#the subtle hints and mentions of william are scary

[enigmaticexplorer]

I'm so glad you mentioned their gifts - I loved the gifts Kazi and Wolffe gave one another. It shows how much they've come to know one another :)

There is a lot of subtle stuff going on this chapter (and the last chapter) that are key to understanding what will happen in the next chapter. They're easy to overlook because of the general fluff and happiness going on. But they're there, and they're important to understanding both Kazi and Wolffe's actions!

what music would you pair with this story or individual chapters? Personally I would say early 80s to maybe some newer alt music maybe even a Williams score.

That's a great question! I exclusively listen to movie soundtrack composers when writing. So, without further ado:

Songs for IYasIF:

Earthbound - Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross

From Soul, this movie inspired the more "philosophical" themes of this fic and the characters' storylines of finding meaning in life. Finding purpose. Clawing their way out of the pits of hopelessness to realize that their life does have meaning. This is a short but beautiful song of the wonder and awe of life, and Joe's storyline reminds me a little of Kazi. Like Joe, Kazi has lost her way in her life, she's struggled with meaningless, suicide, and she's trying to believe that her life might be worth something - and she's trying to find her purpose - but she's so caught up in everything else. So, this song - and especially its whimsy coupled with the awe at the end - reminds me of Kazi and her journey. She's finding meaning, she's finding herself, and that's what this story is about.

Cornfield Chase - Hans Zimmer

This song is so beautiful and it reminds me of Kazi and Neyti's relationship. Neyti feels lost and alone but she's finding a place of belonging with Kazi. Kazi is trying her best, and as the story progresses, she's growing more confident and comfortable with her role as caretaker. From the Museum to the Marketplace to the swim at the lake to the trip to space, she and Neyti are finding one another and it's exciting and scary.

Little Women - Alexandre Desplat

Obviously, this represents Kazi and Daria and the prevailing theme of love. The song has a bouncy eagerness throughout and it represents the laughter and contentment of their childhood and relationship before their father died. They no longer have this type of relationship shown in the song, however, by the end of the fic they're reconnecting and they're finding their way back to this energetic, laugh-filled relationship.

Homeland - Hans Zimmer

Coming from one of my favorite movies - Spirit: The Stallion of Cimarron - this song reminds me of Wolffe's character arc. There's this sense of responsibility put onto a leader, but there's also notes of freedom, finding oneself, and romance. It's adventurous and hopeful while also dealing with the seriousness of his life and the trauma he's experienced.

Main Title from Band of Brothers / 1917 - Thomas Newman

First, the main theme from Band of Brothers reminds me of the four brothers. It encapsulates their prevailing brotherhood in a post-war setting; it captures those hints of guilt and shame and desperation; it carries this strong note of camaraderie and survival. Now, couple this song with Thomas Newmans "1917." This song portrays the men's struggles. It's dark and somber, and it represents the hardships they're carrying from war - their trauma, their guilt, their struggle to move on. All four of the men are trying to find their own paths outside of the war but the war left its scars and those scars can't be forgotten, only acknowledged and accepted.

Songs Paired with Chapter XXV:

Light of the Seven - Ramin Djawadi

Scene: Kazi at Magistrate Aro's office.

Explanation: If you've seen Game of Thrones, you know exactly what scene this song plays over. There's a tension thrummed throughout this song. You're waiting for something very bad to happen and the song is taking you through a long-winded, intense journey while you're waiting for this bad thing to happen. And the scene with Magistrate Aro is supposed to be tense and confusing as the reader/Kazi try to understand what's going on. I will say that I would split this song between this scene and three future scenes. The four scenes combined together reach their culmination with the fourth scene and the end of this song.

Christmas at Hogwarts - John Williams

Scenes: celebrating Neyti's life day; gift giving.

Explanation: The vibes in this song are fun and whimsical and capture the merriment of these scenes.

Married Life - Michael Giacchino

Scenes: Kazi and Wolffe in bed; Kazi receiving the adoption call.

Explanation: This song starts out happy and hopeful which mimics Kazi and Wolffe as they're lying together in bed, but the song drifts into a somber, serious note that starts with Wolffe's silence in response to Kazi's answer of his question and then concludes with Kazi learning about the adoption call.

Chapter XXV

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 7.2K

Beta. @/starstofillmydream

19 Elona

Over the months, Kazi had grown complacent. 

With the Empire’s arrival, Magistrate Aro was distracted. The busyness of Imperial consolidation and organization required his focus elsewhere. As such, Kazi hadn’t seen or heard from him in months.

Until this morning.

Picking another piece of white fur from her uniform, Kazi took a steadying breath. And then she knocked.

The door slid open. 

With a professional smile, she strolled into the magistrate’s office. Her smile twitched at the sight of a bronze-skinned man with shoulder-length hair. Bash. 

Kazi masked her surprise and bewilderment, stopping beside Bash as she faced the magistrate’s desk. Bash stood alert. His hands were clasped behind his back. An easy smile warmed his face. 

The combination of this random meeting and Bash’s appearance furthered her disquiet. 

Magistrate Aro sat behind his desk, his fingers steepled. Eyes formerly sharpened by political cunning glinted with increased paranoia. A possible side effect of the growing Imperial presence? A connection to the continued evasion of rebels and the lackluster attempts to stall clone desertion? Kazi wasn’t sure. 

The magistrate looked between her and Bash, and then, silently, he gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk. They both took their seats.

“I have called you here this morning to discuss a problem,” Magistrate Aro said. Though his demeanor was effortless, Kazi noted the fury hardening his jaw. “A banking retraction alerted me and other officials to the loss of twenty thousand credits.” 

In the grand view of the government’s reserve, twenty thousand credits amounted to little. Simply a blip in the records. But its loss signified potential security issues.  

“Pirates?” Bash offered. 

An uncanny smile darkened the magistrate’s countenance. “A quick search through the government’s account has revealed more covert losses. Five hundred credits one week. Three hundred another. Small enough amounts to be overlooked. They can be traced back to Helona.”

An alarm of understanding flashed in the back of her mind, and Kazi grew rigid. 

Bash first approached her for access to government funds back in Helona. She thought it was a one-time operation. Apparently, the network had kept busy the last few months.

Stupid, she hissed to herself. The rebel network was fucking stupid.

Stealing a couple hundred credits every few weeks was smart. It allowed them to avoid security scans and database searches because the government reserve, due to its vast amount, couldn’t bother itself with minute details like a couple hundred credits. 

But twenty thousand credits?

What compelled them to stupidly—arrogantly—steal that much money was outside her clearance. But it was so fucking stupid. So fucking risky. And now they were all going to pay for it.

“You believe, Magistrate,” Bash said slowly, his astonishment practiced and seemingly genuine, “that someone is stealing money from the reserves.”

Kazi maintained a frown of confusion, of unbridled shock, even as unease wound through her blood. 

“I do.” Magistrate Aro leaned back in his seat. “It is evidential that rebel activity has found a permanency on this planet. Amongst our very own government employees. This is cause for concern.” 

The magistrate keyed into his datapad and a holographic image cast the desk in a blue haze. Kazi blinked at a familiar building. A building caved in and burning. The building Wolffe had studied the last few weeks at breakfast. 

“I received reports early this morning of an attack on an Imperial lab,” Magistrate Aro said. “A lab dedicated to medical advancements.”

Ignoring the fear bunching in her muscles, Kazi assessed the magistrate. Was he aware that the lab dedicated to “medical advancements” was, in fact, a lab conditioning clones into mindless assassins?

“Reports from my contacts confirm the assailants were rogue clones,” the magistrate finished.

Grainy security footage revealed blurred images of armored clones engaged in a shootout. Apprehension tautened her spine. She forced herself to remain still. Unaffected. 

The men had left for their mission three days ago. Three days without contact from Wolffe. Three days not knowing if he was alive. And all she had was this grainy footage demonstrating just how dangerous this mission was.

The footage burst in a flare of sparks. Kazi swallowed.

“Were the assailants apprehended?” Bash asked.

Keying off the hologram, Magistrate Aro sighed. “By the time reinforcements arrived, the building was destroyed and the assailants escaped. However, a military stealth ship overseeing the lab confirmed the ship’s escape vector. It placed the assailant’s ship in the heart of Veridian Sector.” 

Kazi curled her fingers into her thigh. Curled them hard against her flesh. 

“I have spoken with Moff Harpy and she agrees with me.” The magistrate steepled his fingers once more. “Eluca and nearby planets will be shutting down transportation spaceports and closing space lanes for the foreseeable future.”

The decision would surely anger locals and travelers. And it would negatively impact trade in the Sector. Based on the fury simmering beneath the magistrate’s self-effacing countenance, he didn’t care. Then again, he had never cared about Eluca’s locals.

Forcing herself to relax into her chair, Kazi crossed one leg over the other, feigning confused intrigue. “Do you believe these assailants have connections to Eluca?” 

“That is why I have called you here.” Magistrate Aro tapped a finger to his desk. “I want you to investigate both the money-laundering and the attack on the medical lab. Determine if there is a relation between the two.” 

That…was surprising. There was no connection between the two. The project would be easy, then—

“I also want you to determine who has been stealing our money. Treasurer Aurelius”—Magistrate Aro beckoned to Bash—“will grant you access to the accounts, all necessary data, and information on who can access what.”

From the corner of her eye, Bash nodded solemnly. Kazi dipped her head in acceptance of the new task, even as sweat clammed her palms. 

The magistrate pinned her and Bash with a hard look. “I want these rebels found.”

A few minutes later and Kazi found herself alone with the magistrate. She tried to ignore the fear creeping at the corners of her mind. The fear biting into her bones. 

But Wolffe was far away, and if something happened to her, she would be alone. Neyti and Daria would be alone. Defenseless. Vulnerable.  

“I was unaware you have a daughter, Ms. Lucien.” 

Her heart dropped. 

“It was in a report I read this morning.” A bemused frown wrinkled the magistrate’s forehead. “I was also unaware that you are married.”

The statement, while casual, was a façade for something colder. Threatening. And a guileless smile made his teeth shine brighter—the snap of a lurking shark in the darkened pits of the ocean. 

“I’m not,” she said, keeping her features masked. Her mounting panic contained. 

His smile sharpened; his eyes flicked across her face. 

“Your daughter attends Hollow’s Schooling One.” 

Dread lumped in her stomach, and, stiltedly, she said, “Yes.”

Magistrate Aro tsked and set aside his datapad. He studied her. “There are far better schooling options here, in Canopis. You should consider relocation. It would be…ideal to have you closer.”

“I’ll consider it,” Kazi said, discreetly drying her hands on her uniform. “Once the school year finishes, it will be my priority.”

“Excellent.” 

The magistrate reached behind him, to the wine rack, and grabbed a bottle. The snap of the cork echoed in the silence. A phantom pain grasped her neck; she ignored it. 

Pouring himself a glass, Magistrate Aro swirled the blood-red wine, sighing. “I must confess to you: I am quite disappointed in our lacking advancement in capturing these rogue clones.”

Kazi nodded, silently expectant.

“I thought I had made a breakthrough,” he continued, his voice quiet enough it could have been a mumble. He stared into his wine glass. “My assassin was…checking your work. He had a lead, and he was supposed to provide me the intelligence I needed. But he never returned.”

As she would when she encountered a curious yet possibly aggressive shark on her dives, Kazi held still. Her eyes remained on the magistrate. She watched for minute changes in his face, his posture, prepared for a swift change in demeanor.

“Your personal analyses have revealed a former Republic outpost connected to these deserted clones,” Magistrate Aro said. “I had it investigated. It was abandoned.” His gaze returned to hers; his pupils were constricted to tiny pinpricks of black. “Yet your analyses claim the outpost has received twelve long-range transmissions in the last four months. Peculiar, isn’t it?”

“It’s more than likely the clones live nearby the outpost,” Kazi said, her tone calm, musing. “They are engineered soldiers, after all. They would be clever enough to avoid constant association with the outpost, yes?”

“Hmm.” The magistrate regarded her for a long moment. “I suppose that is one theory to consider.”

Kazi inclined her head in acknowledgement. 

A sip from his wineglass and then Magistrate Aro faced the windows. He gestured in her direction. “Continue with your work. It will lead us to an answer, I know it.”

Outside the office, Bash was leaning against a wall. Kazi glared at him. He motioned for her to follow him, and once they were secluded in an empty hall, she rounded on him.

“Did you steal the money?” she demanded. 

“Careful,” Bash warned. He scanned the hall, gaze drifting to the single cam. They stood in its blind spot. “That is above your clearance.”

“That was lazy and risky,” she spat. “There will be no surviving this.”

“Which is why you’re on it.” Bash patted her cheek and she jerked back. He levelled an unimpressed look on her. “Your orders are to make certain the data leads elsewhere.”

A sardonic scoff seared her throat, and Kazi fisted her hands behind her back, gritting her teeth. She was tired of the network using her as its scapegoat. She was tired of their negligence threatening her fucking life. 

“The clones who attacked the lab”— Bash straightened his black robe, the lapels golden and polished—“were they yours?”

“No.” She sniffed disdainfully. “Their sole focus is rescue-and-relocation.”

Bash appraised her for a long moment. Skepticism narrowed his eyes but he shrugged, turning away. “I hope your clones aren’t on a mission,” he said. “Who knows how long the borders will be closed.”

As soon as his footsteps faded, Kazi crumbled against the wall, massaging her temple.

The magistrate had confirmed her suspicions—he had hired Court. To “check” her work. At least she now knew he was watching her, spying on her. And she also knew her data manipulation remained solid under investigation. 

Small victories, though disappointment clung to her hunched shoulders at the knowledge that Wolffe wouldn’t return anytime soon. 

There was nothing to be done about the closed borders, though. She could only hope Wolffe and his brothers could find a safe holdout in the interim.

22 Elona

The closed borders dampened Eluca’s winter holiday festivities. 

A somber hush haunted the Marketplace and the Square. Even the weather, unrelenting rains and dense fog, cast the holiday week in darkness. The planet’s morosity affected Neyti the most.

All primary schools were closed for the week, and Neyti had made plans. Plans to stargaze with Nova. Plans to paint with Cody. Plans to hike with Fox and Fluffy. Plans to garden with Wolffe. 

Instead, the little girl had spent the last few days hunkered in the sunroom, watching raindrops arc down the window panes. It didn’t matter that Cody had commed—a brief message confirming they were alive and waiting for the borders to open. Neyti was upset by their absence. 

To lighten the mood, Kazi and Daria had spent earlier today with Neyti decorating the house. 

They strung lights. They baked berry pies. They watched a holiday holofilm. The sight of Fluffy trying to bat a string of lights from a curtain rod made Neyti giggle. Kazi had considered it a success.

Tying off her robe, Kazi stepped from the ‘fresher and into her bedroom. The chrono revealed the lateness of the hour—she and Daria had spent two hours after Neyti went to bed redecorating, and after sleeping so poorly the last few nights, she needed to sleep. 

With a yawn, she watered the bouquet of purple flowers she had bought for Wolffe two weeks ago. (He’d started keeping his bouquets in her bedroom, a splash of color to her wall’s shelves.) 

A soft knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts. Daria must have needed—

Her door swung open. Wolffe, freshly showered, stepped into her room. 

Stunned, Kazi could only stare at him. “How are you back?”

“Didn’t get the government update?” he asked. His smirk was amused as he shut her door, dropping his duffel bag to her floor. “Check your ‘pad.”

Sure enough, a news report dated four hours ago revealed an update. The headline was simple: Imperial Pressure Forces Immediate Space Travel Reopening for Five Affected Planets.

Kazi glanced at Wolffe. “When did you get back?”

“Ten minutes ago.” He approached her, his eyes flitting across her face. “Needed to shower first.”

She didn’t have time to respond before his hands were on her jaw and he was kissing her. He was kissing her, and she was melting into his body, and she couldn’t help but laugh her relief. Because he was alive, and he was here in time for Eluca’s holiday, and she had missed him. 

He kissed her harder, stroked her tongue in a desperate, slow caress.

An arm around his shoulders, a palm to his chest. His heart roared beneath her hand—a steady beat that said I’m here. I’m right here.

Wolffe flattened a hand to her lower back; he pressed his body against hers. Her fingers slid to his stomach—a need to feel his skin, to touch him fully—and her palm skimmed his lower stomach. He flinched, hissing between his teeth.

Startled, Kazi pulled away, searching his face. A wince tightened his features. When his gaze met hers, he rolled his eyes and he straightened.

“It’s nothing—”

“Wolffe—”

Warm lips were on hers. A hand was sliding down her spine and the other grazing her jaw to entwine itself into her hair. 

The back of her legs hit her bed, and Wolffe was pressing her to the mattress, and he was untying her robe. Longing softened his expression at the same time desire darkened his eyes. 

Swiftly, Kazi shoved Wolffe to her bed. He hissed, again, and she took advantage of his momentary shock to straddle his hips. 

A yank on her robe’s belt. A quick loop around his wrists. And then he was tied to her headboard. 

Wolffe blinked, glancing from his bound wrists to her face. He cocked his head to the side. “Impressive, Ennari.”

“Wolffe,” she scolded, unclasping the first button of his white shirt. 

“Yes, Kazi?” 

With an exasperated shake of her head, she made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt. The two pieces fell apart, revealing his chest and his stomach. Her lips parted.

He sighed; defensiveness lined his tone as he muttered, “It’s not so bad.” 

“This is…” Gently, she grazed the poorly stitched scar cutting from his hip to the middle of his ribcage. The skin around the cut was swollen. She blinked at him. “What happened?”

“We were discovered,” Wolffe said flatly. “There was a shootout. A trooper knocked my blaster away. We got into it, and he stabbed me. Got his vibroblade right between my armor plates.” He shrugged. “Nova did what he could.”

Kazi leaned back on his thighs. “Were you going to tell me?”

“I’m fine.” Wolffe tugged on her robe’s belt, scowling at his failed attempt to free himself. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I deserve to know these things.”

“It’s an injury.” He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t die.”

“You were injured, Wolffe.”

“A minor injury—”

“A vibroblade to the ribs isn’t minor.” 

The thump of her heart was loud in her ears, and her chest seemed to be collapsing on itself, tight and restricted. The stitches were a jagged range across his ribs, and she couldn’t look away. 

A vibroblade to the ribs. Mangling skin and muscle.

Heavy machinery crushing a chest. Mutilating bone.

An injury from a fight.

An injury from an accident.

Survived.

Dead.

Kazi pushed herself away from Wolffe, yanking her belt’s knot and releasing him. Slowly, distortedly, she sat on the edge of her bed, her hands trembling as she re-tied her robe. 

The white wall wavered before her. Like the white walls in the med center. The white curtain surrounding her father’s bed.   

“Kazi.”

“You weren’t going to tell me,” she whispered. 

“Because I’m fine.” The bed dipped behind her but Wolffe kept his distance. “I didn’t die.”

“What if things had worsened?” Looking over her shoulder, she scowled. “What if you thought Nova had healed you but you got an infection? What if the stitches weren’t enough? What if something had happened and you didn’t tell me?”

“Is that what you’re mad about?” Wolffe glared at her. “That I didn’t comm you?”

“I deserved to know.”

“Communication goes both ways,” he said curtly. “You could’ve commed me. If you were that concerned.”

Sharp fingernails pierced the skin of her knees. “And what happens when I comm you and you don’t answer?”

Bemusement furrowed his brows as Wolffe eyed her, and she dropped her gaze.

Not once had she ever considered comming him when he was on a mission. 

It was easier to count down the days before his return. It was easier to delude herself into believing all was well, rather than acknowledge the true dangers of his missions. The true consequences of his missions.

It was easier to ignore the fact that her father hadn’t answered her comm call that day long ago. That he hadn’t answered either of her comms.  

The bed dipped, again, and Wolffe settled himself beside her. Tentatively, he reached for her hand, his fingers playing with hers. 

“I’m sorry,” Kazi whispered. 

“If I had known…” Wolffe traced the curve between her first finger and thumb. His touch was careful, tender. 

“The magistrate has tasked me to look into the attack on the lab.” Wolffe stiffened; a muscle flexed in his jaw. His hasty glance at her neck was subtle but Kazi still noticed it. She fiddled with the hem of her robe. “He thinks there’s a connection between your attack and the money missing from the government reserves.”

His hand tightened around hers. “What missing money?”

“The network.” She lifted her gaze to his. “They’ve been stealing money. Small chunks here and there. But last week they stole twenty thousand credits. It alerted security.”

Calculation hardened the planes of his face, and he grew quiet, assessing. The look of a military strategist planning a battle.

“Sabotage the network,” Wolffe demanded. “Sell them out. Pin this on them.”

“Wolffe—”

“No, Kazi.” His fingers trembled around hers; his grip was tight enough it hurt. “They dug their own grave. Let them pay the price.”

“I can’t do that,” she said. His nostrils flared, and he opened his mouth to argue but she cut him off. “They’ll retaliate. And who will they go after? You and your brothers.”

“They don’t know where we’re located.”

“But they know you’re here.”  

“We can handle them.”

“They will turn you into the Empire.” A plea hollowed her voice. It was her turn to tighten her hold on his hand, to make him understand. “And when the Empire puts a target on your back, you won’t be able to escape it.”

He scoffed. “I have for the past two years.”

“There’s nothing to be done,” she said firmly. “If I pin this on the network, it’s possible they could trace something to me.”

A slow blink revealed his fleeting unease, and then Wolffe squared his shoulders. Resolution set his jaw.

“Don’t.” Kazi peered into his face, reaching for his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eye. To see her despair. Her fear. “Don’t interfere.” 

His silence confirmed her suspicions, and she started to shake. 

“Your life matters to me,” she said hoarsely. “Please, Wolffe, please don’t risk it.”

“Kazi.” Frantic desperation softened his tone, and Wolffe placed his hands atop hers. Gripped her wrists. “Everything I do—” He swallowed. “I will get on my fucking knees and beg you. Betray the network.”

“It’ll endanger you—”

“Kazi. Please.” Wolffe dropped his forehead to hers. “Let me and my brothers handle whatever retaliation comes. We will deal with it. Trust me.”

At the break in his voice, she sighed. Exhaustion weighed on her, a woolen blanket wet, and she could only close her eyes, her hand falling from his cheek.

“If my analysis leads to the network,” she murmured, “then I won’t protect them.”

A hand cupped the nape of her neck, and Wolffe lowered his head to her shoulder, his exhale shaky. His breath warmed her neck. He brushed a soft kiss to her throat.

“I’m sorry.” His voice pitched low. “It wasn’t my intent to scare you.”

“I’m scared every time you leave,” she said, winding one of his curls around her finger. “And I know it’s not fair to you. But I meant it: Your life matters to me.” 

23 Elona

Baubles of blue and silver twinkled. Faint morning sunshine trickled through the vaulted ceiling and lit the main level.

The distinct scent of melted berries and the delicate aroma of baking seaweed warmed the air. Kazi flipped the sea-cakes; Daria stirred the stellaburst sauce. 

Mellifluous music resonated from the radio. 

Finished washing the dishes, Nova tried to steal a sea-cake—the only man who enjoyed their taste—and Daria smacked his hand. 

Debating the Imperial military’s recent yet secretive move to Geonosis, Wolffe and Cody grabbed the necessary dishes for the meal. As always, Wolffe prepared Neyti’s lemon juice.  

Leaning against the kitchen bar, Fox stayed out of the way, stealing chocolates from the sweet bowl, Fluffy a white mass in his arms. Occasionally, he allowed the anooba to nuzzle his jaw. 

Soon, padded footsteps, quieted by bunny slippers, eclipsed the holiday music. Daria threw Kazi an eager smile. Kazi returned it with one of her own.

Tucked into her pajamas and rubbing her eyes, Neyti reached the last stair step. 

“Happy life day!” 

Surprise widened her eyes as Neyti looked from the adults to the sea-cakes. Her cheeks darkened, and a shy smile warmed her face. Fluffy leapt from Fox’s arms and bounded toward Neyti, bumping his head against her leg. The anooba had grown in the last month, too heavy for Neyti to carry, so she scratched his ears.

“Are you hungry?” Kazi asked, plating a handful of sea-cakes, drowning them in the sauce, and topping the stack with nutow powder. “We can wait—”

“I’m hungry,” Neyti said, her grin bashful. 

Wolffe and Cody passed out the plates and silverware. The men, except for Nova, filled their plates with their own rendition of sea-cakes. They moved into the sunroom where Neyti gasped at the decorations beautifying the interior. 

Vines of bioluminescent gray flowers tumbled from the curtain rods. Strings of pale yellow and dark blue flowers cascaded in loops along the walls. 

However, it was the bouquet of pink flowers—muted pink, bright pink, reddish-pink, grayish-pink—that drew Neyti’s attention. 

The bouquet was Wolffe’s idea. An idea he spent the early morning hours perfecting. Only the slight lift of his mouth revealed his pride in his work as Neyti brushed her fingers through the various petals, sniffing the bouquet. 

While the others seated themselves on the couch and the chairs, Kazi knelt beside Neyti at the game table. A haphazard stack of presents festooned the surface.

“Not everyone gets to share their life day with a nationally recognized holiday,” Kazi said, placing a silver candle in Neyti’s stack of sea-cakes. She lit it. “That makes you special.” 

Neyti stared at the flickering flame. A pensive expression, borderline wistful, subdued her initial surprise, and she closed her eyes. Whispering under her breath, she blew out the candle. A blink of her eyes and Neyti stared at the empty candle. 

“Thank you,” the little girl murmured. 

Kazi frowned. “You okay?”

A small nod was her only reply before Neyti took a bite. The corners of her mouth lifted, and Kazi decided not to push her. 

Later, as she chewed on her own stack of sea-cakes, she couldn’t help but ponder Neyti’s stoic demeanor.

The morning passed in plates of food, warm laughter, and gift-giving. 

A detailed painting of Coruscant at night—a personal request from Neyti that Cody obliged. 

A book of the galaxy’s most popular fairy tales from Fox. 

A star-charting holograph from Nova.

A ruffled pink dress from Daria.

A dragon nightlight from Kazi.

And an empty scrapbook from Wolffe. His knowing grin made Kazi suspicious but she didn’t question it.

In a quiet moment, while Nova showed Neyti how to use a star chart, Kazi perched herself atop Wolffe’s armrest. Daria was admiring the wooden carving of a whale—her favorite animal—Fox gifted her. Cody was listening to their conversation while he flipped through a cookbook Daria had made for him. A cookbook of the Ceaian meals he enjoyed.

A strong arm tugged Kazi closer and she settled herself on Wolffe’s thigh, lounging in the heat of his chest. His mouth skimmed her ear. Lowly, he asked, “Was the candle tradition?” 

“More like old folklore,” she said, smiling. “We believe dragons are guardians, and we also believe they protect wishes.” Wolffe blinked his bemusement, and her smile widened. “On your life day, you make a wish. When you blow out the candle, you’re sending your wish into the universe. But wishes can get lost, so we believe each candle’s flame is bestowed by a dragon. When the flame is extinguished, it’s now the responsibility of the dragon to protect the wish.”

Wolffe hummed his intrigue. “Why make a wish?”

“Because sometimes life is hard and you need something to look forward to.” He stilled beneath her; her smile softened. “It’s a comfort to believe that something out there will protect our hopes.”

A hand warmed her thigh, skimming the bare skin beneath the hem of her dress. “What do you think Neyti wished for?”

Across the room, Neyti stuck a green bow onto Fluffy’s tail. The anooba stared at the bow, perplexed. 

Kazi shrugged. “I have no idea.” 

“What would you wish for?”

“A life far away from the Empire and the network.” Brushing a curl from his forehead, she scanned his face. “What would you wish for?”

He stroked a slow rhythm against her thigh, and then he pressed a kiss to her temple, murmuring, “Your seeds are doing well.”

His refusal to answer wasn’t lost on her but she switched focus, too, observing her pot. The two sprouts had matured, each the length of her arm. According to Wolffe, they had reached their adolescent height. 

Orange as a summer sunset, each stem was thicker than her hand. Thin branches blossomed from the stems, and wide leaves, pale orange veined yellow, lazed from the branches. 

Wolffe ran his thumb down the length of a leaf. “They should start bearing fruit any day now.”

Rubbing a leaf between her fingers, the fuzzed surface tickling, Kazi asked, “Where did you find citrus-star seeds?” 

“The Marketplace.” At her unimpressed scoff, Wolffe smirked. The hand on her thigh tightened, his thumb stroking her inner thigh. “I asked the right people.”

Amused, she rolled her eyes and then kissed his cheek. 

More merriment ensued. More presents unwrapped. More food—roasted vegetables, loaves of buttered bread, bowls of soup—warmed their bellies. 

Bioluminescent flowers glowed serenely; sketches Neyti had drawn for each adult decorated couch and chair cushions.

Kazi found herself beside the windows, enjoying a bowl of creamy potato soup, watching Neyti, Daria, and Wolffe play a round on a board game. Beside the backdoor, Cody and Nova nursed glasses of the expensive whiskey Fox had bought, chuckling over a story. 

A glass in hand, the whiskey a deep amber, Fox joined Kazi at the windows. They stood together for some time. 

“There are mornings when I wake up and wonder if this was all a dream,” Fox said, sipping from his whiskey, the ice clinking against the glass. Sunshine swirled in his eyes. Earthy brown. He chuffed a self-deprecating chuckle. “I wonder if I’ll wake up and return to reality.”

Setting aside her finished soup, Kazi frowned. “What would that reality be?”

“War.” His gaze slid in her direction. “Seeing my vode as they were nearly a year ago.”

“A lot has changed,” she remarked.

“It has.”

“For the better?”

He considered her. “You tell me.”

Kazi studied his features—the wearied wrinkles weren’t as pronounced, the dark smudges beneath his eyes dimmed. “That look in your eyes…it’s gone. Mostly.” 

He inclined his head, almost mocking, and she rolled her eyes, offering him a leather-bound book. 

“You’re running out of space in the current one, so I thought this would be useful,” she said. Fox accepted the book with a grateful nod, and she tugged on a strand of hair, observing his reaction. “Wolffe has told me stories. About your childhood. The first quarter of the book is filled with those stories.” 

Surprise widened his eyes and Fox flipped open to the first page. The dark ink of her script reflected back at her.

“Your story also deserves to be told,” Kazi said quietly. 

With a resigned smile, Fox closed the book, tucked it beneath his arm, and then reached into his pocket. A small, wooden figurine perched in his palm. It was unlike his other carvings: the wood gray, streaked with black. As if its donor tree had burned and a thin layer of ash had settled into the bark. 

“Do you have wolves on Ceaia?” Fox asked.

Kazi slid a finger down the wolf’s back. “No.” 

He nodded, as if he’d expected her answer.

“Wolves represent loyalty and strength; independence and courage,” Fox said softly. “They also represent instinct and intuition.” He placed the carving in her palm. “In the heat of a battle, you’re forced to make quick decisions. Decisions that will have long-lasting consequences. To survive, you trust your instinct—trust your gut—and then act.”

The wolf was carved in the midst of a gallop, front and hind legs expanded, tail weaving through the air. Its ears rested atop its head and its eyes slanted against imaginary wind. Kazi ran her finger down the smooth planes of its flank. The wood was coarse beneath her finger. 

“Here’s my holiday gift: advice,” Fox said. Kazi returned her attention to his face. To the seriousness tightening his expression. “You’ve given Wolffe a taste of what he’s wanted for a long time. And now you need to make a decision. Doesn’t matter what it is, but you need to make one.”

With that, Fox clapped a hand to her shoulder and made his way toward Cody and Nova. 

Emptiness stretched in her chest as Kazi stared at the wolf figurine. Emptiness and guilt.

But it was a holiday, and she already had much on her mind because of the network and the magistrate, and she didn’t want to acknowledge the rabid emotions far, far below. So, she slipped the wolf into the bag with Neyti’s sketch and refocused her attention elsewhere.

Namely on the few presents remaining.

The board game concluded with Daria winning and the men ribbing a perplexed Wolffe.

Slices of pie were shared. Fluffy stole Wolffe’s. The anooba was tossed outside while Wolffe grumbled his annoyance.

The sun was setting. 

Neyti reached for the final presents.

“These are an old family tradition,” Kazi said. 

Perched on Wolffe’s armrest, again, she clasped her hands in her lap, ignoring the apprehension heating her cheeks. They were just presents. Nothing serious. Just presents.

The attempt at reasoning did little to quell her rising anxiety.

Slowly, Neyti tore apart the wrapping paper of her gift. A pause, eyebrows bunching, and—

Neyti gasped, lifting the navy blue sweater from its wrapping. Knitted into the center of the sweater was the Aurebesh letter “N.” Vines of tiny pink flowers poked and wound around the letter. 

Leaping to her feet, Neyti gave her a quick hug and then hurried upstairs. Her door slammed shut. Kazi shared a humored chuckle with Wolffe.

Around the sunroom, the others assessed the sweaters she had spent the last few months knitting. 

Fox measured his maroon sweater to his body: a silver “F” with a small fox running along the top line of the letter. Ironically, the little creature was his favorite animal. Due to its natural slyness and cunning ability to outsmart its predators. 

Beside Fox, Cody inspected the pale yellow of his sweater. A painted sun surrounded the three vertical lines of his letter “C.” He’d told her once that painting sunrises were his favorite: symbolic of resilience. Hope. His eyes met hers and he gave her a small nod. Nova was tugging his black sweater over his head. His favorite constellation—the first one he’d seen on Kamino—speckled his letter “N.”

Kazi watched her sister. Because it was Daria whose reaction she valued the most.

The violet sweater, its package half-open, sat in her sister’s lap. Daria traced a finger along the gray “D.” A dragon—Daria’s dragon—sat on top of the letter. 

Reverently, Daria pressed the sweater to her cheek, sighing. And Kazi knew. She knew Daria was remembering their childhood. The sweaters their mother used to knit every year.

A flicker of silver caught her sister’s attention, and Kazi leaned forward. With trembling hands—either from her sickness or sentimentality, Kazi wasn’t sure—Daria lifted the necklace. She flipped open the locket. A tear slid down her cheek. 

For inside the locket was a photo of their family. A photo from the adventure album that an artificer at Marketplace crafted into the locket. It was to be a reminder for Daria, whenever she couldn’t remember their parents’ faces.

Smiling to herself, Kazi turned to Wolffe. He was studying his gray sweater. On it: a small, line-drawn wolf sitting on its haunches, surrounded by the box of his letter “W.” 

“To match your tattoo,” she said. 

His mute nod followed, and then he was picking up his second present. A frown creased his features. 

“It’s a bioluminescent stencil,” Kazi explained. Wolffe turned the stencil over, its lissome body blue-silver and pointed tip glittering black. Her voice lowered as she said, “It’s for your notebook—to trace the names. The bioluminescence allows them to glow, so, when you wake up in the middle of the night, you don’t have to waste time fumbling for a light. You’ll always be able to read the names.”

Wolffe pressed a fist to his mouth. His shoulders shook slightly. Clearing his throat, he tucked the stencil back into the box, snuggled among its wrapping paper. 

“Thank you,” he said roughly. His eyes sought hers; they shimmered in the waning sunlight, glossy with an unshed tear. “I appreciate it, Ennari.”

Kazi smiled softly at him, and when he tipped his chin down, she moved to his thigh. A hand rested on her knee; the other reached for her hair. Tentatively, Wolffe touched a cream pearl. One of half a dozen sweeping back her loose hair. 

Daria had placed them that morning: a Ceaian tradition. The pearls represented prosperity and the dragons’ blessing. For only a dragon could dive to the pits of the ocean and retrieve the once rare treasure, bestowing it upon those who had proven themselves honorable and trustworthy.

With a half-smile and a lingering touch, Wolffe settled back into his chair. He offered her the remnants of his whiskey and she accepted a sip. 

The burn was incomparable to the mounting warmth inside of her. The warmth swirling in her stomach and lazing through her veins. The burn nestled in her heart, an ember aglow. 

Soon Neyti returned, her grin sheepish. The dark blue sweater hung mid-thigh and she twirled in it, as if she were wearing a dress. Kazi laughed, and it was the dimpled smile she received in return that had her own cheeks hurting. A good hurt, though. The type of hurt you photograph and store in an album, to remember always.

For some time, Kazi was content to sit silently. Wolffe nursed another glass of whiskey, courtesy of Fox, while she partook in a plate of spiced vegetables and thickly-buttered bread. 

Neyti let Fluffy back in, ignoring Wolffe’s reproving grunt. The anooba wisely avoided the man, sprawling himself across Daria and Cody’s laps. 

Reaching behind the chair, Wolffe retrieved a neatly wrapped box. He set it in her lap. A black ribbon, straight lines and curled ends, decorated the simple, white wrapping paper. 

“It’s from me,” Wolffe said. 

His voice was unnaturally tight, his eyes darting across her face as she beheld the box. Frowning at his odd behavior, Kazi untied the bow and slipped open the paper. The lid popped off. Her lips parted.

“I thought you’d like to add to your adventure book,” Wolffe said. Tapping two fingers against her thigh, he scrutinized her. “It’ll be useful for Neyti’s play.”

Kazi lifted the handheld holo-recorder from the box. She blinked at Wolffe. “And for the photo album you got Neyti.”

He shrugged, though the corner of his mouth twitched. 

“Do you…like it?” he asked cautiously.

“This is perfect.” Wolffe breathed a quiet exhale, and she buried her face into his neck, kissing his throat. “Thank you so much.”

The tension in his body loosened, and the ghost of his smile brushed her temple. Kazi placed her hand over his heart. Sure enough, it was beating harder. Faster.

“Kazi,” Daria called out. Her sister glanced from the recorder to her face. “Do you want to take photos?”

They started with a group photo.

Daria took over. She positioned Fox near Cody. The former took a long look at his brother’s sweater. 

“‘C?’ Does that stand for cun—” Wolffe shoved him in the shoulder and Fox chuckled.

Neyti stood in the middle, Daria to her left and Kazi to her right. The four men stood behind, their arms locked across one another’s shoulders. Kazi and Daria looped their arms around Neyti. Wolffe rested a hand on Kazi’s shoulder. 

A few photos passed with the group and then Neyti wanted one with each person. 

Photos of the two sisters followed. 

Their next bunch beheld Kazi and Daria kneeling with Neyti, the girl’s arms around their shoulders. Kazi snapped a handful of Daria and Cody. The brothers gathered for their own shots.

Eventually Neyti pattered around the room, capturing photos of whatever she wanted. At one point, a flash interrupted Kazi and Wolffe talking. Neyti asked for another photo and Kazi obliged. To her surprise, Neyti motioned for Wolffe to join them.

A train of bioluminescent flowers served as their background. Kazi rested a hand on Neyti’s shoulder. Wolffe mimicked her. His other hand wrapped around her shoulders, so she let hers sneak around his waist.

The three of them stood close. Heat emanated from Wolffe. It flowed through her blood, languid and unhurried, a golden heat warming her cheeks. Warming her very soul. 

Blue and silver lights winked. 

The aroma of well-cooked food filled the space. 

Smiles and laughter embraced them.  

Kazi grinned as the flash popped.

A kiss beneath her chin and Kazi breathed a soft sigh; she felt Wolffe smile against her neck in response. Her fingers continued to play with his hair, her nails gently scraping his scalp. With a low hum, Wolffe ground himself between her legs.

“You sure?” he asked. A callused hand skimmed her bare thigh. “We can try again—”

“No.” Wolffe studied her through narrowed eyes and she shrugged. A difficult endeavor considering his heavy weight flattening her to the mattress. “I’m too tired, and I don’t think anything will come of it.”

They had spent the last hour trying: his mouth on her clit, his fingers inside of her. Eventually she convinced him to skip her orgasm and fuck her. He took her from behind, his pace steady, his grip on her hips demanding, his raspy praises promising. 

But Wolffe came quickly, with a surprised, choked moan that made her quietly laugh. His orgasm left him trembling and slightly abashed. 

Challenge hardened his expression as he flipped her onto her back. Sharpened his assessing gaze as he spread her legs. But Kazi waved him off, uninterested in more. Wolffe started to argue; her exasperated look convinced him otherwise. Instead, he settled himself atop her, his sweaty skin pressed against hers, his kisses languid, his hands wandering. 

“We can use the vibrator,” Wolffe offered.  

“Not tonight,” Kazi said. A long, slow lick across her nipple had her chuckling, and playfully she tugged on a curl. He gave her a lazy grin. “It’s been a long week.”

Wolffe traced his thumb across her jaw; his caress was tender, understanding. He lowered his face to the crook of her neck, rubbing his nose against a sensitive spot.

A contented hush enveloped the bedroom. 

The somnolent heat of Wolffe’s body—the kisses he mouthed against her collarbone, her breasts, her neck—lulled Kazi to sleep. Idly, she skimmed her palms along his shoulders, massaged the knots across his upper back, brushed her fingers through his hair. Her touches grew slower, heavier. 

So close to sleep, she didn’t notice his contemplative silence. 

“Kazi.” Her eyelashes fluttered open. Wolffe was watching her; he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, tickling her earlobe. “Where do you want to go with this?”

Sleepily, she nuzzled her cheek against his palm. “What?”

“Our relationship. Where do you see this going?”

She frowned. “I…don’t know. But I like what we have.” She pressed a kiss to his palm. “I like you.”

I don’t want to lose you, she kept to herself. 

Thick lashes lowered as Wolffe considered her. Something flickered across his face—something she recognized but was too scared to voice. Before she could question it, though, he was cupping her jaw and kissing her. His tongue was teasing; his hold was gentle. 

She gave herself to his kiss.

The comm message blinked at Kazi.

Malaise knotted in her stomach as she stared at the familiar number. The persistent warmth from Wolffe’s affection dissipated, and she glanced at her bedroom door. Wolffe was downstairs, grabbing water for them. 

Should she wait for him? Should she…include him?

No. This was her responsibility, and hers alone.

Swallowing, she played the message. 

“Ms. Lucien, this is Licae Thurmin with Eluca’s Adoption Center for Young Girls and Boys. I have exciting news: We have a couple matched with Neyti!” 

Masterlist | A Muse | Chapter 26

A/N: Next chapter release – July 25th

Artwork of Fox, Wolffe, Cody, and Nova (left to right) by the incredible @sleepingsun501!

Some more Kazi and Wolffe in bed (nsfw, 18+).

[vaguely-concerned]

empire of ivory here we go!

previous temeraire let’s read here

- um excuuuuse me I have waited two books for us to come back home to britain to see everyone again and now everything is awful and shitty and scary and my fave is leaving and nothing’s how it should be??? no??? this is unfair??????

- tharkay NO please don’t go everything provably goes to hell whenever you leave D:D:D:

(to be fair to him I guess it’s understandable to want some time alone to process the absolute outrageous bullshit he just pulled for a guy he’s known for like four months)

he used his page time well tho; instantly convincing roland of his worth and making her laugh... giving laurence his cup of tea b/c he looked like he needed it more... telling laurence that he’s leaving because he promised to do that much at least... truly the best boy, off to fetch more dragons apparently because it wasn’t quite crazy enough the first time

- god I love jane roland, I’m so glad my two faves got along instantly, between them they could... maybe protect laurence from himself? at least a little??? I can but dream

- I think this is the most emotionally invested I’ve been in a piece of media since that time I spent a few months completely incoherent over uncharted, and naughty dog very kindly held my heart in their hands and chose to be gentle with it in the end but I am not so sure that is how it’s going to be for this series and I am Not Prepared for the suffering

- I love whenever laurence thinks uncomfortably about one of the various and sundry atrocities committed by the government he’s still pledged all his loyalty to. yes william maybe the british empire... is in fact not good and has enough blood on their hands to dye the ocean red. I can’t wait until he connects the dots here (and presumably has a pretty intense crisis if faith about it because it seems like one of the loadbearing structures of his character... actually no wait I’m not ready to see this D:D:D:)

- the little details like the fact that he just calls bb!roland ‘emily’ and harcourt becomes ‘catherine’ so easily in his narration now are so so sweet  

- lord allendale is one of those dudes who have good politics but is a shitheel to his family and I want to smack him

laurence being the mortified poster boy of this party, though? priceless, imagine coming up with a protagonist this effortlessly involuntarily hilarious, it’s the mark of true genius

- I don’t usually quibble over things like this, but I think the edit for this fourth book specifically is a bit lacking? I’ve come across a lot of mistakes even my dumb ass can pick up on already, and I’m only a hundred pages or so in

- caught between crying and cackling at this part b/c like laurence I’m  d e v a s t a t e d  at the thought of temeraire getting sick but also temeraire is just like cheerfully getting laid the whole time

also how did none of the aviators think to give laurence The Talk about giving his dragon The Talk, you all know what he’s like

- oh thank god

- I have spent half of today crying about dragons coughing, how are you this fine evening good reader

- btw this series fills a hole in my soul left by jkr giving me all those tantalizing hints of different types of dragons in ‘fantastic beasts’ and never following up on it

- tharkay may not be here but laurence just mentioned him like once in his narration so let’s take the excuse to reminisce about the good old days (when tharkay was here)... remember that time when the one of his own jokes he laughed openly at was about lawyers and laurence frankly should have responded better b/c it was kind of funny and sadly temeraire doesn’t have the worldly experience to know it yet.... aaah precious, he truly is a sardonic blessing to my heart and deserves the world

okay back to our regularly scheduled content   

- riley why u gotta b such a bitch about this

(I love how laurence is constantly doubting himself over this tho, as if he’s done something wrong in this situation... like honey baby if there’s one thing worth breaking a friendship over it’s probably them being cool with slavery lol. it shows how much laurence has grown, considering that this disagreement has always existed between them but he used to be willing to just overlook it... I’m so proud of you laurence)

also lol @ berkely coming in to tell them everyone can hear them, I have a desperately soft spot for him and maximus. just the image of both of them turning to him ‘united in appalled indignation’ like ‘excuse you???’ and him giving exactly zero fucks... *chef kiss emoji*

- most important information revealed in this book: a) dragons are not widely considered to have committed original sin, thank you reverend erasmus and b) laurence has taken time out of his day at some point to worry about it b/c he’s a dork

(this is the sort of world building I am hopelessly weak to lol)

- gong su tricking temeraire into eating in the most melodramatic way possible... god bless you chef

- fkjhsadkjfhsdkjalhfaskjldhf laurence judging chenery for what he’s wearing while going out into the jungle in full uniform hat included himself... I caaaaan’t

- demane has only appeared on three pages so far but if anything happens to him I’ll kill everyone in this book and then myself

- ‘average dragon speaks one million languages’ factoid actualy statistical error. Temeraire Linguist Georg, who wants a pavilion thank you very much & learns over 10,000 languages each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted <3<3<3

(I love that temeraire is like... a nerd dragon with a hopelessly jock captain)

- laurence effortlessly rating the relative hotness of the other male aviators to try to suss out who harcourt has slept with fjsaldfhsdkljafh do you ever hear yourself think william

like this is the thing about him it’s so easy to headcanon him as bi b/c he can be so mindbogglingly oblivious it’s entirely possible he literally wouldn’t even have noticed until someone smacked him over the head with it

- see I’m very happy they found the cure but I don’t fucking trust it b/c the pattern of these books tends to be to give you one moment of ‘oh phew everything is going to be okay’ about 2/3 into the story and THEN everything goes to hell and fifty pages later laurence is dissociating and napoleon has conquered prussia 

- THERE WE GO RIGHT ON SCHEDULE

temeraire is never going to let laurence go anywhere without him again and rightly so

- hasn’t mrs erasmus been through enough. can’t she just be allowed to chill 

- this is really cool world building but I’m too stressed out to appreciate it

really enjoy the description of architecture tho this sounds so awesome

- sfahdfklsahdfksjda laurence making sure his clothes are as washed and presentable as possible... I can’t with you you beautiful idiot

- TEMERAIRE OH MY GOD IS HE HERE IS LAURENCE HALLUCINATING PLS SAY HE’S ACTUALLY HERE

- ...well I mean if anyone has a freudian excuse for being kind of dickish I guess it would be these guys? it’s actually pretty chill of them to only flog one of them (laurence, because he just can’t play it any way but stupid lawful good at every turn) and not just killing them all I guess, they kept them fed and stuff

- oh thank god

- temeraire you are the most darling dragon boy and I love you

I was really really worried for a moment there that the reference to the Colosseum was a not-so-subtle hint they would have to gladiator fight to the death but thankfully they were basically just calling in a parliament

- DID THIS MOTHERFUCKER JUST STAB A CHILD IN THE STOMACH?? I HOPE HE ACCIDENTALLY SHOOTS HIMSELF IN THE DICK AND DIES pls say demane is going to be okay

- aw okay finally something good for mrs erasmus I will take it

- laurence you useless fool of a narrator is demane okay?? 

- god roland is just so cool naomi novik really gave us a jovial butch silver fox aviator lady huh... she did that for us and I for one am full of gratitude

- oh thank GOD (hm I sense a running theme here lol) the kid is going to be okay I can breathe again

- iskierka the pirate captain + temeraire’s reaction... perfect

- ;____________; I would lay down my life for temeraire and also that’s a gutpunch of a moodswing... the perfect hilarity of ‘that is an ugly hill’ immediately followed by That... jesus

- awww every time volly shows up again is a joy (temrer!!!)

- laurence... laurence you need to stop asking people to marry you because you never actually really fucking mean it!!!!! have you learned nothing about yourself since book 1, trust your goddamn instincts for once in your life you and roland have been doing perfectly okay thus far as like... affectionate fuckbuddies right? 

(her reaction was priceless tho god bless)

- aaaah there we go the british government is looking more like itself... welcome to the world of realpolitik laurence I’m really sorry :(

- “It is only dragons, you know” JANE ROLAND WTF DID YOU JUST SAY

- “This government is not of my party; my king is ill and mad; but still I am his subject. You have sworn no oath, but I have.” He paused. “I have given my word.”

:) this is... fine

(like. I know this is necessary character growth and he’s basically been a waste of a good man in service to a government like this the whole time and the writing’s been on the wall since book 1 but I don’t want this to be happening to hiiiiim)

- tfw... ur dragon boi is so good... that being anything less than good for him in turn is unthinkable...................... b o i

- ...jane doesn’t really know him very well if she didn’t see this coming from a mile off tho does she

I mean I guess she has other stuff to think about but this shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone

- remember when he thought the entire corps was weird and now he’s finally at home there... and has to leave it behind :):):) super extra fine is what this is

- yeah okay laurence definitely has a crush on ol’ bonaparte noting that down lol he’s all but blushing after that kiss on the cheek 

also... if you just overlook the dictator thing for a moment is napoleon wrong about what he’s saying tho. (no and not even laurence is prepared to say so he’s just going to go back there and get murdered anyway b/c idk lawful good is dumb as fuck sometimes I guess)

It’s really cool how the author shows that napoleon has a better handle on laurence’s psychology after barely meeting him than a lot of people he’s known for years now, though, really adds to his menace and appeal as a character

- wow uh that’s one way to end a book... it’s actually tipped over from tragedy into a strange sort of hilarity for me now: he literally got sued out of his life’s earnings for being a decent human being, committed treason for the same reason and is about to be hanged for thinking genocide might have been a step too far -- in the span of thirty pages. I believe ‘that escalated quickly’ is not too much of an exaggeration here

- SIPHO IS GONNA WRITE BOOKS ONE DAY YOU GUYS!!!! I PROUDLY WELCOME OUR SECOND NERD TO THE CREW

 - I think this one might be my least favorite so far? not that I disliked it, it’s just the one that’s hit the worst by the fact that there’s not always that much time spent with the cultures central to the book; tswana seems really interesting but because of the way the plot played out and our limited perspective though laurence it just didn’t work for me? the cool shit comes in sipho’s book at the end, like how thoroughly they kicked the europeans out of the coast of africa, which is very cathartic (I will say that most of the second book being set on the ship and then only a sliver of it is actually in china annoyed me too haha) 

I have the distinct feeling this book is setting up for some Misery and breaking of the pattern a bit in the next one though, which will be interesting! ONWARDS TO MORE PAIN AND LAURENCE IS ALREADY PASSIVELY SUICIDAL FROM THE OUTSET SO LIKE... I’M SURE THIS WILL BE REAL FUN :)

maybe my boy will be back tho? silver linings silver linings clinging to some silver linings

[infinitehours]

Chapter 5

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you didn’t heed The Ghost Host’s warning about flash photography and too many bright lights?  

What a coincidence; so have I!

Hello and welcome to part 2 of my Ted Talk series, “Let’s Torture Karen For Fun”.  Thank you all for joining me here.

Oh.  I should mention that this is the “scary” chapter.  As in, it probably won’t frighten you, but it is a bit creepier than the other chapters.

There’s a character based off of a face character in Epcot in this chapter.  This particular face character I’ve always thought was some kind of spirit when I was younger, hence why they’re referenced here.  

Also, you’re going to start to see signs of the references I’ve put in to both the Phantom Manor and the Phantom of the Opera (only natural since the book/musical inspired the Phantom Manor).

Additionally, I wanted to explain/reference the two mansions and why only one has the aging man portrait in the foyer.

Van Winkle was an actual delegate back around that time; I may go back and change it to a fake name later.  As well as maybe edit this chapter later.  If anyone can give me tips and pointers, that would be appreciated.

Also I apologize for the really terrible art.  I will probably go back and edit them later.

~~~~

Trigger warnings: ghosts, death concepts/discussions, murder, suicide, abuse, blood, lots of scary stuff (horror), implied sexual abuse, cursing (damn and hell), drug abuse, attempted rape (never completed; in a later chapter).

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Table of Contents Link

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Ch 5: Poor Unfortunate Souls

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”If you want to cross a bridge, My Sweet, You’ve got to pay the toll.”

                         -Ursula,  Disney’s The Little Mermaid

~~~~

Cautiously, she began to climb the stairs. They were going up; not down to where Michael presumably was, but she could swear that statue was going to spring to life at any moment and jump her.  And she couldn’t bear to be around when that happened.

On the next floor was another hallway, this time it was framed with doors lining either side as far as she could see.

No, literally.  She could not see the end of the hallway.  

It seemed to go on for miles and miles; if there even WAS an end to it, it was certainly well out of the visual range of any human being.  

Who the heck would even make a house like this?

There was not a soul in a sight, but there was creaking throughout.  The walls creaked, the floors creaked; Karen just hoped it was the house settling.  

She muttered disgruntled strings of sentences insulting the Ghost Host as she turned at a junction reached for what she had hoped was the light switch for that next set of hallways.  

The old fixtures of the chandeliers above her were sluggish in illuminating her surroundings.  That wasn’t too comforting when there were shadows at one side that she couldn’t quite account for, but relief came when this turned out to be merely another table with papers.  

Out of curiosity (and because it couldn’t possibly make her anymore lost than she already was), she briefly shuffled through them.  

Among the items that caught her eye was a newspaper.  It was faded in several places, but the words of one particular headline stood out.

“LION EATS MAN

On this morning, officers of the law have found what is believed to be the half eaten remains of local man, one Mr. Hugh Hudson.  Mr. Hudson had been reported missing by his cousin and overseer, Mr. Jefferson Lewis of the textile company Williams Textiles, just earlier today, when he had neglected to show for work or respond to visitations to his home.  Mr.  Hudson frequently suffered from unseemly bouts with the bottle, and it was under such influence that it was believed that he had happened across the grounds of the traveling Circus, The Museum of the Weird.

Although initially a suspect in this terrible tragedy, ------, the owner and ringmaster of the circus”

Karen squinted her eyes, but the name wasn’t faded but deliberately blacked out.  

“Although initially a suspect in this terrible tragedy, -----, the owner and ringmaster of the circus has cooperated in full with authorities and was henceforth released from suspicions.  He expressed his opinion that exceptional drunkenness was a type of evil, second only to lecherous behavior, and that such tragedies were an inevitable consequence of Mr. Hugh’s choices.

No evidence has been found that would implicate foul play.  Officers of the law have investigated and determined that the methods by which the scene happened involved Mr. Hugh hefting himself over the fencing using a nearby ladder. After which, becoming trapped when there was method of climbing on the other side.  Authorities are working with the assumption that the remains are, indeed, Mr. Hugh, in spite of the condition they are, which is to say, in rendered completely unidentifiable, as there was a bottle of his favored heavy wet near the beast’s cage.   And, furthermore, on the good logic that none others in town have been found to be missing.”

Lion.  Unidentified body.  And again, that Museum of the Weird.  

Karen looked at the date.  1879.  Was this the same event that the other letter she had found described?

Underneath the paper were more letters. She opened a few, but most of them had names she didn’t recognize.  Until she came across one addressed to ‘A Mr. James Bartholomew Gracey’.  

Gracey.  That was the surname of the other letter author.  She opened it up.

“Mr. James Bartholomew Gracey,

You had wrote previously expressing interest in our convention that took place in Wheeling; I write to you now that we shall hold a second convention on the 11th of June.  Ordinarily, only delegates are meant to attend, but as you have previously provided a great service for many of our members I do not think that your presence will incur an uproar.  

Take care, my friend.  For there have been rumors of late of those who wish to secede stirring trouble in towns.  I recognize that you have a certain attachment to your estate, and I do not contest it is very much your birthright, but I urge you to consider relocating closer to Parkersburg, where you could be among the many who share your sentiments.  At the very least, I pray you take care until this war reaches its conclusion.  

Sincerely,

P. Van Winkle”

This one didn’t have a year date or any other identifying features, but it mentioned a war.

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. This was going to be a headache and a half to make sense of any of this, and likely wouldn’t even get her any closer to finding Michael.  

Gracey.  Given that she was finding so many letters with that surname, and given that Solomon’s portrait was hanging prominently in the foyer, she’d have to guess that the family lived in this mansion at some point.  

She frowned when she went back to staring at the letter.  Why was it…darker…?

Looking up, it seemed to have escaped her notice that the hallways she came from were now nearly black.  Goosebumps prickled over her arms and neck.  

Someone had turned off the lights.

And, judging from the human sized shadow that stood in the murky darkness: that ‘someone’ was still there.

“H-hello?”  She asked in a voice much smaller than she’d intended.

The only sounds she could hear was the echoes of a door slamming off somewhere in a distant part of the house.  The shadow didn’t change its position.  

“Michael?”  She said, a little too hopefully.  But he would never have pulled a prank like this; she knew that even before she was met with silence once again.  

“G-Ghost Host?”

Not a sound.  This was likely too subtle for someone as show-offy as he was.  

“Please….won’t you….won’t you say something?  I can see you, you kn-”

THE SHADOW SUDDENLY LURCHED, JERKY INHUMAN MOVEMENTS COMING CLOSER COMING TO HER

She screamed and turned and fled.  Down the hall in the opposite direction, she came across even more intersections and just blindly went down another and another, turning on the light switches as she went because she couldn’t stand to be left in the dark with whatever the heck that thing was.  

                            [Frightfully sensitive to bright lights]

She winched. There it was again, a thought floating to the surface of her mind that distinctively did NOT belong to her.   Unlike with the memory of Solomon, this thought didn’t gradually come upon her but was instead thrusted into the forefront of her mind.  And complete with an unwanted sense of anxiety to boot.    

She dared to look behind her, and despaired to find that the hallways she left were already dark again.  Getting desperate and running out of breath, she grabbed the first few things she could find, another table and an unlit candelabra, and positioned them under the light switch so that the prongs of the candelabra held the switch on.

Karen didn’t actually think this was going to do much, but as she went to the next hallway she witnessed the candelabra shake.  On its own.  Violently, at first, but as she stared, the object moved less and less frequently until it stopped.  The light switch remained on.  

She sighed in great relief, hoping to all heck that whatever it was, ghost or not, that it had given up its attempts.  The shadow certainly didn’t seem prepared to peep around the corner without the darkness there, so for all points and purposes it had worked.  

Frightfully sensitive to bright lights…Had that been some kind of hint?  Was she somehow peering into the desires of another being? Or was it a purposely sent message? Did the shadow really think she was going to turn off all the lights and allow herself to be at the mercy of a creature she knew nothing about?

She shook those thoughts away.  It didn’t matter anymore; a quick glance at the candelabra confirmed it was still there, keeping the lights safely on.   And so long as they were on, she apparently needn’t do anything about the shadow.

Another table. Another pile of assorted papers.  She’d have briefly scanned over them and just kept moving, as she didn’t want to risk the shadow getting brave, but the top ones….

…Were etchings of the two different types of houses she had seen when they first came across this place.

Just like how she’d seen before.  EXACTLY.

One was a Southern style house, with a flat roof and four large Roman-esque pillars surrounding the front door.  There was a second story veranda that wrapped around the entire house, with iron wrought bannisters that looked just as decorative as they were practical.  Though the etching was in black and white, she recalled from her previous contact that the building was mostly white and looked like it was made of paneled painted wood.

The other was in a style she’d seen around really old houses in mostly the Northeast.  A brick building, with roofs slopping at sharp angles and a decorative turret with many decorative toppers scattered on key points of the roof.  One of the most notable and visible points of interest was a glass room on the side that formed a half circle before fusing into the rest of the building.  

Underneath these was a note.

“Mr. Solomon Gracey,

Apologies, but I am afraid I have no answers for you again.  Though we have had a thorough investigation, the authorities have not been able to locate the evil persons who had accomplished the fire set to your home. Many of us have the opinion that the fire was a joint effort by many persons, who were eager to take advantage of your late father’s passing and your current absence.   And that Mr. Wyatt Williams may be involved.  As there were no fatalities, we thought it wise to let the matter drop; granting, of course, that you do not wish to press further.  

As requested, the style of the new exterior will be a marked difference from your original inheritance.  You recall your acquaintance in Pennsylvania, for whom you had favorably mentioned his newly completed estate some three years prior?  We were able to coax Mr. Asa Packer, the architect of that estate, for advice.

You will be pleased, but likely as puzzled as we were, to know that much of the core inner rooms had remained perfectly intact.  Indeed, it was because so many rooms were unscathed that injuries and deaths were prevented. The resulting consequences should be that it will not take more than a handful of years to fully complete her, as only really the outmost rooms and outside appearance need be worked on.  And, of course, we will extend the conservatory in accordance to your previous wishes.  I believe I can speak on behalf of my sister and say that the promise of this particular expansion delighted her.  

I hope I am not out of line in the choice of my next words, but know that it is out of concern for your safety that I state them.  Stay at the University.  The town has been broiled over with unrest as of late, perhaps due to the circumstances by which our new President was elected.  Coupled with the unpopularity of the Gracey family among the townspeople, returning now may only elicit additional responses against the estate before it has even reached completion.  

Besides which, your presence is not needed for the reconstruction, and I offer my assurances that myself and the rest of staff will make do with the family townhouse in the meantime.  We will take care; you needn’t express such worry as you’ve have.

Regards,  

Edgar Galloway”

She looked back down to the pictures but they were go-

                       She was standing somewhere else again.

It was….it was the foyer.  And the man standing in front of her…

Solomon Gracey.

There were two rows of people before him.  On the right, was a row of maids in the green, pinstripe dress she had seen before on both Nell and the maid from the other memory-dream.  On the left, was an apparent row of butlers.  They, too, were dressed in a deep forest green, albeit as a suit.  They had a pinstriped vest of a more grayish-purple color under their open jackets with a row of golden buttons, and a black tie around their neck.  Both sides were standing rigid as if at attention.  

As a butler took hold of Solomon Gracey’s hat and outer coat, she could hear one of the maids whisper to the other ‘You’re right.  He is quite handsome in person.  That portrait hardly does him justice!’

At the other end were a maid and butler pair; they seemed to be in charge, because the maid silenced the other two with a harsh glare.

Solomon, for his part, smirked in good humor.  “Thank you. I’ll consider that a compliment.”

And the maids, upon being found out, couldn’t help but giggle in both embarrassment and relief until the head maid interrupted them with a cough.  

Head maid and butler stepped forward to greet him.  Both had similar shades of hair, a deep raven black.  The woman’s was longer and had been tied in the back to be plaited into a single braid.   The man’s was cut very short and side swept at the front, but there was still much left on the sides that it would have just covered his ears if he hadn’t had it swept behind them.  Both, too, had cloudy grey eyes.

“Welcome home, sir.” The head maid said.

“Thank you.  It is good to be back.  Despite…” His face fell as he surveyed the room, “Well, despite everything.”

“We did do our best, sir, to organize the reconstruction and recreate many of the rooms.” The butler said.   “But there were limitations-“  

“I know, Edgar. I do thank you all for the effort and the willingness to stay despite the hardship this must have brought.”

“How was the University?”  Edgar said.

“Boring.  It was everything I had hated from the academy plus the addition of an overbearing school administrators that paraded the grounds as though it were their battlefield.  The amount of posturing would have you nauseated.  But at the very least, I’ve passed the bar and can now open a practice.”

He stopped short when he came upon his own likeness up above the fireplace.

“Oh, is this the previously mentioned portrait?”  He turned to Edgar and the head maid with a raised eyebrow and a wry smile. “What on Earth were you thinking?”

“Sir, we thought it would be wise to have your portrait displayed prominently for guests who may come to call upon us.”  The maid replied, giving even Solomon a pointed look of warning. “It would do much to send a message that, despite your youth, you are indeed the current, true master of Gracey manor.”

“Indeed, a wise choice,” Solomon agreed, still smiling.  “But couldn’t you have commissioned someone who displayed my chin a little LESS prominently?”  

The maids fell into a giggling fit again, and the butlers seemed threatened to join them, but a clap from both overseers put them back into line again.    

…..

Karen could feel the scene fade away; this time, the change was much more obvious.

The hallway returned. The pictures and letters returned.

This…this was the same house.  

                                              Plink.  Plink.

She picked up the two drawings and placed them side by side.

                                         Plink.  Plink.

The same exact house, just at two different points in time.

                                          Plink.  Plink.

Most of the same inner rooms, just a different exterior.

                                         Plink.  Plink.

Is that why she saw BOTH when they were approaching the mansion?

                                        Plink.  Plink.

Wait….What….

                                        Plink.  Plink.

….was that sound?

She looked up from the table….only to realize, in horror, that the other end of the hallway was dark.  

And the shadow was waiting there.

                                               Plink.

Shards of small glass came down from one of the above light fixtures, and the room grew a shade darker.  It was then that it dawned on her, fresh goosebumps rising, what the shadow intended to do.

                                      PlinkPlinkPlink.

Three lights tauntingly broke all in quick succession.  The shadow was halfway down.  

                              [Fire. Fire. Fire. Fire. Fire.]

Another unwanted thought.  Wrapped in fear and anxiety.

She fled again further down the hall.

                             [Catching up. Catching up.]

Another corner.  Again, again.

                                   PlinkPlinkPlink.

But this corner had a stop.

Stop around the corner. There was no place left to go.

                           [Catching up.  Catching up.]

                                  PlinkPlinkPlink.

There was no more hallway left, only rows of doors that led to a door at the end.

Can’t go back.  She’d run right into the shadow.

                                        [I SEE YOU]

Try one. Try two.  Why are all of these doors locked?

                                    PlinkPlinkPlink.

Finally.  The door at the end.  

She opens it and slips through.

                                       PlinkPlinkPlink.

She looks around for the light switch. A single bulb in the center of the room, dangling from a thread.  

She closed the door behind here and learns the hard way why this door wasn’t locked.

It was because it didn’t have a lock.  

The sounds of breaking bulbs gets closer.

She opts to put her weight against the door.  

Only just to register what’s actually IN this room.

…..

Coffins.  

There are coffins in this room.  

Why were there coffins in a storage closet?

Piled high, undecorated, unpainted. Just plain wooden coffins.

She doesn’t have time to think about it; already the door is pushing her back.  

                            Keep it closed. Keep it closed.

Digs her heels in, gaining leverage to force the door closed again.

She manages to find the perfect spot to put her feet.

It will close for sure.

Keep the pressure up.

But the lightbulb, the lightbulb. The single lightbulb.

It was already flickering.

                     Please don’t go out. Please don’t go out.

The shapes of the shadows of coffins dance in the flickering light like an old movie.

Sometimes, they seem to move.

                              Please don’t. Please don’t.

The pressure against her back again.

Her hand in her pocket.  It curls around the ring.

The ring in her pocket she’d forgotten about.

The ring, the ring….

                                               The water.

She was standing up near the water.   Someplace in town near the water. She couldn’t recognize where.

The fear.  Nauseating fear, it didn’t go away.

A woman was there.  That woman.  It was from the first memory.  The maid and the boy and the angry young man.  But she wasn’t wearing a maid’s uniform.  And she was scared.

Yes.  So scared. Please.

“Rolly!”  She cried, stumbling in the darkness.  Her blonde hair fell in curls about her neck, and her eyes were a dull grey-blue.

Why was it dark?  

That’s right, because it’s nighttime.

But we were in a closet….weren’t we?

“Rolly!  Rolly please!”

Please save me.

Someone.  Please help me.  

“Good evening.”

Both of them turned to see.  That wasn’t Rolly….that….that voice….

A man dressed in all black.  He was almost impossibly tall and thin, his face covered by a grotesque, demon-like mask.  

The mask had horns, it looked like it was screaming, and there was a crack on the right eye socket of the mask which displayed the unusually large eyeball the man had.  An eyeball that held a color electrifyingly blue; a shape and size and color that was so different from his ordinary looking left eye.  

Almost instictively, she wanted to run at the sound of his voice.  

“Who are you?   What do you want from me?? Do you-do you want to hurt me??”  

                      “Would you take comfort in hearing me say ‘no’?”

Run.

Run off into the town; after all, it was right there.  But she was held into place.

Couldn’t move.  

….

…This was the Ghost Host.    Seeing the Ghost Host having an actual, physical form.  Not merely a voice floating on the wind.  And all back when he was alive.  

“What….what do you want, then?” The woman anxiously looked at him, but also kept looking around her.  “Rolly?  Rolly are you near?  Please, Rolly!”

“He cannot hear you.”

“Why??  What have you done with him??”  She was frantic.  

“Why I’ve done nothing, Miss Slater. It is Miss Slater, correct?”

“How do you know that?!”

“I know someone who knows things. And I happen to know that your friend has traveled the next town over in search of some work.”

“He…..he wouldn’t.  Not without telling me.”

“Are you so sure, Madame?  And even if he was here, are you so certain he would be able to help you?  That he would have the funds at the moment to spare food for an extra mouth?”

Miss Slater was silent.  Karen was silent.

The nervousness was hers.  Or was it Miss Slaters?  Was SHE Miss Slater?

This was bad.

“And what would his friends think, hmm? His former captain? As I understand, he gets a generous sum of money as a sort of thanks for a good length of service from a company that just so happens to be owned by the Graceys.  And you?…Well…You were just fired from their house for meddling with one of the master’s sons, weren’t you?”

“That..! You…!”  The woman’s face went pale.  She doubled over as if in pain, her hand clutched to her heart.

Karen felt a tinge of pain in her own heart.   Stabbing. Burning.  

“Now, now.  Calm yourself.  You wouldn’t want to aggravate your condition, now would you?”

The man chuckled darkly, circling around her like a wolf with prey.   Her eyes followed nervously along.  

“I hold no judgement of you nor bear any grudge.  In fact, I’m rather well aware that, as a mere maid, you had little choice but to say ‘yes’ to the young master’s amorous affections.  How awful that must have felt; kicked out in the cold because you only did what you were told!”

“Stop!”  Miss Slater’s eyes were winced shut, the tears beginning to streak down her face.

The man.  The Ghost Host.  Waited patiently for her to catch her breath.

“Nathaniel said he loved me.”  She said, mournfully.  “And I….I convinced myself that I felt the same, if only to make it easier.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I don’t. …I don’t know anymore.  I think…I think a part of me did. In a way. In a twisted, awful sort of way, because he only ever made me feel twisted…and…”

She sat shaking on the riverbank. Sobbing quietly.  

“Twisted….twisted and awful….I hate him….I want to get away….And I”

She gulped.

“And I don’t…I-I don’t have anywhere to go….”

The man’s hands lifted, and those long, bony fingers ghosted along the woman’s frail shoulders.   Skeletal white against the bare of her arms.  

“Allow me to help you.”  Fingers caught underneath her elbows just as they reached them, and she was coaxed to stand.  

“You could come with me.  My troupe and I just so happen to be moving out tonight. A fresh start.  Fresh clothes.  A warm bed, warm food.  Does that interest you at all?”  This last part was whispered right at the shell of her ear, and she felt compelled to pull away in response.  

“And what,” She said, glaring at him. “Pray tell, is your price for such luxuries?”  

The man laughed, and his booming voice caused the woman to nervously ease herself away even further from him.

“I assure you, Miss Slater,” The man’s toothy smile could barely be seen underneath the shadow of the mask.  “I am not THAT kind of man.  I apologize if I have given the wrong impression.  It is fear that interests me, not lust.  As for my price, I’m not asking much.  What I want from you is...” The man reached out to very gently lift her chin.   “….your voice.”

Her hand went to her throat.  Her face no less filled with anxiety than before.

“Do you mean to rip it from me then, sir?”

He chuckled.  “Nothing so macabre.  I merely want you to perform with us.  Your performance needn’t be strenuous.  A song here, a song there.  Surely a fair price for what I offer in return, yes?”

“I’m not a singer, sir!  Only for my own enjoyment; I’ve never performed or had any sort of train-“

“Unnecessary, I promise.  The sort of clientele we get is often far from the obnoxious, discerning upper crust.  You need only be decent, and we shall fill the whole tent!”  

He offered his hand, and she hesitated to look at it.  

She reached up, gently, slowly. Until her hand was firmly in his grasp.

The man smiled.

“Welcome to the Museum of the Weird, Miss Emily Slater.”

Jerked from below.

Taken back into darkness.

Pitch darkness.

But there were outlines of coffins, despite the darkness.

                                                          Oh.

She was back in the closet.  

The memory was gone again.  

And the single lightbulb must have gone out.  

Karen sat there, her back against the door, and attempted to regulate her breathing. The room had dropped a whole 20 degrees, accented by an awful burnt smell that reeked through the air; her jacket, which felt particularly heavy against her shoulders, did little to ward off the chill.  In fact, it felt as though the cold went right through its threads.    

When she was sure that she could actually hold her own weight without passing out, she made the attempt to sta-

……

She tried to sta-

……

She.  Tried.  To. Stand.

Stand Up.  

….

She couldn’t stand up.

She felt the color drain from her face, the burning smell threatening to overpower her as she lifted her shaking hands up….up to her neck….

Only to find.

An….an arm.

…..

Made of stone.

The hand was on her right shoulder, the arm itself resting on her collarbone, the bend in the elbow right on her left shoulder and all of it coming from…

…No….coming through the door.

...The arm was coming through the door.  Unhindered.  As if the door wasn’t there at all.

She whimpered.  Tears lightly stinging her eyes, she stayed perfectly still.  As still as she could with all the shaking she was doing.

The statue...The statue had been chasing her this entire time?

….she tried…to go under the arm. To wiggle…

…wiggle

…wigg-

The arm suddenly pushed down on her collarbone, pinning her harder against the door.

She cried out in response, the burning smell was getting worse, and worse…and worse…

The…head…of the statue was now through the door.  Stoney eyes staring directly at her.

She whimpered again, silently wishing someone would hear her.  Would know she was there.

Her arms clung to the stone, trying to pull it off her but it was too solid and heavy.

Stoney eyes staring at her.

“P-please…..Please….”  She whispered. Was it for her savior to hear?  Or the statue?  Karen herself didn’t know who she was calling for.  The tears were running down her face and she couldn’t care to stifle them.

They remained like this, the two of them. A statue and a person.  The smell of burnt carcass enveloping her just as strongly as the arm did.  

But there was an eventual shift on the statue’s face.  The stone eyelids…flickering….Opening.  Revealing…

Actual human eyeballs.  

This only made her cry harder, because not only was it unnerving to see eyeballs set in stone, but they didn’t have any pupils.  

At least, at first, they hadn’t any pupils.  But dark pools began to phase into their center, stronger and stronger until the pupils fully appeared.

And with them came….a sort…of softer gaze. The statue looked at her with some sort of recognition.

And….And slowly….meticulously….the statue’s hold began to soften too…

The face moved away….The arm moved away….

Even the single lightbulb in the center of the room came back on.

The burnt smell disappeared.

Without the strength to hold herself in a sitting position, or even the statue to pin her there, Karen slumped to the floor.

Shaking.

In a closet full of coffins.  Curled up on the floor, shaking, with the tears still streaming down.

And she finally was able to shudder back to life A nice, long, deep breath.