#still fondly remembering the days we were all puzzling over what never stop blowing up could’ve been…

[starstruckodysseys]

mmm so i’m like 92% sure the d20 trailer on wednesday is for dndrag2 bc it’s the only one (as far as i remember) from the five year anniversary trailer that hasn’t come out yet. it’s just weird bc i feel like this is usually intrepid heroes season time?? so. idk what’s going on w the d20 schedule anymore

[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 20 of 83 : World of Sea

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 20 of 83

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2020

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information   remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

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Barad said lightly, “So long as they aren’t chasing us, we’ve little to fear.  Come, My Heart, we have to get your Arrakan certificates recognized.  You have an examination before the Board.”  They left in the direction of the Council Pavilion.

Kurin squinted as she looked at the ships and commented, “They are good seamen aren’t they?  It’s hard to stop a ship that big, right at the float.  Now that they’re closer, I can read their names.  The Big one is the Dark Dragon.  There’s two lines of some vertical decorations too.  I wonder why they aren’t afraid of bad luck from naming their ship after Dark Iren?  The other is the Soaring Bird. The Soaring Bird’s letters look really strange.  There are other letters above the name that I can’t read at all.”

Master Juris told Kurin, “That’s because they’re in a different language, Kurin.  It’s Barant I think.  I can’t read it either but I’ve seen it before.”

He turned, gesturing broadly about, and asked Kurin, “Is it just me, or is the market bigger than usual this Gathering?”

“It is,” said Kurin with a pinched face.  “The Grandalor and three other ships have opened toy booths in addition to their usual ones now that they see how well I’ve done for the last five Gatherings. The Gula has the colored cloth booth in addition to their usual fabrics booth.  The strangers each got a booth.  We took up three spaces just for cargo and lace, and have a food booth on top of that.”

“True, all true,” said Master Juris, as they strolled back to her booth. “I got around to the other toy booths to take a look.”  He smiled with a trace of a sneer for the competition.  “Your deal with the Masters of the Craft Council is safe.  The Grandalor is your nearest rival and they aren’t close, though they are cheaper.”

“Speaking of the Grandalor,” said Kurin curiously, what’s up with them?  I almost didn’t recognize them.  Their ship is so neat and tidy that it almost looks new.”

“I don’t know, Kurin.  Their booth people are all smiling and friendly, too.”  Master Juris stroked his chin and looked off absently at the newcomers.  “Even their roustabouts have been polite and well dressed.”  He walked off shaking his head at changes that he had never thought to see.

As Kurin was entering her booth she overheard a pair of Grandalor sailors speaking through the orderly chaos of the busy Market.

“Looka’ there!  A nice knife on the deck!  Mine!”

“You know where it fell from, too.  Give it back to him.”

“Sorry, old habit.  You’re right.  The Lady wouldn’t like it iffin I kept it.  She’d be disappointed.  Don’t want that. — — Here, Sir! This fell offa yer table!  Nice scrimshaw on the blade!”

Kurin settled herself on a stool behind her counter, wondering at the bizarre concept of Grandalor sailors being honest.  She picked up an illustrated envelope and removed a batch of pieces.  To draw trade, she began assembling one of her kits.  The day passed into afternoon.

“T’at’s good t’ see.  A young ane, nae afraid t’ be seen wit’ toys.  So often, t’ey’re afraid t’ey’ll be taken for kinder if t’ey’re seen wit’ toys.”

Kurin looked up at the speaker, smiling automatically.  Her smile hardened as she recognized the two sailors flanking the woman.  They were Grandalor deck-hands that she knew from other Gatherings and did not trust now, in spite of their better dress.

The woman who spoke was short, with a cascade of glossy medium brown hair falling from a complex braided knot at the back of her head.  Honest gray eyes stared frankly at her.  Her face was exotically shaped, almost coming to a point at her chin, mouth smiling widely under a nose that was almost dangerously cute.  

What she wore was as exotic as her speech.  Definitely not sailor’s garb.  At first glance, her blouse seemed a simple strip of satin cloth, white with moving amber highlights, thrown about her neck, crossed in front and fastened behind.  A second glance showed that the garment was carefully tailored to an exact fit and that there was nothing casual about it.  There were sleeves of sheer amber gauze tied to it at the shoulders.  Her solidly muscled midriff was bare. The lady wore pants that were long and loose, matching her top in color and gathered at the ankles.  Her shoes were of sparkling fine scaled black Lesser Dragon hide.

A fringed black sash belt held several pouches and a long knife that was either Lesser Dragon or Wing Ray fang.  The edge was chipped slightly from much use but carefully sharpened.

The tool maker in Kurin admired the care with which the sharpening had been done.  Each chip had been rounded out and properly edged to reduce the possibility of a crack starting.  This knife, large as it was, was a carefully maintained tool.

Kurin’s smile became genuine as she thought that she recognized the speaker. “Kurti, is that you?  What are you doing in that get up?  What’s with the accent?”

The woman appeared to curl up into a mental ball, the life flowing out of her.

“Oi wish Oi wa’.  She’s dead.  M’ cousin Oi’m told.  M’ name’s Tanlin.  Tanlin Miken Princamorn.  Oi’m tired, might Oi sit in yer shade?”  Both sailors looked alarmed at this pronouncement and took her arms to support her, clearly not to remove her.  It was obvious who was in charge.

One of them said, “Lady Tanlin, When Doctor Corin allowed you to come to Gathering he warned us that you are still on the invalid list. You must not tire yourself.”

“Of course you may sit, Lady Tanlin,” said Kurin, picking up on the title and producing a cushion usually reserved for important customers.  “Tell me how come you look so much like Kurti.  You said she’s dead?  How did it happen?  Where are you from?”

“T’ank ye,” she said to Kurin as the sailors helped her gently to the cushion.  “Oi’m Arrakan.  Late o’ t’e Princamorn.  Kurti an’ Oi were cousins.  Our mot’ers were identical twins, so Oi’m told. ‘Ers married on t’ t’e Grandalor, mine t’ Princamorn as t’ey tell m’.

“Oi heard t’at she got t’e lung parasites from swallowin’ reef woter durin’ t’e rescue o’ our crew.  She wa’ often in t’e sickbay but Oi’m informed t’e treatment dinnae work.

“Over four an’ a ‘alf Wotans Oi wander Iren’s ‘alls.  ‘E let m’ go an’ took ‘er instead.  Oi ‘ad per’aps twa ‘ours t’ see ‘er as she failed.”

“Why do you keep saying, I’m told and such?” asked Kurin rather tactlessly.

Tanlin nearly wailed, “‘Cause Oi cannae remember!  T’ey say Oi wa’ ‘it be a falling yard wen t’e Princamorn went down.  Oi donae remember ‘t!  Oi’ve nae ‘istory t’ go wit’ t’e name an’ it only by repute!”

Kurin was at a loss for what to do.  She had heard of amnesia from head blows, everyone had.  She had never heard of any effective treatment. Still a niggling suspicion ate at the back of her mind.

She held out a tallow-slate and said, “Do you write?”

“O’ course Oi write an’ navigate, too.  Oi wa’ t’e Forst Officer, Second Wotch, an’ Share Holder on t’e Princamorn.  Oi lost m’ memory, nae m’ mind,” Tanlin retorted tartly.

“I meant no insult, Lady Tanlin,” said Kurin mollifyingly.  “I’ve heard that Arrakans write differently than we do in the Naral fleet. Could I see?”

Brightening like sun from behind a cloud, Tanlin said, “Certainly.”   She took the proffered tallow-slate in her right hand and wrote quickly and surely with her left.  From the right edge.  She signed with a flourish.  Thank you, Mother, for making me learn this.  It was to help in the Arrakan trade.  Now it is my shield.

Kurin looked at the neat cursive writing in perplexity.  The characters were like none that she had seen before.  Her confusion showed on her face, for Tanlin laughed gently, chidingly.

“Tis ye t’at write differently.  Arrakans ‘ave been writing such for a t’ousand Gat’erins.  ‘T says:

‘Ush little ane, dinnae ye cry.

Nest in t’e ‘ammock’s web, safe from ‘arm,

‘Ear Iren’s Orcas sing far from ye.

‘Appy dreams air yer good charm.’

“Kurti sung ‘t t’ calm m’ as she lay dyin’.  M’ name is at t’e end.”

Kurin, who knew that Kurti had been right handed, was convinced.  Besides, Tanlin’s knife was placed for a fast left handed draw.

“She was wrong about the Orca though,” said one of the two sailors.  “I was port forward lookout, second night watch.  From seventh drum, an Orca paced the Grandalor, singing.  I stayed past my watch to see and hear as it rolled and leaped, playing.  A few minutes after second drum of third watch, it sounded and was not seen again.  That was from when the Lady,” he pointed to Tanlin, “woke up, until Kurti died.”

“Is that true about the Orca?” Kurin asked, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

“Oi donae know.  W’at’s an Orca sound like?  Oi’ve never heard ane t’at Oi know o’.  T’ere wa’ an uncanny sound t’at stopped wen she died,” said Tanlin looking curiously at Kurin.

Kurin, who was a good mimic, let out a long, plaintive, rippling call, close to a whistle.

“T’at’s t’e very sound!  Oi ‘eard ‘t t’rough t’e ‘ull as Kurti wa’ dying!”

“There you are, Love.  I hope that whale wasn’t singing for you!  What are you doing?” inquired a light baritone voice.  Looking up, Kurin saw Captain Barad standing close.  She had seen him many times before but never like this.  He was calm and well dressed instead of irritable and slovenly.  Even more puzzling, he was smiling fondly at Tanlin.

“Look at t’is, m’ Luve.  T’is young ane is selling toys, too!” Tanlin impulsively held out one of Kurin’s Wing Rays for Barad’s inspection.  Thoughtfully she added, “Oi t’ink t’at ‘ers are better made t’an ours are.”

Barad attentively looked the toy over before carefully replacing it in its proper place on the board.  He smiled tolerantly and gently at Tanlin and said, “You are right Tanlin, my heart.  And well they should be.  The Craft Masters Council just broke for the afternoon.  They have made a decision about you, Kurin.  You should hear it from Master Juris, soon.”

Master Juris came striding eagerly up until he saw Barad.  His approach became wary.  Diverted from his original aim, he addressed Barad truculently, “Captain Barad.  What are you and your bullies doing at a Longin booth?”

Once again Barad smiled as though politely asked a reasonable question, “Three things.  First, I came to see for myself the toys that I have heard so much about for so long.  Second, I wanted to be here to see Kurin when you tell her your news.  Third, I was looking for my wife, who has the escort of two of my deck-hands at doctor’s orders. She is not yet fully recovered from serious injuries.”  Seeing the effect of his ‘third’, Barad burst out in genuine laughter.

“To you both, may I present my wife, the Lady Tanlin Miken Princamorn, lately First Officer of the Second Watch on the Arrakan vessel Princamorn?  She holds full Command and  Navigational Certificates from the Arrakan fleet.  Just today they were recognized by examination before the Naral fleet Board.”

Kurin and Master Juris were stunned.  “Your wife!”

Tanlin rose from her cushion and put an arm affectionately about Barad who put one around her.  “Aye, Oi’m ‘is wife an’ ‘appy t’ be!”  

Kurin’s curiosity was aroused by what both the deck-hands and Barad had said so she asked Barad, “Why do you call her Lady?  Is it some Arrakan custom?”

Tolerantly, Barad replied, “Not that I know of.  The crewfolk who were helping Doctor Corin with her recovery started calling her that on their own. The rest of us just followed the fish.  You’ve met her.  It seems to fit.”

Tanlin turned to Master Juris and added, “If Oi ‘ave ‘eard right, ye ‘ave somet’ing for t’is nice young lady ‘oo ‘as shared ‘er shade and m’ maundering.”

Coming back to the reason for his visit, Master Juris said, “True.  Kurin, Captain Mord is bringing the actual item.  I’ll let him do the honors.”

Captain Mord arrived with all the Longin’s officers and many of Kurin’s friends in his wake.  Bringing up the rear but not staying there, was the entire Craft Masters Council.  When all were gathered about, Captain Mord began.

“Kurin Behar Longin, on behalf of the Masters of the Naral fleet, I present to you this Certificate as Journeyman Boat-builder.  The Council debated your age, yet none could deny your skills.  Your abilities won over even the doubters in the end.

“Not only your submission piece but also every piece of your work that could be located was studied.  You are the youngest journeyman in the history of the Naral fleet in any Craft.”  He handed the excited Kurin a scroll that was thicker than the usual certificate.  When Kurin unrolled it she found a standard journeyman’s certificate but pasted to it was a long piece of paperfish parchment bearing the name of every ship in the fleet and under each ship, all of her Craft Masters.

“I — — — I’m at a loss.  I don’t know what to say.  Thank you!” said Kurin, her composure shaken.

“Oi do!” yelled Tanlin, “Congratulations!”  Turning to Barad and pointing, she said, “Luve, Oi’m ‘ungry.  Can we treat t’ese folk from t’at boot’ over t’ere?  T’e breeze from ‘t ‘as been makin’ m’ famished, ‘t smells so good.  ‘T can be our Announcement Feast as well!  T’en all will know Oi’ve t’e finest ‘usband an’ ‘e t’e finest wife!”

“For you, Tanlin, all three moons.”  Turning to Mord, Barad said, “There has been bad blood between us.  You have no reason to trust me, I own that.  I offer you this for a truce between us.  For Kurin’s celebration, let the Grandalor pay for all the food from your booth for the next hour.  We will not quibble the bill.  In return, Tanlin and I spend that hour in your booth with Kurin.  It shall be both her celebration and ours too.  Our marriage will be celebrated by Arrakan custom and law, with an Announcement Feast open to all.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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[mlpdestinyverse]

“A Siren’s Tale”

Feat. Forte

The story of the Dazzlings - of the three powerful siren sisters - did not end at Canterlot High. Nor did it begin there, as one little girl learns.

Story and Description Under The Cut

Bright green grass blanketed a number of small hillsides. The blades swayed and curled with the spring breeze, and the trees dotted about gave the softest of rustles with their vibrant leaves. The bottom of the hills stretched out into a decently sized park; blacktops, sidewalks, benches, a playground and fountain, all relatively calm with the few figures moving and going about their day under the warm sunrays. Unnoticed or not was a feminine figure, sitting at the top of a grassy incline. Well-dressed with curly ginger hair pulled back into a thick messy bun, Adagio had her arms wrapped around a smaller shape within her lap. There sat a little girl, with short, thick curls of pale hair that transitioned to shades of light orange and cinnamon. Her magenta eyes, much like the woman behind her, were trained on her mother's face, her expression full of curiosity. "But where did the sirens live, mama?" At once, Adagio's eyes lit up. Originally hunched over from fatigue, energy seemed to return to her as her gaze focused on the sky, staring out towards something far off and unseen. "Oh believe me, dear, it was a gorgeous place. The filth they call oceans here could never compare." Adagio's pupils glimmered. "The Isles of Anthemosa. Try imagining clear, sparkling blue-green water, as far as your eyes could see. There were these small islands, covered with trees and flowery meadows and just surrounded by coral reefs with every color of the rainbow. The cliffsides were covered with green and created these private waterway valleys that the sirens would use to swim between the islands." "Oh..." the girl whispered. She leaned her head against her mother's chest, enraptured by the pictures painted in her mind. "That sounds so pretty..." "Yeah...it really was, Forte." In Adagio's reverie, there was an expression that Forte had seen only a handful of times when her mother thought no one was paying attention. Something distant. Tired. Sad even, in the crinkles around the woman's eyes. It was an expression that always brought nervous butterflies to her tummy. Forte reached up with a pudgy hand and lightly tugged at the collar of her mother's sweater. "Mama? Are you okay?" Adagio eyelids fluttered, and like a switch, she smirked down at her daughter's worried face. She readjusted Forte, having the girl sit with her back against her chest before hugging her closer. "Oh hush, I'm fine. I was thinking back is all...a lot of time has passed, but it's so clear in my head." Forte tilted her head back, eyes full of wonder. "Is it still there? Can we go see it?" Adagio winced. She didn't respond right away. Before Forte could ask again, her mother muttered. "Maybe...but even if it is, we have no way of going back to our world." "Huh? Why not?" Adagio's expression grew grave and hardened. "Because a fool of a wizard used his magic to banish us from Equestria." She nearly snarled out. "And here we are. Just a meager one hundred years later." Eyebrows pulling back, Forte turned her head, nervousness creeping into her voice. "Why would he do that...?" "Because. We were powerful. And we were feared." Adagio's tone was even. Matter-of-fact. She leaned forward to rest her chin on the twin buns atop Forte's head. "The ponies called our magic evil and shunned us as 'beasts'. And after we gained power over them and forced them to respect our voices and glory, they thought sending us to another realm was just a fantastic idea." Adagio glared down at the rest of the park below. Humans walked about, alone or in groups, and her pupils narrowed sharply at them. "All this time we've been forced to look like these human scum and bumble our way around this miserable planet. The three of us tried to regain our full power once, and reclaim control so we could once again live freely and with the recognition we sirens deserved." Expression darkening, her jaw tightened. "And not only did the humans rip that away from us...they destroyed our only means of living and protecting ourselves." "Oh..." Forte murmured, balling her fists into her lap. While young, and though Adagio was sure there was only so much a child like herself could grasp, she knew well that her girl was precocious enough to understand her tale to an extent. A silence came between the two. It took several heartbeats before Forte's voice reached her ears. "What about the other sirens? Don't they miss you?" Adagio's form stiffened. But soon enough she forced her muscles to ease up, although her arms wound tighter around her daughter. "They're..." Breathing out deeply, Adagio closed her eyes. "The others are gone, sweetheart. It's just...us. We're what's left." Forte whipped around, then, bug-eyed. "W-what happened?" Adagio's eyes opened halfway, vision unfocused, watching something unfolding before her that only she could see. "The... " She cleared her throat, forcing her voice to be firmer. "The Cataclysm happened. That's what took them away." Puzzled, Forte shot her mother a questioning look. "'Cata'what...?" Adagio heaved a sigh. "Even I don't completely know what happened that day. But..." A bitter smile curled on her lips. "Thanks to...maybe cruel luck. Or timing. Only three stupidly young, stupidly careless sirens survived the fall." Adagio chuckled darkly, eyes lowering tiredly to the grass. "Yeah, just...three very stupid sisters." The young girl's brow furrowed. "You...Aunt Sonata, and Aunt Aria?" Looking down at her daughter, Adagio found Forte's smaller, rounder face staring up at her anxiously. Expression softening, the siren offered the girl a weak half-smile. "That obvious, hun?" A breath was deeply inhaled through the woman's nose, then slowly exhaled through her mouth; her attempt at regaining her composure as she shifted in place. A certain weight under her shirt made itself known, and Adagio brought back a tender smile, remembering what she really wanted to share the most. "But hey. Even if you were born to a family of complete idiots, guess what? You're special." Adagio laughed, whole-hearted and freely, as her daughter perked up, that child-like curiosity returning in the form of a head tilt. "Special?" A deep adoration that only ever seemed to surface when the siren was with her daughter washed over her. Adagio playfully tapped her on the nose. "Yeah, of course. Because even if it's only half, you're a siren, too." Adagio reached up, fondly brushing a thumb against Forte's cheek. "And with you around? Our legacy as sirens gets to live on. And that's undeniably special." Reaching under her high collar, Adagio pulled at a previously hidden silver chain. At the end of it, freed from the confines of her sweater, hung a single palm-sized red gem. While visible cracks broke through its surface, a shard or two missing, the stone shone and reflected Forte's bright expression. Adagio smirked. "Now hold out your hands." As the pendant came to rest within Forte's outstretched palms, the girl saw that, while unnoticed at first, the jewel was giving off the faintest of red glows against her dark skin. Adagio continued, "In Equestria, every siren was born with a gem like this. While we're magical ourselves, this is where we really harnessed our power." "Your necklace is magical?" "When enough energy was stored? Oh, like you wouldn't believe." Adagio chuckled quietly to herself, staring into the reflective surface of her pendant. "This...used to be a part of me, before we came here. When our enemies shattered our gems all those years ago, I was lucky enough to piece mine back together, even if it wasn't the same after. It's helped carry me through these years...but I think I've used it enough." Adagio cupped Forte's hands and closed her fingers tightly around the necklace. "You're a smart girl, Forte. I don't know if being half-human will affect anything. We can certainly test it when you're a bit older, but from now on, it's yours." Forte gawked at her mother. "I...I get to keep it?" "Keep it at home for now, but sure." While the siren brushed back the loose strands on her daughter's head, she took a moment to give Forte a stern squint. "Now you better keep it safe for me. It was an absolute pain having it fixed." "I will!" There was no pause or even the slightest bit of hesitation in Forte's response. She gave her mother the biggest grin she could, revealing a set of slightly pointed canines. Adagio couldn't stop herself from sharing the toothy grin and nuzzling her daughter into a tight hug. It won her a fit of giggles, and Adagio sighed into Forte's hair. "That's my girl..." "Awww...how come Gio doesn't hug US like that, Aria?" "Sonata, you are just...a master at blowing covers, aren't you?" "Hmph! YOU'RE a master!" With the sound of approaching footsteps, Adagio whipped her head around. Behind her on the other side of the hill stood a familiar woman, her streaked blue hair tied back into a looped ponytail. Crossing her arms, Sonata was pouting at another recognizable face beside her, one framed by a short bob of purple and cyan hair. Aria's hands were stuffed within her jean pockets as she walked past Sonata, giving her sister an eye roll as she did. Almost instantaneously, Adagio's air shifted into one far more aggressive. She glowered at her younger sisters, her lip curling and ever so slightly revealing a short fang. "I'm sorry, who said you could follow me here?" "You came home from work, grabbed Forte, and left without a word." Aria shrugged, stopping a few feet behind where Adagio sat. "It's not our fault that you never said not to follow." "And I can't BELIEVE you didn't invite us!" Sonata exclaimed, jumping in next to Aria. It was obvious the violet-haired siren was barely holding back a groan. "I mean it's SUCH a nice day today! We could have pulled out a blanket and had a nice family picnic and-" Distracted by her own irritation, Adagio hadn't noticed her daughter rising up from her lap, holding the gemstone close to her chest. "Sorry Sonata..." Forte ducked her head guiltily. In the blink of an eye, the little girl squeaked as a set of arms swept her up into a second bear hug. "AWW, c'mere, yoooou!" Sonata cooed, cuddling her niece. "Mama Sonata could never be mad at you!" Adagio sputtered in disbelief. Jumping to her feet she marched up to her youngest sibling, prodding a firm finger into her chest. "EXCUSE ME, you little- I don't remember naming you her mom!" As she spoke, Sonata's eyes awkwardly wandered off to the side until she abruptly gasped with the utmost delight. Holding Forte under one arm like a ragdoll, the woman hovered her second hand above her eyes to peer into the distance. "Oh. My. GOD, YOU GUYS, A HOTDOG CART! EVEN BETTER!" A second gasp. "Wait, hold on...you don't think...would they have tacos too?! Tacos are just crunchy hotdogs, right?!" Sonata squealed, practically tossing Forte up and then catching her with both of her arms. It earned her a yell from Adagio, one she either ignored or didn't hear in her state of sheer joy. "WELL I'MMA FIND OUT! Don't worry, Te, big sis's got you!" And with that, she took off running down the incline. The sound of Forte's bubbly laughter faded into the distance as Sonata made a beeline for the food cart at the bottom of the hill. Adagio bristled and cupped her hands around her mouth. "I DON'T REMEMBER ADOPTING YOU, EITHER!" "That's debatable..." Aria muttered, massaging her forehead. "YOU DROP HER AND SHE WON'T BE THE ONLY ONE WITH A CONCUSSION!" A whistle and a slow clap. "Wow. Sure got her there, Adagio." With a growl, Adagio plopped back onto the grass, her searing magenta eyes piercing into Sonata's form. Even from a distance she could make out the confused, overwhelmed expression of the cart owner, no doubt sweating under Sonata's eager questions and demands. "I swear, you two just always have to kill the moment." She didn't turn her head at the sound of rustling grass, signifying Aria taking a seat beside her. A still silence took hold of the air between them, only the sound of distant chatter and the soft breeze meeting their ears. It took a few tense heartbeats before Aria hummed, leaning back on her hands. "...well. Guess that explains why you woke up one day and suddenly wanted to make a human." "Siren." Adagio snapped. Side-eyeing Aria, she huffed. "Should've known you'd eavesdrop too... I swear to Lugh you're both so annoying..." Aria remained unfazed. Surprisingly she neither shot her older sister a challenging look nor a comeback like the defiant middle child Adagio knew she typically was. Aria stared off into space instead, making no move to look at her sister. When she didn't continue immediately, Adagio could feel her patience wearing thinner than it already was. "Well? What of it? If you're planning to mock me you better spit it-" "Was it seriously that hard just to tell us that from the getgo?" Adagio's mouth hung open for a moment, slowly closing as Aria's words processed. She eyed Aria again, taking in the woman's nonchalant posture and air. Yet there was a tension to those purple eyes, even if it wasn't being focused directly onto Adagio herself. Adagio pulled her legs closer to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "...I don't have to tell you anything," she grumbled stubbornly, resting her chin on a knee. "I'm the leader here." "...pft. Oh yeah?" Seeing Aria turn her head in her peripheral, Adagio shifted her gaze to catch her sister raising an eyebrow at her. "You know, I'm so used to you calling us idiots, I never thought you considered yourself one, oh wise leader." It took a moment for Adagio to recall the exact words she had spoken to her daughter. She scoffed. "I'm still with you two, aren't I?" A strong wind blew by, causing the ginger-haired woman to push the curls of her long bangs back. "Honestly...how have we stayed together for this long?" "Gee, it's almost like we're family," Aria answered dryly. Adagio lazily shrugged, turning her head away. "Any of us could have walked away at any point. Especially now. It's not like we can combine our magic anymore." "Uh-huh. Sure." With a grunt, Aria laid back against the grass, propping her head up with her arms. "It's not like you didn't have the past century to do something if you really believed that." Adagio's silence didn't go unnoticed. The older siren's expression was unreadable as she stared blankly at the hill below. Aria lightly rolled her eyes. In a single moment, her sister's silent thoughts were clear to her. "...and if we believed that, we wouldn't still be here, would we? Geez...you really are dumb." "...you talk too much." Adagio muttered, glaring at nothing in particular. The corner of Aria's mouth quirked upward. "Well too bad, loser. You and Forte are stuck with me for the rest of our short, miserable lives here. Sonata too...until she inevitably burns the condo down. Then we'll talk." No response. While Adagio didn't look at her, whether Aria could see it or not, there was just the faintest hint of relief beneath the stress lines of the siren's face. "Yeah, yeah, whatever...I-" Adagio cut herself off, her eyes narrowing. Aria quickly sat up as the older siren threw herself back up to her feet, shouting out furiously with clenched fists; "SONATA, DON'T YOU DARE PILE HOT DOGS ON HER HEAD!" Tension broken, Aria sighed heavily, digging a pinkie into her aching ear. "For Lugh's sake, maybe one day you'll both figure out volume control..." "HAH! Sure. And maybe one day you'll start crocheting cute little trinkets with Sonata." Aria's face wrinkled with disgust. While Adagio ran off, charging towards their younger sister at a speed that almost had Aria pitying her, the violet-haired woman didn't miss the teasing edge to her sarcasm. It was light, genuine, and a very Adagio-like retort that Aria could swear she hadn't heard in years. For so long it was all business, all standoffish, all ways to keep busy and keep her sisters out of her headspace, one that was now just a little less of a mystery. With a stretch and a roll of her neck, Aria stood back up and stuffed her hands into her pockets. Bracing herself, she began her trek down to meet up with the rest of her crazy yet somehow bearable disaster of a family. 

________________________________________________

Here comes Mia, throwing in her first puzzle piece of Destinyverse lore. When you care about yo sis's wellbeing and you’re there for her but you’re too stubborn to say it outright so you have to be weird and indirect about it I’ve come to realize upon writing this chapter that the Dazzlings are my favorite MLP villains. I mean, song-based villains where every one of their songs is freaking bOMB, who are endearing and fun and genuinely threatening?? Holy shit yeh And if you somehow don’t know who they are,behold their final battle that gets me hyped every time. In fact, it's the lyrics in this song that caught my attention and inspired so many of the ideas I have for their potential story. I always felt like there was more to the Dazzlings than just three power-hungry, attention-seeking ancient beasts. Anyway! There will be a Destinyverse Character Headcanon upload about the Dazzlings next, one that’ll go into their history and the aftermath of the Rainbow Rocks film! Most questions will be answered there~ But until then; It was all fun and exciting when the sirens regained the full power of their voices and nearly took over the human world at large. But in the end they lost, and they paid the price with their gems and magic. Stripped of their pride and left utterly defenseless in a world they never quite belonged in, the sirens' loss took its heaviest toll on their once resilient leader. After a long road of struggle to regain security in their lives, Adagio - to the shock and complete bafflement of Sonata and Aria - one day abruptly decided to have a progeny of her own, no explanations. And with the power of science and a donor, Adagio was able to have what became the little spark of hope she desired in her life; Forte Fermata, her half-human, half-siren daughter. One may remember her from her first appearance in “First Day”. There will be more to come for this family.

[fruitquake]

Prompt 51 for Wolfstar! Thank you ❤

So I basically decided to turn this into a birthday fic for Remus ‘cause tomorrow, March 10th is his birthday. So happy birthday, Remus!

Also, I am actually quite proud of this, which doesn’t usually happen so I hope y’all enjoy it.

The first thing Remus became aware of was the thumping pain in his head. He opened his eyes slowly, staring up at the bedroom ceiling. He didn’t remember anything from last night, but then again, he never did. As always, the blurriness roused a feeling of panic in him. What if something really bad had happened last night, what if he’d hurt someone?

He tried to sit up, but his whole body protested against it. He became aware of so much more pain, and his vision became strangely blurred. Groaning, he let himself fall back against his pillow.

The door opened and Sirius entered the bedroom. Remus noticed a few scratches and bruises on the man’s face and arms, but he didn’t seem to have been severely injured in any way. That was always Remus’ greatest fear.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Sirius smiled softly and sat down at the edge of Remus’ bed. “How are you feeling, love?”

Remus’ throat felt dry and sore. He cleared it a few times before answering Sirius’ question. “‘M alright.” His voice came out as nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

Sirius sighed quietly, concern etched upon his face. “Hm, last night’s full moon really didn’t treat you well, huh?” He placed a hand on Remus’ forehead, feeling his temperature. “Oh, that fever isn’t good either,” he muttered.

Remus sighed. “Y’know, you don’t have to take care of me like this after every full moon,” he said, his voice not quite as hoarse this time.

“What are you talking about?” Sirius gently brushed a curly strand of hair out of Remus’ eye. “I’m your husband, it’s my job to take care of you.”

Remus snorted. “I’m sorry, that must be a really shitty job.”

“Actually, I don’t mind.” Sirius smiled, taking his hand and giving it a light squeeze. “That reminds me, I made soup for you. It’s cold now, but I’ll heat it for you if you want.”

Remus shook his head, wincing at the pain it caused. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry,” he said.

“Please,” Sirius said. “You need to eat something.”

“I can’t.” Remus felt nauseous just at the thought of eating.

“I’ll heat it for you and you can try to eat just a little bit.”

He didn’t even wait for Remus to say something before getting up and walking out of the door, returning shortly after with a bowl of steaming soup.

Remus pushed himself up into a sitting position, wincing at the pain in his ribs. Sirius handed him the bowl and a spoon and sat down beside him again. “It’s hot so be careful.”

Remus nodded, taking a spoonful of soup, careful to blow on it before putting it in his mouth.

As much as Remus didn’t want to eat anything, he had to admit: the soup was wonderful and nicely warm. “It tastes great, thank you,” he said, smiling at Sirius.

“I know, I’m a master chef.” Sirius grinned.

Remus chuckled. “Last time you tried to cook, you set the oven on fire,” he said, taking another spoonful of soup.

Sirius smiled proudly. “That didn’t happen this time. Mainly because I didn’t use the oven,” he added as an afterthought.

“Oh, and I forgot to say this before! I don’t know how I forgot.” He took Remus’ hand, intertwining their fingers. “Happy birthday love,” he said, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Shit, that’s right,” Remus muttered. “I had forgotten.”

Sirius sighed. “Really bad timing with the full moon, huh? I talked to James and Lily and the others and we’re gonna host a party for you in a couple of days when you’re better.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Remus said. “You know I don’t really like birthday parties all that much.”

“I insist,” Sirius said. “It’ll probably just be everyone coming over to get drunk. But until then, I’ve got a present for you.” He smiled excitedly, pulling something out from underneath the bed, something wrapped in red and gold wrapping paper.  “C’mon, open it,” he said, handing Remus the present.

Remus set aside the soup and started tearing away the wrapping paper. “You better not have bought some expensive shit for me,” he warned.

“Of course not!” Sirius said. “I know you don’t like expensive gifts. No, this is something I’ve made. You’re gonna love it.”

“Made?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Open it and you’ll see.” Sirius was grinning excitedly, following Remus’ every move as he tore away the paper, finally revealing some sort of leatherbound book.

He gave Sirius a puzzled look. “A book?”

“Well, it isn’t just a book,” Sirius said, still grinning.

Still utterly confused, Remus opened the book to the first page, where a message was written in black ink. He recognized Sirius’ handwriting:

Dear Remus,James and Lily helped me collect all these photos from the best moment of my life: our wedding.I hope you’ll enjoy the memories as much as I did.Happy 21st birthday.

Remus smiled, looking up at Sirius. “You made a photo album from our wedding? Sirius, that’s so sweet!”

“I know,” he said. “Now look at the pictures.”

Sirius crawled into bed with Remus, who cuddled up against him, resting his head on Sirius’ shoulder. Together they flipped through the pages, looking at the photos of their wedding and talking about the memories.

“Remember the cake?” Sirius stopped at a photo of their wedding cake, huge, glazed in white and decorated with all kinds of chocolate ornaments.

“That was the best fucking cake I’ve ever had,” Remus said, his mouth watering just from looking at the photo.

Sirius chuckled. “I know, babe. You ate like half the cake by yourself.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Remus said, smiling, as he flipped to the next page.

The first picture to catch his eye was one of him and Sirius on the dance floor. They were smiling and laughing, obviously in the middle of some kind of waltz. “God, we look so carefree.” Remus sighed happily.

Sirius chuckled. He obviously had his eye on a different photo, the one below, featuring a very drunk James doing a ridiculous dance while making silly faces at the camera.

“Wow, James was so drunk,” Sirius laughed, looking fondly at the picture of their best friend.

“So were you, as I remember,” Remus said, smiling.

“Fair enough.” Sirius smiled back.

Still smiling, Remus flipped through a few more pages, appreciating the photos. “This is an amazing gift,” he said, reaching up to kiss Sirius’ cheek.

“And we can look through it again later,” Sirius said. “But right now you need to get some rest.”

Remus nodded, only now realizing how exhausted he was. “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” he muttered, dropping back down onto his pillow.

Sirius put the photo album on the bedside table and made to stand up, but Remus grabbed his wrist to stop him. “You want me to stay?” Sirius asked, smiling.

“Yes,” Remus muttered sleepily. “I want cuddles.”

Sirius chuckled and crawled back into bed with Remus, putting his arms around him and pulling him into a warm embrace.

“I hope this was an okay birthday, all things considered,” Sirius said, placing a soft kiss on Remus’ forehead.

“Mmh.” Remus closed his eyes and cuddled closer to Sirius, already half asleep. “It was perfect. Thanks, pads,” he mumbled, right before falling asleep, in the arms of the man he loved.

[r0guewrites]

Three Strikes and You're In

This was done as a collaboration between myself and @polarbearsign as we were both going to write something as a gift for @miaaka​, but we both didn't think we would finish it that quickly so we decided that we could write one together so that it comes out sooner than anything we would be able to write on our own.

This was our first time co-authoring a fic so it was an interesting experience.

Summary: Three times Kanon tries to kiss Misaki, and one time she succeeds.

The first time Kanon tries to kiss Misaki, she loses her nerve.

There were the last to leave the studio, as usual, and Misaki was still in Michelle’s costume. Ever since Hello Happy World was formed, it became an unspoken rule that the two of them were the last to leave, so that Misaki could take her time to get out of Michelle’s costume unsuspectingly.

“...Are they gone?” Kanon hears the exasperation in Misaki’s voice from inside of Michelle, yet, there’s also a tinge of annoyed affection that lingers in her tone that almost makes Kanon smile. Despite how often Misaki gets exasperated with the rest of Hello Happy World, Kanon knows that deep down, the raven-haired girl still treasures them a lot.

“Yes…”

“Great.” Misaki lets out a groan as she finally removes Michelle’s head. Her face is flushed red as sweat glistens at the side of her forehead. She sighs in relief once she’s able to feel the cool air against her warm face.

“It’s too hot in there…” Misaki groans again as removes the rest of the costume, and slumps against the wall.

And then it is Kanon’s turn to feel that the air around her is suddenly too warm. She finds herself staring at Misaki, her gaze never leaving the other girl’s, as it traces the way droplets of sweat slide down Misaki’s neck-

Kanon feels her face burst into flames, her throat suddenly dry. She’s gripped with this sudden urge to pull her girlfriend against her and claim those soft pink lips. Without thinking, Kanon takes a step forward and is about to reach out when Misaki’s voice halts her in her steps, and she finds herself blushing furiously at what she had been about to do.

“Say, Kanon-san?”

Kanon swallows. Get a hold of yourself, Kanon. The light-haired girl reminds herself to breathe.

“Y-Yes?”

“Could you…” Misaki gestures to her side awkwardly, her words coming in a tumble, “um...that is…”

It hasn’t been long since they got together but Kanon understands what Misaki is trying to say. It is moments such as these that fills Kanon’s heart with warmth and affection for the younger girl. Despite how the raven-haired girl looks, she can be a tad shy sometimes.

Kanon nods, and without hesitation, heads over to her girlfriend’s side. Misaki scoots a little to the left to make space for Kanon and immediately relaxes when she feels Kanon’s hand against hers.

“Feel free to rest for a while, Misaki-chan,” Kanon says softly, just as the older girl drifts off against her shoulder.

Kanon regards Misaki fondly, brushing the soft locks of hair that sticks to the raven-haired girl’s forehead to the side.

Just for a little while. Kanon thinks to herself as she leans against the side of Misaki’s head and closes her eyes.

The second time Kanon tries to kiss Misaki, she ends up spilling her drink.

The small coffee shop was comfy at this time of the evening. The setting sun casts a beautiful orange hue inside the shop that just makes everything glow with a radiance that can only be truly appreciated if you are there in person.

The two of them were just around the corner from the bar and, from where they were sitting, it looks like they had the entire place to themselves.

“It’s nice here,” Misaki finished glancing around the room to look at the girl across from her. “Thank you for taking me.”

“H-Huh… oh…” The light blue-haired girl’s lips curl into a smile. “I… I know how hot you can get in the… suit… so I thought you might want to cool down somewhere.”

“Ah yes… coffee... the best way to cool down.” A light blush creeps onto Kanon’s face.

“Th-Tha-”

“I know what you mean Kanon-san, you don’t need to worry.” Misaki couldn't resist a smile as she watches the flustered girl across from her breathe a sigh of relief. Sometimes, Kanon was just too adorable.

Kanon feels a warmth spread through her body and knew it wasn’t from just the coffee. Misaki’s smile just has this effect on her that makes her heart beat faster, igniting a fire in her cheeks, and she finds herself drawn towards her girlfriend’s lips. Why… am I feeling like… I want to kiss her again. She subconsciously glances over her shoulder. There is no one that could see them if they did. No one… She stands up a little leaning forward and...sends her coffee spilling all over the table.

“K-Kanon!” Misaki exclaims as she jumps up, narrowly avoiding the hot liquid as it pours off the edge of the table. “Wh… How?”

“S-Sorry…” Kanon’s cheeks felt like they could set themselves on fire any second now, as she starts to panic, looking around for something to clean the spillage up with.

Luckily, the commotion is overheard by a member of staff. Once the staff member sees what has happened, it is cleaned up in a matter of seconds.

“S-Sorry…” Kanon apologises again, half to the staff member, but mostly to Misaki. She feels bad for having caused trouble and wishes she’s able to be more smooth, perhaps like Kaoru.

“Don’t worry about it.” Misaki takes Kanon’s hand in her own to reassure her. “I still had a lot of fun out here with you.”

The third time Kanon tries to kiss Misaki, she kisses Michelle.

It had become a small tradition for them that Kanon would be there waiting for Misaki as she returns from a day as Michelle. It had started as a small surprise that the light blue-haired girl wanted to pull, but it had just been such a cute reaction that Kanon couldn’t help but make it a reoccurring thing.

So here she was, sitting down watching the seconds tick by on a nearby clock with one eye and the other watching the door for any sign of movement. Sometimes this could take hours, but she knows that if Misaki was late, it was just because of how much the children loved Michelle.

Her lips smile as she remembers the faces of pure joy on the small faces of the children as they run to hug the lovable pink bear. I don’t blame them. She takes a deep breath, just as the door swings open with a force, causing a gust of wind to fly in, blowing Kanon’s hair in front of her face.

When it clears a big pink figure is standing in the doorway.

Kanon’s eyes sparkle with the same enthusiasm as the kids on the street and she runs over to hug the bear. “Welcome back!”

The door closes behind them as the fluffy arms wrap around the blue haired girl. “Thank you, Kanon-san.”

As Kanon pushes away, she looks up and stares at the face of Michelle. It’s as if she’s able to sense and feel the intense gaze from the younger girl in the costume. Kanon feels her heart begin to race and without thinking she pushes her lips forward to press against the lips of the bear.

“K-Kanon-san?” Misaki’s voice comes from in the suit as she tries to figure out what is going on. “Wh-What are you…” Her voice trails off as Kanon pulls away, the gears clicking into place in her head, placing the final piece of the puzzle. “D-Did you…”

She reaches up and pulls the head of the suit off. “...kiss…” She looks at the head and then to the blushing girl in front of her.

“S-Sorry I d-don’t know what I was…” Kanon tries to defend herself, stopping when she feels something touch her arm. Her gaze drops to see the arm of Michelle on her own.

“Kanon…” Misaki says as their gazes meet. Despite being smouldered from being inside the bear all day, Misaki feels her body heat up rapidly. Her heart races and she moves to reduce the distance between them.

The next thing they know, their eyes are closed and their lips are pressing against each other. Misaki slides the pink arms of the bear behind Kanon, pulling her into the fur of the suit.

After a short while, they finally break apart, both staying within a few inches of the other’s face, slightly breathless.

Misaki is the one that breaks the short silence that had fallen. “It’s okay Kanon-san…”

“Misaki-chan…I-hnng-”

Kanon’s words are immediately cut off by the feeling of Misaki’s lips on hers again.

“We can talk later, right, Kanon-san?” The raven-haired girl whispers hoarsely, and Kanon nods dumbly, dazed.

Misaki grins cheekily at Kanon before she swoops in for yet another kiss.

[fandammit]

for the 100 meme - sinclair

A/N: I know that this is very Raven centric, but it’s all told from Sinclair’s perspective, so I guess it counts? I just have a different Raven & Sinclair planned that’s set during S2/3 time jump. 

The 100 Meme: Eight characters [1/8] - Jacapo Sinclair (aka 2400 words on Raven and Sinclair’s backstory lmao I’m ridiculous)

“I added extra garlic in your soup.” He gestures over to the tidily packed leftovers on the kitchen counter. “The bread will probably go bad in another two days, so don’t wait too long to eat it.”

Normally, he wouldn’t say anything - just hand her the food with a small, sardonic smile and be grateful that she actually takes it. It’s taken nearly three years of weekly dinners with him and Liona for Raven to accept the small bit of help that he knows she needs.  

Early on, she’d flat out refused to take any food home with her. He gathered that she was smart enough to realize that Liona’s dinner invite to their shared favorite student was partially because they both really did enjoy having her in class, and partially an attempt to make sure she was getting enough food. In addition to a brilliant mind, Raven also has an almost pathological inability to accept help of any kind. Which meant he had spent week after week coming up excuses for why she needed to take food home - Liona had made too much, she was the only one who could stomach the amount of basil he’d ‘accidentally’ tossed into the soup, their protein ration would go bad in the next day.

After weeks of crafting increasingly outrageous reasons for why she needed to take the leftovers home with her, Raven had finally stopped him one night midway through a fabricated story involving a ration mix-up and a failed experiment in the kitchen.

“As much as I like hearing about the weekly adventures of the Sinclairs attempting to cook dinner, I’ll just take the food and nix storytime.”

She’d said it with one eyebrow cocked, sarcasm dripping off of every word. But he’d known her well enough by then to hear the sincere look of thanks in her eyes.

She had taken the food and, in a surprising bit of affection, given Liona a hug before hurrying out of their home.

He remembers turning to Liona then, arms crossed in front of him, a rare smile stretched across his features.

“Guess she got tired of hearing my stories.”

Liona had snorted, then shook her head at him and patted him fondly on the cheek.

“I think she just finally believes that we aren’t going anywhere.”

Tonight, though, he points out the food to her - partially as an inside joke, partially because she’s so distracted that he’s afraid she’ll leave without it.

She looks up from the dinner table and nods at him, a faraway look in her eyes that he swears looks almost guilty, tinged with something that he can’t quite place. He frowns.

“Raven,” he says, and he can see her start at the sound of her first name. These days he makes sure to call her by her last name, same as anyone else on the team - as if doing so will make everyone forget that he had all but handpicked her for the Zero G program about five minutes after she stepped into his apprenticeship class, that he’d had to fight four different levels of bureaucracy to get her certified.

She looks at him and - there it is again - that look of guilt. Something else, too, that gives him reason to pause for a moment. He tries to get a better look at the expression on her face but she ducks her head back down quickly.

If he didn’t know better, he’d swear it was fear.

He draws his brows together. He’s seen ten different shades of Raven’s anger, witnessed her frustration, very rarely recognized anxiety. But he cannot recall a signal instance of fear - not when it became clear she’d have to move out on her own, or when she first stepped out into zero g. Not even when Finn got put into lockup. For every moment that others might show fear, Raven Reyes had only gritted her teeth together and moved forward with grim determination.

He can tell that she’s been distracted this past week. And, unfortunately, despite working together, the only dedicated one on one time he ever gets to spend with Raven are at these weekly dinners. This next week, especially, he knows he won’t even be in the engineering quarter, but will instead be monitoring the status of the 100 from Earth Monitoring.

So he leans in and gives her a questioning look.

“Is everything ok?” He tilts his head down to try and catch her eye.“You’ve just been pretty distracted these past few days.”

She bites her lip and just stares at him, seeming to consider something that’s just beyond his grasp.

Finally, she shakes her head as though clearing it, then turns a corner of her lip up.

“I don’t think I’ve ever said it, but I - I hope you’ve always known that - .” She stops abruptly and looks down, tracing the worn patterns in their hand-me-down kitchen table. She clears her throat and looks back up at him. “I’ve really appreciated everything you and Liona have done for me these last few years.” She scratches the tabletop, suddenly unable to meet his eye. “You took care of me.” She glances over at the food on the kitchen counter and smiles. “Even when I didn’t think I needed it.”  

He waits for her to glance up at him before he nods.

“We’ve always known, Raven.” He hesitates for a moment, then lays a hand on her shoulder. He’s never been a particularly affectionate person - that’s more of Liona’s purview - but something in Raven’s expression makes him think she might need it right now. “Wanna talk about what’s been on your mind?”

She gives him a long look before she shrugs and looks away.  

“You know, I just haven’t been able to see Finn these last few days, so it makes me moody.” He manages - just barely - not to wince at the boy’s name. It had been his suggestion to put Finn on the list of the 100 - a genuine, last ditch attempt to save the life of the boy that Raven loved; still, he can’t but feel guilty when faced now with the direct consequences of his choice. “And,” she continues, a bit more expressive than she’s been all night, “Liona’s soup was really good tonight, so I thought I should stop being an asshole for a moment and actually thank you both for putting up with me.”

He tips his head up and studies her expression. He wishes that Liona hadn’t gone to bed early with a migraine - he’s almost certain she could get Raven to talk about what’s obviously on her mind. He’s always been less inclined to push than she is, so instead he just lets out a long breath and smiles.

“I’ll let her know.”

Raven nods and pushes herself back from the table, then walks over and lifts the bag of food from the countertop. She glances over at him - a still, inscrutable look that worries him for a reason he can’t quite place - then shrugs her jacket on. She turns towards the door but stops halfway and whips back around to face him.

“Give her my love, ok? And just - .” She blows out a shaky breath and shakes her head, then walks quickly over to him and throws her arms around him. “Thank you, Sinclair,” she says, and he finally get over his shock enough to wrap his arms back around her. She drops her head against his shoulder and sighs. “You believe in me?” And it must the fact that the words are muffled by his shoulder that it comes out in present tense, more a question than a statement. But he knows what she means, anyway. He squeezes her shoulders before stepping away from her. “I’ve always believed in you, Raven.”

She nods, then smiles at him, a teasing glint to it.

“A little self serving, don’t you think? After all, I learned basically everything I know from you.”

He grins at her.

“Who better to learn from?”

Her smile softens, and she reaches out to give him one last hug.

“Don’t forget that, ok?”

Before he has time to puzzle through her question or her sudden bout of physical affection, she turns and very quickly walks out of their home.

He stares at the closed door and shakes his head, resolves to be a little more persistent at what’s bothering her at the next weekly dinner.

But of course there is no next weekly dinner.

Abby walks into Earth Monitoring Station, her eyes immediately moving up to the widescreen at the front of the open bay. He tracks her movements, sees the way she rubs the marks on her wrist before resting her hands on Jake’s ring at her neck. Some part of him knows that she only did what she thought was right, that she had meant to go with Raven, that she truly believes what she did will work.

But the part that’s closer to the surface, that’s rising up in a roaring wave of anger and agony can only think this: that Raven is shooting towards space in a hundred year old ship, cobbled from spare scrap metal, held together by Raven’s ingenuity and Abby’s convictions.

He walks slowly over to her and stands beside her, keeping his eyes trained on the screen in front of them. A screen that tells them both everything but what they want to know.

“Liona had Raven in her math class when Raven was ten,” he begins without preamble. “She was four years younger than everyone in there and scored twice as high as the rest. She started her Engineering apprenticeship with me a full two years before she was technically eligible. She’s been coming to our house for a weekly dinner for the last three years.” He keeps his eyes focused in front of him. Doesn’t trust himself to face Abby. “How well do you know Raven, Abby?”

His voice is level and flat; someone who didn’t know better might very well might mistake it for emotionless.

But Abby does know better; has, in fact, known him since they were both children growing up together on Alpha Station. So when she glances over at him, he knows it’s to gauge just how angry he really is.

Her sharp intake of breath tells him she’s figured it out.

“I know that you believed in her enough to overturn four different levels of bureaucracy. I know that she’s the youngest Zero G Mechanic in 50 years. ” She glances over at him. “And I know that your judgment is never off.”

His mouth thins to a stiff line.

“I wish I could say the same about you.”

He sees her close her eyes momentarily.

“I had to, Sinclair. For Clarke.” She looks over at him. “If Raven had been down there with her, you would’ve done whatever it took.”

He gives a curt nod.

“Yes.” He turns towards her and stares at her intently. “But if I were sending Jackson out, I’d at least let you know.” He grits his jaw. “I’d at least let you say goodbye.”

Abby bows her head, then nods before turning to face him, her eyes wide and earnest.

“She’s going to make it, Sinclair. I really believe that.”

He wants to say that believing doesn’t make it so, that it won’t hold together rusted parts during re-entry or keep Raven safe in the coldest reaches of space.

But he can’t. Because belief is all he has now, too.

It’s two weeks after the fall of Mount Weather before he and Raven have a chance to drive out to the site of her crash landed spaceship.

He stares at the broken, twisted pieces of it; sees her dried blood splattered on the chair, the ripped up wires, and imagines the thousand and one different permutations of how it could’ve all gone wrong.

All of a sudden, he’s angry at Abby all over again, nauseated at the thought of Raven hurtling through the darkness of space, hurt that she hadn’t come to him for help.

He doesn’t vocalize any of this, of course. Just turns to Raven with his arms crossed in front of him.

“You came down in that?” He aims for incredulous, but words come out sharp and accusatory instead.  

She arches a brow at his tone.

“What, I made it, didn’t I?”

He huffs and shakes his head. Neither of them make a move towards the scrap metal that barely passes for a spaceship in front of them. Instead, he glances over at her.

“I would’ve helped you, you know.”

She rocks back on her heels, then looks down at the ground.

“I was afraid that you’d stop me.”

He gives her a wry look.

“Raven, I’ve yet to see anyone - myself included - stop you from doing something you have your mind set on.”

She grins at him before she nods.

“It turned out alright.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. She’s right, of course. But he still remembers the sinking feeling in his stomach when Kane rushed in to tell him what had happened, those long, drawn out hours when he replayed that last scene in his kitchen, wondering what he could’ve done, what he should’ve said, praying to a god that he didn’t even believe in.

He breathes out heavily.

“A lot could’ve gone wrong,” he finally says.

She lets out a laugh that’s more bitter than anything, then balances herself against him as she shuffles on her brace.

“A lot has gone wrong, Sinclair.”

She grimaces and he frowns at the sweat that’s beading on her forehead from the pain of standing upright. He wants to direct them both to a fallen down log so that she can sit down and get off of her leg, but he knows she’d only glare at him. So instead, he loops his arm around her shoulders to steady her and hopes it can be enough for right now.

“But we’re both still here,” he says after a quiet moment. It’s not quite optimism, but it’s a brand of hopeful that he thinks is still honest.

She smiles up at him. It’s a small gesture, held up weakly by the edges of her lips, but he’s glad to see it reach her eyes.

“Yeah,” she says softly, leaning into him, “at least there’s that.”

[skullsmuldon]

Soul in the dark

okay because I had some time I finished chapter 22 and 23 should be ready by saturday :)

The other chapters are here

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5968794/chapters/13717338

thanks to @justholdinghandsok​ for reading it even if she might hate me when she sees the next chapters :D

so enjoy :)

chapter 22

With every minute that the video lasted, any remaining doubts vanished from the paler-getting faces of the jurors. A shocked silence hung in the court room, in which no one dared to breathe too loudly. The spokesman of the jury waved his hand and signaled to the judge that this was enough.

After less than 10 minutes, the judgment for Donnell was made.

Lifelong imprisonment.

The whole room exhaled audible, Mulder and Skinner exchanged relieved glances. They both looked over at Scully, whom the verdict had not elicited no discernible reaction. Mulder grew concerned by her lack of response to the verdict. He still held her close to him, his hand laying comfortingly on her shoulder.

The three waited until the room had emptied, before they went to go out too. Skinner said his goodbyes to Scully and Mulder. Scully still hadn't said much. She just thanked Skinner and said her good-byes as well. As Skinner turned to go his concern matched the worry on Mulders face. But Skinner knew there was nothing he could do for his Agent. Just when Skinner was going to go, Mulder told Scully to stay put for a second and hurried after him. After a brief conversation, he went back to Scully, who had certainly no idea, about what the two had talked. And at the moment she didn't care too much about it either. She just wanted to go home. She wanted to leave all of this behind her. She wanted to never hear of Donnell’s name again.

Back at Scullys side, he looked at her worriedly. She had, besides the goodbye to Skinner, not made a sound.

"Scully?" Mulder hesitantly spoke to her. Not sure how much comfort she would tolerate, how much of his touches she would allow.

„Hm?" her mind clearly was somewhere else.

"Let's go.“ Mulder took her arm and led her with his other hand on the small of her back through the building.

No sooner had Mulder driven out of the parking garage, he noticed that Scully was asleep. Her head rested against the window. That sleep overcame her so quickly showed how much energy and strength this court hours had costed her. He loved her face, because when she slept, she looked so contented, wiped out were all her worries and anxieties overshadowing her face during the day. He reached over and softly brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Instead of remaining in Washington, Mulder decided to bring her to one of his favorite places. He hoped it would please her. She needed a break, they both needed a change of scenery. He stopped shortly in front of her apartment, after making sure she was still asleep he ran inside and grabbed Scully’s always packed travel bag and disappeared back into the car. He noted with a smile that Scully had not moved an inch. He had his own bag in the trunk as usual. Skinner had previously, at the courthouse, fully understood and welcomed the fact that the two took a break. Without hesitation, he gave Mulder the okay for a free week.

Mulder smiled as he watched Scully sleep. Covering her with his coat, he gently pulled out of the parking space, trying not to wake her up with his style of driving.

7 hours later

Mohegan Trail, Block Island, RI

Mulder drove along, the seemingly infinite seaside bluffs. The dawn would begin in only one hour. When he turned the tires, the car jolted on the rocky unpaved ground of the driveway. The private road was only a few hundred meters long.

The car stopped in front of a Canadian-style built, brown and generous seeming wooden house. The house was surrounded by wildflowers and a big weeping willow sitting in front of the house. Mulder got out of the car and stretched his stiff limbs. The air was cooler than in DC, but free of the dust and dirt of the city. It was as if one could taste the ocean with every breath and so he let his gaze wander awhile upon the wonderful views over the cliffs of the infinite ocean.

He could hardly remember when he had last been here, but he remembered sitting under the weeping willows shadow and reading his favorite books.  His eyes saw an envelope hanging on the front door of the house. Leisurely, his limbs still stretching, he walked up to the door. The stairs creaking under his weight. He opened the envelope and read the note inside.

Hello Fox,

I have uncovered all the furniture and cleaned the house. Fresh towels are in the bathroom cabinets. In the fridge there is enough food for a week. Fruits and vegetables are in the pantry of the kitchen.

Firewood is behind the house in the adjoining shed. The key to the wine cellar is located at the entrance on the side table of the dresser. If you need anything at all, let me know.

Regards Lucia

P.S I took the liberty to cook you a dinner, it is in the oven so you just have to heat it up.

Mulder smiled and folded the note back together. Lucia had always taken care of the house, if his family was not on the island. When he was young, Lucia and his mother had spent several evenings together. She was more than just a housekeeper to their family and Mulder had always been fond of her. She always made him extra cookies and he remembered her colorful dresses. He remembered how Lucia once tried to teach him a spanish song but he ended up just listening because she had a lovely singing voice. She always called him mi guapo zorro and Mulder knew she always had a soft spot for him too.

He looked back to the car and decided to wake Scully up. He had to admit that he was surprised that she had not even woken up once throughout the journey. Quietly, he opened the passenger door and lovingly stroked the hair from her face.

Mulder gently stroked her cheek trying to coax her awake gently „Time to wake up Sleeping Beauty" Mulders smooth and familiar voice came through to Scully like a soft melody. She stirred slowly and muttered something under her breath, „just a moment ... only 5 more minutes…“ Mulder could hardly suppress his laughter. "Come on Scully, you sleepyhead, wake up, we are here.“  The amusement in his tone managed to finally pull Scully from her sleep. Mulders eyes still sparkled with laughter.

"I'm sorry ... I must have dozed off“ Scully rubbed her eyes trying to sweep the sleep away.

"Yes, but it seems this seven hour nap was what you urgently needed.“ Mulder said smiling and with a twinkle in his eyes.

Confused, she looked at him "7 hours ?!" as the salty cool air was blowing in her face, she knew that she wasn't in D.C anymore. "Mulder ... Where ... Where are we?"

"Block Island" he answered her, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And what do we do here, if I may ask," Scully's skepticism did not go unnoticed by Mulder.

„Vacationing" he said happily.

Doubtfully, her eyebrow rose up a notch"Vacationing?!"

„Yeah, Scully a vacation. I thought we could spend a few nice days away from DC and since I haven't been here in a long time too, I thought that's the perfect opportunity. In addition to that, the house belongs to my family, so the argument about spending too much money is pointless too. Come on, let's go inside.“ Mulder was excited about having Scully here. He wanted their time to be one they could remembered fondly in a few years. He happily grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the car. Scully let herself being pulled out of the car, inhaling the fresh ocean air. Mulders excitement wasn't lost on her. His voice always reveled what he was feeling anyway.

Puzzled, Scully let Mulder accompany her into the house. It smelled wonderfully of wood, cinnamon and orange blossom. She wondered why Mulder had never mentioned this property.

Satisfied, the two sat on the sofa, which stood in the middle of the living room, where a wonderful view of the sea was released through the glass front windows. Mulder took a deep breath and enjoyed the quiet moment of peace with Scully sitting by his side. It wasn't lost on Scully that while they were sitting Mulder still held onto her hand. She could sit here forever knowing he was holding her hand. She hadn't felt that content for a long time as she did right at this moment.

Scully broke the silence in the room "Mulder .... Thank you"

With a joyful smile, he replied relaxed "You're welcome Scully, I've been meaning to come back  here for a while now and I thought now would be a good time to do so.“

With a familiar gesture Scully put her hand on his cheek and stroked it. "Thanks for everything Mulder, bringing me here, the last few weeks and the days at court. I know I was pretty obnoxious and I know it wasn't and isn't easy with me.“ The heat that flowed from his cheek through her hand led her pulse speed up, but before she could conjure up something that could harm their relationship her delicate fingers left his cheek. She swallowed thickly. Shyly casting her face down, so Mulder wouldn't see the blush covering her cheeks.

"Oh Scully, I knew from the beginning that you were quite the challenge. And I do not know about  you, but I'm dying of hunger.“  Mulder pushed himself up from the couch because he wasn't sure how to handle the closeness of the moment. He wasn't sure how much space Scully needed or how much she would appreciate his romantic advances. He knew Scully hated being treated like a fragile doll, but Mulder couldn't help himself. He knew she was far from being his old Scully. So before his emotions could get out of hand, he needed to put some distance between them. As he stood next to the couch, he took a look at Scully and he made a promise to himself that he would be the friend she needed and that he would make sure that she would eat enough, get enough sleep and tried to heal her soul. He made that silent promise to himself and Scully, that he would be everything she needed him to be. So his first task was looking that they both had a decent meal. Putting his lingering romantic feelings as side. He was sure there was a time for that in he future but right now it was the most important thing to help Scully getting over the events of the last months.

"Mulder, is there a porch?"

"Yes there is and it is right on the cliffs overlooking the ocean, why do you ask?“ Mulder saw the nervous fidgeting of her hands. Her voice somehow seemed tense. His eyes furrowed together drawing lines of concern on his forehead.

"I ... can you take me there, I would like sit outside to enjoy the air, if that’s not a problem?!" there again he could see the shy Scully. The one he didn't get to see often. For Mulder, there was no reason for this timidity, he loved to fulfill those small, but apparent to Scully, important wishes. Without hesitation Mulder was at her side, grabbed her hands, pulled her up and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow to guide her to the porch. His big hand rested on top of her smaller one, a soft smile flashed across Scullys face. She secretly loved being cared for by Mulder even though she would never admit that to him. It felt natural and not one bit like she was a burden to him.

After he had led Scully out onto the porch, she made herself comfortable in an armchair. The wind, enchanted Scully's hair into wafting waves. Mulder left her sitting in the armchair.

Back in the living room, Mulder grabbed a blanket and went back to Scully.

"Here," he enveloped her in the huge blanket, so that the cooler getting breeze could not cool her down too much. Scully smiled a contented smile as Mulder left her behind in her woolen blanket cocoon to look after their dinner. Before he entered the house again, Mulder looked at Scully, securely wrapped up in her blanket. He hadn’t even been here with her for more than a couple of hours but he already wished they could stay here forever.

30 minutes later

Mulder had set the table and took care of the food, it smelled deliciously of spices. He went off to get Scully. She sat at the exact same place, in the exact same position, wrapped in the blanket. Her gaze, directed at the vastness of the sea even if she couldn't see it.

"Hey Scully, dinner is ready“ Mulder kept his voice soft as to not scare her out of her thoughts.

Scully turned her head to him only half way "Okay, I think I can remember the way back inside, I'll be inside in a second.“

Mulder stepped closer to her and looked at her eyes. Her eyes looked at him with uncertainty, with urgency and also with a fear, as if she was going to fall down of another cliff.

How he would like to erase everything she had experienced from her thoughts. How he would like  to take the fear away from her and tell her that sometimes there are dark and gray winters in your life, but that they are just there so you can experience the shinning colors of the spring again. All the years that he had known her, she stood seemingly indestructible over everything. But now he saw her hesitantly wavering on the edge of a cliff.

If she only knew that it was okay to fall, because he was standing at the bottom of the cliff, ready to catch her and to show her that the prospect of life, from below, was not so bad.

Quietly, he sat down on the chair next to her. "Mulder, you don't need to wait out here, I’ll really come right in." The wind had taken on some strength and seemed to perform a wild shadow fight with the strands of her hair.

"I know, but I want to.“ was his short, smiling answer. Out of the corner of his eye he discreetly watched her.

No matter where the wind would take her, he would let himself be carried away in the same direction. Because only when the spring would advent in her life again, his world could also shine in warm colors again. That’s why he would follow her everywhere. She was the spark that ignited the bonfire in his heart and soul. No matter if this meant going to the end of the world or the darkest places of her soul, he would always follow her.

[btshodown]

Terrible Things (Seokjin x Reader)

I’m a horrible human being. That’s all I can really say about this. I got inspiration at 3 am and finished it right now…it is now 6 am. Excuse me while I go to sleep in fetal position. 

Genre: …..Why

Word Count: 2,253

Song recommendation: Terrible Things by Mayday Parade …..lol Good luck.

“Appa, when did you first fall in love?”

 The question caught him off guard as Seokjin turned to look at his only son, still young and wide-eyed with innocence at the tender age of 15. They had been eating breakfast before his question startled the man out of his thoughts; it was a lazy Sunday morning filled with a delicious breakfast he made. Sunday’s were his only true days off and he took advantage of such days to spend time with his son to uphold the Sunday tradition they had of spending the day together. Although, he suddenly lost his appetite at the conversation he had been dreading to have.

 Was it already time to answer such questions? He had hoped he had more time before having to go through this conversation. His son was still young after all.

 Seokjin lets out a soft sigh and lets a small smile grace his lips as he puts down his chopsticks, easing himself forward on his seat. His son eagerly pushes his food away from him to rest his arms on the table, too easily forgetting about the food in front of him, as he gives his father his undivided attention. The older man softly runs a large hand over his sons black tresses, staring into his wide amber eyes to give him the courage to continue.

 “By the time I was your age I’d give anything to fall in love. It was all I could really think about as I kept seeing it in every movie trailer and in couples walking down the street,” he pauses as he swipes his tongue over his lips and smiles softly. “That’s when I met your mother, the girl of my dreams.”

 His son’s eyes widen in curiosity as he folds his arms over the table, placing his chin on them; it wasn’t often he heard about how his parents met. “Was eomma pretty?”

 At this, a true genuine smile graces Seokjin’s lips as his eyes focus on something beyond the table in front of them. “She was the most beautiful woman that I’d ever seen.”

“Can I tell you a wonderful thing, Seokjin-ah?”

 Said boy finally focuses on his surroundings and with a rapid blush reaching his ears, he realizes the one who spoke to him was none other than the reason for him being distracted. His classmate turned in her seat and was now staring at him with a small smile, a certain mischievous glint in her amber eyes.

 “S-Sure, y/n-ah.”

 There was warmth in her eyes as she leaned over to gently touch his shaking hand. “I can’t help, but notice you staring at me.”

 He could of sworn that steam was coming out of his ears at her bold statement as incoherent stuttering fell from his lips; trying his best to deny her accurate observations. It was no surprise to anyone that Jin had a crush on his neighboring classmate, as he often stole glances her way and always became an awkward mess around her. He just didn’t think that she would ever approach him about it and he began steeling himself for her rejection.

 “I know I shouldn’t say this, but,” her voice turns soft as she removes her hand from him, shyly tucking a strand behind her ear. “I can see in your eyes that you like me and I have to admit that I really like you too.”

 Now he was sure that his ears were blowing steam as his eyes widen comically, the stubborn blush on his cheeks spreading to cover his entire face. It only made the young girl giggle into her hand as she stared at him with fondness in her eyes. This just had to be too good to be true right? Had he heard wrong? He wasn’t ugly by no means, still a bit awkward as he grew into his adult body, but there were other upper classmen who he had seen talking to her outside of school more than once. Yet, here she was in all her lovely beauty, confessing that she liked him too.

 “Do you mean that y/n-ah?”

 A soft smile comes to her lips as she nods her head, once more tucking the stubborn strand of hair behind her ear. “I do.”

 It might be clichéd for him to claim that that was when his life truly began, but there was no other way to describe the event. Something so innocent and simple had snowballed into something even bigger that gave him happiness for years to come. But yet…

 “Now son, I’m only telling you this because life can do terrible things,” he breathes out in a soft whisper as he looks over to his son’s puzzled expression. Despite knowing that by the end of this his son would lose that innocence, he continues on; not able to stop himself from telling the story if he tried.

Soon enough, Seokjin had graduated from high school and went off to university with his girlfriend of 4 years right beside him. Despite the countless adults and classmates telling them that they wouldn’t last past their high school romance, they proved them wrong. Continued to do so as they pursued their careers and moved in together at the tender age of 20. Both of them worked full-time and attended classes, only truly spending their nights together; with the occasional lazy Sunday they both had off.

 It soon became tradition for them to spend every Sunday with one another, going out on dates and truly give each other the attention they sorely missed during the week. At times they had too much to drink in their shared apartment and spent the whole day exchanging sloppy kisses, fevered touches and loud moans. While other times they’d drive out into the night and lay on top of the hood of the car, watching the stars and sharing laughter about stories that happened at work or at school.

 It was in those moments that Seokjin continued to fall in love with the young woman beside him, staring at her as she’d tell a story and gesture with her hands. Her amber eyes lighting up under the light of the moon and stars; her voice carrying the happiness he felt as he’d fondly play with her hair. It was in one of those peaceful moments that he had made his second life changing decision – his first had been asking her to move in with him as they graduated high school. And so, when the next Sunday rolled by, Seokjin drove her out to where they held their first date.

 Back then, they were just kids with no money to really spend on anything, so they had commuted to one of their local parks and scrounged up their allowances to buy one ice cream to share. Which is what he had them doing today and he didn’t fail to miss how her smile never once faltered throughout the day. Of course she would remember their first date, he didn’t doubt she wouldn’t, but watching her look at him with such emotion in her eyes only made his courage strengthen. He knew he would never regret his decision.

 And so, on that day he had gotten down on one knee; watching as tears freely spilled from her eyes and soft laughter coming from her lips at the familiar question. “Can I tell you a wonderful thing?”

 “Sure, Seokjin-ah,” she teased a bit breathless as she watches him pull out a small white box with a cute string wrapped in a haphazard bow on top; no doubt his doing.

 “I can’t imagine my life with any other person by my side, and I’d rather lose my life before ever letting what we have fade away. You know that I love you…will you marry me?”

 “Oh, Jin…yes! Yes!”

Too young to notice and too dumb to care; love was a story that couldn’t compare to anything else in his life. He was high on the sensation and he never wanted to come down from that high. The girl of his dreams had accepted his proposal and soon enough, they were running down the aisle with laughter bubbling in their chests as rice was thrown at them.

 Even as the years passed and they had their first child – a beautiful boy with black hair and amber eyes just like the mother – their love never once faded. Their lives had changed as they settled into a bigger house and began planning the rest of their lives together; even speaking of expanding their tiny family. Seokjin had everything he could ever want and dream of.

 “Appa?”

 At his son’s concerned tone, Seokjin realizes that tears began to gather and fall down his cheeks. With a sadness that he always tried his best to hide, he gazes at his son and firmly plants a hand on his head. Trying his best to gather the courage to continue the happy story that much too quickly turned pained. It broke him to see his son – his only child – slowly come to the realization that this story answered so many questions he had growing up.

 Questions revolving around the woman missing from both of their lives.

 ��I’m only telling you this because life can do terrible things, but you’ll learn one day,” his breath hitches as more tears begin to stream down his face. “And I’ll hope, and I’ll pray that god shows you differently.”

“Can I tell you a terrible thing?”

 It had happened so quick and so unexpectedly. Jin had known that there was something wrong with his wife after she had come back from the doctor’s this morning. All throughout the evening she had remained quiet and hardly spoke a word at dinner, letting their three-year old son fill the silence with his cooing. Only now did she speak, in the comfortable darkness of their room.

 It had all started a few months ago as they tried for their second child, deeming it an appropriate age gap between the first; but try as they may, it just never happened. It became a concern as Jin visibly saw his love grow paler and thinner, but he had assumed it was the depression at considering the possibility she might have gone infertile. During it all he had shown her support and love, even having her take time off of work and taking extra shifts to have her rest at home.

 He should have known better.

 “It seems that I’m sick and I’ve only got weeks.”

 Her voice was soft and broken, but it felt like he had just been stabbed through his heart. The silence stretched out so thin until the soft sound of sobbing and the sound of clothes rustling broke through it. Seokjin held onto his wife for dear life as his sobs overlapped hers and asked her to tell him it was a lie, desperately wanting it to be a horrible nightmare.

 It just had to be a cruel, sick joke that the doctors wanted them to believe because he refused to believe that life could be so unmerciful as to take his wife away. His happiness and soul.

 Her hands had cupped his face as she whispered brokenly to him, “Please don’t be sad now, I really believe you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”

Sobs openly overtook the once quiet kitchen as Jin could no longer hold back his anguish; recalling those painful memories he had shoved away made him realize the wound never healed. Despite nearly 12 years passing since the day the love of his life left him on this world to take care of their only son on his own. His son was too young to remember the beautiful woman who held him in her arms and sung him to sleep for those three years she was with them.

 It was only about time that he wondered about her and would no longer be sated with the repeated answer of “She’s gone. She’s not with us anymore.” He just never realized that it wasn’t because she found another life and love, but because an illness had claimed her life.

 It wasn’t only Seokjin who cried for his lost wife, but his son had moved over to hug his father as he silently cried for the mother he had no idea he’d never get back. It was in this broken moment that the usually composed Kim Seokjin had finally lost the battle with his shattered heart.

 “So don’t fall in love, there’s just too much to lose. If you’re given a choice, then I’m begging you choose to walk away,” his voice held desperation and a fragmented sadness that made his son clutch onto him tighter, in hopes to piece back together his broken father. “Don’t let her get you because I can’t bear to see the same thing happen to you.”

 “Appa…,” was his only pained response as his hold tightens on the weeping man. What was one to say in a situation such as this?

 With one shuddering breath, Seokjin holds onto his son’s shoulders, whether to give the young boy comfort or himself, he wasn’t sure. At this point, only his agony was speaking as he tried his best to make his son understand that as beautiful as love was; it was also something that could shatter your world in a matter of seconds.

 “Now son, I’m only telling you this because life can do terrible things.”

[sirwaddlesesquire]

Ch. 5 - Observations and Comparisons: A Nature Documentary (Love is Not Time’s Fool, Part I)

Looking in through the glass of the car window from the outside, Pacifica Northwest observed the nerd.

The wild nerd can be an elusive creature. The documentary style narration played in her head in a decidedly British accent. Its natural habitats are indoor locations, such as the library or the game store. Rarely does the nerd leave them. When it does, it will often bring various objects reminiscent of those places in order to feel more at home in the outside world. We see an example of this before us, as this particular nerd has his nose buried in a book and has papers strewn about him. While an odd thing for me or you, this is perfectly natural for the nerd as a defense mechanism. Fascinating!

A shake of the head stopped that train of thought. She had met David Attenborough once at a charity event in the Smithsonian Natural History Museum. It had been an entire evening spent listening to him describe the various animals in the exhibits, the man waxing poetic about the incredible features of the Eastern Gray Squirrel. After hearing him in real life, it felt odd to hear him in her head. His voice was … much too erotic.

Pacifica knocked on the car window, and was rewarded by the choked off yell of Dipper Pines as he jumped and threw his books and papers everywhere, much to her amusement.

The young man glanced up at her laugh and gave a sheepish look. He quickly gathered up the materials; pages and tomes shuffled together and stuffed in a shoulder bag. After placing the bag carefully in the back seat, he exited the vehicle (an older model VW Beetle) and walked around it to Pacifica. They shared a hug of greeting before stepping back.

“Sorry about that!” She said, though she couldn’t keep the touch of humor from being audible. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I guess I didn’t realize you were concentrating that hard.”

“No, no. No need to apologize.” Dipper responded. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I tend to get pretty distracted sometimes. Bad habit, you know?” He flashed her an embarrassed smile. It made him look young and she found it to be charming.

“I think it’s cute.” She informed him. And she meant it. In many ways, Dipper was an adorable dork. Rather, he was still an adorable dork. She could remember him from their rare and varied encounters in their youth. He had always been excited over a new mystery or puzzle, and would become completely absorbed, eager to get to the bottom of it. She could tell that his youthful exuberance had become a deep intelligence and demanding curiosity. The male Pines twin liked to understand how things worked. As someone who employed similar desires in work and in life, Pacifica respected that.

His smile, if anything, became more embarrassed, and he turned to the passenger side car door.  It took a couple of tries for him to realize it was still locked. He shot a look over his shoulder to see if she had noticed. She kept a cheerfully blank look on her face, pretending that she hadn’t. After using the key, he finally got the door open. He took a step back, and held it open, indicating that she was free to take a seat.

“Such a gentleman,” she teased. “You must do this for all the ladies.”

“Just Mabel.” He replied. “And now you.” Pacifica didn’t have a response for that, and when she met his gaze, his eyes were a touch serious. Fortunately, she was spared by the closing of the car door. As Dipper walked around to the driver’s side, she worried she had already set a bad tone for their date, and she felt guilty.

However, when the young man sat down behind the wheel, he was smiling and had a genial air about him. He started the car, immediately turning off the radio before any music could play. With a slight suspicion of exactly which artist he had been previously listening to, Pacifica took the opportunity to glance around the interior. It certainly showed its age in terms of equipment and style, but it was clean and comfortable.

Dipper must have noticed her inspection, because he shrugged. “Mabel wanted cute and cozy. I wanted good gas mileage and no car payment. This checked all the boxes.”

“Smart,” she replied. “I like it.”

“Thanks.” The male Pines then pitched his voice to convey irony. “Now, are you ready for an evening of whimsy and enchantment?”

She chuckled at his terminology and at the slight self-deprecation. “I most certainly am. What exactly do you have planned for us?”

“Oh, I pulled out all the stops. Just you wait!” He pulled away from the curb. “So, how was work?”

They discussed work during the drive. Pacifica talked about her day, trying to gloss over the boring details like meetings or some new ordinances passed by the Gravity Falls mayor. But every time she attempted to spare Dipper from something he would find to be dull, he would ask questions and prompt her to keep taking. Before she knew it, she was ranting about the ridiculous legislative decision making of Mayor Cutebiker and the inane restructuring she would now need to do for several of her businesses. Dipper nodded through all of it, adding a relevant comment here and there. As her rant came to an end, she stared at him questioningly.

“You can’t actually be interested in this stuff.” She stated. “It’s seriously just silly things I have to deal with. You shouldn’t have to listen to it.”

The male Pines kept his eyes on the road, though the corner of his mouth turned up. “I wouldn’t say non-interested. I just don’t know much about it.” He said. “But it’s clearly important to you, and so I like listening.” His tone was very matter-of-fact.

“Oh,” was all she could think to say in response to that.

Something must have been present in her voice, because he spared a glance at her. She waved him away, attempting to dismiss any concerns. She didn’t want to reveal the response his statement had touched off in her.

“Tell me about your day. What’s it like working in the library?” She asked, both wanting to change the subject and keep the conversation going.

“Impossibly banal.” Dipper answered sardonically. “Now, I’m not saying I got into library sciences for the sex appeal… but I thought surely there would be a little more to the day-to-day at least.”

“Pretty routine then?”

“Yeah, and the routine is also pretty simple.” He explained. “It seems like a lot of people take after a certain deputy-sheriff and don’t do much reading. Which, in what is certainly an ironic statement coming from a librarian, may actually be a good thing.”

His sheepish look returned, and he pulled a little at his collar. “It’s just that, uh, I’ve started writing a book. Hopefully a book series, really. And slow days at the library give me more time to work on it.” He jerked his thumb at the back seat. “I was doing a little work before…”

“Before I scared the heck out of you?” Pacifica offered.

“… before our date started.” He finished sternly. Though the twinkle in his eye removed any potential for venom from the words.

“Well, that sounds really neat.” She said. “What are they going to be about?”

“It’s mystery slash adventure.” Dipper answered, becoming animated. “The two kids are in the woods one day when they discover…”

His synopsis continued. Pacifica listened fondly, recalling her earlier thoughts about a certain dorky quality of her date. Eventually, they pulled into a parking lot. The car came to a stop and she took stock of the scene as Dipper got out. They were in a strip mall in a part of town she didn’t think she’d been to before. A hardware store and a vape shop occupied the spaces on either side of the restaurant they had parked in front of, a place bearing the name ‘Hellas Good Food’. She reached for the door latch, to find the door already open and Dipper holding a hand out. She took it and allowed him to help her exit the Bug.

“Greek?” She asked.

“You mentioned you liked it,” was his answer. “I did some investigating, and this spot, for all that it’s a hole-in-the-wall, is supposed to be the best. Apparently precisely because it is a hole-in-the-wall.”

Pacifica blinked. She had mentioned she liked Greek food. She had mentioned it several weeks ago. Had he really remembered?

Dipper gestured to the restaurant. “Shall we?”

Pacifica beamed. “We shall.”

Dinner was, in a word, excellent. The friendly owner of the place, a boisterous man named Zorba, attended to them personally. He told them the story of his emigration from Greece and regaled them with all he had seen. Dishes were recommended and subsequently consumed. And even if it wasn’t the best Greek food she had ever had (largely due to her vacation to the country a few years back), it was a close second. Mostly, she was impressed and appreciative of the effort Dipper had made. It was touching.

After he picked up the tab, they returned to the car, with Dipper once again exhibiting chivalry. He maneuvered out of the lot and drove in the direction of downtown.

“So, where are we off to next?” She asked. “I mean, assuming there is a next, of course.”

He chuckled. “That was stop one of three, actually. Now, I’m not going to claim that stop two will blow you away, but I do believe it will leave quite the impression.”

She attempted to pry more information from him throughout the drive, but he remained tightlipped. The trip was light-hearted and full of banter, and she was almost sorry as they parked once again.

That was until she noticed where they were: The Gravity Falls Theatre Time Theater. She had only to catch a glimpse of the name “BABBA” displayed on the marquee for her to understand exactly what was going on. As she accepted Dipper’s assistance out of the car, she raised an incredulous eyebrow at him. His grinned in response.

“I never said what kind of impression…”

Afterwards, they were in agreement in only one aspect: Gravity Falls’ adaption of the musical had been terrible.

“Unforgivable, really.” Dipper said. “It’s simply beyond the pale to take what is already awful source material and somehow make it worse.”

“Utterly abominable.” Pacifica said. “I cannot believe they could have what was already basically a modern masterpiece and completely fail to land any jokes or emotion with it.”

They debated on what had ultimately been the dooming feature and when they had known of the impending failure. She claimed it was right at the beginning, when the emcee had announced that the part of the lead would be played that evening by Toby Determined. He claimed it was when the audience had collectively realized the script had been altered to cause the story to take place in lumber country Oregon. Both admitted that the fact that the very first note of the evening had been off-pitch had also been a bad sign.

The playful back and forth continued along their next car ride, though this one was shorter, and up until they were seated in what Pacifica discovered was the town’s newest whiskey bar.

“Let me guess,” she said knowingly, looking at Dipper over the top of the drink menu. “You remembered that I said I was more of a whiskey girl.”

Her date said nothing, studying his own menu pointedly. But she could almost feel the pleased grin on his face. She dropped her gaze back down to the selection, trying to decide what appealed most. She also wondered what the extent of Dipper’s whiskey knowledge was, and what he would order. When the waiter appeared and asked what they would like, Dipper gave the ‘ladies first’ gesture.

“It’s an Irish whiskey kind of night, I think. I’ll take two fingers of the Jameson 12. Neat, of course.” She stated, folding her menu and fixing a look on Dipper, curious.

The young man took a couple more glances around the page, then spoke in a firm voice. “Your selection of the smoky blends is a little lacking, but I do agree with the lady that it is an Irish kind of night. I’ll have two fingers of the Connemara, the single malt. And go ahead and dash some water in. I’d like that peat to open up.” He calmly handed the menu over and met Pacifica’s gaze as the waiter retreated. They looked at each other across the table.

She had only to hold the eye contact for a couple of seconds more before Dipper flushed and glanced to the side. “I, um, may have been doing some research.” He admitted, his voice uncertain. “You know, to make sure I didn’t embarrass myself.”

As cute as it was to see him flustered, Pacifica felt bad for making him uncomfortable. She reached out and placed her hand on his, both now resting on the table top. She gave his a squeeze.

“It was very sweet of you. And rather impressive as well. You looked good, ordering like that. Thank you.” She smiled in gratitude, and she returned it. They stayed like that for a bit, waiting for their orders. When the drinks arrived and the waiter had left again, they each raised their glass, clinked them together, and took a sip. She hummed her approval and he nodded in agreement.

“So,” Pacifica said casually as they each lowered their glass. “Just how hard would you say you’ve been trying tonight?”

To his credit, Dipper didn’t flinch or ask her what she meant. He did give a small grimace before taking another drink. This one was a little bigger than the first. After setting it back down, he met her eyes.

“Honestly? Decently hard, I would say.” His answer was careful, but had the ring of candor to it. He looked contemplative, though his eye contact was steady. “I felt really bad about that other night. We both did, Mabel and me. We were both pretty worried after you ran out like that. It was… sudden.”

He absentmindedly rotated the napkin under his glass so that it was perpendicular to the table edge, doing so without looking away from her. “And then Mabel told me about your conversation. About how you felt with the whole ‘us’ thing. About the vibe we gave off. And…” He sighed. “And I’m sorry about that. So, yes, I guess I tried pretty hard on this date, to try and help move you away from some of those bad feelings.”

Pacifica smiled at this, hopeful that he couldn’t read the touch of pretense in it. Dipper was impossibly caring, and she could feel her reaction to that in her gut. However, he was also somewhat naïve and seemed to have more than a touch of self-doubt. She imagined that the combination must sometimes prevent him from taking proper credit when it was due.

“I really appreciate that.” She told him. “But I am afraid I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you when you say you are trying pretty hard on this date.” She rushed the last sentence to prevent his obviously forthcoming objection, and he settled back down.

She gestured around her. “We’re at a whiskey bar right now. Because I said I enjoyed whiskey. Before that, we went to a musical. A bad musical. And one that you don’t even like in the first place. But one that I like. And for dinner, you tracked down a Greek restaurant, due to a single line from me ages ago. Honestly, I forgot I even said that.” She shook her head, still somewhat unbelieving that all of this could have occurred. Let alone occurred to her. “I’m going to go out on a limb, and guess that you also do this for Mabel. I’m going to guess that you do this for her all the time.”

Dipper frowned, seemingly caught off-guard by the sudden twist in the conversation. “I mean, I guess so?” He didn’t sound certain.

Pacifica rolled her eyes affectionately. “Ok, how about this. Tell me what the two of you did on your first official date as a couple. Did you take her out?”

“Um, yeah, actually. I took her to a county fair.” The male twin scratched his head, and she could see the remembrance in his eyes. “She had seen something about it in the school paper, and mentioned having a craving for corn dogs. So when the weekend came, I took her there as a surprise. She was so excited!” He chuckled fondly.

“We must have crisscrossed those fair grounds half-a-dozen times. And we definitely went on every ride in the place. But only after we ate far too many corn dogs. She kept insisting on putting powdered sugar from the funnel cake stand on them.” He groaned suddenly. “That’s right! She made me go on the tilt-a-whirl. God I hate that ride. I, uh, I threw up most of those corn dogs afterwards.” He shot her a bashful smile before taking gulp of his whiskey. “It was not dignified. At all.”

She covered her mouth with a hand, attempting to hide just how amusing she found that. As well as just how incredibly sweet. When she had it back under control, she fixed him with a piercing look. “Exactly my point. You went out of your way to show Mabel a great time, precisely because you knew it was something she wanted to do. You even sacrificed dignity for it.” She raised her glass in a gesture of acknowledgment, and then polished off the remaining whiskey. “Don’t sell yourself short, Dipper. You aren’t trying very hard. You’re just being yourself.”

Dipper attempted to grab the attention of the waiter, looking past Pacifica and holding up a single finger to indicate the need for a second round. “Well, maybe. But it isn’t anything special, right? It’s just the normal way to treat someone you love.”

Pacifica quickly looked down at the table, schooling her face into a blank and neutral slate. She did not want to reveal the emotional flat line his words had caused within her. In her experience, Dipper’s attitude was indeed something special. She couldn’t recall that last time someone had done as much for her as he did for Mabel. Or as much as he had done for her today. And for him to just casually comment on it like that? She wasn’t angry. Just astonished. And maybe a little sad.

Her silence must have tipped him off though, because she could feel his eyes return to her. She glanced up briefly to see him staring at her, his features concerned and sincere. She swiftly returned to studying the table, uncertain beneath the intensity of such a gaze.

He seemed to understand, however. “Shit,” he breathed. “Mabel mentioned something about this. I’m so sorry Pacifica, I should have remembered.” She was vaguely aware of him adding a second finger in his signal to the waitress.

“Maximillian.” She stated flatly. Feeling his impending question, she continued. “I’ve really only had one serious relationship. Some flings here and there, that awkward whatever that is in high school. But in terms of mature, adult relationships? There’s only been one. Maximillian Hensley Schmidt.”

“Heck of name,” came a cautious comment from across the table.

She smirked wryly. “It gets worse. Technically I should be adding ‘the fourth’ to it.” She glanced up in time to see Dipper pull a face, and she chuckled. The laugh felt good. She barely acknowledged the placement of two new drinks in front of her, instead just picking one up and holding it against her forehead. The chill from the glass spread across her skin, and she figured she must be more flushed than she had realized. Dipper remained silent, for which she was grateful. It gave her a chance to collect her thoughts.

“We met at a fancy fundraiser downtown. He was a young lawyer, I was a young businesswoman. I didn’t think much of that first meeting, besides the fact that he was handsome and probably pretty well-off.” She sneered, displeased with her past self. “But apparently he thought something of me. He began courting me. And I mean the traditional courting, like from the movies and whatnot. He sent flowers, made formal visits, arranged for us to appear at events together. It was all pretty flattering. Especially when there was the sense of expectation, a sense that this was what you’ve been waiting for. A sense that this was what it was supposed to look like.”

Pacifica gave a bitter chuckle and tossed back the whiskey, downing the entire glass in one go. “It seemed like a pretty solid match. One of those power couples you are always hearing about, you know? Lawyer and businesswoman, two young professionals. It’s the dream, what more could you want? The town certainly seemed to agree, what with the attention we attracted. My parents definitely were on board, which maybe should have been a clue.” The second drink disappeared in another gulp and she returned the glass to her forehead.

“It took me awhile, but I finally realized that there wasn’t any emotion behind his gestures or his words or behind his anything, really. Everything looked good from the outside, and in hindsight, that was probably the point. But from within the relationship? The ‘tokens of affection’ were basically bribes, the ‘sweet nothings’ were empty of any heart, and the ‘sex’ was passable at best.” She caught Dipper’s little fidget at the mention of sex, and she gave a half-hearted grin at how adorable he was. The grin twisted into a frown at the irony of her next thought, which she articulated. “He was essentially completing a series of tasks that he was required to input in order to create a result. They were steps in a mating dance, and he was performing them like we were on some nature documentary.”

It took a moment to work up the courage, but she finally put the glass back down, placing both of her hands flat on the table, and looking Dipper in the eye. “Despite all of that, we still ‘courted’ for a long time before I ended it. Another year, at least. A year! Even after I realized what a mockery the whole thing was and what a fake he was. What a sham I was. It’s pretty disappointing, really.”

She rolled her neck, attempting to steady herself for her next words. “That ended about half a year ago? I’ve been pretty freaking single since, and had planned on staying that way for a while. At least, right up until you two came along.” She tried to give him as meaningful a smile as she could, hoping to convey some sense of what she felt. “It was difficult, to see the two of you in comparison to all of that stuff with him. But it’s better now. Time spent with Mabel the other day and time spent with you tonight has shown me how different it can be. How different it should be.”

Her voice became soft, and she blinked rapidly to ensure she wouldn’t embarrass herself with any watery eyes. “Regardless of what happens here or where this goes, I’ll forever be grateful for that. So thank you.” The next words came out a whisper and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Thank you.”

The sudden warmth on her hands as Dipper clasped them in his own startled her, and her eyes shot back open. His face was tender and he spoke softly but empathetically. “Hey. That guy was a total jerk. Fuck him.” She gave a surprised snort and he grinned somberly. “Seriously. You don’t need people like that in your life, and you should never have to question yourself or your own worth. And not because I say so or because Mabel says so, but because you do. Because it’s the truth. You’re something else, Pacifica. I see it, Mabel sees it, and I know so many other people do as well. One guy didn’t and that’s his loss. He chose to be an ass about it, and that eliminates him from any further consideration from you. Forget him. You don’t have to deal with him ever again. You understand?”

The emotion choked her, and she could only offer a nod in response, not trusting herself to speak.

“Good,” he said, giving her hands a squeeze. “Now what do you say I drive you home? That Jameson is pretty strong stuff. At least, that’s what I understand from my reading…”

Pacifica laughed. She couldn’t help it. Even at his most serious, he was still such a dork. He helped her down from the chair and put an arm around her to help escort her. She leaned over and kissed his cheek and as she did so, the savory sounds of Mr. Attenborough once again danced through her head.

The nerd stumbles through his own mating ritual, seemingly at a complete loss on what the steps are. He is perhaps unaware that he is even performing it in the first place. It is truly a sight to behold, unlike any other in the animal kingdom. And yet, when it comes to an end and when all is said and done, it has resulted in a complete and rousing success. Fascinating!

[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : World of Sea : Part 20

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2018

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

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Barad said lightly, “So long as they aren’t chasing us, we’ve little to fear.  Come, My Heart, we have to get your Arrakan certificates recognized.  You have an examination before the Board.”  They left in the direction of the Council Pavilion.

Kurin squinted as she looked at the ships and commented, “They are good seamen aren’t they?  It’s hard to stop a ship that big, right at the float.  Now that they’re closer, I can read their names.  The Big one is the Dark Dragon.  There's two lines of some vertical decorations too.  I wonder why they aren’t afraid of bad luck from naming their ship after Dark Iren?  The other is the Soaring Bird. The Soaring Bird’s letters look really strange.  There are other letters above the name that I can’t read at all.”

Master Juris told Kurin, “That’s because they’re in a different language, Kurin.  It’s Barant I think.  I can’t read it either but I’ve seen it before.”

He turned, gesturing broadly about, and asked Kurin, “Is it just me, or is the market bigger than usual this Gathering?”

“It is,” said Kurin with a pinched face.  “The Grandalor and three other ships have opened toy booths in addition to their usual ones now that they see how well I’ve done for the last five Gatherings. The Gula has the colored cloth booth in addition to their usual fabrics booth.  The strangers each got a booth.  We took up three spaces just for cargo and lace, and have a food booth on top of that.”

“True, all true,” said Master Juris, as they strolled back to her booth. “I got around to the other toy booths to take a look.”  He smiled with a trace of a sneer for the competition.  “Your deal with the Masters of the Craft Council is safe.  The Grandalor is your nearest rival and they aren’t close, though they are cheaper.”

“Speaking of the Grandalor,” said Kurin curiously, what’s up with them?  I almost didn’t recognize them.  Their ship is so neat and tidy that it almost looks new.”

“I don’t know, Kurin.  Their booth people are all smiling and friendly, too.”  Master Juris stroked his chin and looked off absently at the newcomers.  “Even their roustabouts have been polite and well dressed.”  He walked off shaking his head at changes that he had never thought to see.

As Kurin was entering her booth she overheard a pair of Grandalor sailors speaking through the orderly chaos of the busy Market.

“Looka’ there!  A nice knife on the deck!  Mine!”

“You know where it fell from, too.  Give it back to him.”

“Sorry, old habit.  You’re right.  The Lady wouldn’t like it iffin I kept it.  She’d be disappointed.  Don’t want that. — — Here, Sir! This fell offa yer table!  Nice scrimshaw on the blade!”

Kurin settled herself on a stool behind her counter, wondering at the bizarre concept of Grandalor sailors being honest.  She picked up an illustrated envelope and removed a batch of pieces.  To draw trade, she began assembling one of her kits.  The day passed into afternoon.

“T’at’s good t’ see.  A young ane, nae afraid t’ be seen wit’ toys.  So often, t’ey’re afraid t’ey’ll be taken for kinder if t’ey’re seen wit’ toys.”

Kurin looked up at the speaker, smiling automatically.  Her smile hardened as she recognized the two sailors flanking the woman.  They were Grandalor deck-hands that she knew from other Gatherings and did not trust now, in spite of their better dress.

The woman who spoke was short, with a cascade of glossy medium brown hair falling from a complex braided knot at the back of her head.  Honest gray eyes stared frankly at her.  Her face was exotically shaped, almost coming to a point at her chin, mouth smiling widely under a nose that was almost dangerously cute.  

What she wore was as exotic as her speech.  Definitely not sailor’s garb.  At first glance, her blouse seemed a simple strip of satin cloth, white with moving amber highlights, thrown about her neck, crossed in front and fastened behind.  A second glance showed that the garment was carefully tailored to an exact fit and that there was nothing casual about it.  There were sleeves of sheer amber gauze tied to it at the shoulders.  Her solidly muscled midriff was bare. The lady wore pants that were long and loose, matching her top in color and gathered at the ankles.  Her shoes were of sparkling fine scaled black Lesser Dragon hide.

A fringed black sash belt held several pouches and a long knife that was either Lesser Dragon or Wing Ray fang.  The edge was chipped slightly from much use but carefully sharpened.

The tool maker in Kurin admired the care with which the sharpening had been done.  Each chip had been rounded out and properly edged to reduce the possibility of a crack starting.  This knife, large as it was, was a carefully maintained tool.

Kurin’s smile became genuine as she thought that she recognized the speaker. “Kurti, is that you?  What are you doing in that get up?  What’s with the accent?”

The woman appeared to curl up into a mental ball, the life flowing out of her.

“Oi wish Oi wa’.  She’s dead.  M’ cousin Oi’m told.  M’ name’s Tanlin.  Tanlin Miken Princamorn.  Oi’m tired, might Oi sit in yer shade?”  Both sailors looked alarmed at this pronouncement and took her arms to support her, clearly not to remove her.  It was obvious who was in charge.

One of them said, “Lady Tanlin, When Doctor Corin allowed you to come to Gathering he warned us that you are still on the invalid list. You must not tire yourself.”

“Of course you may sit, Lady Tanlin,” said Kurin, picking up on the title and producing a cushion usually reserved for important customers.  “Tell me how come you look so much like Kurti.  You said she’s dead?  How did it happen?  Where are you from?”

“T’ank ye,” she said to Kurin as the sailors helped her gently to the cushion.  “Oi’m Arrakan.  Late o’ t’e Princamorn.  Kurti an’ Oi were cousins.  Our mot’ers were identical twins, so Oi’m told. ‘Ers married on t’ t’e Grandalor, mine t’ Princamorn as t’ey tell m'.

“Oi heard t’at she got t’e lung parasites from swallowin’ reef woter durin’ t’e rescue o’ our crew.  She wa’ often in t’e sickbay but Oi’m informed t’e treatment dinnae work.

“Over four an’ a ‘alf Wotans Oi wander Iren’s ‘alls.  ‘E let m’ go an’ took ‘er instead.  Oi ‘ad per’aps twa ‘ours t’ see ‘er as she failed.”

“Why do you keep saying, I’m told and such?” asked Kurin rather tactlessly.

Tanlin nearly wailed, “‘Cause Oi cannae remember!  T’ey say Oi wa’ ‘it be a falling yard wen t’e Princamorn went down.  Oi donae remember ‘t!  Oi’ve nae ‘istory t’ go wit’ t’e name an’ it only by repute!”

Kurin was at a loss for what to do.  She had heard of amnesia from head blows, everyone had.  She had never heard of any effective treatment. Still a niggling suspicion ate at the back of her mind.

She held out a tallow-slate and said, “Do you write?”

“O’ course Oi write an’ navigate, too.  Oi wa’ t’e Forst Officer, Second Wotch, an’ Share Holder on t’e Princamorn.  Oi lost m’ memory, nae m’ mind,” Tanlin retorted tartly.

“I meant no insult, Lady Tanlin,” said Kurin mollifyingly.  “I’ve heard that Arrakans write differently than we do in the Naral fleet. Could I see?”

Brightening like sun from behind a cloud, Tanlin said, “Certainly.”   She took the proffered tallow-slate in her right hand and wrote quickly and surely with her left.  From the right edge.  She signed with a flourish.  Thank you, Mother, for making me learn this.  It was to help in the Arrakan trade.  Now it is my shield.

Kurin looked at the neat cursive writing in perplexity.  The characters were like none that she had seen before.  Her confusion showed on her face, for Tanlin laughed gently, chidingly.

“Tis ye t’at write differently.  Arrakans ‘ave been writing such for a t’ousand Gat’erins.  ‘T says:

‘Ush little ane, dinnae ye cry.

Nest in t’e ‘ammock’s web, safe from ‘arm,

‘Ear Iren’s Orcas sing far from ye.

‘Appy dreams air yer good charm.’

“Kurti sung ‘t t’ calm m’ as she lay dyin’.  M’ name is at t’e end.”

Kurin, who knew that Kurti had been right handed, was convinced.  Besides, Tanlin’s knife was placed for a fast left handed draw.

“She was wrong about the Orca though,” said one of the two sailors.  “I was port forward lookout, second night watch.  From seventh drum, an Orca paced the Grandalor, singing.  I stayed past my watch to see and hear as it rolled and leaped, playing.  A few minutes after second drum of third watch, it sounded and was not seen again.  That was from when the Lady,” he pointed to Tanlin, “woke up, until Kurti died.”

“Is that true about the Orca?” Kurin asked, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

“Oi donae know.  W’at’s an Orca sound like?  Oi’ve never heard ane t’at Oi know o’.  T’ere wa’ an uncanny sound t’at stopped wen she died,” said Tanlin looking curiously at Kurin.

Kurin, who was a good mimic, let out a long, plaintive, rippling call, close to a whistle.

“T’at’s t’e very sound!  Oi ‘eard ‘t t’rough t’e ‘ull as Kurti wa’ dying!”

“There you are, Love.  I hope that whale wasn’t singing for you!  What are you doing?” inquired a light baritone voice.  Looking up, Kurin saw Captain Barad standing close.  She had seen him many times before but never like this.  He was calm and well dressed instead of irritable and slovenly.  Even more puzzling, he was smiling fondly at Tanlin.

“Look at t’is, m’ Luve.  T’is young ane is selling toys, too!” Tanlin impulsively held out one of Kurin’s Wing Rays for Barad’s inspection.  Thoughtfully she added, “Oi t’ink t’at ‘ers are better made t’an ours are.”

Barad attentively looked the toy over before carefully replacing it in its proper place on the board.  He smiled tolerantly and gently at Tanlin and said, “You are right Tanlin, my heart.  And well they should be.  The Craft Masters Council just broke for the afternoon.  They have made a decision about you, Kurin.  You should hear it from Master Juris, soon.”

Master Juris came striding eagerly up until he saw Barad.  His approach became wary.  Diverted from his original aim, he addressed Barad truculently, “Captain Barad.  What are you and your bullies doing at a Longin booth?”

Once again Barad smiled as though politely asked a reasonable question, “Three things.  First, I came to see for myself the toys that I have heard so much about for so long.  Second, I wanted to be here to see Kurin when you tell her your news.  Third, I was looking for my wife, who has the escort of two of my deck-hands at doctor's orders. She is not yet fully recovered from serious injuries.”  Seeing the effect of his ‘third’, Barad burst out in genuine laughter.

“To you both, may I present my wife, the Lady Tanlin Miken Princamorn, lately First Officer of the Second Watch on the Arrakan vessel Princamorn?  She holds full Command and  Navigational Certificates from the Arrakan fleet.  Just today they were recognized by examination before the Naral fleet Board.”

Kurin and Master Juris were stunned.  “Your wife!”

Tanlin rose from her cushion and put an arm affectionately about Barad who put one around her.  “Aye, Oi’m ‘is wife an’ ‘appy t’ be!”  

Kurin’s curiosity was aroused by what both the deck-hands and Barad had said so she asked Barad, “Why do you call her Lady?  Is it some Arrakan custom?”

Tolerantly, Barad replied, “Not that I know of.  The crewfolk who were helping Doctor Corin with her recovery started calling her that on their own. The rest of us just followed the fish.  You’ve met her.  It seems to fit.”

Tanlin turned to Master Juris and added, “If Oi ‘ave ‘eard right, ye ‘ave somet’ing for t’is nice young lady ‘oo ‘as shared ‘er shade and m’ maundering.”

Coming back to the reason for his visit, Master Juris said, “True.  Kurin, Captain Mord is bringing the actual item.  I’ll let him do the honors.”

Captain Mord arrived with all the Longin’s officers and many of Kurin’s friends in his wake.  Bringing up the rear but not staying there, was the entire Craft Masters Council.  When all were gathered about, Captain Mord began.

“Kurin Behar Longin, on behalf of the Masters of the Naral fleet, I present to you this Certificate as Journeyman Boat-builder.  The Council debated your age, yet none could deny your skills.  Your abilities won over even the doubters in the end.

“Not only your submission piece but also every piece of your work that could be located was studied.  You are the youngest journeyman in the history of the Naral fleet in any Craft.”  He handed the excited Kurin a scroll that was thicker than the usual certificate.  When Kurin unrolled it she found a standard journeyman’s certificate but pasted to it was a long piece of paperfish parchment bearing the name of every ship in the fleet and under each ship, all of her Craft Masters.

“I — — — I’m at a loss.  I don’t know what to say.  Thank you!” said Kurin, her composure shaken.

“Oi do!” yelled Tanlin, “Congratulations!”  Turning to Barad and pointing, she said, “Luve, Oi’m ‘ungry.  Can we treat t’ese folk from t’at boot’ over t’ere?  T’e breeze from ‘t ‘as been makin’ m’ famished, ‘t smells so good.  ‘T can be our Announcement Feast as well!  T’en all will know Oi’ve t’e finest ‘usband an’ ‘e t’e finest wife!”

“For you, Tanlin, all three moons.”  Turning to Mord, Barad said, “There has been bad blood between us.  You have no reason to trust me, I own that.  I offer you this for a truce between us.  For Kurin’s celebration, let the Grandalor pay for all the food from your booth for the next hour.  We will not quibble the bill.  In return, Tanlin and I spend that hour in your booth with Kurin.  It shall be both her celebration and ours too.  Our marriage will be celebrated by Arrakan custom and law, with an Announcement Feast open to all.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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