#the 'you decide' chapter of grief is the thing with feathers haunts me and haunts me and haunts me

[blamemma]

i love picking up a max porter book and having to put it down three pages in...no male poet is doing it like him i am afraid

[myobsessionraven]

Right where you left me

Arcade (chapter 7)

An: i usually avoid writing these but its my BIRTHDAY today so hehe.

*these are Beastboy's thoughts and the 'him' is a reference to Damian*

Narrator's P.O.V (Point Of View)

He laid on the green comforter baffled as all of his thoughts jogged around his memories; the joy and the grief, all of it. The times he found happiness in the least all because he grew from the worst; the bliss of waking up to the happy chattering, pointless question of his friends and blazing alarms. The times he remained content.

Today was not one of those days; not one of the days he found a way to avoid, to distract himself from the memories he kept reminiscing on, kept going back to even after all the rejection. The times where his mind wandered off to the same question

'If it was supposed to be their fairy tail then why did she let him in ?' He always gave himself the same answer yet it never nourished his broken heart, bloomed his wilted thoughts. He needed to realise that two made a whole, filling up a half with daydreams of desire could never achieve a pair of one.

It was so hard on his mind and his body, his heart and his soul trying to realise she has someone in her heart who isn't him and possibly never was.

He hated this feeling of envy to someone he didn't know; he needed to take accountability of his thoughts and control his toxicity towards a person he never took a chance to meet. He kept looking back on the past finding solace in times when he was the only prince in her life even when he knew that time was a delusion he created.

5 years ago...

He looked at his four acquaintance as excitement rattled through his body and flowed through his veins. It was hard to believe someone had accepted him after all the torture and the pain he had to endure in his life. He had found himself a fraternity. It was all finally coming to a fresh beginning, a new page.

A new chapter was unfolding in front of his eyes in a book filled with angst. It  seemed to him as if all the grief had led to this very moment-led to this tower with two cool dudes and two beautiful ladies. It never helped that both the woman of the house were nose bleedingly gorgeous and breathtakingly perfect, it very well might have been his hormones speaking up for him but he didn't care he was happy to be there, happy to be there with them- all of them.

He found each acquaintance of the house unique and attractive in specific ways yet one was more intriguing than the rest; more mysterious, a puzzle he couldn't put together supported by her eccentric behaviour. Her name was Raven. He was indecisive about his opinions towards her at first, he had days he wished to crack her up along with her fickle behaviour towards people there were  days where he wanted to give up and accept defeat let triumph shove a tongue in his face as he sulked in a disaster of his thoughts.

Yet he continued on, let that special something draw him towards her, tie their souls together with an invisible thread thereby he continued his observation and obsession with her.

Told her jokes took any chance he had to spend time with her until they became friends with misunderstandings ever so often trying to break their iron grip but it never mattered when he knew they would always find the sunlight behind those grey clouds; it never mattered when he knew they would find it together.

4 years ago...

It was intimate the small gestures he made towards her or anyone yet it never felt that way. Not to him. It was always natural with his behaviour of expressing his feelings through his hugs and touch rather than words.

Like the lingering moment beneath their wandering gaze towards the gleaming stars tinkling in the dark night. They were setttled in a comforting silence- a rare occasion with his mouth that never seemed to shut up. Yet none of them had to speak anything both dazzled by the beauty of the stars that lit up the black sky.

Living in the tall tower isolated from the town had its perks and one of them had to be the view; the experience of sunrise in the dawn, sunset and the stars in the night sky.

He let his brain drift in a thoughtless wreck just lying on the concrete beneath him with his forearm as pillow.

He suddenly felt a feather light weight ponder down on his shoulder he looked up a bit crooked from his state towards the long map of the roof only to be met with tufts of lavender hair lying on his shoulder as the owner swept away in a peaceful slumber.

He let a smile grace his lips as he continued to enjoy the view until Raven wasn't the only one sleeping peacefully on the top of the roof.

3 years ago...

He laid on the bed, white sheets spread through it's surface as grimacingly intoxicating scent of medicine hit his nose like a donation to his million dollar headache. He tried to find some comfort in the the growing pain only to be met with a harsh tug of a hand.

"Ouch rae that hurt" he complained

"Not my fault you stole robin's bike once again and drove it so recklessly around the town" he wasn't expecting a reply yet her witty remark was no surprise to him too.

"I thought your doctors magic was supposed to heal my head completely" he whined out his voice showcasing the true depth of his pain.

Like most of his painful quarrels this was again unheard by her tone deaf ears as she occupied herself with his head and let her eyes reply to the remark shooting a harsh glare his way before she spoke her feelings out in words too.

"I can't completely heal you Beastboy you know that, now stop whining like a child we both wouldn't have been here if it wasn't for you not wearing a helmet"

"I couldn't have rae it would ruin my handsome looks- he added a dramatic sigh for good measures before starting from where he left off-besides no one like helmets if they did they would be called heaven-mates " he cracked up on his own joke for a second forgetting about the world as tiny droplets of tears fell from his eyes his mouth cracking up with his echoing laughter.

"_"

"_"

" the self control I have over my hand right now to not hit you over the head is just as strong as the displeasure of every girl after seeing you "

"Hey I'm handsome and you know it" eyebrows wiggle

"Never mind I'm hitting you on the head"

2 years ago...

He thought she was cute. It didn't help that he had started possessing a minuscule crush on her over the course of the years he spent with her. He adored everything she did, he noticed her presence before herself. He found her stunning even after a fight with the green gooey monster that haunted their town. He adored it all the arguments and the moments, the hugs and the swats it was always a bonus of being with her; a combination of the evil and the pure, a combination of the yin and the yang.

Though none of these things altogether could build up to the one thing, that one action,the one feeling his body adopted when she blushed. Yes it was raven's blush that he reckoned the most spectacular. He'd only seen her blush one time in the 3 years they spent together, it didn't help the blush that adored her puffy cheeks was not reciprocation to one of his corny pickup lines but this time he hoped to make the above statement true.

"Hey rae"

No reply

He would continue anyways he was used to her methods of disrupting his profound confidence.

"I was blinded by your beauty,

I will need your number and name for insurance purposes" he said a cheesy grid that settled on his face but it fell as quickly as it stood as his met her obviously annoyed expression with the compliment of an eye roll. Well he could always give it another shot he decided.

"Don't get scared if a fat guy with a white beard kidnaps you tonight,

I told Santa what I wanted"

"That was an original" was her sarcastic remark

Hey what if he stole it from a guy on tik tok it was the feelings and effort that mattered... right? He heard the red alarm blaze once again signifying their call of duty. It was alright he would bring himself enrapture in the fact she responded... for now.

1 year ago...

They were fighting again all because of him. A stranger who managed to ruin their-his life to it's full extent or at least that's what he wished to believe, that's what gave him a break from those dreadful nights, that's what made him consume the food without having the urge to pile it out above all that's what made him stop blaming himself. He knew it was never late enough to step back and let the harsh realisation hit him; slap him with all its worth. But with at what cost? It would be hard upon him, it would crack him up and he was not ready for that. Yet he knew all along in his mind that he could live without her love but never without her. So he'll just protect her from afar hope for the best anything to prevent him from losing her, anything to see her presence each day leave this argument behind them stay up at nights to make sure she was safe that's all after all he could do with breaking her happiness.

——————————————————

[emospritelet]

Homecoming - chapter 22

In which Belle asks some questions, and gets some answers...

x

At eleven-thirty in the morning, Lady Tremaine’s bedroom was light and pleasant despite the heavy velvet curtains framing the bed and the dark oak panelling. Belle watched Alice walk around the room, lips pursed and a thoughtful look on her face.

“Anything?” asked Ogilvy, his tone suggesting that he was already anticipating her answer, and Alice wrinkled her nose.

“Not really,” she said. “No more than I’ve felt the whole time we’ve been here. It’s an old house, so you’d expect it to have some sort of atmosphere, but there’s nothing more than that. Can’t see or feel anything, anyway. Just - a sort of sadness. Bit like I felt up at the castle, but more so.”

Belle watched Ogilvy and the Professor exchange a look.

“Can you tell us anything more about that?” asked the Professor, and Alice pulled a face.

“It feels - kind of like loneliness,” she said finally. “Like the sort of grief that comes from losing someone you love, I imagine. Like it’s seeped into the walls.”

Belle flicked her eyes towards Ogilvy. He had hung his head, his fingers turning the moonstone ring on his finger.

“It’s different here at the house,” Alice added. “Sort of stronger. Newer. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” said both men in unison, and Belle was surprised to see that they both had the same grim look on their faces.

“But no spirits,” said Alice. “Nothing at all. Whatever’s causing Lady Tremaine’s sleepless nights, it isn’t a ghost.”

“As we thought,” said Ogilvy, glancing at Belle. “Miss Marchland, you mentioned something earlier this morning. An idea you’d had.”

“Yes.” Belle stepped towards the fireplace. “It was just a thought, really. Much of the house has panelling, and I’ve read more than one story in which an old house has a secret compartment in the walls. I thought perhaps someone might be hiding behind the panelling and waiting to scare Her Ladyship.”

She rapped on the oak panels with a knuckle, producing a hollow sound, and Ogilvy frowned thoughtfully.

“Sometimes the most likely explanation is the most mundane,” he agreed. “Do you have a culprit in mind?”

Belle hesitated.

“There’s something else that occurred to me,” she admitted. “The timing of Lady Tremaine’s visitations matches up with the return of the Mills family. And there was an incident a few days ago, when Alice and I were in the nursery…”

“We couldn’t find the children!” exclaimed Alice. “I remember, we couldn’t work out how they had slipped past us! We could hear them giggling and couldn’t find them.”

“The panelling in the nursery is hollow, too,” said Belle. “I checked this morning before the sun was up. I thought we might go back there now there’s enough light to see by. It might give us a clue to what happened in this room.” 

“You think it’s Lucy Mills?” asked Ogilvy, his eyes twinkling. “Little minx!”

“I think she might be a little tired of being seen and not heard by her step-grandmother,” agreed Belle. “Whether that makes her the culprit is yet to be seen.”

“To the nursery, then,” announced the Professor, clapping his hands together.

x 

The nursery was bright and cheerful, winter sun shining through the tall windows, and the twins were playing on the rug with Lucy Mills, a game that seemed to involve the stuffed animals waiting in line for something. They looked up as the adults entered, and exchanged anxious looks as they scrambled to their feet.

“Good morning, children,” said Belle. “We wondered if you would like to be part of our investigations.”

Ava and Nicholas looked excited, but Ogilvy noticed that Lucy seemed wary. Doc stepped towards the walls, tapping on the panelling, and Lucy’s eyes widened.

“This sounds hollow,” said Doc cheerfully. “Almost like there might be a secret passage behind it. How exciting!”

“There is!” exclaimed Nicholas. “It’s dusty and there are spiders!”

Lucy frowned at him, and Belle bit her lip, clearly amused.

“May I see the passageway?” she asked.

Lucy sighed resignedly, stomping around the corner and moving one of the toy boxes. Ogilvy watched as she plucked at the edge of one of the panels, hearing a tiny click before it swung outwards to reveal a dark, narrow passageway that looked to be just high enough to walk in, if one crouched down a little.

“Goodness me!” said Doc, rubbing his hands together. “What an excellent addition to a grand old house! I’ve seen many secret passages in my time, but this is a particularly fine example.”

“Where does it lead, Lucy?” asked Belle, and Lucy shrugged uncomfortably. “Does this have anything to do with Lady Tremaine’s ghosts, perhaps?”

Lucy looked alarmed at that, dark eyes widening, but she remained silent.

“We’re not angry with you,” said Ogilvy gently. “But if there is something you know, please tell us.”

Lucy winced, digging the toe of her foot into the rug and twisting awkwardly.

“Did you explore the secret passage?” asked Belle, and she nodded. “Did you use it to frighten Lady Tremaine?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” said Lucy suddenly. “I just - I was exploring, and I started knocking on the walls, seeing if someone would answer. I didn’t know it was Her Ladyship’s room until I heard her scream. And - and then she was mean to my mother, and - and I thought someone should be mean to her, so I - I was…”

Her voice trailed off, and she hung her head, chewing her lip.

“Oh dear,” said Doc kindly. “Well, I’m sure it can all be cleared up. Little bit of mischief, what? No real harm done.”

Ogilvy privately thought that Lady Tremaine might take a different view of things.

“So you made noises behind the walls to scare her?” said Belle. “But I thought she said she was hearing noises during the night.”

Lucy looked puzzled, but shrugged.

“Does anyone else know about the passage?” asked Belle, and Lucy nodded.

“Just Tyson, the hall boy,” she said, and looked alarmed. “Oh, but I don’t want him getting in trouble! It’s my fault, not his! Please don’t tell Her Ladyship!”

Belle glanced at Ogilvy, and he shrugged.

“Perhaps Mrs Mills,” he suggested, in an undertone, and she nodded, turning back to Lucy.

“Lady Tremaine has been very scared these past few months,” she said gently. “So much that she invited the Professor and Mr Ogilvy all the way from London to investigate.”

Lucy looked guilty, hunching her shoulders.

“Well, we don’t mind that!” said Doc hastily. “Fresh air and pleasant company. It’s been an enjoyable few days, I must say.”

“Be that as it may,” said Belle. “I think she deserves to know the truth. What do you think, Lucy?”

“I suppose,” said Lucy dolefully.

“When we do something that upsets someone, the brave thing to do is admit to it, and apologise,” said Belle. “I’m sure you’re extremely brave, aren’t you?”

“Like a warrior princess!” blurted Nicholas.

“That kills nasty old trolls!” put in Ava eagerly, and Lucy giggled before looking serious once more. She took a deep breath, stretching up on her toes and lifting her chin.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll do the brave thing, Miss Belle.”

Belle smiled.

“Then I’m very proud of you,” she said. “Though perhaps it would be better if your mother was the one to explain things to her first.”

Lucy’s face brightened at that.

“Really?” she said eagerly. “Momma won’t be angry with me, I’m sure!”

“Then will you come with me to tell her?” asked Belle, holding out her hand, and Lucy nodded, taking it and marching from the room with her head held high.

x

Dinner was a jovial affair, the gentlemen returned from a successful hunt, the ladies having rested in their absence. Lady Tremaine was not present, reportedly lying down in her room with a bad headache. Ogilvy thought it was most likely due to the revelation that Lucy Mills had been the one haunting her for months, rather than an evil spirit. Mr Mills mentioned somewhat delicately that his wife had had to intervene on behalf of their daughter before Lucy made her own apologies, and that Lady Tremaine had been less than gracious with her acceptance.

“She wanted Lucy sent away to school,” he said, cutting a piece of beef. “Jacinda managed to soothe her ruffled feathers, but we’re going to take Lucy to Edinburgh for a couple of weeks, let this all blow over.”

“She was sent to bed early, too,” said Mrs Mills. “And she has to stay in her room tomorrow. Her Ladyship says it will give her time to think about what she’s done.”

“Poor thing,” said Belle. “I don’t think she meant to be malicious.”

“I’m just impressed that she was crawling through passageways in the middle of the night,” remarked Mr Mills. “Shows grit and determination, if you ask me.”

“Henry, really!” said Mrs Mills reprovingly. “It’s supposed to be a punishment. She won’t learn if you’re praising her bad behaviour.”

“I don’t think the midnight visitor was her, anyway,” said Belle. “She said it wasn’t. Perhaps one of the servants.”

“Hmm.” Mrs Mills looked amused. “She did say that the hall boy knew about the passageway. I decided not to mention that fact to Her Ladyship.”

“Good thing too,” said Mr Mills. “The poor boy would be thrown out into the snow.” 

“So Victoria’s dream of having her home invaded by restless spirits is over?” Lady Ella smirked, raising a glass. “I can’t say I’m surprised. It won’t stop her consulting mystics and finding new ways to scare herself, you know.”

“Well, I’m more than happy to leave her to it,” said Ogilvy. “It’s been an interesting visit, but I’m looking forward to getting home.”

“Yes, you never did like having society forced on you, did you?” she said, with a sniff. “Do you think you can bear an entire train journey in my company tomorrow, or are you determined to be disagreeable?”

Ogilvy grinned at that.

“I promise to be as entertaining as I can.”

“That’s a low bar, I must say.”

He chuckled, spearing a piece of meat with his fork, and shared a smile with Belle. She had settled back into comfortable conversation with him following the awkwardness of their early morning encounter. He had noticed her gazing at him now and then with a thoughtful look in her eyes, and he found himself willing her to make the connections needed, to ask the right questions. He wondered how long it would take.

“What time will we leave tomorrow, Papa?” asked Alice.

“Around nine, I should think,” said Ogilvy, ignoring Ella’s dramatic shudder. “It’ll take a while to get to the station, given the snow that’s fallen.”

“An early night, then,” said Doc, reaching for his wine. “I have to confess I’m looking forward to getting back home and into our usual routine. Interesting though this visit has been.”

“I’ve enjoyed exploring the house,” said Belle. “So many beautiful things to examine.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” said Alice, gesturing with a fork. “We never went to see your painting, Belle. The one you mentioned at the castle? We meant to look, remember?”

“Oh.” Belle glanced down at her plate, pushing a piece of meat around listlessly. “Well. Actually, I - I did take a look.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Alice eagerly. “What is it like?”

“What painting is this?” asked Ella, craning her neck to look at Belle.

“Oh, just a portrait in the West Wing,” she said, blushing a little. “A former resident of this house. Lady Tremaine thought I resembled her.”

“You must take me to see it after dinner,” said Ella. “Is it a good likeness?”

“As though Miss Marchland had sat for the artist herself,” said Ogilvy.

Belle’s blush deepened, and Ella turned her gaze to him.

“So, you’ve seen it too,” she said. “How intriguing.”

She glanced back at Belle, and Ogilvy could see her mind working. He decided to push her off course a little.

“You know how I have trouble sleeping,” he said, with a shrug. “When it’s too dark outside to walk, I like to wander the halls. One sees all manner of things in the dark of night.”

“Indeed one does.” Ella smirked at him. “Though I hadn’t thought you a connoisseur of portraits. Perhaps it depends on the subject matter.”

“Well, go and see it yourself, and form your own opinion,” he said. “I’m sure Miss Marchland will direct you.”

“May I go, too?” asked Alice eagerly.

“Very well,” said Belle. “I think there are certainly some similarities between the painting and what I see in the mirror each morning, but perhaps you’ll tell me that I’m imagining things.”

“I doubt that,” said Ella, glancing at Ogilvy again. “I’m inclined to believe those who have made the closest study of your person, Miss Marchland.”

x

Alice was eager to see the portrait, and so Belle found herself walking the corridor to the West Wing as soon they had finished dinner, this time with Alice’s arm through hers and Lady Ella behind them with Miss Waters.

“Wretchedly cold up here,” remarked Lady Ella. “I hope it’s not much further.”

“The gallery is just around the corner,” said Belle. “The portrait is at the end.”

She turned into the gallery, walking steadily towards the opposite end. The eyes of the woman in the painting seemed to follow her as she moved, and she heard a gasp from Alice as they drew close.

“Well,” said Lady Ella. “Remarkable. Ogilvy’s right, it’s as though you sat for the artist only yesterday, Miss Marchland.”

“Your Ladyship flatters me,” said Belle, with a smile. “I’m sure this lady was ten years younger than I when this was painted.”

“Well, be that as it may, the likeness is incredible.”

“As though they’re the same person,” agreed Miss Waters.

“It really does make one wonder if all that nonsense about past lives is true, doesn’t it?” mused Lady Ella. “Though if so I’d like to apologise to my future self for being such a hedonist.”

Belle chuckled, sharing a smile with Miss Waters. Alice was frowning up at the painting, one hand raised, as though she would touch it.

“She looks so sad,” said Alice, biting her lip. “I wonder why.”

“I’ve no idea,” said Belle. “I don’t even know who she was.”

“I bet Thwaites would know,” said Alice. “Ivy said he talks about the history of the house a lot down in the servants’ hall. You should ask him.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Belle. “I shall go in search of him when we go back down.”

“And on that note,” said Lady Ella. “I think I’ll head for the drawing room. There’s a draught in here, and it makes me yearn for a decent brandy. I’m sure the men will be finishing up their drinks soon. Shall we, ladies?”

She offered her arm to Miss Waters again, and Belle fell into step behind them, glancing over her shoulder at the portrait as they walked away. The woman in the golden gown stared back at her, blue eyes heavy with an unknown grief, and Belle looked away, her shoulders slumping a little, as though she carried some of the sadness with her.

x

Isabelle let out a contented sigh, settling back in the blankets and stretching her legs, pointing her toes. Rum was lying on top of her, a comforting weight pressing down, their bodies slick with perspiration where they joined. He kissed along her jaw, breathing heavily as he softened inside her, and she murmured happily, twining her arms around his neck as his kisses trailed across to her ear.

“Can you stay a little longer?” he murmured, and she smiled, stroking her fingers through his hair.

“I can stay until sundown,” she said. “Father went to London today, and Mother has one of her headaches. She won’t notice I’ve been gone all day.”

“Then we’ll make the most of it,” he said, and his tongue stroked the soft skin of her throat, making her shiver. 

He shifted his hips, slipping out of her, slick wetness against her thigh as his hands slid up to cup her breasts, and Isabelle sighed happily.

“I’ve missed this,” she whispered. “I wish I could spend each night in your bed, and wake up beside you every morning. We never had to sneak around so much before.”

Rum pushed up on his elbows, hair hanging messily in his face and a slanting grin twisting his mouth.

“You never had a father quite so determined to marry you off against your will before,” he said, and she made a noise of grumbling agreement.

“Remember that time at Bamburgh when my father offered you lands and you insisted on taking me instead?” she asked, with a giggle. “I thought he’d skewer you before he let you within ten feet of me, and never mind the truce he wanted.”

“Came around in the end, though.” He brushed a curl of hair back from her cheek, grinning. “I think the gold I brought helped.”

“Certainly didn’t harm your cause,” she agreed, and he chuckled, his eyes glinting.

“Although you were determined to have me anyway.”

“True. Headstrong girl that I was.” She kissed his nose. “I always get what I want.”

“That you do,” he growled.

He bent to kiss her again, and Isabelle moaned, pushing up into him as her mouth opened. His hand slid down between them, brushing over the tender skin between her legs, and she moaned again as his fingers pushed deep inside her.

x

Belle woke with a gasp, heart thumping in her chest and a heavy, throbbing ache low in her belly. She ran her hands over her face in the darkness, trying to dispel the last shreds of the dream that still clung to her. It was as though she could still taste him in her mouth, still feel his touch on her skin. It had been so vivid, so real. Almost like a memory.

A maid had been in to light the fire, but it was only just starting to burn, and the room was still cold. She rose quickly, before she could dwell on the events in her dream too much. It was distracting enough being in Ogilvy’s presence without imagining a higher level of intimacy. She felt herself blush as she remembered how it had felt to kiss him, her memory of being in his arms in the portrait gallery shifting seamlessly into the dream of being in his bed. Not his bed. His name was Rum. He had a different name, as did I, and it was a different time. All this talk of past lives has me inventing them in my dreams!

She had gone to her own bed not long after returning to the drawing room the previous evening, having had a conversation with Thwaites about the portrait, and she felt well rested. Despite the vivid nature of her dreams. Splashing water on her face was enough of a shock to clear her mind of those images, and she stripped off her nightgown, skin pebbling in the cold morning air as she dressed.

Most of her things were packed, and she had laid out a comfortable outfit for travelling, but there were some hours until they had to leave, and she felt that a walk would wake her fully. She drew on a tweed skirt and jacket over her blouse, laced her boots, and pinned her hair into place. Hat, scarf and gloves went on, and she draped her heavy coat over an arm as she made her way silently from the room. 

She headed for the main staircase, drawing on her coat. The first fingers of dawn were starting to show, and the servants were scurrying here and there. Thwaites opened the front door for her with a bow of his head and a warning about the cold, and Belle thanked him as she hurried out. The air was bitter, and she tucked her scarf around her neck a little more, shivering as she walked along the driveway and turned around the side of the house to head for the gardens. The moon was still up, the sky starting to lighten at the horizon, and she found her way easily, her pace brisk. 

Her conversation with Thwaites the previous evening had left her with more questions than answers. Despite him telling her what he knew of the Willoughby family, she had felt strangely frustrated, almost as if she ought to have known more than he did on the subject. It was as though the knowledge had been sealed in a box inside her mind, and she needed to find the key to release it.

New snow had fallen, her boots scattering the powder, and her breath misted the air as she walked along the garden paths, heading between flower beds and past the orangery towards the path that led to the lake. New snow covered the ice on its surface, clumping around the reeds that grew at the edges. There was a faint mist hanging over the lake, which seemed to grow thicker towards the foot of the nearby fells, and she quickened her pace to keep warm. Rounding a bend in the path, she stopped abruptly. Ogilvy was standing near the edge of the lake, staring out across it, a heavy woollen scarf wrapped around his neck. He seemed to be turning a pebble over and over in his hands, and glanced around with a smile as she approached. Belle felt her heart thump hard, and tried to push away the images that leapt into her mind at the glint in his eyes. For a moment, she saw the man in her dreams. Younger, thinner and more sure of himself. There had been an arrogance to him that Ogilvy didn’t have. She wondered where her mind had pulled it from.

“Miss Marchland,” he said. “You’re up early.”

“I - I had a restless night,” she said, hoping fervently that she wouldn’t blush. “Troublesome dreams.”

“I can sympathise,” he said. “I find I never properly rest in the houses of others. Despite my many years of travelling. It’s difficult to fully relax.”

“True enough,” she agreed. “And we have a long journey ahead of us today. At least we get to break it in Derbyshire this evening.”

“It will be pleasant to return to Furton Grange,” he said. “However briefly.”

“Perhaps we might get to walk in the gardens there before we leave,” she suggested.

Ogilvy smiled broadly, and bowed his head a little.

“I should be delighted.” He gestured to the path that led around the lake. “Would you like to take a turn with me now?”

Belle nodded, and took his arm, her mind still working furiously as they set off. She was chewing her lip, a nervous habit that she thought she had conquered years ago, and pressed her lips together to stop herself. Ogilvy glanced at her as they strolled along, but he said nothing, and she was content to walk in silence as she thought. It was as though she could feel pieces slotting together in her brain, but the picture she was creating was too fantastical to be real. It began to swell in her mind, taking shape, its colours growing brighter, and Belle suddenly let go of his arm and whirled on her toes to face him, taking a step back as she did so.

“I consider myself a rational creature, Mr Ogilvy,” she said firmly. “I believe in science and logic, in facts and evidence.”

“A wise choice.”

“I’ve been trying to construct a rational explanation for the experiences I have had since joining your household,” she added, and his eyebrows flicked upwards.

“And what does your logic tell you?” he asked.

“Precious little, truth be known,” she said wryly. “Thus far logic is eluding me.”

Ogilvy was silent, watching her closely, and she took a breath.

“I’ve been piecing together the scraps of evidence, for want of a better word,” she said. “It all makes perfect sense when I step back and look at the picture I’ve created from it, but the explanation my mind has created can’t be real, it just - it can’t be.”

“Why not?” he asked quietly, and she threw up her hands.

“Because it’s ridiculous!”

Ogilvy smiled slightly.

“Why don’t you talk me through how you reached this explanation in the first place?” he suggested. “I’m used to making sense of strange things, after all.”

“This may be too strange even for you,” she remarked, and his smile widened.

“We won’t know until you tell me,” he said. “If it’s ridiculous, as you say, what harm can it do?”

Belle sighed, slumping a little.

“I’m not certain where to begin,” she said slowly.

There was a moment of silence. She expected him to speak, perhaps even to coax some answers from her that she was uncertain she would be able to give. Instead he waited calmly, and she realised he would not push her to speak before she was ready. It made her feel a little easier, and she wanted to fill the silence.

“You were up even earlier than I,” she said. “Before the sun rose, I imagine.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, and glanced away, across the lake. “Perhaps it’s because we’re leaving today. I wanted to get a final glimpse of the place.”

“It’s very beautiful,” she agreed. “I shall miss the mountain air when we return to the city.”

“Yes.” He hesitated, a nervous look in his eyes. “Perhaps we might come back here some time. When the weather is warm.”

“If Her Ladyship extends an invitation.” She felt herself grin. “Something tells me she won’t be asking us to remove any restless spirits for some time.”

Ogilvy chuckled.

“I imagine you’re right about that,” he said. “It’s been an interesting trip, though.”

“Despite the lack of ghosts?” she teased, and the corners of his mouth flicked upwards.

“Oh, there were ghosts enough,” he said quietly.

“I suppose so,” she acknowledged. “Such old houses have their own histories, don’t they? Their own tragedies. That portrait, for example. The one that—” she hesitated, unwilling to mention that she had found him crying in front of it.

“The one that Lady Tremaine directed you to?” he supplied, and she nodded.

“I asked Thwaites about it,” she said. “He said it was the family before His Lordship’s. Their name was Willoughby, and the woman in the painting was Elizabeth, their only daughter.”

He bowed his head a little, and seemed to hesitate, glancing up again. 

“What did you make of the portrait?”

“I suppose I can see why Lady Tremaine mentioned it to me,” she said. “Strange to think that someone from a century ago looked so much like myself. I almost felt a sense of kinship with her.”

He smiled faintly.

“What do you know about her?” he asked.

“She was sent to an institution,” said Belle. “Apparently she was heartbroken. There was a man she loved, and whom she could not marry. Thwaites said that perhaps her parents wouldn’t allow it, and so she chose no one. Poor thing.”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“I wonder what became of her true love,” she mused. “Who was he? Someone of lower birth, perhaps, if her parents disapproved. Or perhaps he had no money.”

Ogilvy pulled a face, and turned back towards the lake, bending to throw the pebble in his hand. It skipped across the surface three times, skittering on the ice before disappearing in a clump of reeds, and he straightened up.

“No, he had plenty of money,” he said dryly. “Though likely not enough to overcome her parents’ disapproval, had they known of him.”

“You know who he was?” 

She should have felt surprise, she knew that. Instead it felt like satisfaction, his words confirming something she had hardly dared admit to herself. Ogilvy heaved a sigh, his shoulders slumping a little, as though he regretted mentioning it.

“His name was Alistair McGregor,” he said, his tone heavy. “And when he wasn’t searching every benighted social gathering in London for her, he was in Boston, burying himself in work in a pointless attempt to take his mind off the pain of being parted from her.”

Belle stared at him, mouth open.

“Thwaites couldn’t tell me anything about the man she loved,” she said. “No one knew his name, she kept it secret.”

Ogilvy was eyeing her steadily, but then shrugged.

“I used to live in the area,” he said.

“Oh.” Belle felt her brow crinkle as she tried to remember their previous conversations. “Why did you not mention it before?”

Another deep sigh, and he glanced away, across the lake.

“It was a very long time ago,” he said. “Another life, another time.”

It wasn’t the first time he had mentioned other lives. A figure of speech. Perhaps he was here in his youth. It must be that. Any other explanation would be ridiculous!

“What else can you tell me about Elizabeth?” he asked, and Belle shook her head.

“Very little,” she said. “You seem to know more about that part of her life than I. Thwaites said that her father lost his fortune not long after she was institutionalised.” 

“And so the whole family suffered,” he said quietly. “So much suffering caused by the loss of true love. So much - waste - from one ancient tragedy.”

His fingers stroked his right hand, toying with the moonstone ring through his glove, his gaze far off. Belle swallowed hard, and was surprised to find that her eyes were stinging a little, as though she wanted to cry. She blinked rapidly, remembering how she had felt when she looked at the painting, as though she shared Elizabeth’s grief.

“I suppose a woman in her position would have little freedom to choose for herself,” she said. “It’s sad to think that so many had to do their duty and choose money and power over finding love.”

“Indeed.” Ogilvy’s voice was barely above a whisper, his gaze still fixed on a point across the lake.

“Sadder still that she could not be with the one she loved, and therefore chose to be alone,” she added. “After all, my own mother grew to love my father. Perhaps Elizabeth might have grown to love the man her parents chose.”

“Wouldn’t work,” said Ogilvy abruptly, and she felt herself frown curiously.

“How can you be so sure?” she asked. “One has to make the best of things, after all.”

His smile was wry as he turned on his heels to face her.

“And how does one make the best of losing one’s true love?” he asked, and she bit her lip, blushing a little.

“I - I don’t know,” she admitted. “Having never been in love, I can’t profess to understand it.”

“There is no greater sorrow,” said Ogilvy, his voice oddly hoarse. “Than knowing who you are meant to be with, and being parted from them.”

His eyes were shadowed, his shoulders a little slumped, as though the sorrow was his own. Belle shook her head.

“You sound as though you speak from experience,” she said. 

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Would you tell me about it?” she asked gently, and his mouth flattened, his jaw working a little.

“It feels as though your soul has been torn in two,” he said, his accent thickening. “Consumed by grief, buried in darkness.” 

He was gazing at her steadily again, and her eyes stung, a pain growing deep in her chest as what felt like an ocean of tears rose up inside her.

“I’m - I’m sorry to reopen old wounds,” she said. “It seems to be something I keep doing with you, and I don’t understand why.”

“Don’t you?”

Belle turned away, blinking to dispel the tears that wanted to form. She inhaled deeply, drawing frigid air into her lungs, gazing off towards the snow-capped fells, the rising sun tinting them rose-pink above the early morning mist.

“I - I suppose I can see why poor Elizabeth Willoughby ended up in an institution,” she said. “Grief is a terrible burden to bear.”

“Yes,” he said softly. 

“I’d like to think that treatment of such things has improved in the past century,” she added, “but all too often women’s suffering is dismissed as trivial. Perhaps if she had received prompt attention and understanding, there might have been a different outcome.”

“Perhaps.”

His voice was a whisper, and Belle turned on her toes to face him.

“But I still don’t understand why you were so upset at the sight of her portrait,” she said, and her voice softened. “You were - you were crying. Why?”

Ordinarily she would not have mentioned someone exhibiting such a display of emotion, but she had been trying to reason out what had upset him, and as the only explanations her mind could imagine were fanciful, she had decided to ask. Ask the right questions, Belle. Even if they seem completely ridiculous. 

Ogilvy, for his part, did not seem discomfited by her observation.

“Being here has reminded me of past pain,” he said. “And past failings. I’m afraid you came across me at a time when these memories were - particularly upsetting.”

“When you happened to be looking at that portrait?” she said flatly.

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

He hesitated.

“I’m not sure how to explain that.”

“Please try.”

He glanced away, his face twisting a little, as though it hurt to think of it.

“The woman in the painting reminds me very much of someone,” he said. “Someone I lost. Someone I failed.”

“Oh.” Belle took an involuntary step towards him, reaching out as though she would touch him before letting her hand drop to her side. “I - I’m so sorry.”

“My life has been filled with sorrow, with regret,” he said. “Until very recently, I wondered if I would ever feel happy again.”

He was staring at her earnestly, the rising sun catching the rim of his glasses, making him squint a little.

“Until - very recently,” she said slowly.

“Yes.”

Belle nodded. Impossible. It has to be impossible. It can’t be real.

“You asked me about Elizabeth Willoughby,” she said. “But what can you tell me of her?”

Her words were rapid, hurried, as though her thoughts would seem less ridiculous if she spoke them quickly. Ogilvy smiled briefly.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing,” she echoed, and almost felt herself deflate.

“I can tell you nothing of the life Elizabeth had,” he said. “I can only tell you of the man she loved. I can tell you that he loved her too, and that he searched for her. All his long, desperate life, he was looking for her.”

“How can you know that?” she whispered.

Another tiny, humourless smile.

“I think you know.”

A tear tracked down one cheek, icy in the chill wind, and Belle dashed it away with her glove. You know. On some level, deep within, you know. Ask him.

“When we first met, you looked as though you’d seen a ghost,” she said. “You - you said I reminded you of someone.”

“Yes.”

“Who was she?”

Ogilvy licked his lips, glancing away briefly before looking back.

“The last time we met, she was called Isabelle.”

Isabelle Beauchamp. No, that’s ridiculous! That was a dream, nothing more!

“Isabelle,” she repeated. Belle. He called you Belle, that first day in his library.

“Yes.”

“And - and you loved her,” she said softly.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I will love no other. Not ever.”

Belle felt as though an icy hand had reached into her chest, squeezing her heart, freezing her from within.

“But…” She swallowed hard. “But you kissed me.”

“Yes.”

His gaze was steady, his eyes pleading, and she shook her head.

“I - I don’t understand,” she said. “You said that you loved this woman, that you will love no other, and - and yet you kissed me. You kissed me as though - as though you loved me.”

Her voice was a whisper at the end, a breath into the freezing air, and he stepped forward, his own breath ragged, white mist in the pinkish dawn. His eyes were fixed on hers, the glint of tears behind his glasses.

“I have loved you from the first moment I saw you,” he said sincerely. “And I will love you until the world ends. Until the end of time itself. I will step into the abyss still loving you.”

Belle sucked in a breath, her pulse pounding high in her throat and the frozen air sitting in her lungs like a ball of ice around her heart. She wanted to reach for him, to kiss him, to fall into his arms. It was as though her feet had been frozen in place, and all she could do was stare at him like a fool.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been to act appropriately around you,” he said, his accent thick with emotion. “I have wanted to take you in my arms and kiss you since the day you came back to me, and having to pretend this - polite indifference is killing me!”

“Please!” She closed her eyes briefly. “We agreed to move past what happened.”

“We did,” he agreed. “And I would not have mentioned it had you not asked, but now that you have…”

He took off his hat, running a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh before cramming the hat back on his head.

“You said you dreamed of me,” he said urgently. “On New Year’s Eve, you told me you had dreamed of me.”

Belle wanted to groan.

“Please don’t remind me of what I said that night,” she said. “I’d drunk rather too much champagne.”

“Was it true?”

“I—” She cut off, glancing away in agitation before turning back. “In some respects, perhaps. I dreamt of a man who looked like you, but - but he was not Tristan Ogilvy.”

“Ah,” he said. “One of the others, then.”

“What others?” she demanded. “Who are you?”

“It’s not who I am,” he said. “It’s who I was. Who we were.”

“Tell me.” Her voice was urgent, ragged, and he moved closer.

“I’ve had a hundred names,” he said gently. “A hundred lives. I think you’ve dreamed of some of them.”

Belle shook her head, but fragments of her dreams were creeping in, flashes in her mind like memories. 

“I was Cerin, and you were Elena,” he said, “and we lived in caves and tents made of skins, and hunted demons from the frozen north to the shores of the southernmost sea.”

His voice was trembling, and she could see tears spill over and roll down his cheeks, shining in the early morning sun. Cerin. Our bed was made of furs, warm and soft, and he told me his heart and soul were mine in all the lives to come.

“I was Cameron, and you were Lira, and I first kissed you on Midsummer’s Eve when your father was too drunk to notice,” he said. 

He kissed me in the wet grass, our heads full of mead and the taste of honey on his tongue.

“I was Rum, and you were Isabelle, and - and I couldn’t save you.” His face was twisted in anguish. “Please, sweetheart, tell me you remember!” 

“I don’t!” she blurted. “I - I can’t! It’s not possible!”

He reached for her, a desperate look in his eyes, and she pulled back, stepping away from him, her breath coming hard in her chest. Ogilvy raised his hands, palms facing her in a gesture of appeasement.

“I - I know it seems strange,” he said hastily. “Impossible, almost. I know that. But - but a part of you knows it’s true, I can feel it. You feel the connection between us, just as I do. The bond is still there, just - just weaker, that’s all. The Seer was right. It may have been broken enough to keep us apart all these years, all these lives, but - but it’s not gone completely!”

“Seer?” She shook her head. “Our - our bond? What are you talking about? 

“We made a promise to each other,” he said desperately. “We promised forever, and I tried, Belle, I did! I tried to find you! All those empty years! All that - all that pain. Lifetimes of heartbreak and loneliness. All that time, I’ve been looking for you, and - and now that I’ve found you—”

“There was no finding involved,” she said, her tone short. “Merely a word from Lady Ella and a letter of recommendation. There’s nothing supernatural in that.”

“I’m convinced Fate has an uncommon sense of humour,” he admitted, “but—”

“I was at Furton Grange for five years,” she interrupted. “No doubt our paths could have crossed before now, If Fate had wanted to concern herself.”

“Belle...”

“No!” she said sharply. “It’s ridiculous! Past lives don’t exist, and - and even if they did, we wouldn’t know it! We wouldn’t remember each other! It’s madness! No better than Lady Tremaine and her non-existent spirits!”

He opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, and shut it. There was a look in his eyes, a mixture of frustration and desperate longing. His body seemed to be humming with energy, and he was almost bouncing on his toes. Belle shook her head.

“I don’t know how to respond to you,” she said. “One minute you kiss me and the next you talk of impossible things. It’s highly unsettling.”

Ogilvy settled back on his heels with a defeated sigh, hands falling to his sides with a soft thump against the thick wool of his overcoat.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I suppose it is.”

There was silence for a moment. She could see his thumb worrying one of his fingers through the glove, and she knew it was the ring he wore. She remembered the time she had touched it, the strange flash of sensation that had gone through her. Ogilvy glanced up, his gaze steady once more.

“Tell me,” he said. “When we first started this conversation, you said the only explanation for your experiences that you could come up with was ridiculous. What was it?”

Belle opened and closed her mouth, glancing around as though she would find answers in the snow-covered trail, in the frozen trees. You thought about past lives, her mind said snidely. You came up with the idea before he poured his heart out to you. Are you so sure of this world that you can reject your own theories out of hand?

Ogilvy smiled slightly, breath making steam in the air around him, snatched away in the light breeze.

“You feel it,” he said quietly. “You feel it, and you’re fighting it. That’s alright. The mind likes to try to make sense of things, and the gods know there’s little enough sense in what happened to us.”

“I don’t understand you,” she said, frustration making her tone sharp. “In fact - in fact I almost feel as though I don’t know you.”

To her surprise, his smile widened, his eyes softening.

“No,” he said. “But you will.”

[arotechno]

The Heartless: Chapter 18

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Chapter XVIII: in which some reunions are bittersweet

I could not remember blacking out, but when I opened my eyes next, I was on my back with bright, leafy green branches filling the sky high above my head. After a few moments, recognition set in; this was the oak tree, the same one I would perch in nearly every night and look out for trouble, trying to spot Petra on her way back from town.

If I had a heart, it would have clenched. Petra—I wondered with a heavy sense of grief whether she was even still alive.

“Welcome back,” a somber voice piped up beside me.

I leapt out of my skin, scrambling to balance myself upright. There was Petra, as if on cue, hair now chopped shoddily above her chin. Her eyes, in the months since I’d last seen her, had taken on a haunted look too mature for a fourteen-year-old child. She had a bow and arrow slung over her shoulder—mine, the old bow I had given her before I left.

“Petra!” I exclaimed. “What… What happened?”

“I found you passed out in the middle of the village and dragged you here.”

“No, no, that’s not— You know what I mean!”

Petra exhaled brusquely and averted her eyes to the treetops. “A while after you left, the royal guard came to the village. Burnt it to the ground. I saw them approaching while I was in town, and managed to warn most of the village to flee, with Marley’s help.” She paused, biting her lip. “Everyone who left has long since moved on by now, probably in hiding in other villages. There was no use coming home to a pile of rubble, only to see if they’d come back a second time. I know Marley took a lot of folks with her. Maybe they aren’t even in the kingdom anymore, I don’t really know.”

“And... Bertrand?”

“He refused to leave his study, no matter how much I begged.”

“Oh.”

“I couldn’t save everyone.”

“Petra, I’m—”

“I know it’s because of you, Ace. I’ve spent enough time out there to know that the king was assassinated by one of the Heartless, and something tells me you had something to do with that.”

Finally, she returned my eye contact once more. Her mouth was set in a permanent frown. It was then that I realized this was not exactly a welcome reunion.

“I… Yes,” I admitted. “I killed him. It was a lapse in judgement. I didn’t think they’d—they thought I was dead. Why would they come here?”

“Do you really think they needed a reason?” Petra snapped. “Ace, why would you do that? Why would you put us all in danger like that? Sure, we didn’t have much, but why would you throw every good thing we did have away just for your moment of glory?”

I pulled absentmindedly at the grass beneath me, twisting the blades around between my fingers. “The royal guard… killed my parents. I was going to confront him, and then��� then he was dead. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t regret getting his blood on my hands like that. And, evidently… the entire village’s.”

Petra averted her gaze again.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she murmured, fist clenching in her lap until her knuckles went white. “But you know what, Ace? That’s not even the worst of it. It’s been months since then, and all this time I’ve been coming back here over and over waiting for you even though I’m so mad that you abandoned us and left me here. Where have you been?”

It was then that I remembered everything I had wanted to tell her before I found what was left of the village. I told her everything, from invading the royal palace with Knife Boy to being dumped in the woods to waking up in Frida’s house to reuniting with Basil and everything in between. When I told her the truth about the curse, she leapt to her feet and began screaming at me, letting loose the kind of pain and anguish that can only be felt by a child who has been lied to her whole life.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she yelled. “I’ve been here on my own for months because the royal guard finally decided to take us all out, and now you’re telling me we never deserved ANY of this? That all this time we were struggling in poverty and isolation is just because everyone hates us, not because there’s something wrong with us? How is that supposed to make this less terrible?” Petra started crying then, hot and angry tears rolling down her face.

“It isn’t,” I replied gently. “I just thought you deserved to know the truth.”

“I don’t care anymore! Whether we’re broken or not, we’re still not allowed to be happy! What’s the point?” Petra snatched the bow and arrow off her shoulder and flung it across the dirt, sending stiff feathers flying into the air. A deep, ragged breath escaped her lungs before she continued, quieter, “Just when you think things are working out, they find another way to ruin you. By taking out the king, Ace, you brought us one step forward but many, many steps back.”

“I know.”

Petra sighed and dropped back down into the grass, sitting cross-legged with her chin in her hands. She sniffled once or twice and wiped the lingering tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands. We sat there in silence for a few moments, as the reality of what our lives had swiftly turned into began to sink in.

“You’re going to leave me here again, aren’t you?” she whispered after a couple of minutes.

My stomach lurched, and I knew that after all that both of us had been through, I could not lie to her.

“You could come with me,” I suggested instead.

“What, and leave home?” Petra shook her head, smiling despite herself. “I couldn’t, not after everything.”

“There’s nothing left here, Petra. It’d just be you.”

Petra frowned at the dirt, yanking blades of grass and twirling them between her fingers.

“It’s different for you, Ace. Home for you was always something far-off, like some fantasy you got to live as a child where you had parents who loved you and tried to keep you safe. Me? This place, and the curse that I always thought came along with it, is all I’ve ever known.”

“I lost my home, so I made a new one, over and over again. You can do the same.”

She looked back up at me and furrowed her brow. “Easy for you to say. You knew life before this. For you, the Village of the Heartless gets to be an unfortunate dark patch in between two perfect realities where you get to be safe and live happily ever after. I don’t have that luxury. This village was your temporary hell, but it’s my hometown.”

It was a child’s oversimplification; when I thought of Swallow’s Point and its inhabitants, the ever-present fear of being discovered as Heartless, any image I could conjure up in my mind was far from idyllic. The Village of the Heartless had become home to me for many years, but I had also indirectly been the cause of its demise. I couldn’t deny that Petra’s words had some truth to them, however exaggerated.

I paused, considering my next words carefully. “Listen, Petra, like it or not, I can’t stay here. I’m a fugitive,” I pointed out. “The entire kingdom thinks I’m dead, and if I’m ever caught, I can assure you they will not hesitate to try to kill me again, and this time, they will make sure they succeed. You can go back and stay with Esther, tell her the truth if you want, or tell her I’m dead, I don’t care. But I can’t stay here, not now.”

Petra averted her eyes again, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“No, I’m coming with you,” she muttered.

I had been expecting more of a fight. “You are?”

“I don’t think I have a choice.” Petra at last raised her eyes to meet mine again, and I saw the glint of determination behind the last few tears she hadn’t been able to suppress. “I’m not going to let you get yourself killed just to make me happy by staying here. And I’m not going to let you leave me again, either.”

I watched in awe as she clambered to her feet and walked over behind the tree, retrieving the bow and arrow she had thrown in her anger.

“But if we’re heading out together again”—she held them out to me—“you’re going to be needing this.”

I took it and ran my thumb and forefinger along the thin maple of the bow, instantly being called back to the day I received it from Marley, and the first time I succeeded at hitting the targets I had set up behind Bertrand’s house out of old tin cans and spoiled gourds, and the nights I spent perched in that same oak tree looking for trouble after dark. This was not the bow with which I had condemned my village, but the one with which I had defended it; Petra now entrusted me with that duty again, although there was nothing left to defend.

The incongruity of this responsibility weighed heavily on me as we dusted the dirt from our pants and set off up the hill through what was once the Village of the Heartless, headed toward the back woods in the direction of the commune. I came to a halt at the top of the hill, frozen stiff before the remains of Bertrand’s house, the tiny run-down cottage I had called home for so many years. Like the rest of the village, it was only burnt rubble now, sprouting soft and verdant with the new growth of spring. I was struck with the realization that Bertrand had died still believing he was a failure for never breaking a curse that had never existed; I wondered briefly whether in his final moments he thought of me fondly or cursed himself for ever giving me shelter.

The weight of the suffering I had caused rose up from the blood-soaked soil and flooded the vacant spaces where my heart should be, and it settled there, heavy and still.

What a monstrous thing it was to be human.

[idreamofplaid]

Fallen - Chapter 3

Summary: Sam thought he had found happiness, but now his past is back to haunt him. Lucifer has claimed the throne of heaven, and it is his intention that Sam should finally fulfill his destiny as King of Hell.

Characters: Sam x Reader; Dean, Cas, Lucifer

Word Count: 2706

A/N: This a series I started a couple of years ago. I’m finishing it now. Each chapter is inspired by a song. For Chapter 2 it is ���All the King’s Horses” by Karmina. 

I KNOCK THE ICE FROM MY BONES, TRY NOT TO FEEL THE COLD

“Sam?” There was nothing, not a sound, not a movement. Sam’s hand still felt strong, but he didn’t close his fingers around yours or brush his thumb across your knuckles the way he once did. His chest was barely rising and falling as he breathed.

You let go of his hand and climbed into the bed to lay down next to him then rested your head on his shoulder and lay your palm flat against his chest. From the moment you first knew you loved him, your life had changed. Most of your friends had dreamed about weddings and having babies. You’d been witness to your parents’ unhappy marriage and had decided at an early age you wanted no part of that. Sam changed your mind without knowing he’d done it. He made you want those things. 

There was so much you wanted and needed to say to him. You talked out loud, telling him things he might not know, giving him a reason to fight his way back. “Sam I won’t give up on you. Ever. We can get through this. I don’t know why I thought you would betray me; you wouldn’t, not if you had a choice. I was just so scared about what was happening. I’d forgive you if I needed to, but I don’t.”

You stopped talking long enough to kiss his neck, the very spot that had always made him moan and bury his hand in your hair. Your lips touched him there tenderly in a plea for him to open his eyes; you watched for a few seconds waiting for something that didn’t happen. Then you lay down next to him again with your head over his heart. “It’s okay, Sam. Just get better. Get better for our baby.” 

The sound of Sam’s heart beating under your ear offered some comfort and hope while memories drifted through your mind, one after the other, in a constant stream of special moments and simple everyday routines that hadn’t seemed special, but they had been. You had fallen in love with Sam during the hours you’d spent with him sitting at a table in the library making your way through lore books together.

CAUGHT IN THE THOUGHT OF THAT TIME 

One Year Ago

Sam put a blue mug down on the library table next to you and surveyed the stacks of books. “I made coffee; looks like we’ll be here awhile.”

The weight and warmth of the mug was comforting. “Thanks.” You had been pouring over the same book for hours, then your eyes fell on something you hadn’t noticed before, and you sat up straighter. “I think I found it.” Sam finished his sip of coffee and put his cup down on the table. Then he reached for the book you were sliding across the table. You told him excitedly, “I think it’s a harpy. In Ancient Greece, they removed people from the earth as punishment for wrongdoing. Everyone who’s disappeared hasn’t exactly been guiltless.”

Sam read the open page and nodded. “Okay. Harpy. How do you kill it?”

“Silver dagger. Tell Dean he might want to let Cas take the lead on this one; they fly.”

Sam ended the call with Dean and put his cell phone back in his pocket. You watched the way he moved. He wore the hunter’s uniform well. The cuffs of his red plaid shirt were rolled up revealing his forearms, and the black t-shirt he wore underneath hugged his body. Sam fascinated you. He was damn good at being a hunter, but there was something else about him. You contemplated him a moment before asking, “Sam, did you always know you’d do this?”

He leaned forward and picked up the book you’d given him absentmindedly stacking it on top of the one he’d been reading. “No.” He paused before continuing and sighed. “I ran from this. Over and over I ran from it.” He told you about Jessica and Amelia. Sam talked about love, how he’d been scared to love anyone again after Jessica died and how with Amelia he’d chased after something that wasn’t real.

You listened and told him you’d been in love twice. The first time you loved him as much as your eighteen year old self could which it turned out wasn’t really lasting. The second time you were much more ready for love, but he wasn’t. When you finished talking, Sam eased his fingers over the back of your hand. His eyes were deep green sprinkled with gold, and he looked at you intently. “A guy would be lucky to have you.”

He pulled his hand back, and you felt butterflies explode in your stomach. You knew everything had just changed. The air felt charged; then he lightened his tone. “You hungry?”

WHEN EVERYTHING WAS FINE, WHEN EVERYTHING WAS MINE 

It wasn’t your first dinner with Sam, but it was a changing point. He made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, proud of what he’d done and joking that he could cook. You tore off a piece of your sandwich and put the warm, buttery bite in your mouth. You swallowed and smiled at the chef. “It’s perfect, Sam, melted just right.” After a few bites of soup, you found the voice to ask him questions you’d always wondered about.

“Sam, when did you start hunting?”

 He put down his spoon and got a faraway look in his eyes. “My first hunt I was so scared I stayed in the car.” Sam let out a little laugh with a small shake of his head. “Dad and Dean finally left me there. I didn’t want to kill monsters. I didn’t want the blood. I didn’t want the ugliness and fear, but it was what I was born to. It was expected of me; I was trained for it. I was taught to be a hunter.”

Sam studied your face for a second and asked quietly,“What did you want to do?”

You lifted your napkin from your lap and wiped your fingers. A nostalgic smile crossed your face.  “I wanted to be a fashion designer, live the glamorous life, travel to exotic places, experience things no one in my life ever had. Turns out I wasn’t really meant for that, just not that glamorous.”

“You’re good at what you do, Y/N. Sometimes a life chooses you.” Sam’s eyes moved down your face to your chin and back up again. His eyes lingered on yours before he glanced away. “It’s late. I’ll get the dishes in the morning.”

Sam walked you down the hall to your room. He stopped by your door. He was so close you could feel the heat from his body. The first touch of his mouth on yours was feather light. He moved his lips over yours in a kiss that was intense, consuming, soft, and gentle. Sam lay his hand against the small of your back and held you against him. You reached for his neck, sliding your fingers under his hair. When he pulled away with a final lingering kiss, his eyes stayed on yours. “Good night, Y/N.”

 ALL THE KING’S HORSES AND ALL THE KING’S MEN COULDN’T PUT ME BACK TOGETHER AGAIN 

You raised yourself up so you could look down at Sam’s face. You bent to touch your lips to his remembering how they felt during that first kiss. You whispered, “I love you, Sam,” but this wasn’t a fairytale. He didn’t wake up. You wrapped your arms around yourself trying to control the grief that threatened to bubble up and flood out of you uncontrollably. You pulled the chair close to the side of the bed and sat down. You traced your fingertips lightly up and down his arm.  “Sam, if it’s a girl, I’m going to watch while she ties ribbons in your hair.” The thought of that made you smile even as tears filled your eyes again.

The next morning Dean found you still sitting in the chair with your head down on Sam’s stomach. You stirred when you heard the door. He’d brought you breakfast. “Thanks, Dean. Put it down on the desk. I’m not hungry.” You glanced at the food. Dean had been cooking. It was an omelet that, from the looks of it, was filled with vegetables and fresh fruit on the side.

Dean walked across the room and stood next to you resting his hand on your shoulder. “I know you don’t want to eat, but you should try.” Feeling the comfort of Dean’s hand and hearing his caring words, you burst into tears. Everything you’d been trying to hold back came pouring right out. “Hey. Y/N.” He knelt down beside you; and you fell into his arms. 

“He’s not waking up, Dean. He isn’t waking up.” Dean held his hand firmly at the back of your head. “He did this for me. He went with that evil thing to protect me. He may never wake up because of me.” The sobs were racking your body now.

“He’d do it again, Y/N. That’s how he loves. Don’t blame yourself for a decision Sam would make every time.”

You lifted your tear streaked face from Dean’s shoulder. “There has to be something. Cas. Can’t Cas help him?”

“I already tried that, Sweetheart. His powers won’t work because heaven considers what Sam did to be...an abomination.

You sat back and looked at Sam. “He tries so hard to do the right thing. I told him I didn’t know who he was.” You ran your fingers over Sam’s hair. “He’s full of good.”

ALL THE KING’S HORSES AND ALL THE KING’S MEN COULDN’T PUT ME BACK TOGETHER AGAIN 

Sam’s POV

I could hear you. You sounded far away, but I could hear you. You were calling my name. I tried to answer, but my mouth wouldn’t move. I had to let you know I was there. You needed me. “Y/N?” My mouth was so dry. I blinked my eyes open. Your hair was spread over my chest; you raised your head to look at me. Your beautiful eyes were filled with tears. My arm was heavy and weak when I tried to lift it. “D...don’t cry, Y/N. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

I heard you yell for Dean, and I remember seeing him run into the room before I drifted back to sleep. When I woke up again, you were smiling this time. I tried to sit up, but you stopped me. “Not yet. How do you feel?”

I brushed my hand through my hair. “My head hurts.” 

You straightened the covers around my waist. “Don’t move. I’m going to get you something to eat. It might make you feel better.” You were close to me and smiling; I already felt better.

You came back with a bowl of broth and set it down on the bedside table. I had a hard time getting the pillows propped behind my back, so you helped me then sat and dipped a spoon into the bowl. I reached for the spoon. “I can feed myself.”

You avoided my effort to get the spoon and brought it to my mouth. “Let me take care of you, Sam.” When I had eaten almost all the soup, you looked happy. “Take the last bite.” I opened my mouth, drank the last bit from the spoon, and swallowed. “You’re going to need your strength because you’re going to be a daddy.”

My mind was all focused on you and the incredible feeling of having you again, so it took me a few seconds to process what you’d said. “I’m what?” My eyes went to your stomach.

You laughed, and it was a beautiful sound. “I’m pregnant, Sam.”

That night you stayed with me. I fell asleep holding you close with the side of my face in your hair. For awhile, I understood real happiness. 

“Sammy boy!!” I jerked awake. My eyes darted around the mostly dark room, and I tightened my hold on you trying to block out the sound of Lucifer’s voice still echoing in my head. “She’s a pretty one, and she still wants you. Go figure.” I heard him, but there was nothing there. I was having hallucinations of Lucifer again.

RUN WITH MY HANDS ON MY EYES; BLIND, BUT I’M STILL ALIVE

Two days later we moved back into my room. As soon as we were under the blankets, I took you in my arms. You slipped your leg between mine and kissed me. I kissed back slowly, not rushing a minute of what I’d waited for what seemed like forever to have again. My tongue circled around yours, and you moaned softly. You eased your hands under my shirt and rubbed them up my back. 

It felt so good for you to be touching me this way again. I broke the kiss long enough to pull my shirt over my head and toss it on the bed somewhere. I wanted your hands on me. I wanted to kiss you. I wanted you to know how much I love you. We kissed each other for a long time. I trailed kisses across your cheek to that spot just below your ear and back to your mouth. I brought your hand to my lips and kissed your fingertips one by one. Those kisses were complete. 

Tonight was about starting over. It felt innocent in a way, like the past was washed clean. I didn’t push for anything else, just kissed you and held you. I was holding you when you fell asleep.

Everything was perfect, but still the nightmare came back. The voice. “You can’t get rid of me, ol’ buddy. We’re bonded together. Just no escaping it.” I opened my eyes. Lucifer was standing at the end of our bed. His expression was cold. “She’s a problem, Sam. Don’t make me take care of that problem.”

BUT IS IT STILL A HOME WHEN YOU’RE ALL ALONE 

I watched you sleep trying to memorize the way you looked, the way your hair fell across your cheek, the slight hint of a smile on your face. I struggled with what I felt and who I am. Morning came too soon. I eased out of the bed, my mind made up.  I walked away from where you were sleeping and kept my back toward you so you couldn’t see the tears; then, I called your name. “Y/N.” 

I heard you start to move, and I heard the smile in your voice. “Sam.” It felt like a fist was squeezing the life right out of my heart. 

I didn’t turn around. “Y/N, this isn’t a good idea.” What happened after that is a blur. I muttered some senseless crap about not knowing how I felt and needing space, which everything I’d done the night before proved was a lie. But you believed me. Crying and begging me to tell you why, you believed me. 

THERE IS A REASON I’M STILL STANDING 

Seven Months Later

I could hear you screaming down the hall, screaming to bring our baby into the world. I bent my head over almost to my knees and laced my hands behind my neck. I wanted to go to you so badly it was tearing at me with a physical pain I could feel in my chest and down into my stomach. It had gotten to a point where we passed each other in the bunker without saying a word. I’d been so afraid you’d catch me looking at you, and then you’d know the truth. You screamed again; I bit into my bottom lip, and then you screamed my name.

I WILL RUN FAST, OUTLAST

 I tore into the room; Cas was by your side, and Dean was at the bottom of the bed looking under a sheet draped over your legs. When Cas saw me, he stepped back. I took your hand in mine forgetting all about the act I was supposed to make you believe. You looked at me like you thought maybe I wasn’t real. “Sam?”

“I’m here, Y/N. I’m here. You’re not going to do this alone.” When Dean said it was time to push, I gave you all the encouragement I could. At times it felt like you were going to break every bone in my hand, and I didn’t care. All that mattered was you and the baby. The love I felt for you burned hot inside me. It raged with all the intensity I had spent every waking moment trying to control since I the morning I lied to you about what we have. 

You’ve never been more beautiful than when you were lying there exhausted looking into the face of our baby. You looked at me with pure forgiveness like you had forgotten the way I’d pulled away from you. “Sam, do you want to hold him?”

He was tiny, perfect, and the most amazing thing I had ever seen. I didn’t know there was such a thing as the love that went through me then. I started to move my hand to touch his sweet head. Then I stopped. Lucifer would hurt you. Lucifer would hurt him. Lucifer was worse than Ruby. I took one last look at your happiness. “I can’t.”

ALL THE KING’S HORSES AND ALL THE KING’S MEN COULDN’T PUT ME BACK TOGETHER AGAIN 

Everything Forever: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @gh0stgurl @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @maddiepants @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @iknowwheremytowelis @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @oldfreakything 

Sam/Jared Love: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @feelmyroarrrr @theychosefamily @winchesterxfamilybusiness @idabbleincrazy @evansrogerskitten @focusonspn @i-joined-social-media-finally @wingledsam @autumninavonlea @spnxbsessed @durinsbride @deansyahtzee @wendibird @fantasy-shadows @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @waywardnerd67​ @neii3n​ @fullmooner​ @supernatural-took-me-over​ @julesthequirky​ 

Fallen: @stephaniecanfield96us​ @petitgateau911​ 

[3laxx]

Wind

After the fight against Hawkmoth - which ended completely not as planned - Marinette begins the way of healing. It's still a long path but her friends and family are on her side the entire way. Slowly, she finds back to her old self and despite a few backlashes, manages to get back onto her feet. Now that Ladybug is back she gets back to a balanced life, which is especially needed as finals come closer. Though, the evil does not sleep and so, Master Fu chooses anew...

Unbelievable, huh? I've left Breeze up and finished for almost 9 freaking months before uploading the Sequel. But hey, better late than never, am I right? So, and here we are, 14 months after I uploaded the first chapter of Breeze, and a new story begins. As you guys may have already read from the tags, this story will be a little more slice of life like, and while it may not be as dark or depressed as Breeze, it'll definitely be angsty enough to live up to the raise of the name, trust me ;) But the angst will come later! For now, it'll start slower than Breeze :D I hope to continue the upload schedule but since I'm now in school again I'll try to stick with a 4-day-upload schedule, eventually going up to 5 days if I need to. Also, again, Wind is - just like Breeze - based on season 1 of the show. I've got a few aspects of season 2 in it but because season 2 is only airing now (very veeeeeery slowly and irregularly) I can't entirely include season 2. It's based on my ideas and headcanons for the show after watching season 1, even before the Christmas special. With that being said, let's get right into the story and I hope you'll like it! Enjoy~

3laxx

Ao3 / FF.net

“Your friends just stay with you because they pity you…”, the voice whispered as Marinette shivered.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?”, another one joined in. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself and squinted her eyes, shaking her head. She was back there. Back where she never ever wanted to be again.

“You knew exactly that it’s true.”, the voices hissed and she groaned.

“So why didn’t you just falter?”, they asked, sharp and unforgiving, making her feel like she did something wrong, as if it was her fault to still be alive, “Why didn’t you just listen and end it right there?”

Sobs took over her body and she breathed through gritted teeth, shaking her head as not a word would leave her lips, not a sound would come from her mouth. She could merely listen and weep silently, powerless against the voices, the demands that held her captive with mere words.

She felt as if she was caught in a cage, a cage of nothing, a forced prison that held her but she didn’t see bars.

The voices haunted her and poked her, making her squirm and breathe faster as she tried to move. All her body did was huddling even more into itself, though. Her feet wouldn’t work, her mind was slowly stopping to resist. Her arms held herself like steel, her fingers digging into her shirt as if there was something to hold on.

“Why are you trying to live with that, Marinette?”, they whispered and yelled, brushing over her skin like feathers but at the same time bruising her, “Why are you trying to live with the hatred they gave you? Why didn’t you just give up?”

She sobbed another time, breathlessly even though she hadn’t run, her lower arms hurting like hellfire was ignited on them. Her lips formed words but her voice didn’t join, her desperate begging painfully blocking her throat.

She was back, she was back there when all she knew were hateful glances and swallowed words of injustice, spoken out behind her back, but still for her to hear. She was back and vividly remembered Alya’s back when she had turned, Adrien’s frown when he saw her.

She saw all the hidden and open glares, she saw all the pain and hurt in their eyes, the anger and the disappointment and the suffering grief they felt. The helplessness and fear and the suffocating accusation they threw at her, unjustified and at the same time she felt like she deserved it.

The responsibility of having condemned Paris to be destroyed by Hawkmoth, of having left alone Chat Noir and of having terrified all her friends to the point of them showing their back to her.

She was back there and there was no return.

Once again, she watched herself sinking, watched herself losing her footing and falling, as she reached out for a knife that wasn’t there. Adrien had made sure not to leave anything sharp except sewing needles in her room, ever since he had seen the new bracelets on her wrists and discovered that she hadn’t been over it.

She couldn’t help it. Sometimes, it backlashed at her, sometimes she couldn’t resist and in a lonely night, left alone to her own devices when Tikki slept, it all came back and tortured her.

He hadn’t been mad. He had merely kissed her wrists, the small cuts, and made sure that she got a private hour with her therapist, on his money. Of course, she had protested and scolded him, but she wouldn’t lie, therapy and especially his concern helped her feel more stable every day.

But this time she’d been back there, she didn’t even know why, and had longed for the day to end to let it all break in above her.

She hadn’t been on good terms with Alya about some homework, she hadn’t seen Adrien all day because he had been at a photoshoot, and her parents hadn’t had time for her since they drowned in preparations for some marriage they should cater at.

It certainly hadn’t been a good day.

And when she had walked through the streets to do some last-minute errands for her parents she had walked by the little alley again. Normally, Marinette had made a big way around that dark memory, but today she hadn’t paid any mind to it. Suddenly, all the gazes had been hostile, all the faces blank and hateful. She had felt herself shivering despite Tikki’s reassuring hug on her thigh, despite her mind telling her she was assuming, imagining things.

Tikki was on her desk right now, eating a cookie and not noticing her wielder’s breakdown on the bed above her. She kept it quiet, didn’t want her Kwami to know. Tikki tended to take it really badly when she noticed how much Marinette had become broken during her absence.

A knock startled her and she looked up, spotting Chat’s luminescent eyes against the darkening sky of the evening. He looked worried as he saw in which state she was in right now.

Quickly, he opened the window and slipped inside, hugging her before his transformation even fell. She smelled his wonderful, mossy scent, the subtle hint of camembert, and her tears fell against his shirt. She heard him saying something but didn’t process it, didn’t have the chance to separate his words, take them with their meaning, understand what he really said.

A constant waterfall of whispered sounds fell from his lips as he pressed her against his chest, his cheek resting on her hair and her forehead on his neck. She slowly managed to breathe through, hearing another voice joining as she wept against him, now finally letting it out.

Her conscious resurfaced and her shock faded slowly, leaving room for her to finally listen and partially understand what Adrien whispered in her ear.

“… Here for you… Safe… Promise… Not gonna let you get hurt… Ever again… Promise…”, her shaky breath got caught in her throat and she nuzzled closer before getting startled by a sudden outburst in Adrien as he whipped around.

“Why didn’t you look after her?! I’m trusting you with this, Tikki!”, he suddenly shot at her Kwami, his chest tensing as he unconsciously held her tighter, his voice agitated and angry.

“I-… I’m sorry, Adrien, I didn’t notice. She was so quie-”

“You know exactly what she went through! Imagine what could’ve happened if I hadn’t been close and decided to visit her! She’s still in danger, you’re obligated to look after her!”

Marinette shook her head, not wanting him to be angry at Tikki but she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

“I know! I’m sorry, Adrien, but it was just five minutes, I swear I was about to-”

“I don’t care, Tikki! She needs you, she needs you to look after her and care for her when she has a breakdown! Damnit, Tikki!”

She could feel the scared sobs vibrate through his chest and hear the tears in his voice. He was scared. For her. Not of her. He was scared of losing her again.

This gave her the last push to lift a hand to his chest, lightly brushing over his shirt to get him to listen to her.

“Adrien…”

His attention immediately was on her. His eyes soft and worrying instead of angry.

“Yes? Mari, are you alright? I’m so sorry I wasn’t here earlier, I had a bad feeling and when I saw you-…”, he babbled endlessly before Marinette lightly shut his mouth with a nudge of her nose against his chin.

“P-Please-… Don’t be mad at Tikki… She did her best today, she deserved a break. And I didn’t give her a clue. It was my fault.”, he shook his head but she pressed a light kiss to his lips, still feeling exhausted and scared but it got better and better every second he was here, “Adrien, please.”

His eyes were hard and stubborn but after asking once more of him to calm down he slowly breathed out, his shoulders sagging.

“Fine… I’m sorry, Tikki, I was just so worried… I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“It’s understandable, Adrien.”, Tikki reassuringly replied, holding a paw to Plagg’s muzzle to keep him from verbally killing his wielder, “We’re all worried. I should’ve been more considerate and I should’ve kept an eye on her more closely.”

Marinette shot Tikki a grateful gaze for calming Adrien down and snuggled against his chest once more, her breaths coming slowly and flatly since she was exhausted after this breakdown. Her boyfriend seemed to notice and sat up on his knees to lay her back down on the pillows on her bed, making himself comfortable next to her. She let him hug her tightly around her waist, their Kwamis joining them on top of their hair. She felt Tikki snuggling close, the poor small creature still shivering on her whole body as she rested atop her head. Marinette brought a hand up to her, brushing over her soft head before allowing herself to hug Adrien as well, bumping her nose against his sleepily.

“… You okay?”, she asked, her thumb brushing slight circles on his back. To that he laughed humorlessly and leant his forehead against hers, blinking slowly.

“I should ask you the same thing, even more so than you should ask me. So, are you okay?”

A tired giggle escaped her throat as she felt the tears dry on her cheeks, shrugging slightly.

“You’re here.”, was all she commented, a shiver going through her body, “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”, his deep voice drummed against her and she nodded softly, her other hand coming up to his jaw to caress him.

“You’re here.”, she repeated, “You’ll look out for me. I’ll be okay.”

Later that night, they ran over the rooftops for a patrol. Adrien had let her rest for a few hours before transforming again, wanting to let her sleep but she had woken up. After a discussion that was more playful than anything else he had let her transform as well, joining him on patrol.

Ladybug giggled as Chat hugged her with one arm from behind.

“Hello, my lady.”

“Hi kitty. Did everything go alright?”

She turned in his arm and placed a little kiss on his relatively cold and rough lips, from the chilly night air.

“Yeah, nothing special. Except…”

“What?”

He quietly laughed and nibbled at her lower lip, teasing her a little.

“Well, I got something for you.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Chat, this is patrol, not shopping-gifts-for-your-girlfriend, you know.”, she scolded but he had already gotten his hand between them, holding a little box. He flipped it open and a beautiful necklace came to light, a little golden Ladybug on a petite chained necklace.

She gasped and he broke his hug around her to pull the necklace out of the box and close it behind her neck.

“How do you like it?”, he asked, a big grin on his face. “I-… I love it! But seriously, Chat, it’s patrol and you know very well that I can’t-…”

“I know, but I love you too much and when I saw this, I just couldn’t resist!”, he pouted.

“Ugh, Chat! I’m not your girlfriend just to be gifted.”

He laughed, kissing the tip of her nose.

“Say that again, paw-lease. I like the sound of the word out of your mouth.”

“Girlfriend?”, she lifted her eyebrows.

He sighed and made a dreamy expression.

“Ah, my lady, you’re flattering me.”

“Sometimes I could just high-five you with a chair or something… And I feel like I’m the boyfriend right now.”, she murmured, snapping against his bell to try and get him back to the living again. He pouted but smiled as soon as she kissed him again. “C’mon, it’s getting colder. We should both get home.”

“Your home or my home?”, he grinned as she rolled her eyes yet again, shaking her head.

“As much as I may want, we’re writing a chemistry test tomorrow and I can’t afford being late or tired again.”

“Aw, princess, you don’t wanna kiss me a little longer? You sure?”

“I don’t just wanna kiss you, but I would only agree on that if the test tomorrow was about the human anatomy. So… No, kitty, you’ll have to go home alone today.”

He grinned as she threw her yo-yo, placed one last kiss on his cheek and hoisted herself away. She was right, though. He hadn’t learnt enough for the test yet and if he wanted to at least get a few formulas in his head and be rested tomorrow, he would have to get going.

“Until tomorrow.”, he whispered lovingly, extending his baton and lifting himself away.

He just wasn’t sure if he could concentrate when she would be sitting behind him in class, her scent winding itself in his nose, clearing his mind from everything.

“Plagg?”, Adrien asked as he got back into his room, flopping down on his bed after the transformation faded, his Kwami following him right after to curl up on a pillow.

“Yea, kid?”, his Kwami replied, opening one eye as he blinked over to his chosen.

“We haven’t had as many Akuma attacks as back then. Do you think Hawkmoth is giving up?”

The Kwami sighed heavily, remembering the confrontation with their villain back then, a few months ago.

“… No, I don’t…”, he finally replied, his words slowing down and his voice getting quieter. Adrien waited for a moment, probably curious if Plagg would add something but the cat remained silent. The boy slowly nodded, folding his arms behind his head as he stared up to the ceiling. A thousand questions swirled through his head, like what Hawkmoth wanted to do when he got the Miraculous or why he attacked less or such things but, in the end, only one question made it out of his mouth.

“Plagg, does Hawkmoth plan something?”

His Kwami huffed and sighed, finally closing his eye again to get some rest.

“Of course he does.”, as if the question was obvious.

“… What will the ultimate power grant him, then?”

To this, his Kwami remained silent.

If you wanna check out my other works, you can scroll through my profile on Ao3, my fanfiction.net profile which I keep updated along with this one - also 3laxx - as well as my tumblr profile here. I also have a Twitter account under the name 3laxx/@ToniWorz and an Instagram account with the name _3laxx_ on which I mostly upload art and a few pics I just make for fun, as well as my projects from work as a glass artist.

[sarahw-world]

My first fanfic: “A Dark Heart“

Chapter 17: An Innocent Kiss                         Summary: Bulma and Vegeta wake up in bed together...

                     Notes: I'm back again! Sorry for the lack of updates, but this next chapter got too long and heavy and I've decided to split it in two, so here's the first part...

I've also been dealing with a bit of a "writer's crisis", so I hope this chapter turned out alright...

           He awoke to the sight of blue. 

At some point during his slumber he’d buried his face in his woman’s silky hair, bringing her even closer to him. He could feel Bulma’s soft breath against his neck, the warmth of her body enveloping him, one arm lazily wrapped around his waist and a long leg intertwined with one of his.

It felt incredible.

This, this is what he’d feared since day one, ever since he’d first laid eyes on the beautiful woman and, later on, when he’d taken her for the first time, finally making her his. He’d always known she’d end up becoming an addiction, and yet, he’d been unable to resist her charms…

It’d been hard enough leaving her immediately after he’d found out she was with child, and it was even harder abandoning her and the boy for a second time, but now, now he had no clue about what to do and he feared the grief they’d both go through when they’d separate for a third time.

He kept holding her against his strong body with one arm, incapable of letting her go, inhaling her sweet feminine scent and gently caressing her cheek with the other, feeling the hint of a smile touch his lips when he saw that little pout she made in her sleep that once again reminded him so much of their son. He could tell she was sleeping soundly, something he suspected she hadn’t done very often judging by how exhausted she’d looked when she’d been taking care of him earlier. Vegeta recalled their first encounter on this planet, when the heiress had mentioned how tired he looked and assumed he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep ever since he’d left the Earth.

She’d been right, of course.

His lonely nights had been plagued by nightmares, horrible visions that consumed him even after he’d wake up and that had changed and evolved the further he’d removed himself from Bulma.

At first, his own father had been the main protagonist, mocking him and haunting him, calling him a disgrace to his race, proclaiming what a failure his own son had turned out to be. Such images where the ones he’d shamefully shared with his mate in the embarrassing message he’d left for her back in that frozen planet…

What the hell had he been thinking, baring his soul to her like that?

And yet, at the same time, he felt a sense of relief at having been able to reveal his thoughts and fears to her, the only being in this goddamned universe he knew wouldn’t judge or laugh at him.

Lately, the humiliation of his defeat during the Cell Games had become secondary in his hellish dreams, and the poisonous imagery invading his broken mind at night was that of Bulma. In the most recurring one he saw her dying at the hands of one of his past demons, usually Frieza, and at times, his own child would become a victim too.

And sometimes…

Well, sometimes torture took the shape of his woman’s bold sensuality, seducing and tempting him, arousing him agonizingly and, just as he was about to touch her, to possess her, her luscious form would vanish and he’d wake up in the middle of the night in cold sweat, alone in his cold king-sized bed, his body begging for the release and comfort only she could provide.

All of a sudden, the Prince felt her little toes move as her leg stretched above his own, and her breathing changed, announcing she was about to awaken. Before he could remove his calloused hand from her cheek, she moaned softly and set her gorgeous blue eyes, which were now blinking lazily, on his dark ones. There was a brief silence as the heiress seemed to be trying to remember where she was, but soon she smiled shyly, imitating his actions and caressing his cheek too…

“Hey…” She whispered.

The sensation of her kind little fingers on his skin was enough to leave him hypnotized.

“How are you feeling?” She finally asked, slightly unnerved by his silence and the mysterious way in which he kept staring at her.

How was he feeling?

Better than he had in a long fucking time, that’s how…

He felt well-rested, not being able to recall when was the last time he’d slept that well. Sure, his body was still sore, a consequence of his thoughtless stupid behavior earlier, but his leg barely hurt, and the pressure and tightness he’d been experiencing on his ribs earlier had decreased considerably, reminding him once more of his mate’s many talents.

He kept staring at her for a few moments, entranced by those gentle eyes full of concern, and he decided he had to say something, anything, to make her get away from him before he lost control and avidly kissed those plump lips…

“Thirsty,” he finally replied in a hoarse monotone voice, immediately removing his rough hand from her cheek.

“Oh? Right…” The heiress replied imitating his actions uncomfortably.

Vegeta could see the tinge of disappointment adorning her features now; clearly that hadn’t been the response she’d been expecting from him, then again, what did she truly expect? Love? Romance? That had never been his forte, had it? Before he had time to overthink things too much, he felt the woman carefully separate her body from his and sluggishly get up from the small bed.

“Let me check…” She whispered, stifling a small yawn.

She walked through the room, kneeling in front of the little fridge in the corner and examining it sleepily. She looked so beautiful with her messy hair, which was now longer than he recalled, and wearing his black shirt, so large for her frame that it offered him the view of her cute pink lacy bra underneath.

Bulma Briefs was one hell of a woman…

“Mmm… You have no sports drinks left…” She said thoughtfully, finally grabbing a bottle of cold water and walking into the bathroom, only to come back carrying the bottle and a little pouch.

“Here…” She said, opening the pouch and dissolving the orange powder it contained into the water, closing the bottle and shaking it again. Bulma stood by the bed, offering him the now orange liquid.

“They’re electrolytes, you’re probably dehydrated. It’ll make you feel better…” She explained sweetly.

The Saiyan sat on the bed slowly and grabbed the bottle, grunting in acceptance and drinking it greedily, while Bulma hopped on top of the desk by his bed, swinging her legs like a little girl, expectantly waiting for the warrior to make his next move. One look at the tiny spots of blood that still stained her lingerie told him that the first thing he had to do was get her out of there and make her take a shower; the sight of his woman tainted by his blood made him sick.

“We’re going back to the palace,” he finally said. “I have matters to attend to…”

“What matters?” The scientist curiously asked.

“Matters that are none of your concern, woman,” he replied gruffly.

Bulma rolled her eyes.

So, that’s how things were now?

It was so frustrating… As if they were taking one step forward and two steps backwards… But she kept reminding herself that she needed to be patient with her mate, given his current state of mind. Still, the fact that he was treating her much better than he had during their first encounter gave her some hope.

“Do you want some clothes?” She offered, noticing the man was naked underneath the bed sheets.

Vegeta nodded silently, avoiding eye contact with the blue haired beauty.

“Alright… Let me see what I can find in here…”

Bulma jumped gracefully from the table and took a look inside his small closet, quickly observing there wasn’t much for him in there, not even a single piece of armor.

“You have no armor, are some shorts and a t-shirt okay?”

“Whatever, woman, I just don’t wish to fly naked to the palace. I have more clothing available in my rooms…”  

“Right… Well, there you go…” The heiress said, softly placing the items on the bed and turning around shyly in order to give him some privacy as he got dressed. She grabbed her thin belt full of capsules and walked to the door.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” she whispered, quietly closing the door behind her.

Vegeta smirked at her sudden coyness, as if she’d never seen him naked before and done despicable things to his body when they’d shared a bed. For Gods’ sake, they even had a child together!

Still, he found her timid behavior oddly charming…    

He got dressed quickly, only having some difficulty when he had to bend down to lace his sneakers, and he left the room, not without cringing when he took a final look into the bathroom and saw Bulma’s clothes bathed in his dried-up blood. Knowing how much his little mate worried about him every time he got hurt, he couldn’t help the rush of guilt he experienced all of a sudden. And the guilt didn’t go away when he found the woman waiting for him behind the door, her back against the metallic wall of the ship, uncomfortably rubbing one of her arms as she tried to avoid the sight of the old puddle of blood that still stained the floor. He couldn’t stand seeing her like that, so he simply held her hand and swiftly walked her towards the exit door, masterfully avoiding the blood-soaked spot. When he finally left the gravity room he felt her stop and let go of his hand, making him turn around inquisitively.

“What is it?”

“I… I just don’t have any shoes on…” She muttered timidly, signaling at her bare little feet, which were nervously fidgeting on the floor.

 Great, just as he was trying to keep his distance from her…

“Alright, come here…” He said, extending his strong arms and picking her up. She was light as a feather, and he felt something tighten in his chest when she instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips and held on to him in a fierce embrace.

“Thank you…” She whispered in his ear.

He nodded silently, feeling his face burn. That damn woman was the only being in the entire universe that not only thanked him for every little thing he did for her, but could make him blush because of it…

“Hey! There you are!” A cheerful voice yelled, making the couple turn around and finding Krillin and Yamcha walking out of a small Capsule Corp. house they’d been staying at while they’d waited for their friend to leave the GR.

“We were a bit worried about you two, are you alright?” Krillin asked.

“What do you mean?” Bulma asked back, still being carried in her mate’s arms.

“Well, um… You know… It’s been like eleven or twelve hours since you two got in there…”

Vegeta’s eyes widened. Had they really been asleep for so long? He couldn’t recall the last time he’d gotten more than three or four hours of sleep. Did his woman’s presence truly have such a comforting effect on him?

“Really? Wow… I guess we were both a bit tired… Sorry to make you wait that long, guys…”

“Aw, B., it’s okay… We decided to stay in the little emergency house you gave us, thank Dende for air conditioning, right?” The bald man happily replied.

Yamcha remained silent, quietly observing the scene. He couldn’t help but notice the way Vegeta was holding his ex-girlfriend, and how he looked in much better shape than he had before, not only when he’d been bleeding out on the floor of the gravity room, but even when the warrior had visited them early in the morning. Bulma seemed to have an extremely positive influence on the Saiyan Prince, so he decided to run a little test…

“So… What’s the plan?” The scarred faced warrior finally questioned.

“Um, Vegeta needs to go back to the palace, there’s some stuff he needs to take care of, apparently…”

“Right… Do you want me to fly you there?” He enquired casually.

“I don’t think so, weakling.” Vegeta interrupted. “Your useless ass would probably drop her and then you’d have no one to fly that ship for you when you go back to your backwater planet…”

Before Bulma had time to give her opinion, the Saiyan took off towards their destination, clutching her possessively against him. Her human friends closely followed behind and when the woman peeked at Yamcha, she saw her ex-lover knowingly winking at her, making her smile playfully.

Oh yes…

Her mate’s jealousy couldn’t be a bad sign after all, right?

She buried her face on the Prince’s neck, nuzzling his musky skin, savoring every minute of it as she silently wondered if Vegeta’s body experienced such a powerful reaction to her nearness as well…

What Bulma didn’t know was that powerful wasn’t quite the right word to describe what was going on inside her mate’s head in that moment.

It was maddening…

Feeling her hot little body pressed tightly against him, her cute nose and lips lovingly caressing his skin, was driving him absolutely insane with desire for her. He’d never even been particularly jealous of his woman’s ex-boyfriend, not even after they’d bizarrely managed to remain friends after their break-up, however, the thought of the human male, of any male really, holding or touching Bulma made him feel physically ill.

Why?

Wasn’t that what he’d wanted?

Hadn’t he known all along what would happen anyway at some point when the heiress finally realized he wasn’t coming back to Earth? The Prince was no fool, and he knew damn well that Bulma was practically royalty herself in almost every way possible. Certainly, one of the best females her splendid planet had to offer. So, he knew there would be no shortage of men aspiring to take his place and woo the woman, perhaps even try to convince her to engage into that social convention humans knew as ‘marriage’ and even offering to bring up his child as their own.

It was sickening…

The image of another man fucking his woman and raising his son was absolutely revolting, and yet, he wouldn’t be able to blame Bulma if and when she eventually chose to move on with someone else. Where was this possessiveness coming from, then? And was he really going to do something about it? Could he actually consider going back to her planet and raise their child together? The idea was becoming increasingly tempting the more time he spent with the striking woman in his arms…

“Gods… It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She whispered in his ear, her warm breath making his body shiver and his pulse speed up. He looked at her curiously, quickly realizing she was referring to the view of the majestic sunset offered by the two suns the planet orbited. The sky’s soft oranges, pinks and purples reflected on her skin gave her an almost ethereal quality, and he wished he could stop time right then and there and stay in that moment forever. He grunted in agreement to her statement and she smiled, kissing his cheek and making him blush again like a goddamned fool.

“Thanks for flying me…” Bulma murmured again.

“Mph... I wouldn’t trust that idiot to fly anyone…” He gruffly replied feeling self-conscious once again by her words of gratitude.

“Well, I would… But I trust you even more…”

Trust him?

That was a good one…

“Woman, you are absolutely insane…” He mumbled without any real malice or anger in his tone.

Bulma giggled and shrugged.

“Mmm… I think you like me that way Lord Vegeta…” She replied cheekily, still smiling and nuzzling his blushed cheek and laying another innocent peck on it before finally going back to hiding her face in the crook of his neck to protect herself from the harsh winds.

The last thought Vegeta had before he gently landed on the grounds of his immaculate palace was that his woman would be the death of him…

        So... It seems Vegeta is already asking himself a few questions...

In the next chapter we'll finally find out what his mysterious mission will be...

Thanks a lot for reading!

In case someone is interested in my other works, you can find them here:

http://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahW/pseuds/SarahW

https://www.fanfiction.net/u/8599955/SarahWDBZ

[televinita]

Books Read in 2016: The Why

Why did you read this book?

That’s a question I stumbled across in a book meme about your last / current book. And I immediately thought, what if I answered that question for every book I read this year?

Yes, a lot of these do boil down to "because the summary talked about things that interest me," but hey, now you know me a little better. And perhaps this will be of interest to others who have read some of these same books for different reasons. Listed in order of when they were read because it was enough work to split them by category.

(now with photos!)

FICTION

Where the Heart Is - Billie Letts. 1995. Why I read it: Last year I read The Shelf: From LEQ to LES, so I decided to try the author's experiment at my own local library, and this one looked best out of my options. Without recognizing the title, I was immediately drawn to the concepts of a small midwestern town, a found-family community, and a pregnant teenager having to figure out how to make a life for herself from scratch.

The Honk and Holler Opening Soon - Billie Letts. 1998. Why I read it: Since I liked the previous book so much, I went for one that looked similarly intriging due to the elements of a failing country diner, a woman with a 3-legged dog and another found-family community.

These Girls - Sarah Pekkanen. 2012. Why I read it: I struggle to find adult (a.k.a. not YA) fiction that will appeal to me, being deeply bored by most specialty genres as well as most acclaimed literary novels, so I'm always on the lookout for options. After the cover intrigued me enough at a book sale to read the back, these characters seemed like they had pretty interesting careers, plus they were fairly young for adults.

Catching Air - Sarah Pekkanen. 2014. Why I read it: I loved These Girls, so out of the many other options from this author, I gravitated towards the one with characters living out one version of my dream life, a/k/a two couples starting a B&B.

600 Hours of Edward - Craig Lancaster. 2012. Why I read it: I was having a renaissance of affectionate feelings for Spencer Reid of Criminal Minds and wanted to read a book where I could imagine him as the main character. Decided the best way to do that would be to pick a book about someone with Asperger's. Much research later, this one had the best reviews that didn't mention foul language.

Edward Adrift - Craig Lancaster. 2013. Why I read it: See above: my mental casting + book research was a success and I wanted more of him.

House of Glass - Sophie Littlefield. 304 pg/2014. Why I read it: I went back to the "L's" in hopes of repeating my success with Billie Letts. This one offered me a home invasion and a family being held hostage. That's a good 18 varieties of hurt/comfort in one.

Breed of Giants - Joyce Stranger. 1966. Why I read it: I I stumbled upon this author when Goodreads recommended The January Queen to me. She apparently was once very popular in England but seems nigh-unknown in the U.S., which is too bad because she wrote dozens of books featuring animals aimed at an adult audience, and I wanted to read them all immediately because vintage + animals = my jam. I decided on this one first since the state libraries did not have The January Queen, and one doesn't often find Shires starring in books.

And Then She Was Gone - Rosalind Noonan. 2013. Why I read it: I watch a lot of crime shows, but what they don't show you is the aftermath: when the rescued abductee comes home and has to readjust to life with her family. That interests me, too.

The Running Foxes - Joyce Stranger. 1966. Why I read it: It was taking too long to call in Joyce Stranger novels via Interlibrary Loan, so I turned to the one I realized I had owned for a while, and had in fact picked up solely because it was cheap and old and ostensibly about foxes and (incorrectly) in the juvenile section. It also turned out to be a semi-sequel to Breed of Giants.

Mandrake Root - Janet Diebold. 1946. Why I read it: I found this old book at an estate sale, thought its plain green cover with indented lettering was attractive, and was so enchanted by the first page talking about a woman riding her bike through the forest at night in a foreign European country that I plunged into it without even knowing what it was going to be about.

My One Square Inch of Alaska - Sharon Short. 2013. Why I read it: Picked up cheap at a library sale. I honestly thought it was going to be the story of a young woman staking claim to a homestead in Alaska with her dog. (it wasn't. but it was still great)

A House By the Side of the Road - Jan Gleiter. 1998. Why I read it: Also picked up a cheap at the library sale. Single woman inherits a huge old house? That’s the dream.

Watermelon - Marian Keyes. 1995. Why I read it: I was still feeling burned by NCIS's cheating-husband reveal, and this had the same plot but with a baby, so I thought it might help me work through my grumpiness to see how a fictional character did it. It also seemed like breezy and appealing chick lit, and the fancy green-and-pink cover with an attractively shot photo of a pregnant woman in a white sundress tipped the scales.

Rizzoli & Isles #5: Vanish - Tess Gerritsen. 2006. Why I read it: Long story short, I knew that Billy Burke played Agent Dean briefly on the TV series that I've never seen but always wanted to, and when I learned he was Rizzoli's husband in the book series I'd never read, I was like "hot damn" and set about researching which one would give me the highest quality ship content. According to the reviews, this one had chapters from Dean's POV while Jane was being held hostage in the hospital while pregnant. What is "everything I want ALWAYS."

Rizzoli & Isles #2: The Apprentice - Tess Gerritsen. 2002. [8/6] Why I read it: I enjoyed the writing style of #5 so much -- it was as much fun as the Nikki Heat books that let me picture Castle & Beckett, but better quality writing -- that I decided to go see how this relationship started, and from there I enjoyed everything so much that I continued on with the series in order.

Also read: Rizzoli & Isles #3, 4, and 6-11 in chronological order until I ran out of books. Each one was an equally enjoyable treat.

Under the Knife - Tess Gerritsen. 1990. Why I read it: I figured a medical mystery would be just as exciting as her other work, since I wasn't ready to finish the R&I series at the time.

The X-Files tie-in: Ruins - Kevin J. Anderson. 1995. Why I read it: This used to be an annual reread -- it's just been far too long since I picked up my favorite of all the X-Files tie-in novels. Yucatan jungle + Mayan ruins + feathered serpent aliens?? Yeah, baby.

Winner - Maureen O’donoghue Why I read it: Recommended to me years ago as a good book featuring horses aimed at adults. I subsequently found it at a garage sale, but never had the patience to start it because it's so long, until I took it off the shelf to write down the author's name / look it up, started browsing the first chapter, and found myself so fascinated that I read it overnight.

YOUNG ADULT

I'll Meet You There - Heather Demetrios. 2015. Why I read it: This was recommended to me on Goodreads. I loved the idea of a teenager working in a quirky motel in order to support herself / get to college, plus I haven't seen much YA that deals with disabled veterans under 22.

What Happened to Lani Garver - Carol Plum-Ucci. 2002. Why I read it: Reread this high school favorite after Goodreads reminded me of its existence, eager to reabsorb its powerful content.

Young Widows Club - Alexandra Coutts. 2015. Why I read it: It was a concept I'd never seen: someone who not only got married to a peer in high school, but had her husband die before she turned 18 (suddenly, of natural causes). And I love a good novel about grief and recovery.

The Fall - Bethany Griffin. 2014. Why I read it: I love haunted-house stories in the movies, but I'm more interested in the spooky house than the ghosts, so it's hard to find books that do the trick. The literary tie-in to the House of Usher tipped the scales in this one's favor.

The Spell Book of Listen Taylor - Jaclyn Moriarty. 2007. Why I read it: Quirky title, an attractive design, breezy writing and a neat-looking blend of reality with hints of magic.

You Have Seven Messages - Stewart Lewis. 2011. Why I read it: Looked like a quick and easy read, standard YA fare with elements of grief and mystery. I wanted to know what the seven messages said!

The Truth About You and Me - Amanda Grace. 2013. Why I read it: I am a sucker for student/teacher stories with a minimal age difference where the attraction is genuine and intellectual, not a hookup. Plus the girl on the cover reminded me of Lux from Life Unexpected, and I am always two seconds away from plunging into nostalgic despair for that beautiful ship.

Keeping the Castle - Patrice Kindl. 2012. Why I read it: So, I love Jane Austen. And the plot summary basically described a Jane Austen novel, but in YA, and where the main character rather than her mother is the one scheming to get a husband...in order to add sufficient money to her title to keep her family's MODERN-DAY (1700s) CASTLE. Jane Austen + fancy historic house??

Subway Love - Nora Leigh Baskin. 2014. Why I read it: The cover was pretty, I was interested in the hippie girl, and it was a cutely compact book.

Goodnight, Cinderella - Richard Posner. 1989. Why I read it: Picked up cheap at a library sale, I was mostly just enchanted by its super-80s illustrated cover, and decided I wanted to read a super-80s YA novel about Prom.

Out of the Shadows - Sarah Singleton. 2006. Why I read it: Elizabethan England is one of my favorite periods in European history -- but you don't hear much about the English Catholics during this time. And while I'm not much for fairy stories, the cover made her look like a tree fairy. Nature fairies, I'm fine with.

Everything, Everything - Nicola Yoon. 2015. Why I read it: This has been promoted enough that I wanted to join the conversation. I was intrigued by the concept of a girl who's so allergic to things that she can't go outside.

One Thing Stolen - Beth Kephart. 2015. Why I read it: I was hoping for lyrical writing about Italy.

Dead Girls Don't Lie - Jennifer Shaw Wolf. 2013. Why I read it: I usually enjoy standalone YA murder mystery thrillers.

Out of the Easy - Ruta Sepetys. 2013. Why I read it: I really enjoyed her first historical novel (Between Shades of Grey) and I was excited to read one set in New Orleans.

The Art of Secrets - James Klise. 2014. Why I read it: Because what's more exciting than someone donating artwork to a high school charity fundraiser that turns out to be of priceless historic value? Unless there's also a mystery about who set a fire that destroyed the home of a minority family and why.

Time Between Us - Tamara Ireland Stone. 2012 Why I read it: I don't like time travel stories, especially love stories, but my resistance was overcome 50% because of how pretty the cover model is and 50% because I wanted to read a YA novel set in the 90s.

Time After Time - Tamara Ireland Stone. 2013. Why I read it: And the sequel, because I fell in love with the characters and their love story and needed more.

The Chapel Wars - Lindsay Leavitt. 2014. Why I read it: I enjoyed her first novel (Going Vintage) and thought it'd be fun to read about a teenager who's just inherited the family business: a wedding chapel in Las Vegas. How will she manage the responsibilities?

My Life as a Rhombus - Varian Johnson. 2007. Why I read it: Every so often I get an urge to read teen pregnancy stories. But I've never seen one where the pregnancy is given to a secondary character and the narrator once had an abortion.

All We Have Is Now - Lisa Schroeder. 2015. Why I read it: Sometimes I'm just in the mood for "it's the last night on earth" stories in YA. I always wonder what I'd do in that situation, so I like to see different scenearios.

Thunderwith - Libby Hawthorne. 1989. Why I read it: Reread of one of my favorite books in high school, to relive the magic of being transported to the Australian outback and a stray dog who may or may not be a phantom as he randomly comes and goes.

A School For Brides - Patrice Kindl. 2015. Why I read it: Sequel to Keeping the Castle. I definitely wanted to spend more time in Lesser Hoo.

After The Woods - Kim Savage. 2016. Why I read it: This one was recommended to me by Goodreads -- again, I usually enjoy YA thrillers.

Emily's Dress, And Other Missing Things - Kathryn Burak. 2012. Why I read it: Keywords: Emily Dickinson, grief recovery, road-trip, quasi-student/teacher romance but with all possible legal objections stripped out.

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs. 2011. Why I read it: I saw the movie in the theater and immediately wanted to relive the experience. Since that wasn't possible, I figured rereading the book would do the trick. Plus I wanted to confirm how much the movie had changed.

Hollow City AND Library of Souls - Ransom Riggs. 2014/2015. Why I read it: The Miss Peregrine sequels didn't exist when I read the first book. I had been waiting to do a reread so the story would be fresh in my mind before continuing, so once I had, it was time to go full speed ahead to finish this awesome trilogy.

Tales of the Peculiar - Ransom Riggs. 2016. Why I read it: Having finished the trilogy, I had to round off the collection.

Leap of Faith - Jamie Blair. 2013. Why I read it: I was hunting around for solid love stories in YA, and I am a sucker for stories that involve a teenage girl moving somewhere random and having to build a life for herself.

Don't Fail Me Now - Una LaMarche. 2015. Why I read it: I am also a sucker for girls whose parents abandon them or quit working so that they have to get a job and scramble to keep their family afloat. This one was set in the inner city, a world that fascinates me because it seems so difficult and I can't imagine how people do it, AND it featured a road trip, another favorite staple in YA. Further intriguing was that it was about a black girl for whom drug use / gangs / teen pregnancy did not appear to be staples of the story.

A Handful of Dust - Mindy McGinnis. 2014. Why I read it: Sequel to the awesome Not a Drop to Drink -- I love the post-apocalytpic survivalist world she's created.

37 Things I Love - Kekla Magoon. 2012. Why I read it: I was in the mood for a light, fluffy high school beach read and the cover tricked me into thinking this was one.

Everything You Need to Survive the Apocalypse - Lucas Klauss. 2012. Why I read it: I was searching the library shelves for a good contemporary YA novel with a male protagonist. This featured a guy feeling lost after his mother's death, and falling for a nice girl.

The Way Back From Broken - Amber J. Keyser. 2015. Why I read it: Part of my "looking for a good male teenage protagonist" quest. Grief recovery is usually a good element for that.

This Raging Light - Estelle Laure. 2015. Why I read it: Seriously, I love when teens' parents abandon them or quit working so they have to find a way to keep their households afloat, especially if they have a little sibling.

Zac and Mia - A.J. Betts. 2013. Why I read it: I was in the mood for a teen love story, and if it’s also a cancer novel, then jackpot.

The Indigo Notebook - Laura Resau. 2009. Why I read it: Though I'm a homebody, once in a while I will feel the urge to read a travelogue-type of novel set in a foreign country I would never actually want to personally visit, such as "anywhere south of Texas." Armchair vacations are magical, retaining the beauty of the locale while eliminating the humidity, bugs and poor internet connectivity that would drive me mad.

The Ruby Notebook & The Jade Notebook - Laura Resau. 2010/2011. Why I read it: Well, I definitely wanted to follow the continuing story of her relationship and quest for her father, plus the writing style is beautiful.

Take Me There - Carolee Dean. 2010. Why I read it: I have been looking for a long time for something in which I could imagine Miles & Rachel of Revolution, even if I had to teenage-AU it. The trope was bad boy with a heart of gold + good girl, and I wanted to find one that didn't involve racial tension or an active gang member. This fit the bill.

Some Boys - Patty Blount. 2014. Why I read it: It was set up with hurt/comfort elements (rape victim being labeled a slut and shunned by all except This One Boy), so I was hoping for a White Knight love story.

Girl on a Plane - Miriam Moss. 2016. Why I read it: I was intrigued by both the hostage aspect and rarely-featured setting of the 1970s Iranian conflicts.

The Islands at the End of the World - Austin Aslan. 2014. Why I read it: Post-apocalyptic-event survivalist story + Hawaii!

The Girl At the Center of the World - Austin Aslan. 2015.

Why I read it: The above was amazing, so I needed the sequel!

Someone I Wanted to Be - Aurelia Wills. 2016. Why I read it: Good question. It seemed like a stock quality YA novel about a girl whose focus was not on dating dilemmas? I had rejected so many YA novels at the library by that point that I was willing to take a chance on anything featuring a girl that didn't hit a rage trigger.

Emmy & Oliver - Robin Benway. 2015. Why I read it: Basically, I wanted to cast Deeks & Kensi in a YA novel, so I had that in the back of my mind while browsing at the library. After extensive scrutiny, I deemed this one a good contender. Because what's better than best friends who (hopefully) fall in love?

Welcome to the Ark - Stephanie S. Tolan. 1996. Why I read it: I bought it to read, but I don't really remember why! Maybe the idea of a post-apocalyptic setting? I finally read it specifically to see if I could get rid of it, and I can.

Every Last Word - Tamara Ireland Stone. 2015. Why I read it: I loved the author's earlier books, and this seemed like a generally solid high school story. With a poetry club.

Openly Straight - Bill Konigsberg. 2013. Why I read it:Wanted a book with a gay character that featured either a good romance or a close friendship with another guy.

Tumbling - Caela Carter. 2016. Why I read it: I loved watching the women's gymnastics team at the Olympics this year, not only during the routines but also during the interviews or even just when the camera would linger on them during downtime. This seemed like a fictional version of that.

MIDDLE GRADE / CHILDREN’S

The Secret Ingredient - Laura Schaefer. 2011. Why I read it: The sequel to the book that made determined enough to fall in love with tea that I finally did it. I couldn't wait to savor the experience of drinking tea while reading a new story -- I stocked up on special flavors and everything.

Dreamsleeves - Coleen Murtagh Paratore. 2012. Why I read it: Pretty cover/title, and it looked like a cute middle grade novel about a plucky child succeeding in spite of having to take on too much responsibility for her age.

Abandoned - Angela Dorsey. 2004. Why I read it: I will never outgrow pony books, and this featured a girl who finds an abandoned farm with animal skeletons in the barn while exploring the countryside on horseback. What a great trope.

Jenny, Sam and the Invisible Hildegarde - Mary Kennedy. 1954. Why I read it: Picked up cheap at a garage sale. Cute vintage Scholastic children's book: a world of simpler times. Plus, dog on cover.

Whinny of the Wild Horses - Amy C. Laundrie. 1990. Why I read it: One of my favorite books in elementary school that I haven't seen since, I finally decided to request it from Interlibrary Loan to relive the magic and so I could write a proper Goodreads review for it.

Maybe a Fox - Kathi Appelt. 2016. Why I read it: Pretty cover, intriguing title, tingled my brain with the possibility of a magic fox.

NONFICTION

Kym - Joyce Stranger. 1976. Why I read it: Cat memoirs lag behind their canine and equine counterparts, so I was happy to find one among the vast sea of Joyce Stranger books I wanted to read ASAP.

How Do You Spank a Porcupine? - Ronald Rood. 1969. Why I read it: Found it an estate sale. I adore memoirs about rescuing and raising baby wild animals, especially if they are old books.

A Skunk in the House - Constance Taber Colby. 1973. Why I read it: Bought with the above, read for identical reasons -- plus she's the daughter of one of my favorite memoirists, Gladys Taber.

Scoop: Notes from a Small Ice Cream Shop  - Jeff Miller. 2014. Why I read it: This is from a local-ish author and published by a local small press. It's been heavily promoted in independent bookstores, and the allure of a memoir about taking ownership of a small, awesome business in a small Midwestern town was high.

A Snowflake In My Hand - Samantha Mooney. 1983. Why I read it: I bought it for next to nothing at a book sale because it was a memoir about pet cats. Figured I should finally read it so I could decide if it was okay to get rid of it (it was).

The Body Book - Cameron Diaz. 2013. Why I read it: It looked really fancy and intriguing at Target, and I was hoping for interesting diet / exercise ideas like Lea Michele's book.

Liquidating an Estate - Martin Codina. 2013. Why I read it: I LOVE estate sales, but there are hardly any books about them. This one had stories about amazing treasures the author found while prepping them.

Dogtripping - David Rosenfelt. 2013. Why I read it: I don't know what part of "the author had to move his 25 personally-owned large rescue dogs cross-country" WOULDN'T appeal to you.

What Do You Do With a Kinkajou? - Alice Gilborn. 1976. Why I read it: Nothing gets me to open a book faster than telling me it's a memoir about the huge menagerie of random animals your parent kept on their hobby farm, especially if it was back in the day.

A Gift From Bob: How A Street Cat Helped One Man Learn the Meaning of Christmas - James Bowen. 2014. Why I read it: I read and enjoyed both of the previous Bob books last year, because cat memoirs. (Plus the author seems very likeable and still humbled by his success.)

Chosen Forever - Susan Richards. 2008. Why I read it: The long-sought sequel to the previous book of hers I really liked, Chosen By a Horse, which I wanted to read in order before getting to Saddled.

The Dog Who Rescues Cats - Philip Gonzalez. 1995. Why I read it: Goodreads reminded me it existed one night, so I reread for funsies. It's one of the greatest modern true legends and I'm surprised Tumblr hasn't hyped it more.

Fifty Acres and a Poodle - Jeanne Marie Laskas. 2000. Why I read it: I saw the sequel (The Exact Same Moon) at an estate sale, loved the dog on the cover and the idea of a memoir about living on a hobby farm, and took myself to the library ASAP to make sure I read the books in order.

Never Turn Your Back on an Angus Cow - Dr. Jan Pol. 2014. Why I read it: It's been a while since the library had any new veterinarian memoirs; I always enjoy them.

An Affair With a House - Bunny Williams. 2005. Why I read it: This book is porn to a person like me, who loves both huge/historic mansions and the details of interior decorating, especially with antiques.

The Big Tiny: A Built It Myself Memoir - Dee Williams. 2014. Why I read it: Even though I love big houses, I'm equally fascinated by the idea of super-organized living in a tiny space. Because I am thrifty.

Dreaming in the Dust: Restoring an Old House - Katherine Chrisman. 1986. Why I read it: A journal covering a family's restoration of a historic mansion, in my local-ish backyard of Minneapolis a.k.a. a house I could actually go look at? Sign me UP.

[emospritelet]

Homecoming - chapter 11

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

AO3 link

Five years earlier

The sound of light chatter and background music washed over him, and Ogilvy listened with half an ear, sipping at the glass of wine he had taken from a footman.  He was tucked by a marble pillar, watching as the ladies and gentleman wandered past, laughing and chattering about the usual inanities. There would be dancing soon, and he was almost looking forward to being spared from conversation with the other guests.  A multitude of lamps sent out a warm light, making diamonds sparkle and eyes gleam and reflecting off the facets of crystal glasses carried on trays by immaculate servants. Lady Ella Deville had always enjoyed parties, and her large London home made an excellent venue in which to host them.

He watched from the sidelines as she drifted past, tall and pale and slender, patting arms and stroking egos and entertaining her guests with wicked jokes and her surprisingly deep laugh.  Lady Ella was an excellent hostess, and always made sure to invite him. Even if he was a terrible guest. He had scanned the crowd upon entering, as he always did, but the familiar feeling of disappointment had quickly settled on him like a dark cloud.  The milling crowd was made up of ladies and gentlemen, artists and writers, thinkers and philosophers, with a few self-made industrialists such as himself, all gossiping and flirting and drinking too much.  Belle was not among the guests.

In his heart he knew that he hadn't really expected her to be there, but Doc insisted that there was always hope, and so he tried to attend as many social occasions as he could, in case the Fates decided to smile on him for a change.  The failure to find her was a cause of great anguish for both he and Doc, but it weighed heavier on him, haunting his dreams, stealing his rest with its heavy sense of loss, of hopelessness.  He would turn fifty in a few days, with no sign of her, not even a hint of her whereabouts. They had searched in Britain and on the continent, and even journeyed to the Americas in the vain hope of finding her.  He had paid eyes and ears in dozens of countries, all reporting back to him at the merest hint of a noblewoman with blue eyes and chestnut hair. All for nothing. It was as though she had fallen off the face of the earth, and after six lifetimes of searching, he was desperately afraid that they would never be reunited.

He tried to tell himself not to lose faith, but every passing year wove another layer into the heavy cloak of despair that wrapped around him.  The arrival of Alice four years earlier had helped to lift his spirits, had given him something to concentrate on other than his own misery, but he was well aware that she would grow up and leave eventually.  She would find her special someone, and while he wished her to be happy, he dreaded the day that she would go, leaving he and Doc to their too-quiet house and their endless grief.

“Darling, do stop glaring at the guests as though they owe you money.”

Lady Ella’s drawling voice pulled him out of the swamp of self-pity he was wallowing in, and she sashayed nearer, cream silk dress glittering with a multitude of tiny beads, feathery white plumes bobbing atop her perfectly-styled blonde hair.  Ropes of diamonds glittered around her neck, and she snapped shut her silk fan and flapped a gloved hand at him.

“Go!  Have fun!  Talk to someone other than your dear old Professor for a change!”

“I’ll pass, thank you,” he said.  “Besides, I’m - ah - enjoying the music.”

“No you’re not,” she said flatly.

“Fine, I’m not,” he grumbled.  “Who tuned that cello anyway? It sounds as though he’s playing it with his feet.”

Ella pretended to look affronted, tossing her head a little.

“I have no idea why I bother inviting you to these things,” she huffed.  “You always lurk in the corners as though you’d rather be somewhere else.  Why do you even come?”

“One never knows when there’ll be someone new in town,” he said, taking a sip of his wine, and she rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Please tell me you’re finally on the lookout for a wife after all these years,” she said.  “I can give you some recommendations, if you like. I hear all the gossip and probably know far more dark and delicious secrets than is good for me.  I daresay one of my many acquaintances would suit you.”

“I doubt I have the requisite lineage,” he said dryly, and she sniffed, waving a hand.

“Oh, that’s overrated,” she said dismissively. “Take it from someone who married a lord and regrets it constantly.”

“You were already a lady, and your family was as old as your husband’s,” he said.  “I have neither title nor family to sweeten the deal.”

“Money bridges many social divides, I find,” she said, with a grin.  “And you have plenty of that, darling. There has to be more than one who’d be willing to take you, miserable as you are.”

“Well, thank you for that ringing endorsement, but I don’t need any help in finding a wife.”

“Think about it,” she pressed.  “I’m sure young Alice would be pleased to have a mother figure in her life. There are things a father can’t teach a daughter, you know.”

“Perhaps,” he acknowledged.  “But nothing that a governess can’t teach her.”

“Assuming you can find one that suits,” she said slyly, and he grunted.

“Yes, alright, so the last one was a bloody disaster,” he grumbled.  “I’m well aware. No doubt I’ll find one that doesn’t try to crush her spirit and that Alice doesn’t hate.  Eventually.”

“Oh, the one I took on a few months ago has been wonderful,” she said.  “Far too young and pretty to be teaching, in my opinion.  No doubt she’ll run off and get married at some point, but for the moment she seems happy enough with her books.”

“Really?”  He took a sip of his wine.  “What’s her name? Perhaps I can entice her to our house to teach Alice.”

She slapped his arm playfully with her fan.

“Don’t you dare try to poach my governess!” she scolded.  “Besides, she’s safely tucked out of the way at Furton Grange.  If you’re a good boy and socialise, I may bring her to town when Aurora comes out.  You can have her then.”

“I’m sure she’ll be delighted,” he remarked dryly.

“And don’t think you can change the subject and that I’ll forget about getting you a wife!” she added, jabbing him with her fan and making him wince.  “I won’t have one of my favourite guests moping around the place! Bad for the atmosphere.”

“I thank you for your concern, but I don’t need your help,” he said.

“I beg to differ.”

“No doubt, but I stand by it,” he said.  “I assure you, when I see the right woman, I’ll know.”

“Oh, so you do like women, then?” she said, with a grin.  “I was beginning to think you were a Decadent.  And if you are, you can certainly tell me, you’re among friends in this house.”

He grinned at that.

“No, I’m just - very particular.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you have all my knowledge of polite society at your disposal,” she assured him.  “Tales of scandalous impropriety and whispers of looming financial ruin are only a hastily-written letter away.”

His grin widened.

“Rest assured that if I ever decide to show an interest in the degeneracy of the upper classes, you would be the first person I’d ask.”

“Impertinent!”

She tapped his arm with her fan, smirking, and he chuckled.  Ella let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes.

“Very well,” she drawled.  “I’ll leave you to your lurking.  Do at least try to have a good time.”

"I promise."

She wandered off with a sway of her hips, calling out to another guest, and Ogilvy smiled as he watched her go, raising his glass to take a sip of wine. Ella slipped into the crowd, feathers bobbing as she went, and he let out a sigh, closing his eyes and letting the warmth of the room wash over him. Perhaps it was time to go home.

“A long time, since last we met.”

A woman’s accented voice made him start, eyes flicking open as he glanced around, and it was as though a cold hand clutched his heart and tugged at him, dragging him swiftly back through time, through countless centuries. With startling clarity, he remembered the fateful day when he had stood by the fire pit of a tribe that was not his own, and had made the choice that was to change his fate and lead him to this moment, bowed down with the weight of ceaseless searching and endless grief.  The woman before him looked exactly as she had then, black eyes weighing and measuring, the light in them too old, too knowing for her smooth cheeks. She was taller then he, and slender, the red gown she wore bright against olive skin. Shining black hair was twisted up on her head, and long gold earrings hung from her lobes, tiny diamonds catching the light from the candles.  Ogilvy felt his jaw tighten, and he nodded stiffly, in recognition.

“Seer.”

He was almost surprised that he had spoken, the word falling from his lips in barely more than a whisper, scattering in the air like dust.  Her full mouth curved in a smile.

“You look older, Spinner.”

“Time tends to have that effect,” he said, his voice cool.  “Except on you, it seems. Strange.”

Her smile widened.

“Time plays tricks.”

“Indeed,” he said quietly.  “Cruel tricks.”

Her eyes scanned the room, as though searching for someone, and he wondered why she was there.  He doubted it was for him. Not for the first time, he wondered what she was.

“I’m delighted to make your acquaintance,” he said, for the benefit of a passing gentleman, who eyed them briefly.  “I’m afraid I didn’t catch the name, my Lady.”

Her lips curled upwards, white teeth gleaming, and she dipped a graceful curtsy.

“You may call me Persephone,” she said.  Ogilvy’s eyebrows twitched.

“Really?” he said dryly, taking a sip of his drink.  “And here I thought that in the winter months you walked a different plain to the rest of us mere mortals.”

“Is that what you are?” she asked, raising a slim brow.  “A mere mortal? Somehow I doubt that.”

She spoke the words softly, enunciating the description he had used, r’s rolling off her tongue.  It was almost as though she was mocking him, and his mouth flattened.

“Death leaves its mark on me as much as any man,” he said, and she pursed her lips.

“Yes,” she whispered, taking a step forward, and pressing a swift hand to his heart.  “Here especially.”

Ogilvy flinched, stepping back from her, and she let her arms fall to her sides, a tiny, sad smile making her eyes gleam.

“Your bond was broken,” she said.  “Not completely, but enough. I told the Scholar I could not change that. She wanted to remember you nonetheless. Knowing the pain it would cause. You chose well, Spinner.”

He felt his mouth drop open, his eyes widen.

“You saw her?” he whispered.  “Where? When?”

Her mouth twisted, as though she was vexed at having mentioned it, and one hand flicked, a dismissive gesture, casting away something useless.

“Oh, in another life, another time,” she sighed, and he felt his body sag in disappointment.

“So, not this life,” he said wearily.  “But - but she knew you? She knew - about us?  How?”

“She had to,” said the Seer.  “She needed the knowledge, to prepare her future self.  To send a message through time, and save us all from the darkness to come.”

“What darkness?” he said sharply, and she smiled.

“A problem for a future life, I think.”

Ogilvy scowled, but let it go.  Deal with the issue at hand, man.

“Then - she had the stone?” he asked.  “No, no, that can’t be. She would need our stones too, mine and Doc’s.  Hers alone would not work. How did she—”

“She needed the knowledge,” repeated the Seer.  “And so I gave it to her.”

He took a step forward, his brows lowering as he caught her meaning.

“You - you restored her memories?” he said, his voice a low growl.  “I know the pain that causes, the agony of knowing the other is out in the world and not being able to find them.  You did that to her?”

“I gave her a choice,” she said sharply, dark eyes flashing.  “Just as you did, aeons ago. She chose what little of you she could have.  She will always choose you.  Would you have her choose another?”

He shook his head, sighing, and gazed down at the rippling surface of his wine, as though it would give him comfort.

“I would have her be happy,” he whispered.  “Six lifetimes I’ve searched for her, Seer, and all in vain.  Six lives of pain and loss and misery. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, least of all the one I love most.”

The Seer huffed a little, fingers plucking at her skirts.

“It was necessary,” she said, more quietly.  “I took no joy from the cruelty of it, I assure you.”

“No,” he said coolly.  “I daresay emotion isn’t your strong point.”

“Emotion can be a powerful thing,” she said, ignoring the barb.  “But it can also make one reckless. You may rest assured I have no intention of being so. There is too much at stake. You have your own challenges to face, but I must think of the fates of all.”

“Your schemes are no concern of mine,” he said, his voice stiff.  “Is there a reason you sought me out, or is this a chance meeting?”

She smiled.

“For us, nothing happens by chance,” she said.  “I sense your despair, your weariness. I wished to give you some comfort.  What little there is of it.”

He took a step towards her, his heart thudding, hope and fear kindling in his chest.

“Tell me I will find her in this life,” he whispered, and she shook her head.

“She will find you.”

Hope flared, a burst of heat, making his heart pound.

“Truly?” he whispered.  “She’ll find us? She’ll come home?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

She smiled briefly, but there was a hint of pity in her eyes that made his heart clench.

“I cannot say,” she admitted.  “The board is set. The pieces are not yet in play.”

“A fitting analogy,” he said bitterly.  “We are pawns, after all. Set up to be sacrificed as the gods see fit.”

“The gods do not control everything,” she said sharply.  “And nor do I See everything. Your Scholar will find you.  Take comfort in that, at least.”

“It could be twenty years from now,” he said, with some asperity.

“Perhaps.”  She shrugged delicately.  “Do you grow tired of waiting for her?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said sharply.  “When she’s back with us and in my arms I will thank the gods for it, but please tell me she’ll come home soon!”

“I cannot say,” she repeated.  “But she will find you.”

She nodded to him, taking a step back and turning away.

“Wait!” he said urgently.  “The stone! Will she have it?”

The Seer paused with her back to him, her shoulders stiff.

“She had the stone when last we met,” she said, her voice carefully neutral.

“And now?”

“I do not See her with the stone,” she said, after a pause.  “But who can say?”

He sighed in frustration.

“Then do you know where it is?”

“No,” she said, and glanced back over her shoulder.  “But you are tenacious, are you not? Perhaps you will find it.  Good luck, Spinner.”

She glided away, skirts rustling as her hips swayed, and he threw back his wine, feeling it burn his throat as it went down.  She'll come back to us.  She'll come home.  One way or another, she'll come home.