exact. They were the parents to three kids. Spoiled like asshats as most people like to call them. They come to the Mopes once a week. They go thrifting cause it sounds real fun and looks real cool when a Capital is down to get down, while they wear their false lashes that wave like flags to the men here. I can see their eldest, a girl by the name of Apathy and yes she lives up to her name. A narcissist who spends her time ridiculing the districts for the fact that The Felicity robs us blind. Places like The Barrens and The Bounds were trash holes where the people should bow down and kiss her feet. The only reason she even dares cross the boundary is to find a piece of ass they’d dump after a month anyway.

Even now, Apathy and Power (yes, Elodora and Zenier Jevon named their son Power) were basking in the spotlight of Capital glory, whilst Anarchy, the youngest, was staring off into the Regal section with her lower lip between her teeth. Apparently mommy and daddy’s speech was a bore. She really thought she was somebody though. Her honey gold tresses dangle to her lower back rather than the neatly buzzed pixie most of the women wore.

“We celebrate another year of safety and sanctity behind the walls of Ellis...” The woman on stage spoke in a shrill voice that instantly made my whole brain throb. Can this day get any better? Well yes actually. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the one and only October Vervent. I was nearly four years older than him and I'm thoroughly convinced he’s been taller than me since birth. I slowly weaved my way through the section to find the taller young man. I pat his shoulder causing him to jump slightly and smile almost immediately. His mother was a Rogue, just like mine. His jawline was more rounded, less sharp than most Rogues and Blends. He was of Chinese descent, which gave him shiny black hair that only cut off below his ears with a single streak of silver just behind his left ear. Just below but still in sight, was a tattoo that read “I CAN’T HEAR YOU.” Well, that’s one way to tell the world you’re deaf and mute.

I knew he had spent the better half of ten minutes reading the lips of the Jevons standing on the large metal podium. I turned to face him. He followed suit with an even bigger smile. I saw two small scars just above his ears. I’ll have to do something with that later. “It is our pleasure to present the recipients of this year's Grands.” Elodora continued with her rehearsed and very poorly executed speech. I normally would have stopped listening by now, but October needed a break from people being completely oblivious to his needs and the needs of people like him. I began signing to him, each word they said. “Mara Fox of the Barrens District. An extra one hundred was added to your wage, congratulations on receiving Dead Eye, Miss Fox.” A knew the name. I’m sure Everybody did. Every member of the Fox family walking the earth had naturally bright red hair. Mara was the only one with a fiery red.

She walked up on stage almost gingerly. The apprehension in her warm brown eyes as she twisted the material of her dusty rose dress, which was actually just an oversized T shirt with bleach stains and burn holes at the bottom. Her hair was in an updo. The front was twisted up to the right side of her head with a long braid that wrapped the rest into a sock bun. The smile on her face was fake. She usually had these deep dimples in her cheeks when she smiled. She was on the stage, the uncomfortable feeling that this was some kind of sick joke was evident by her wandering eyes. The part that made me sick, though, was when Zenier Jevon looked her up and down, biting his lip at the exposed fair skin of her legs. He stared at her almost greedily as he shook her hand. He was married with three demon children and was currently drooling at the thought of being with a twenty five year old on a public stage. A girl the same age as his youngest daughter with his wife standing right next to him as the creep caressed her hand. Were all men in power this fucking gross? She bid the couple a near silent thank you as she practically flew off the stage.

A low applause filled the room as she returned to her place with all the other Rogues and Infects. Everyone began to move out of the aisle, heading for the doors when, “The next recipient of this grand is…” What the hell? In the 23 years I’ve lived in the city and all the Conclaves I attended, there was never more than one recipient. Never has there been multiple. Ever. The crowds all stood frozen. Something wasn’t quite right about this. “...Eulalia Fa Suarez!”

Something definitely was right here.

Eulalia looked more confused than I thought she would. Her eyes narrowed as she slowly walked to the stage. She kept shooting questioning looks to both Seraphineas and I as she shook the hands of the Jevon’s on stage. Xenier had the fakest of fake smiles before he practically pushed her off the stage, where the crowd raised their hands in an awkwardly pushed applause. October and I didn't applaud though. I think he might’ve been able to sense my worry because even as I stood completely spaced out, staring at the empty space where Eulalia was standing not that long ago.

“The next grand being received,” I snapped out of my daze and signed to October. I know he was able to read lips but honestly he deserved all the help the world had to offer. “Thayer Michaels for bringing in the most food for the city!” Eladora spoke pridefully as the Rogues and Blends (Infects and Bruises included) either scoffed or dramatically rolled their eyes. Of course we did. Regals had the highest population and spent most days begging for scraps. Blends were treated just the same unless both parents were in the picture. Capitals were less than fifteen percent of Ellis and for some ridiculous reason, they deem themselves more important than every other district taking first picks of long hauls and leaving enough for them to have a chuckle watching the poorest of citizens fight for stale bread or and water rations.

I wasn’t complaining. If anyone deserved the grand, it was Mara Fox, EulaliaFa Suarez and Thayer Michaels. Mara Fox, when she wasn’t doing the wood work or in the meat room, spent hours teaching young Rogues how to read, giving them the education most of them had to give up in order to eat. Eulalia bought big portions of food and would walk the streets of the Barren giving food to families. She cries when she comes back and begs me not to ask about it. In guilt, she pushes to raise the ration fund for Capitals and Regals before she offers her leisure time (which she barely has) to teach kids in the neighborhoods that had no doctors basic medical skills. Thayer spent his time not hunting as a caretaker. He would walk October and a few other people to and from places, getting them groceries and even playing with them in parks. It didn’t need to be said that October was his favorite. October was partial to him too, if the smile that was currently on his face said anything as he watched the much taller, much older man walk on stage. He deserved it. All three of them did, but giving them grands to commemorate for all they’ve done almost exclusively for The Felicity made them seem far less noble.

At this point, for October, I tried not to focus on the fact that Eladore was eyeing Thayer the same way Zenier was eyeing Mara. What the fuck is wrong with these people?

When the Conclave ended, there was this feeling of unease. October and I still stood side by side as the Capitals made their way out first, not wanting to be surrounded by the lowest of lows for longer than necessary. They also just got to leave. Every other district was either held back to get your cuff taken off or you were waiting for someone who did. Yet another way to separate us and treat us like crap. All because I have a flashy red label next to my name. To hell with it all. I stood in the line watching as people existed around me. I never felt like I was existing anywhere close to them. Eulalia was having a conversation with October, Mara was having a moment with her boyfriend and Seraphineas is breaking up a fight. Oh this chaotic world of mine.

“You know,” I heard a deep voice behind me. An air of familiarity hit and shifted to my comfortable numbness once I knew who it was. “The point is for you to move up when people leave, right. Don’t tell me you grew attached to that thing.” Yup, same old Thayer. I took a few steps forward closing the gap between me and the tall Rogue girl in front of me. “Still not much of a talker, huh, Jailbait?” He said quietly enough so only I could hear him. Part of me wanted to clock him for bring up that stupid ass nickname. Another part wanted to give a smart ass reply. I was so in my own head, I missed the opportunity. “You always did prefer hunks of metal to people.” He bit. I just knew the bastard had a smirk on his face right now. “Hunks of metal don’t talk and aren’t nearly as narcissistic.” I responded, adamant on getting away from the prick.

I was never so glad to see a Capital in my life and this one was a real bitch. The younger woman had the angriest look in her eye when I walked up, not sure why. I don’t fuck with Capitals and the feeling was mutual. “Have you stolen any property not belonging to you during the conclave?” What the fuck was there to steal, all the shits a person could give? “No.” She sized me up before shooting a quick glance to Thayer, who was still behind me. “During the Conclave, did you skip a mandatory announcement for-” She looked at Thayer again, this time slowly taking in his features, “any reason of recreation?” Is she serious? I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, we ran off to tap dance on the Torch. I guess you caught us.” I could hear a few people snickering at my rebuttal. At least they have a sense of humour.

Eulalia

Tauriel looked about as comfortable as I thought she would. She had a scowl on her face as the attendant pried the cuff off of her wrist. “Ak heppia?” I called out to her. She turned to me with a small smile. She didn’t have to look up to see who was talking to her, I’m pretty sure only a handful of people still speak Dyselian. It made Tauriel feel safe, like people couldn’t poke their nose into our thoughts and conversations. She nodded slowly, she was alright but the exhaustion of having to deal with so many people was getting to her. “Mhe am heppia, mhe just desir to vette hadven.” I chuckled at that, because of course she just wanted to go back home. I honestly am not sure why she didn’t want to stay. Most girls would kill to get Thayer to utter a single word to them. Like most Regal boys, he was broad shouldered with rippling muscles that were obvious under any shirt and tall as hell. Who was I kidding, she'd rather break every bone than deal with her old tormenter again.

She walked over to Toby and I, glad to be with people she could actually tolerate. “U beso to gat allies!” I whispered, pinching her arm. She visibly cringed at the idea. “Mhe would rather pia in hutted.” she replied, turning to look at October. She quickly signed ‘Eula says I need to make friends.’ The taller boys tried to stifle his laughter before he signed ‘She’s right.’ Tauriel rolled her eyes before the two began to playfully bicker back and forth. I left them to their devices when I turned to notice Mara standing to the side waiting for Cecil to get his cuff off.

“Hey, Fox.” I said nudging the redhead’s shoulder. She quickly turned to face me, a smile quickly spread when she realized I wasn’t some other Regal. She whispered a quiet hello before turning to look at her boyfriend. It’s been a while since I’d seen Cecil but he grew up nice. He was now a little over six foot two, typical for Rogue males. “He asks about you two.” Mara stated seemingly out of the blue. I know she worried about him all the time, more so since he stopped coming over for exams. It was the same look in her eyes the night she called Tauriel and I to help him after a few guards thought it right to attack him. “You let him know it’s nothing for me to do an exam?” I asked as the freckled young man moved up in the line. Mara’s voice quivered as she nodded “Everyday. He doesn’t want to bother you, you being a doctor and all.” She smiled slightly when he waved our way. “He still working in the mines?” I asked. Mara scoffed, “Like he’d ever stop. Thick as he and his buddies are?” I couldn't help but laugh. Cecil definitely hadn’t changed. I nearly jumped out of my skin when the chimes rang throughout the city. Fuck!

“Tell him I say to give that shoulder a break every once in a while!” I say before I began running back to Tauriel and October. This wasn’t good. Tauriel looked ready to break something. Her fists were clenched so tight, I thought she'd pierce the skin. As quickly as I could, I signed to the two of them, ‘We need to leave. October, you’re staying at our house for tonight.’ Tauriel froze in place. I only sent her a sympathetic smile when October ran to grab his protector. Thayer had placed his hoodie over October as we all started to Tori and my building. We walked the back alleys and listened for the easy to identify marching of the guards.

I’m not surprised that Thayer is good at this. He was a hunter. Standing at nearly six six, he is both light on his feet and stealthy. I imagine his training was horrifying but I know for a fact that he learned his skills while he was in prison not when he got out. He had the same urgent distrust of his surroundings that Tauriel has whenever she leaves our house. What the fuck did they do to them?

Tauriel sneaks to the back of the building and then there’s silence. I held my breath as I waited for her. I smiled when I heard a whistle emit from around the corner. We were behind the building in a second as she held the window open. She turned to Thayer first, I know it was because he was the tallest and the window was a little more than seven feet above the ground. He went down feet first and let out a satisfied smirk when he landed. I sent October in next, only because I wanted him inside before any guards decided to check back here. I went next, grabbing onto the copper pole that hung above the window I quickly slid in. Thayer made sure to place me down on the concrete floor rather than actually let me jump. Tauriel came in and jumped from the window, closing it before the guards could see her.

We got inside just before eight. The second we entered upstairs from the basement, the alarms started blaring. They had placed a curfew after the Conclave. I can see Tauriel standing awkwardly by the door before she disappeared into the garage. October sent me a curious look and I was glad he didn’t hear what I assumed to be her shelf colliding with the ground or the string of Dyselian profanities. He didn’t need to witness that. Thayer seemed a little shocked at first but I guess he knew the feeling because he sent me a sorrowful half smile.

“Hey! Go lon out isei yella!” She reluctantly exited the garage with a kid bruise forming at her knuckles. She looked beyond pissed. “Mhe deid howa infolo! Mhe deid howa infolo it was a angaari!” She began pacing around. I sent a look to October who was all too quick to leave, practically dragging Thayer behind him as he headed upstairs. I could feel Tori’s blood boiling from here. “I knew they were up to something. I should’ve guessed there would be a trap too!” I said nothing. She was right about something weird going on. The Capitals never offered more money than necessary, they never offered grands and fundings to more than one person each. It’s fairly odd that three people won the grands and six won the funding.

We walked upstairs seeing Thayer and Toby looking for something to eat. Tauriel had walked into her room, closing the door behind her as I walked into the kitchen. October was stuffing his face with bread, not at all worried about anything today had to offer. Thayer on the other hand was standing against the wall, watching as his little brother consumed his food ravenously. I could see how hungry he was too. I tossed him a loaf of his own, standing next to him as we watched the near twenty year old fill himself while sitting on the floor. “You take great care of him.” I said quietly. Most people thought that Rogues like Thayer, tough guys who got into fights, were barbaric animals. They get told that they’re animals so much that they believe it so much.

He looked me in the eye before quickly averting his gaze to the floor. He shrugged off my compliment like it was nothing, but the itching of his lip and the dimple in his cheek let me know that he appreciated it. We sat in silence for a minute before I blurted out “Can I ask you something?” To which he laughed in response. He rolled his shoulders back and relaxed a bit. “Go ahead but I might not answer.” ‘Cheeky bastard’ I thought, rolling my eyes at him “It’s about Tauriel.” He got serious rather quickly at the mention of her name, standing up and staring at me in concern. “Sure, what’s up?” His voice dropped a bit.

“What was she like? In prison?” It hurt me to ask but I might learn something. I pretended not to notice the disappointment and guilt in his eyes even though his long hair had fallen in his eyes.He scratched the back of his neck before clearing his throat. “She was noticeable.” He smiled to himself. “When she got there, a bunch of guys sought her out as a punching bag. They learned pretty quick not to mess with her.” his voice carried such pride as he spoke it was kinda heartwarming. I knew this story. Some prick came in ready to throw punches on anyone in there, he immediately thought Tauriel would make a good target. Thayer got in the way just in time. It’s why he started calling her Jailbait. Easy pickings for a prison brawl. “She was so fucking smart! So much smarter than the guards there. Smart ass got into her fair share of trouble. They threw her in the pit the first night!” That explained a lot. “She came back with a tattoo, we all did.” He mumbled, pulling down the neckline of his shirt to reveal his collarbone. Liberties lined his skin from his collarbone to his right shoulder. “What does “people are poison” mean?” I asked suddenly. He seemed caught off guard. “It means that most people will try to kill you before they actually help you.” He must’ve noticed my furrowed brow because he immediately nudged me with his shoulder “Don’t worry. It’s about Capitals.”

I scoffed. “You definitely sound like Tauriel. She always worries. Thinks they’re monsters that suck the world around them dry.” He laughed at the idea. “You think they’re evil too?” I asked. He shook his head. “I think they know not to poison the water they need to drink.” He says picking up October, who had fallen asleep on my kitchen floor with a half eaten bread roll in his hand. “You boys take my and Tauriel’s beds. We got a couch in the garage.” Thayer shot me a look of refusal. “Like you AND October can fit on the thing, go!” I shooed him away with a humoured grin plastered on my face. He put October in my room, I had a sneaking suspicion he would. “Any particular reason why you opted to take the room of a young girl, Mr. Michaels?” I heard him scoff. He looked up at me with a grin. “She fashioned her room like I did mine.” He responded. I shot him a curious look before it hit me. It looked and felt like a prison cell. That’s why it was always so cold.

I stood silently in the doorway of the garage. Tauriel, currently sitting on the floor fixing her busted shelf with her braid in a sort of bun, paid no mind to my existence as she worked. “You can come in here.” She mumbled under her breath before filling the shelf so it stood at its proper height. I sat on my bench, filled with some of my tools as Tauriel sat in hers. She was tinkering away at something.

When she was arrested, I became her only family left. I would call her everyday and visit her every chance I got, but these walls became so quiet when she went away. I would go to school, earn some quick cash from dumb kids then big bucks from dumb adults. I called her and taught her lessons over the phone and she’d be happy. When I’d go visit her, she’d keep her head down and speak slowly. There were times I’d wonder if she’d make it, but as time went on she became the queen. When she was finally let out, due to the ‘Liberty Act’ all occupants twenty one and lower got released at that point she was seventeen and only a fraction of the eleven year old I saw arrested over a decade ago for no real reason.

She came out with a tattoo, two Liberties on her waist and a new habit of looking over her shoulder at every turn. On her twenty first, when she was branded Bruise by the rule of the Capitals I noticed the scars on her back for the first time. She was wearing her hair up, similar to how it was styled right now, and her top tied around her neck leaving her upper back open. She said she wanted to see the rain so we figured out a way to do it. That year, she spent over a hundred days teaching me how to fix things. I guess when you have a tendency to break things you learn how to fix them.

“I saw Mara earlier. She and Cecil said hi.” I saw her break into a small smile. She adored the redhead, always finding humour in her quickly retorts and sarcastic remarks. “Tell them I say hi.” Tauriel went back to work in a much better mood. “You know…” I started watching Tauriel place an old pair of headphones over her ears. She nodded at me to continue. “With Cecil’s longer hair and dimples, he kinda looks like Thayer…” I held in my laughter when Tauriel’s face fell. She rolled her eyes dramatically before taking off the headphones. “Eula, sharp bone structure and long hair is kinda the norm. And don’t go ruining Cecil for me, he’s my friend.” She still laughed. It’s been years since I heard that sound.

I always loved the sound of Liberties in the morning. The sweet sound of their bird song that let me know I was still in the garage when I should’ve been sleeping hours ago. What did I care? I spent most of my nights on this very bench and often woke up with my head against the cool metal of my desk. I sit with my head in my hand for a minute or two before I actually stand. The boots I ditched last night were still on the floor by my feet, so I decided to leave them there and go eat. The fixed up headphones were around Tauriel’s neck, with a stray wire tickling the back of her head. “Need your room back?” He asked from behind me. I actually did but I wasn’t going to let him know that. I spared a glance in his direction, he almost filled the door frame. He was smirking at me. That devilish smirk, like I didn’t know that's not who he really was. “Is October awake, I need him for something.” I kept my voice cold as I spoke to the older man. He gave me that look, the same one he gave me in prison when he wasn’t overly trying to be a jerk or when he thought I wouldn’t notice. He gave me a quick smile before heading into my room for the sleeping twenty year old.

Toby came out rubbing his dark brown eyes. I pulled him into the kitchen as Thayer emerged. He smiled at his brother before pushing off the door post he was leaning on and going back into Tauriel’s room to get dressed. October kept looking around the kitchen for food as I placed a food bag in front of him. We went through the cupboards, grabbing things for the young man to take home. I knew it would be easier for me to stock my cupboards rather than Toby and Thayer to stock theirs. We were almost done wrapping the bread when the alarm blared throughout the city. “THAYER MICHAELS, REPORT TO THE HAULING STATION.” I nodded at October to continue, letting him know I’d be right back before quickly making my way to the hall where Tauriel was waiting outside the bathroom. When he came out of the bathroom, his hair was tousled and slightly damp. Tauriel wasted no time heading into the steam filled room, waving the soft white clouds from her face. “Sorry in advance. I used a lot of hot water.” He stated through the door to which Tauriel offered no reply. Whatever he did to get this reaction from her must’ve been bad. I saw a glint of that subtle irritation in his eyes, understanding too, but mostly just irritation. “Don’t worry, she likes to take cold showers.” He looked my way with a forced smile. I watched as he quickly put on his jacket and boots shooting me a questioning look. I chuckled knowing exactly what he planned to ask me. “I’ve got work in a couple hours, but Tori will watch him okay?”

He only stiffly nodded before opening the door and heading to the Hauling Station.

@jayloxoxo @thinkinghardhardlythinking @justagirlinafandomworld @mashedpotatowithcheese

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bricky-brikson · 3 years ago

Text

Merry Whump of May

10/05/2022

“They’re not here.”

Forgotten | Recapture | Gravel

Content Warnings: Skeleton, digging up a dead body, escape attempt, assault, knocked out, female whumper, female whumpee

"I've been host to many young adults such as yourself, Eulalia."

She turned the words over in her head as she weeded the garden. Eulalia still wished she had been a more firm in her inquiries as to the doctor's past charges, she wanted to know about Dr Nightshade's past just as the woman knew about hers. But there was always next time. It was nearly noon, they could discuss it over tea. Maybe if Eulalia boasted about doing the doctor a favour by weeding the garden, she would be more willing to talk about her other charges. It was odd that the botanist never asked her to weed, but Eulalia was willing to do it without request.

Eulalia took her spade and dug into the ground to remove a prickly weed by the root. This one must've gone deep, as she felt the spade hit a hard spot. Either that or a rock. She pushed down again, trying to sever the root, but whatever was there wouldn't budge. It must be a rock, still worth removing to make future gardening easier. With a proper shovel, Eulalia dug down hard into the dirt.

Crrrack

She froze. That was not the sound of a rock. Throwing dirt around hapazardly, she dug away the top soil to get to whatever was buried there. Eventually she saw it. Getting to her knees, she brushed the soil away and dug her gloved hands into the ground, pulling on the dirty object, wrenching it out of the ground.

Eulalia screamed.

Clutched in her hands was a desiccated human skull, a large gash in the forehead where the spade and shovel had hit it. It fell from her hands and she ran. That must have been what happened to Dr Nightshade's charges. That was what was going to happen to her.

The gate of the manor was close. Just a bit faster. Just a bit further. She could be free. She could get to the police and tell them what was happening. Eulalia ran into the gate, expecting it to swing open. But it stayed shut. No, no no no, it was locked. Fumbling with the lock, trying to break it, Eulalia heard the gravel crunching behind her. Dr Nightshade had followed her.

"Looking for this?" Eulalia turned and saw the doctor, far too close for comfort, holding up the key to the gate. In the other hand, she held the very shovel Eulalia had used to dig up the corpse.

"Please...please don't kill me," Eulalia begged.

"Oh, sprout," Dr Nightshade sounded as though she was comforting a child scared of the monster under their bed, not a young woman terrified of her own death. She put the key in her pocket. "I'm not going to kill you. But unfortunately, I can't let you leave. I'm sure you understand."

The doctor swung the shovel at Eulalia. She collapsed, the closest she was going to be to freedom for a very very long time.

Dr Nightshade is a horrible person. I have so many horrible people as OCs. I love making horrible people <3

This is basically what happened before my entry for 02/05/2022. Continuity yayyyyyy

@themerrywhumpofmay

#buried body cw #skeleton cw #assault cw #female whumper #female whumpee #original character #original story #elizabeth nightshade #eulalia jardines #dear cassedy #brick scribbles #brick wall

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noloveforned · 4 years ago

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tune into wlur at 5pm today for this week's episode. on last week's show we somehow managed an extra hour of no love for ned. i was short on time putting it together and somewhat unintuitively it's often easier to lean in and go longer than whittle a show down with tight transitions. with wlur's abbreviated covid schedule the extra hour was no big deal!

no love for ned on wlur – april 16th, 2021 from 5-8pm

artist // track // album // label queen of jeans // only obvious to you // if you're not afraid, i'm not afraid // topshelf fake fruit // no mutuals // fake fruit // rocks in your head * basic shapes // jump call // vertical being 10" // polaks cassie // boys will be boys // the light shines on // reminder nice // caress me // nice // feel good all over magic roundabout // sneaky feelin' // sneaky feelin' 7" // third man nathan roche // karaoke in my favorite band // drink up, rainforest sinatra // gone with the weed moontype // about you // bodies of water // born yesterday * pel mel // shoes should fit // rags to tatters: the best of pel mel // blue jube dry cleaning // scratchcard lanyard // new long leg // 4ad * status set // voynich destroyed // music for cowards cassette // (self-released) ziemba // bad love // true romantic // sister polygon venetian blinds // drive my car // secret music // telephone no action // ride in the whirlwind // neverclose 7" // tenzenmen indigo sparke // colourblind // echo // sacred bones * mj lenderman // someone get the grill out of the rain // ghost of your guitar solo // dear life * julie doiron // i don't know // through the soil 2xcassette compilation // (no label) simon farintosh // avril 14th // aphex twin for guitar ep // (self-released) danny paul grody // ohr // in search of light // students of decay sheila kay adams // dinah // alan lomax's american patchwork compilation // mississippi ivor cutler trio // shoplifters // ludo // parlophone elephant micah // from anti-gravity // vague tidings // western vinyl mess esque // big old blue // dream #12 // bedroom suck claire rousay // discrete (the market) // a softer focus // american dreams patrick shiroishi, chris jusell, chaz prymek and matthew sage // eulalia floe // setsubun // cached.media ross gay featuring angel bat dawid // to the fig tree on 9th and christian // dilate your heart // jagjaguwar amanda whiting // who knows // after dark // jazzman joe mcphee and eli keszler // (side a, excerpt) // ithaca // 8mm natural information society featuring evan parker // part i (excerpt) // descension (out of our constrictions) // eremite sun ra and his arkestra // ufo (live at grendel's lair, 1978) // on jupiter // enterplanetary koncepts gary bartz // visions of love // gary bartz jid006 // jazz is dead * ohio players // skin tight // skin tight // mercury busta rhymes featuring swv // it's a party (allstar remix) // the coming (25th anniversary super deluxe edition) // rhino mophono featuring young aundee, kirby dominant and the halftone society rhythm section // only child // only child 7” // cb yaya bey // september 13th // the things i can't take with me cassette // big dada yoshinori hayashi // luminescence // pulse of defiance // smalltown supersound female species // there’s a rainbow // tale of my lost love // numero group tomemitsu featuring v.v. lightbody and lala lala // wish erase // sun // friends of friends * merk // h.n.y.b // infinite youth // humblebrag * handsome girl // andie // shut up cutie cassette // middle class cigars winds // the way you feel // look at the sky // natural music pansy // anybody help me // pansy // earth libraries * lisasinson // barakaldo // perdona mamá // elefant betty and the werewolves // purple eyes // tea time favourites // damaged goods narrow adventure // perspective // narrow adventure 1981-1983 cassette // burger

* denotes music on wlur’s playlist

#wlur #radio shows

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ciphers-fr · 6 years ago

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🐻💞🎤💊

Do any dragons like animals?

,,, yeah

All the dragons of the Clan have a strong companionship with their familiars and a healthy respect for the various other beasts that claim refuge within the territory. Any act of abuse on such would be grounds for harsh punishment if not full exile/ abolition of alliance. Overall, Ciphers has the task of the main familiar caretaker but most of the other Clan members pitch in.

How many couples are in your lair?

That answer is questionable at best.

As for ‘official’ couples, there is Alexia and Marcos (Clan Progens), Eulalia and Pandora, and Oceanic and Rosetta.

There’s also whatever is going on between Jaynum and Khione (I mean, Persephus for starters), but trying to open that can of worms usually means that you’ll get the two dragons screeching at you to shut up before they go back to straining that tension between them.

Any dragons that can sing?

As far as anyone is aware, Eulalia has the best voice in the Clan. Her soft, sweet crooning had been lulling the hatchlings in the Clan, as well as pepping Coliseum battling, for years.

On occasion, someone claims to hear Oceanic’s deep hums flitting through the air, but asking only earns a stoic raised brow of denial. And Rosetta’s lips are sealed too.

Any physically/mentally disabled dragons?

No disability is shunned in the Clan, as a wide variety are already represented in the ranks of dragons. Terra is deaf. Stratos is mute. Pandora is blind. Circe is Shade-touched as so acts a little animalistic at times. Artemis appears to have only the mentality of a hatchling. And Ambigram, perhaps as a result of having two sets of antlers, has a neurological condition that results in uncontrollable muscle spasms throughout her body.

#flight rising #fr #asks #ciphertext #Clan lore #Thanks for the question!

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dalaznews-blog · 6 years ago

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Lady Amelia Windsor, Britain's 'most beautiful royal,' goes topless at the beach

http://dalaznews.com/entertainment/lady-amelia-windsor-britains-most-beautiful-royal-goes-topless-at-the-beach/

What would Queen Elizabeth say?

Lady Amelia Windsor, usually dubbed the "most superb royal," strolled all more than Santa Eulalia beach in Ibiza in really tiny but light-weight-pink bikini bottoms.

Amelia, who is 38th in line to the throne, failed to appear to be to brain the paparazzi capturing her seasoned outing as she ate lunch and study from a guide all even even though topless.

Lady Amelia went topless on the beach in Ibiza. (Backgrid)

The 22-year-aged has been savoring a trip with her sister Marina posting many pictures from their luxurious vacation break on social media.

Amelia and her sister are Princes William and Harry’s 3rd cousins and the granddaughters of the Duke of Kent who is the Queen's cousin.

On the other hand, the sisters had been not deemed shut-sufficient relatives to rating an invite to Harry and Meghan Markle's Could possibly marriage ceremony.

A pal of Amelia's instructed The Solar in the days top up to the wedding that "they have been a really tiny stunned not to be invited as they had been looking for ahead to probably."

In addition to Amelia's budding modeling profession, she is also studying French and Italian at Edinburgh College.

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berryblu-soda · 1 year ago

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OC world fact!

Twilight compass´ setting is a dimension where megafauna is common, especially in creatures that are usually tiny in the normal world, thus when they visit the normal world theyre always incredibly excited about all the tiny bugs and critters, calling them "minifauna"

#hehehe #downside is bugs are way more sociable in twilight compass so its a true tragedy the littol guys dont generally want to be held U_U #shut up sheo #twilight compass #oc talk #eulalia #<- bug enjoyer blorbo; i love her <3

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originaldetectivesheep · 7 years ago

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The Thirty and One Nights' Momentary Diversion - The Culling of the Leakesville Pod, part I

Tonight, our tale finds itself not in the future or the past -- but in a mirror present, where a mad scheme to import hippopotamuses to eat invasive water lilies in the Louisiana bayous didn't fail by a single vote. Because of course, the solution to an invasive species without predators is always another invasive species without predators...

The Culling of the Leakesville Pod

The rain hadn't even started falling yet, but all the signs were there: to the south the sky was boiling in long gray thrashes of interweaving clouds, and all the cars they'd passed were headed west, over to the big roads going north, further inland. The mud-spattered Ford with the airboat on its trailer behind, the faded Jones & McGraw Game Management Solutions on its doors, though, that was headed east, across the Alabama state line. They had a dispensation to be here, the blessing of the Alabama Game and Fish Department to set up and avoid a catastrophe – they just didn't have the sign-off yet from the Mississippi Game & Fish Commission to actually do anything if the pod crossed the line.

Bolivar Jones tugged on the wheel, bumping the truck over the center line to avoid a clump of brush fallen into the road. "Do we got anything yet?!" he bellowed into the mic of the truck's radio, roaring over the hammering diesel engine. "Eulalia, do we got anything yet?"

"No, we don't got anything yet," Eulalia McGraw answered, thin and scratchy through the speaker even though the air was supposed to still be clear between here and State Line. "I been trying, but everybody in Jackson got other things to worry about with this storm."

"The hell they do," Bolivar shot back, "Game & Fish, what they got to worry about with this storm is right goddamn here. You keep calling till you git someone who ain't run away yet, and if they give you the runaround you patch'em right in. We gonna git this done – if they think they gone lose money if that pod breaks the line and we got to shoot, they ain't seen nothing on the damages them things gonna do if we don't."

"They still talking 'bout pulling the license," Eulalia cut back, scolding, "and you know we got the lease on the building and can't move nohow – don't you go and do nothing dumb that gonna put me and Slim out on the street. Until you get –"

"Until I git in position," Bolivar thundered back, "you got that long to git this all cleared. I ain't going to sit still and let that pod go past me – and if them hippos git up in my line, I'm'on' start shooting." He released the plunger and slammed the mic back down in the cradle, throwing the wheel over to send the truck rumbling down a rough dirt-and-gravel road that probably wouldn't be here when they had to dead back out over it. The first drops of Hurricane Edwin were starting to splatter around them, and as the waters backed up and rose in the creeks, it was even money that the lead elements of the huge, felon Leakesville hippo pod, already farther north this summer than they'd ever ranged, would break through into the virgin fields of Alabama – and once established, they wouldn't ever leave until the last of them had been wiped out.

Next to Bolivar on the front seat, Slim McGraw wrapped his thin arms tighter around his bulky match-barrel AR-15, and shook his head. "This'n's a bad business, Bo," he said to his partner, "and hell, I don't mind if we do lose the license for it. 'Long's them pulling down all the Reb statues, I wouldn't mind it one bit if they dragged down that'n of Bob Broussard down N'Awlins. There's one I wouldn't mind seeing go – if he ain't brought them damn hippos in, wouldn't none of this be a problem."

A hundred years before, a maverick Louisiana congressman had proposed a bold and ingenious way of removing invasive plants in the bayous about New Orleans: the introduction of hippopotamuses from Africa to eat them. It had worked: there wasn't such a thing as a stray water plant on the whole of the Gulf Coast now, and free-grazing hippos were a blessing of meat and leather to anyone who could keep them. But it had worked too well: the three-thousand-pound living battering rams had smashed every kind of enclosure set to keep them on the ranches where they'd been settled, and now, without anything remotely like a natural predator, there were more hippos on the arc between Galveston and Miami than there were in the whole of Africa. They'd drove the Florida manatee to extinction within thirty years of reaching Tampa, and they were pushing up the rivers of the backcountry even this far north: Texas all through the Big Thicket as far up as Nacogdoches, up the Red and Mississippi Rivers in Louisiana almost to the Arkansas line. In Mississippi the land lay wrong for them, and they didn't come much farther north than Hattiesburg – until this year. It was like that all over: you could scoff at doomsaying scientists from up New York until you were blue in the face, but it was plain fact that the hippos kept coming north, more and more of them, out of the big rivers and into the creeks, raiding farther and deeper inland, and in Mississippi, at least, the government was too fond of the money Game & Fish made off hippo licenses to decide they had a problem.

Alabama was different. There was a small population entrenched in the bayous around Mobile that wasn't nobody dislodging, but Alabama had seen what happened to Florida, and decided against that. Alabama was a free-fire zone for hippos: no season, no bag limit, any time, any conditions, any caliber, as long as you could drag your meat away. There were a lot of Alabama boys got themselves crunched up going after ornery meat Volkswagens without the right experience, or a big enough rifle, but there weren't any hippos in the Alabama River basin, no hippos crowding into the little bays of the Tombigbee. The land lay wrong for the Leakesville pod, a big, troublesome herd crowding up the Chickasawhay and its tributaries, hard up by the state line, to cross from Mississippi into Alabama, but now, in this storm, when they were already this far north, they just might – and if they did, spreading out into the woods and back creeks of the center of the state, the invasion might not be possible to turn back. It wouldn't be a day, and it wouldn't be a year, but sooner or later, the great deep black-belt valleys of Alabama would be all full of giant, short-tempered, game- and habitat- and nearby-children-and-pets-destroying hippos, and everything that the state had done would be for nothing.

That was why Jones & McGraw were out here: on a normal day, Alabama could trust a casual hunter to plug one stray hippo one at a time. But here was a pod of perhaps as many as a hundred and fifty animals – no bull-and-harem subpod fewer than fifteen – about to smash over the state line in a body in the middle of a goddamned hurricane. This called for professionals, and Bolivar Jones, the deadest eye with an express rifle east of Texas, Slim McGraw, the only man with an exception written into Biloxi's anti-grenade ordinance for him, and Winifred Vetchley, who had moved down from Carolina to hunt hippos on purpose and could throw a marker dart into one by hand from two hundred yards back while still steering her airboat with her knees, were as professional as they came. But they were professional hunters, professional hippo killers, and though they had a resume as long as your arm of farms and creeks and lakes successfully defended, there were other professionals in Mississippi interested in hippos: professional hunting guides who needed live hippos around to skin Park Avenue big shots who wanted a cheap exotic head for their wall without having to get malaria shots. There were three full-time guide outfits feeding off the Leakesville pod – it was them who had "game-managed" it into a holy terror of a herd bursting the banks of its rivers. And while in Mississippi personal property rights in land trumped a more abstract property in felon hippos, killing Mississippi hippos in Alabama, on nobody's Mississippi land, was another story. That was why Eulalia hadn't been able to get anyone in Jackson to answer the phone, as much as the oncoming storm. But time was running out, and it was just about the point that it wouldn't matter: the hippos were coming, and Bolivar and Slim and Winifred would be dug in to stop them.

Bolivar shifted the truck down to park and released the hitch lock; they'd have to push the airboat down from the ridge into the swamp, but if he left the truck any closer, it was fifty fifty if it'd even be there when they got back – if they got back. The rain was coming down in earnest, and the river was rising up through the bracken at the water's edge: there'd be flooding even up here, and four tons of truck was nothing to a million gallons of water. Everything they needed to stop the break, everything that they wanted to be sure to get back to State Line with, it all had to go with them, or there was no telling.

With the gear pods in the cabin empty and the radio locked down, Bolivar kicked the door open to head back to the steel locker at the head of the bed for his rifle, the last man out of the cab. Slim had scuttled out the door as soon as the engine shut off, busily gathering up his demo gear from his isolation crates and loading the grim nets of claymores and fishing line into the bow of the boat, and Winifred had somehow skinnied out the rear window of the cab, frantically bolting and clipping and tying guy lines shut to keep the tarps over the engine and the boat's radio from flying away with the rising wind. Bolivar reached up with a tree-trunk arm, popping the latch on the gun safe, and before the heavy lid even bounced off the window of the truck, he was in and out and back up with his trusty .500 Hurley & Hawkes, the bones of a straight and stable bwana guide gun wrapped up in that glass-filled tactical stock that no White Hunter would touch to save their life. It was a single-purpose professional's rifle, a killer and no mistake – and there was nothing but killing ahead, out on this river tonight. Checking that the loose rounds he'd loaded into the chest pocket of his overalls were still lying stable and straight, he headed down to the boat – and the radio on it that would be their last chance.

Winifred threw something, some piece of twig, out of the high fan cage as he came up, and jumped in a flash out of her seat by the engine as he put his shoulder into the aluminum prow, shoving the boat back off the trailer frame, down onto the incline toward the riverbank. Slim was barely slower, nestling his gun in with his explosives, then helping push, helping guide as Bolivar shoved the aluminum hull free and off onto the grass, down through the brush. They got it turned around, its nose into the rising river, and as Winifred jerked the engine to life with a rattling roar from the fan, Slim splashed up to climb back in, huddling low over his deadly trapline, his eyes scanning out over the water. Bo stayed up on the shore, barely back from the fan; they'd need his muscle to get them out into the water without wasting gas, and there was one last thing he had to do.

Winifred handed her boss down the radio mic. "Eulalia," he said, almost shouting over the hum of the fan blades, "Eulalia, you there? This your last chance – you got them Game & Fish? We 'bout to do this."

Eulalia's voice came in scratchy and broken from the command post, barely intelligible over the fan, under the steadily strengthening rain. "Yeah, I got'em – I got this Commissioner Aiken here, he hearing us now."

Bolivar nodded, looking straight ahead. The herd must be moving. The hippos must be moving off, headed for the border, or they'd've let him sit here waiting forever for nothing. "Commissioner Aiken, sir, how do you do. How's about it? You gonna let us take this Alabama contract?"

A soft chuckle hissed tinny through the rage of the storm. "Mistuh… Jones, iddn'it? It is, Mistuh Jones, you in the State of Alabama right now; isn't nothin' in Mississippi you have to pay mind." The game commissioner sounded just like he probably looked: fat toad of velvet menace, trying to do kindly uncle and having it come out Boss Hogg. And he was playing games, safe up in Jackson as a hurricane roared in on the coast.

"Sir, with all due respect, I do believe that I do got to pay account to Mississippi," Bolivar answered, feeling out the ground. "It's Mississippi hippos I'mma have in my sights – and I know back of you you got Brandt, Mandelson, the Rodgerbeck operation all up on their tiptoes, make sure I don't take the food off their table. What conditions they putting up if them Leakesville hippos break the line?"

A half-laugh from the commissioner. "Boy, you ain't half clever, I do allow. Seems you know that pod, that neck o' the woods, better than I do – you know what them guides are sayin' to me, even 'fore I have to tell you. They do see you's picking their pocket: ever' hippo you drop is one they cain't sell. Seem's fair's fair, don't it?"

It was all Bolivar could do not to crush the microphone in his fist. The hell he was going to pay customer rates for doing his own job. "They want to sell them hippos, Mr. Commissioner Sir, then they better goddamn find theyselves a German dentist or some Charleston trust-fund punk and git'em up on the line now, storm and all. You know it – that pod breaks on through into 'Bama they ain't never coming back. Those operations won't have no hippos to sell if I don't stop'em – they want'em penned in so bad, it oughta be them out here with they rifles. But they ain't, and it's just me – and I'mma take you at your word, like you said the start: this an Alabama job, and it ain't got nothin' to do with Mississippi. That pod crosses the state line, and they ain't no Mississippi hippos no more. They's Alabama hippos, and in Alabama we shoot hippos on sight." He clicked the mic off and threw it back at Winifred and the radio stack, any reply from Eulalia or the game commissioner lost in a scream of static. With a grunt and a shove, Bolivar put his shoulder into the hull, driving the airboat off shore.

"Shouldn't'a done that, boss," Winifred said, stowing the mic again and pushing open the throttle as Bolivar climbed aboard with a splash. "They gonna pull the license for sure."

"Let'em," Bo snorted, checking over his rifle again. "This job'll buy us out that lease, and we can sell the meat and make enough to go kill hippos in Florida. And they ain't gonna pull the license if we drive much'a them back." He slid the rain cover back over his bolt, looking out ahead to the turns in the river. "Keep going – they gonna come up the stream, and I think I know a bay just over the line that we can fit up to a killing field. Move!" Winifred pushed the throttle further, and the fanboat sped up, skimming across the wind-blown wavetops, south on the creek towards the heart of the storm.

Part II

#fiction #30and1nights

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