#turns out no it's mystic flame and what i thought was plenty to last a while probably is not

[shopwitchvamp]

I would like to apologize for yet again underestimating how quickly Mystic Flame Skaters will get snapped up when they're ready-to-ship. I think they're gonna be the first thing from this set to run out, so if you end up missing your size pls know that I'll add them to the next round of preorders for sure!! (And then order *more* extras next time..)

[needtherapy]

soaring, carried aloft on the wind...continued 16

A story for Xichen and Mingjue, in another time and another place.

The Beifeng, the mighty empire of the north, invaded more than a year ago, moving inexorably south and east.

In order to buy peace, the chief of the Lan clan has given the Beifeng warlord a gift, his second oldest son in marriage. However, when Xichen finds out he makes a plan.

He, too, can give a gift to the Beifeng warlord, and he will not regret it.

Part 1: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13  Part 2: 14 / 15 / 16 … HOME

It’s complete on AO3 here.

Notes: Check the tags if you’re concerned about the pairings ;)

For translations of the entirely fictitious Beifeng language, you’ll have to scroll to notes. I’m only going to translate something that’s not clear in the text. Sadly, there’s just not any other good way to do it on Tumblr!

Chapter 16 Now

It rains for a week as spring approaches, great sheets of water that turn the Ikarahu camp into rivers of mud. Everyone is miserable, dirty, and fractious. Huaisang and Guangyao get into an argument that ends in shouting, and they stop talking to each other for three days, taking turns complaining to Xichen. Even Mingjue seems altered—pensive and solemn, his boisterous affection distracted by thoughts he doesn’t share. Xichen spends most of his time reading and avoiding people, huddling under blankets by his warm brazier.

But once the storms pass and all the water seeps back into the ground, the end of winter turns sunny and clear, as if the gods are apologizing for their earlier tantrum.

After so many days inside, Xichen welcomes Huaisang’s suggestion of a day’s ride into the foothills to the west of the camp. He’s aware that there is likely a secondary reason for the suggestion—with Huaisang, there is rarely only one reason—but the chance to feel the wind on his face overrides any care he has for Huaisang’s schemes.

They are a larger group than Xichen expected: himself, Huaisang, Guangyao, Qingyang, Titakau, and three guards. But of course they would need guards. Even Huaisang would not be so incautious as to risk their safety, and now that he considers it, three guards seems like fewer than Mingjue would have insisted on. Xichen wonders if Huaisang made his brother aware of his plans.

After only a few minutes of riding, a rolling canter that, on Liebing’s light feet, feels almost as smooth as walking, Xichen slows at the sound of pounding hoofbeats behind them.

“Aurakat! Wingani! Roka eneti di eta hira om ga tega ehi heromu,” Mingjue yells, pulling up his horse in front of Huaisang and forcing him to stop.

“Three soldiers for four people is plenty, anakau,” Huaisang argues. “Unless you think Xichen is incapable of defending himself.”

It is a low blow, and Xichen has to bite his lip to keep from laughing at Mingjue’s consternation.

“I did mention we were having a picnic. What did you think that meant?” Huaisang asks with a flippant smirk.

“Will you come with us, ahoraho?” Xichen asks, distracting Mingjue, who looks ready to tackle Huasiang off his horse. “If you are not too busy?”

With a huff, Mingjue scowls at Huaisang one more time before falling back to join Xichen. They ride in silence for a while, in part because Xichen is at a loss for words. Without the army, without the camp, he’s not sure what to talk about. He has rarely felt awkward around Mingjue, but he suddenly can’t think of a single thing to say. Instead he watches his friends. Qingyang laughs at something Titakau says, and Xichen can see Titakau smiling, even from here. Ahead of them, Huaisang pokes Guangyao in the shoulder and points to something in the distance, the silhouette of a huge eagle eventually gliding into sight, banking above them and heading north, toward the mountains. Guangyao watches the path of the bird until it disappears from sight.

“Poets in my country speak of your land as empty and barren, but I think they have never been here,” Mingjue says suddenly, breaking the silence. “There is beauty in your plains and hills, as there is in our datik.”

Xichen blinks at him, taken aback by Mingjue’s interest in poetry as much as his continued insistence that the mountains of Xichen’s home are mere hills.

Mingjue grins, reading Xichen’s expression. “They are not even covered in snow, Xichen. But tell me, do your poets write of Ikara?”

They do, and Xichen tells him that Ikara is seen as a mystical place, frightful and wild, with giants of men who ravage maidens and warrior women who wield dark magic. Mingjue roars with laughter.

“Xichen, you are kindio touha...more danger...hm...more dangerous...than most of our people. Although I do not know how it is possible. How do your people grow strong drinking the weak tea?”

Xichen pretends to be offended as he explains the supremacy of delicate, aged white tea. After so many months, it is unexpectedly charming to see yet another side of Mingjue. Xichen hadn’t fully appreciated how heavily caring for the well-being of so many people weighs on Mingjue. Within the encampment, Mingjue is always kipakau, always the general. But the further they get from the city of tents, the less he seems like a commander and more like an ordinary man Xichen doesn’t know well enough yet.

They enter a copse of pine trees, and Xichen is subdued by the beauty of this evergreen forest. Even though it is not yet true spring, there is the whisper of wind in the boughs, bird song all around him, and the peace of it inhabits him like home. When they emerge into a clearing on the other side of the woods, a quiet lake with the remains of summer reeds on its shores lays before them. Xichen nearly asks how Huaisang knew it was here, because it is clearly his intended destination.

“Time for lunch!” Huaisang announces as he dismounts, and with an unnecessarily dramatic gesture, he sets up a large flame burning in the grass.

Even with no wood to sustain it, the flame produces heat, fueled by the magic in the air. Xichen and Guangyao exchange a look. It is another reminder of how different Ikarahu magic is, and Xichen wonders how long the fire can last.

The ground is dry, if cold, and they unpack thick wool blankets to sit on. Their three guards’ horses had been carrying baskets of food, all designed to be eaten cold, as well as jars of ale and water, and Xichen is amused at how carefully Huaisang has prepared this adventure.

Huaisang whistles and Kitingi joins them, although she settles on Guangyao’s shoulder, not Huaisang’s, and bites his hair affectionately. He hands her tiny pieces of food he usually has at the ready. Guangyao’s face softens as it always does around Kitingi, and he scratches the top of her head, smoothing her feathers as she eats. Xichen thinks she might prefer Guangyao even to Mingjue these days.

Titakau whispers something to Qingyang, and Qingyang laughs. “I don’t know, auhani. I’ll ask. Why doesn’t she fly away? She isn’t tethered like the other munaku.”

“I feed her too well,” Huaisang jokes, but Mingjue gives her a true answer. “Aurakat only pretends he does not care,” he explains, smirking at Huaisang as though revealing a deep, dark secret, and Huaisang throws a cup at him. “He raised her from a chick. She could leave any time, but she stays for love.”

They finish eating, and then they sword fight. It would have been a strange way to pass the afternoon in the Cloud Recesses, but Huaisang claims to be cold after their meal and challenges his brother to a duel, a match even Xichen has never seen before. It shouldn’t have been a contest, but once they start, it’s obvious that Huaisang has learned from spending his life sparring with Mingjue. He knows every counter to every move, and he even pulls out his kitingi fan as an extra distraction, blocking Kaumadis with hard swipes and spinning the sharp blades of the fan in front of Mingjue’s face. It doesn’t seem likely that he’ll win, but he keeps Mingjue on his toes until Mingjue laughingly dodges a parry and picks Huaisang up, slinging him over his shoulder and depositing him back onto a blanket by Guangyao.

“Enough! You will have me dancing for hours, anati,” he says and looks as though he intends to sit too, but Xichen stands.

“Will you dance with me, ahoraho?” he asks, drawing Sikunadis, and Mingjue’s eyes darken.

Xichen likes that look on Mingjue’s face. He turns his back to the rest of the group, biting his lip and giving Mingjue a private smile he intends to convey just how much. Mingjue shakes his head.

“You do not fight fair, aitapaho,” he complains with a wink.

It is not a serious bout, not in the tall dry grass, and not after Mingjue has already sparred with Huaisang, but Xichen never tires of learning how he can use Sikunadis differently than an ordinary sword. As Huaisang had suspected, the sword responds to his magic, filling like a well, holding the power for as long as necessary and allowing Xichen to recover his strength. And when he pushes in more power than the sword can hold, the release is magnified, a brilliant explosion of darkness and light that can fling even a shielded attacker away.

Xichen would not say he is showing off, but at first, he lets Mingjue take more risks and get closer than usual, leaning back to let Kaumadis glide past his face, flipping sideways to evade strikes, and putting even more speed into his parries. When he realizes Mingjue is tiring, he runs his fingers across the back of Mingjue’s neck as he spins behind him, grinning when Mingjue groans and falters.

He wins against Mingjue easily and far too quickly, only using enough of the power reserves inside Sikunadis to buzz against Mingjue when he tags him on the back first, then the stomach. Mingjue falls to the ground, laughing and raising his hands in defeat. He holds Xichen’s gaze just long enough to promise rewards when they get back to camp, long enough to make Xichen grin foolishly.

“Guangyao? Do you wish to fight with me?” Xichen asks, not wanting to leave anyone out, and Guangyao deliberates before shaking his head.

“I am no expert, and Zewu-Jun is. I might only be able to keep up with Oringa'anhu Ikira,” he says, entirely serious, smiling only when Huaisang realizes he’s been insulted and reacts with mock outrage.

Qingyang declines as well, but to Xichen’s surprise, Titakau agrees to fight, borrowing Huaisang’s sword. She has excellent form and technique, and she is nearly as quick as Xichen. She catches him off guard twice, forcing him to scramble to block. They end the match in a draw, and Xichen compliments her skill. She ducks her head and tells him that her father is a swordsmith, and she has held a sword since she was a baby.

“Ei kamhawa mau peita ei eta ino iro tiato, gani ora anot inko paketau sima auha di Ipira'orhew Ikira. Et paketau di sima eta kipakau,” Titakau says, smiling shyly.

Qingyang translates, “My father was embarrassed when I became a healer, but now he is so proud that I am in service to Ipira'orhew Ikira. Everyone is proud to serve the crown prince.” With a quick grin that lights her eyes, Qingyang adds, “I am as well, you know.”

Mingjue makes a sound of dismissal and shakes his head, but he’s smiling. There is a thoughtful crease in Guangyao’s eyebrows for a split second before Kitingi leaps off of his shoulder with a sudden scream, flapping high into the air and wheeling to dive into the nearby underbrush. Huaisang and Guangyao follow her to see if she snared whatever she was hunting.

Xichen is curious about which part of Titakau’s words intrigued Guangyao, but he lets the thought go when Mingjue wraps a blanket around him and kisses Xichen’s cheek, sitting next to him with a sigh. Xichen pulls Mingjue’s hand under the blanket and rubs his thumb over Mingjue’s knuckles, leaning against him to absorb his warmth. He wonders what his father or brother would think of how easily he shows and accepts affection like the Ikarahu. He had never minded the formal distance his family kept in the Cloud Recesses. It had felt respectful and unintrusive. But now he craves the simplest touch; there is a space inside him that can never be full enough. Wangji would probably look away in embarrassment, he thinks. Or, remembering the look on Wangji’s face when he talked about his archer, maybe not. He can’t hide his smile and he decides not to ruin his day by thinking about what his father’s reaction might be. Perhaps he is an unfilial son, but he is glad his father will never have the chance to disapprove.

Guangyao and Huaisang finally retrieve a chattering Kitingi from the bush clutching a finch in her claws, and somehow, they are arguing. It’s only been minutes, and Xichen can’t understand how they’ve already found something to disagree about.

“An ambush will not work,” Guangyao says as they rejoin the group, unhooking the two birds and setting the little finch free. “I don’t care if your hawk is always successful. You’ve been camped outside of Jinlin Tai for months. They know you’re here.”

“That’s why it will work, Guangyao,” Huaisang explains, patient to the point of condescension. “They expect us to continue the siege or bring the whole army. We’ve tried waiting patiently. A frontal assault will result in too many casualties. Perhaps we need a different strategy.”

Guangyao’s eyes narrow, and he frowns. “Perhaps you should stop pestering them entirely.”

Huaisang’s grin is swift and careless, but his voice softens. “You know we won’t. Perhaps they should give in.”

Xichen wonders if they realize how obvious it is that they aren’t only talking about Jinlin Tai anymore.

Notes: Aurakat! Wingani! Roka eneti di eta hira om ga tega ehi heromu. = Aurakat! You idiot! This is not enough men for safety.

[tvdiaries-imagines]

Old Flame: Pt. 10

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 2993

OLD FLAME MASTERLIST: CLICK HERE

Your lids opened, waking up from a long slumber. It took a few blinks for you to remember that you are underneath the covers of Klaus’s bed. However, you discovered that he is not beside you, but the thought of him refreshed your delicious memory with him last night. You should feel ashamed for allowing him in your pants, but you didn’t care. Every bit of it was completely worth it to you.

As you sat up and stretched, your nose caught the scent of a dark red liquid in a glass sitting on the bedside table. Luckily Klaus locked his bedroom door on his way out because you are wearing nothing but your panties. The rest of your clothing is scattered across the floor. 

You peeled the covers off of you and set your feet to the floor, savoring the delicious blood.

A moment later, you set the now empty glass back to its original spot before leaning down to throw on your pants. But instead of completing your wardrobe with your shirt, you decided to search through Klaus’s dresser drawers for a clean shirt of his. You know he wouldn’t mind at all. 

After skimming through the first drawer, you find a black t-shirt that you’re considering wearing and threw it over your shoulder. You opened the drawer below it, minorly hoping there are more shirt options to choose from. 

To your luck, Klaus had plenty. You skimmed through yet again, determined to find one soft enough to your liking. Underneath one of the folded shirts that you slightly lifted, you noticed a small box hiding underneath it. 

Your curiosity got the better of you and you pulled it out of its hiding spot. It is a small, black velvet box that fits perfectly in the palm of your hand. It had a black satin heart engraved on top. 

You assumed the box was something Klaus had to hideaway for safe keeping from witches or even a Mikaelson family jewel. You decided to just throw on the first shirt you picked out before opening the little mystery box. 

Opening the box, it revealed a stunning diamond ring of what looks to be 6 carats. 

An engagement ring?

You wondered why Klaus would have an engagement ring in his possession, but you figured that maybe he’s holding onto it for Elijah to give to Hayley.  

The ring was so beautiful that you couldn’t take your eyes off of it and after a moment of admiring, you noticed there was an engraving inside. You set the box over the dresser drawer and pulled the ring out so that you can examine the writing inside of the band.

‘Always & forever. Y/N & Niklaus.’

Your hand flung to your mouth as you gasped and your eyes widened in shock while the rest of your body stiffened. Surprisingly, you didn’t drop it on the wooden floor from your state of shock. But you couldn’t believe your very eyes, instantly welling up with tears from this discovery. 

You wondered how long Klaus has had this for and why he even kept it. It’s been over a year since you’ve broken up with him. There’s no way he would’ve recently gotten it. You just started your journey on repairing your relationship. 

After what felt like a lifetime that you were stuck staring at that damn ring, you set it back neatly inside the box and stomped out of the bedroom. 

“Nik!” You shouted, voice echoing through the compound. Your eyes glanced around every corner of the vicinity as you searched for the hybrid on the second floor. “Nik!” 

A part of you had the urge to see him this instant but another part of you didn’t want to face him at all. You had no idea what you plan on saying to him anyways. 

Should you be happy that he’s held onto it, knowing that you’d return to him someday? 

Or should you be upset that he’s held onto it as a reminder of the life you could’ve had if you never left him or if he tried harder to keep you? 

You have no fucking clue. 

A figure exits from the room just ahead of you, but it wasn’t Klaus. It’s the mother of his child, Hayley. “Hey Y/N. Klaus actually just left for a quick sec to pick up breakfast for you. You sure got him wrapped around your finger, huh?” She said with an impressed tone. 

“Oh.” You said rather calmly, but inwardly you were screaming. 

“But Elijah’s here if you-”

“No!” The word left your mouth before you could stop yourself and Hayley flinched from surprise. You quickly lower your tone in a calmer manner. “Sorry. Elijah and I aren’t 100% in the best terms right now.” 

Hayley chuckled. “Join the club, Y/N.” Her eyes couldn’t help but flicker at the object in your hand. “Hey, Klaus still...has that?” She asked, eyes narrowed.

“You know about the ring?”

“I sure do.” Hayley looked away nervously after realizing her answer was too perky. “Sorry, I know it’s kind of weird coming from me because Klaus and I...you know.” She glanced awkwardly at the ceiling. 

“Um, yeah.” You dragged on the last word, feeling slightly uncomfortable as you refrain from imagining Klaus and Hayley having sexual intercourse.

“Here. Let’s go sit down and I’ll tell you everything.” 

Hayley turned on her heel once she knew you were going to follow behind, leading you inside the nearest room. There are two couches facing each other, so you both sat on each one. 

“I just wanted to clear the air with you and let you know that there was never anything romantic between Klaus and I.” Haley started, clearing her throat, “We were both drunk one day and it just happened. I mean, at the time, I heard that he used to have a girl but I didn’t think the relationship was that serious. I mean, come on, it’s Klaus. Evil hybrid and all.” 

You chuckled at her last remark. “Okay yeah, I get it. Klaus is…Klaus. But how did you find out about the ring?”

“Well the next morning, I was just randomly wandering around his study. Then I was being nosey and saw that little box.” Her eyes briefly peered at the ring box. “I opened it thinking it would be diamond earrings or something, but when I saw it was a ring, like a full on engagement looking ring, I was so shocked. And when Klaus caught me, he went berserk and nearly choked me to death.” She widened her eyes. “Then I ran out of there when he finally let me go.” 

“Wow,” was all you could muster. 

“And to be honest with you Y/N, I’ve never seen so much heartache in someone’s eyes.” Hayley said seriously. “I could tell he was trying so hard to hide it.” 

“I had no idea about any of this.” You let out a sigh, frowning at the little box in your hand. “I wish I never found this thing to be honest with you.”

“Yeah. I’m just surprised Klaus still kept that.” 

“Me too.” Your shoulders dropped. “I don’t even know what to think or feel. What if I never left him? Or what if I never agreed to even come here? This is...this is too much.” 

“Honestly I don’t know what to tell you, Y/N. But sorry again. I hope it’s not weird talking about all this with me.”

“Don’t worry about it, Hayley. That happened so long ago and me and Klaus were broken up at the time. So it’s not weird to me anymore. I’ve accepted it.”

“Oh really?” She blinked in disbelief. 

“Yeah and I’m not perfect either. Back in Mystic Falls, I’ve been living under the same roof as someone that I’ve slept with before I even met Nik.” 

“Well.” She blinked, the corner of her lip quirking up. “I’m glad we’re able to clear the air. And it’s also nice having another woman around here. Especially one who can handle being around Klaus.” 

“Yeah, Nik sure is a handful.” You shake your head. 

“He needs you more than he knows, you know.” Hayley stood and patted you on the shoulder before leaving you alone in the vicinity. 

After you took a moment to yourself to register that entire conversation, you made your way to your bedroom instead of back to Klaus’s bedroom, setting that vile little box over the dresser drawer as you paced back and forth, incredibly anxious for Klaus’s return. 

In the blink of an eye, a strong figure runs behind you and covers your mouth with excessive force. You were on high alert and your first instinct was to kick and scream, but your screams could not be heard. This was by far the worst timing to be kidnapped or killed right now. 

“Y/N stop squirming. It’s me.” A familiar voice whispered in your ear as if not wanting to be heard by Hayley and Elijah’s expert hearing. When you registered who it was, you instantly stopped fighting, brows raised in surprise. You were guided to the en suite bathroom, hand still covered over your mouth as he turned on the faucet to drown out his voice. “I promise I’m not here to hurt you. I’m actually here to warn you. So nod your head for me that you’re not going to run for the hills or scream like a maniac.” Kai Parker murmured cautiously. 

You slowly nodded your head and he released his hand, turning you to face him. You felt the bile rise up in your throat and your lips drew back in a snarl just by looking at his face, reminding yourself that he siphoned you the last time you’ve seen him. 

Kai continued, “okay so, Mommy Mikaelson is planning something. I don’t know what exactly. All I know is that you’re involved. So I-”

And just like that, your palm smacked his cheek without missing a beat. The heretic’s face squirmed. 

“Yup. Yeah.” He exhaled with ache. “I definitely deserve that.”

Your arms crossed over your chest, a satisfied smirk strewn across your face. “Uh huh.” 

“Anyhow, so-”

“Why do you care anyways, Kai? You basically left me to die in that cemetery.”

“So sorry, hunny bun. I-I was mad. And you know how I get when I’m mad.” He fake pouted. “Anyways, that’s not the point. I need you far away from here.”

“Okay well thanks for your concern, but no thanks.” You took large strides to the bedroom, opening the French door to the balcony even wider, gesturing for him to exit the vicinity. “Goodbye, Kai.”

“Are you even listening to me? I’m trying to keep you safe.” 

“Well I have one thousand year old vampires that can keep me safe here. I’ll be fine, Kai.”

“Still stubborn as ever, Princess. Tsk tsk.” He feigned disapproval, shaking his head. 

Before you could take another breath, you are knocked out cold. 

(Later…)

When you wake up from being knocked out by Malachai Fucking Parker, you realize you are not planted over the mattress of a bed. Instead, you are buckled in the passenger seat of a car. A car that is in motion on a deserted road. 

To your left, you noticed Kai is the driver and you used your vampire speed to attack him, but there is an invisible barrier between you two. “Nice try, hunny bun.” 

“Motherfucker.” You cursed. All cars have doors, so you took a risk and decided to open your passenger door, regardless of how much it’s going to hurt. Especially at the speed Kai is driving. But you groaned in defeat, realizing it’s spelled shut. 

He snickered. “Nice try. I’ll give you an A for effort though.” 

“You just love hiding behind your spells, don’t you?” You glared at the heretic, you anger coiling in your stomach. “If it weren’t for this magical barrier, I’d fucking skin you alive right now.”

“Ouch.” Kai exclaimed sarcastically.

“Seriously what is wrong with you, Kai? Where are you taking me?”

“Mystic Falls.” 

“What?!” Your brows snapped together, hands clenched into fists. “Are you crazy? Turn the car around. Turn the car around now, Kai!”

“No can do, princess. We’re already an hour out.” 

“So you’re telling me you’re going to drive half a day all the way to mystic falls? Are you insane?”

“Yup.” 

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head in disbelief, appalled at this naive heretic. Little does he know the mess he’s getting himself into. “You know this is suicide right. Klaus is probably already scouring New Orleans looking for me. And sooner or later, he’s going to find me.” 

“Good luck. His mom is after him and all the witches hate him. They’d never do any favors for him.” Kai remarked. 

You rolled your eyes and leaned back in your seat as you allow yourself to sink lower and lower in defeat because you cannot escape this godforsaken car. 

“You don’t know Klaus like I do.” You mentioned. “He always finds a way. He finds their weakness and uses it to threaten them to do his bidding.” 

“Exactly why I hate his guts.” He said with evident distaste. 

“Okay so you’re going to take me to Mystic Falls and then what?”

“Don’t worry about it. Leave that up to me.” 

Suddenly you shot up in your seat. “Did you forget that Esther is an all powerful witch. She will find me and you. No matter how many spells you use to cloak us.”

“I’m fine with taking the risk for your safety, Princess.” 

“I appreciate it Kai, but I’m just as safe, if not safer with Klaus.” 

“Keep telling yourself th-” Kai suddenly groaned in agony as if he just got hit with the worst vampire migraine, releasing his grasp on the steering wheel. Because of this, you began to panic because he lost control of the vehicle. 

“Kai! The wheel!” You shouted in utter panic, reaching for the wheel but you are still blocked by the invisible barrier Kai had made. 

The heretic’s agonizing pain continued and the car began to spin out of control because of the speed he was originally going and he pressed his foot on the gas. There’s no doubt that this is all Esther’s doing because there’s no way in hell that Klaus would allow you to get hurt.

For a moment you forgot that Kai also spelled the door lock, so you weren’t able to vamp speed out of the car. “Kai! Focus! Please focus on the wheel!” You cried out in desperation. 

“I...Ah! I can’t!” After one more throaty groan, he is knocked out cold, the dead weight of his head drooping down. And after one glance at him, you look forward and the uncontrollable car is making its way to a large tree. You braced yourself for the pain to come. 

(Later…)

Waking up was not satisfying. How long you’ve been out is a mystery but it must have been long because you are incredibly parched. Scanning your surroundings, you realize you are in an unfamiliar area, but it looks to be a tomb of a cemetery. Your brows furrow as you realize you may be in the Lafayette Cemetery. Your hands are tied behind you as you’re sitting on the ground. You squirm and attempt to free yourself of the bindings, but you fail. It must be spelled. “Fucking Esther.” You spat to yourself. Now you’re wondering where the hell Kai is and what did she do to him since he betrayed her. 

Across the way, you spotted a figure with its arms spread like an eagle, each wrist tied tightly. Squinting your eyes, you decipher that it’s Elijah. Your eyes widened. You were relieved yet concerned to see him here looking vulnerable as ever. You didn’t want to be alone in this tomb and your anger with him soon diminished. “Elijah!” You called, but he did not shift. “Elijah!” Your raspy voice let out again, but it only lead to failure. 

Straightaway the sounds of footsteps approach and you cease your calling. You are now met with an unfamiliar man. He is Caucasian with short, curly brunette hair, wearing dark denim jeans and a light blue button up. “Who the hell are you?” You asked, feeling uncomfortable as to what this stranger will do to you. 

“You don’t look too good, love.” He said with an accent, bending down to reach your level, resting his forearms over his knees. 

“I don’t know who you are, but get the fuck away from me.” You face contorted. “And don’t call me love.”

He had a look of concern written all over his face, but you didn’t trust it. You were puzzled when he began to fold one of his shirt sleeves up to his elbow. “What are you doing?” You asked, curious.

He brought his wrist to your mouth. “Drink.” His eyes flickered from his exposed arm to your dark irises, his expression softened. 

“Why? You don’t even know me.” Your mouth dried and your eyes reddened as the veins under your eyes appeared at the scent of the delectable blood running through his veins. “Hell, I don’t even know you.” You added. One deep breath later, your face returned to normal. 

“Oh come now, sister. I’m sure my bloody mother has mentioned my return. Now drink.” He demanded, bringing his wrist closer to your lips. 

You finally accepted and bit into his wrist because the smell was unbearable. The delicious liquid poured down your throat and it was the greatest luxury. You began to feel the life returning to you instantaneously. The stranger’s responses ran through your head and you’ve abruptly come to a relieving realization. 

Sister. 

My bloody mother.

He hissed when you released your fangs from his punctured wrist and your eyes widened. 

“Kol?!”

-

A/N: So there ya go! Lol. Sorry no Klaus in this chapter 😭 but at least there’s Kai! And Kol’s short appearance! But whatever happened to Kai will be revealed later. Can’t tell you! Also, I really enjoyed writing the Hayley & the reader’s conversation. And if you’re wondering about the ring. Everything will be answered later! Anyhow, I’d love to hear your comments!! They truly mean a lot to me and make me smile from ear to ear 🙂

TAGS: @ynm1505 @ravenmoore14@xdontxcare @seasiren96@anyasthoughts @woodworthti666 @agentmarvel13@miss-lumiere@elizabeth-ann1090 @physically-a-cheesecake@azhar1422 @morsmornte @retrocontessa @kollover24 @thewolf-and-thesheep @xoxoaudreymarie @dezzym17@siphonersalvatore @yolobloggers @akshi8278​ @simonsaysyasss​ @eggingamazinglove​ @brooklymw @baseballbitch116​ @hyperion-moonbabe​ @iamjustaslytherinrose​ @lillianeh879  @hannahzlee 

[4dorks-1windmage-1shadow]

The Links as D&D Characters, Part 2: Red Link

Inspired by a question I saw on @hauntinghyrule ‘s blog. My character analysis and thoughts on what character class the boys would be if they were D&D characters, and why.

@atinybitweird drew her interpretation of D&D Red! You can find it here

Green / Blue / Vio / Shadow / Vaati / FS Zelda

As a preface, there won’t be any doubles on classes except in the case of dual-classing, and in those cases the first class I talk about my justifications for will be the primary class (i.e. the class they would have chosen at level one). My choices will be based on the character theming and personalities, even though at a base level it would be easy to say “they’re all paladins, duh” because of the implied “holy knight chosen by the gods to eradicate evil” concept. Red’s class is actually kind of a tough one. Although its still an option for a dual-class, paladin is already taken as a primary class, and even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t be my first pick for Red. Red has _oodles_ of charisma, and so he’s more fit for charisma centric classes like Bard, Warlock or Sorcerer. Bard could be a good fit, since he’s the metaphorical “heart” of the team- keeps morale up, always cheerful, always optimistic, but I’m having trouble finding a WOTC Bard College that works. As a result, bard could be a good secondary class for him, but that still leaves finding a primary class. I’ve ruled out sorcerer because sorcerers get their magic innately, meaning that they’re born with it. And although I really like the idea of Red being a draconic sorcerer (because of the connection to his Minish Cap element, Fire) I don’t want to contribute to the “weakest Link” idea by making him a class with the least amount of health (Sorcerers only get a d6 for health die). So that leaves us with Warlock. Which. . .actually works pretty well for a couple of reasons. Warlock is a high Charisma, high Constitution class. Like I said before, Red is very charismatic, so it makes sense to pick a class for him that uses that charisma in a more attack-based way- also, he’s so energetic and upbeat that I can’t imagine him not  being healthy enough to have high constitution. I also think it coincides with is personal journey in the manga- becoming more confident in himself, and standing up for himself when it matters seems like a fitting story for a warlock. Warlock spellcasting is more limited than the other full casters like wizards, sorcerers, and bards; warlocks only ever learn four cantrips, and only ever have four spell slots, and can only learn up to 5th level spells. Through Mystic Arcanum at 11th level and up, they can learn one spell of 6th, 7th, 8th and 9th level each, casting them at will without using spell slots, but most of their attacking and buff spells are 5th level and lower. Red is only shown using magic through a fire rod and ice rod, so his spell set is technically limited in the manga as well. However, the main reason boils down to the Otherworldly Patron. Warlocks are magic users that gain their magic through a pact with a super-natural being, and there are two viable options for subclasses here: the Archfey patron from the Player’s Handbook, and the Celestial patron from Xanathar’s Guide to Everything. Red as a Celestial warlock would be fitting from the point of view of his role in the Four Swords story. Like Green, he’s trying to save a princess from a demon, and celestial patrons usually make their warlocks hunt down fiends and undead. Celestial warlocks are very much like more spellcasting oriented paladins or clerics (that last one is kind of redundant b/c clerics are spellcasting oriented but you get my point). They offer access to the Light cantrip and spells like Cure Wounds, Guiding Bolt, Flaming Sphere, Lesser Restoration, as well as a pool of d6 dice to heal allies, the ability to give temporary HP to allies (effectively giving them an HP boost), and bonus radiant damage at high levels. This sounds pretty good for him, until you think: man, that kind of treads on Green’s territory with the paladin class. You’d be right- most of the spells granted with Celestial Warlock are also on the Paladin’s list. Furthermore, we have less of an emphasis on arcane magic, like Red uses via the fire/ice rod, and more on divine magic.  On the other hand (the stronger hand IMO), Archfey patron has a tangible link to the manga. Throughout the mid-story, Red travels around looking for his friends with a fairy- and if we pretend that the D&D story is separate from the manga story and Miss Fairy isn’t a product of the Blue Maiden’s magic, that would make her a pretty good patron (interesting even, that she travels around with him). Fey are known to be charming, beguiling, whimsical and mischievous, traits that Red shares with them. Archfey Warlocks gain access to spells like Faerie Fire, Sleep, Calm Emotions, Plant Growth, Dominate Beast and Dominate Person; they can make creatures within a ten-foot cube charmed or frightened of them, can turn invisible and teleport upon taking damage, and can become immune to being charmed themselves, reflecting enchantment magic on the caster. At the highest level, they can even plunge creatures into illusory realms. This doesn’t seem like a very Red thing to do at first glance, but he’s been shown to be vindictive at times (lighting Blue’s ass on fire, everyone?), and when the going gets tough he can and does stand up for himself. And the choice of a Pact Boon is much easier with this subclass: Pact of the Chain gives him Find Familiar as a spell and lets him get a pet to use for attacking and spellcasting. But there’s still one more thing I’m not really sure about. . . Red is an inspiring force on the team- while he doesn’t fall into the role of a natural leader, like Green, he’s undeniably a positive and optimistic force to behold. He cares so goddamn much for the others and inspires them to keep their spirits up, and that’s like the entire purpose of a Bard. But the problem I ran into- Bard subclasses not really fitting his character- puts a damper on that being his primary class. The great thing about multi-classing is that you can take what levels you want, when you want. . .and you only need to be a 1st level Bard to get Bardic Inspiration. I want this feature for Red because of his role as the “heart” of the party. Bardic Inspiration allows him to give his allies a d6 dice that they can use to bolster their attacks, defenses, reflexes, even their normal skill sets (like just being smart or acrobatic and shit). With a high Charisma stat, Red would have plenty to go around, and dual-classing one level in Bard would give him one skill of his choice (i would go with Persuasion for him, personally) and one musical instrument proficiency (ocarina ocarina ocarina-) His Warlock spell-casting doesn’t really get effected, and he’s got access to 1st level bard spells and bard cantrips- meaning he gets to roast bad guys until they DIE  with Vicious Mockery. So my conclusion is this: Red is an Archfey Warlock with a Pact of the Chain familiar, and he has one level in Bard for access to Bardic Inspiration.

[writer-and-sinner]

Caught in the Middle. 

Michael Langdon x Female Reader. 

A/N: I decided to combine the two asks, thought they would fit together well, considering that both include the cooperation process. Enjoy!  

Warnings: a bit of psychological torture, I guess. Nothing too serious.

"Have you ever felt something extraordinary happen to you? He asks, his eyes piercing me with a fascinated gaze. Shivers run down my spine, as I think about everything extraordinary that had happened to me in the past. To tell or not to tell? To admit the truth or to hide it behind a layer of haze, almost like a faded memory that is far deep inside me. Something tells me that he is looking for that in me, either by asking me about it or by looking inside me himself. I know I have sensed him trying to uncover something in my mind. 

"Not that I can think of anything," I respond vaguely, breaking my eyes from his and looking away, almost as an act of protection. If he is not able to directly look into my eyes, he will not be able to find out about the truth. However, as soon as I do that, I realise how it is so obvious that I am lying. Don’t liars look away when undertaking an act of hiding the truth? This is what I have just done - sought protection in the lack of eye contact. A small knot of anxiety begins forming inside my stomach. 

"Are you sure?" He raises an eyebrow just slightly as if he is giving me a second chance, but I know I will have to decline. To hide my powers in secret, I will have to bear through this whole interview - I have no choice. My knees begin shaking slightly, but I keep up my image of composure and calmness. Although there are plenty of outcomes to be afraid of, especially from someone like Michael, I try to mislead myself into thinking that there are none. Reluctantly, my body surpasses the physical symptoms of fear and it is only my mind and I left one on one. I can deal with that. 

"I sense the power in you, Y/N," Langdon continues on, his voice slow and mellifluous, but at the same time so threatening and intimidating. He makes me want to get up and hide in the darkest corner, somewhere where his predatory-like eyes will not be able to see me and his voice, which makes every single one of my organs twist and turn from the building up fear. Right now, I want to be somewhere else on this planet - perhaps right on the other end of the world, just so that I can hide away from his presence. I can feel him crawling under my skin. 

"I do not understand," I say, shaking my head, pretending I do not when in reality, I know exactly what he is talking about. It is hard to hide something that has been taking up a significant part of your life. It is hard to hide something that you know so well, that has become a part of your identity. Unknowingly, my hands clutch the wooden armrests, my fingers almost digging into the hard wood. My knuckles turn white from the extreme pressure I am applying on them, but I cannot let go. It allows me to release everything inside me. Even by performing a minor action, I am able to release some tension. 

"I am sure you do." He gets up from his seat and begins walking towards me. My gaze follows him - it is hard to tear my eyes away from him, as he advances on me, as if ready to prance on his prey. "You always knew it was inside you, ever since you were a young child - always wanted to possess some kind of magic within you. And you did." 

Although he has managed to find out about something, that nobody on this planet knows, or knew, I try not to show any emotion. He may or may not have touched upon something so personal, that it hurts for me to hear it being said out loud - I shall allow him to guess it himself. If he can sense things inside me, then I shall lay my cards on the table, but inside me. I shall bare my soul to him, undressed and uncovered, but only if he can see what is inside me. My heart begins beating wildly when I think about the prospect of him finding out about the deepest and the darkest inside me.  

“You know you should not lie to me, Y/N, ” Langdon’s face is so close to mine, I can feel his warm breath on my skin. Only now that he is so close to me do I realise how menacing he is, how every moment he does makes everything inside become tight and tense. My heart beats steadily, almost in a unison with the racing thoughts in my brain. There are only a few inches dividing us now and I cannot help, but wince slightly when he looks at me with his intimidating glare. 

I know I should not lie to him and I know that I should not have done it, for my personal safety. Nevertheless, for the safety of everything left alive on this wrecked planet, lie is my only way out of this room alive. Nobody would admit to a fatal flaw they possess, not out loud, not to someone like Langdon. If he can see into the depths of my soul, then he will find it. Secrets uncovered in silence will remain secrets, only to be shared by two people. 

“The truth is not what you told me, Y/N.” He withdraws from my face and begins circling me, like a predator playing with his prey, waiting to attack. His hand lightly brushes the skin on my shoulder and travels with him, before he stops right in front of me. I feel uneasy, thinking about what is about to happen next. I try to keep myself composed, but the anxiety inside me is overflowing. In this room, there is nowhere for me to hide and I know that I can only use my powers as a last resort. 

I can almost feel something penetrating the soft membrane of my skin, flowing through my body, like an addictive substance and travelling to my brain. It is him. There is nothing I can do, now that he has disarmed me completely: the only thing I can do now is to observe how he rummages through my head. Almost like a criminal who has come to find the treasures, hidden somewhere around the house. My mind - that house. 

It is here, Y/N,  his powerful voice rumbles inside my head and I close my eyes, unable to bear this. Pain pierces right through me and I do not understand where it is coming from. I feel as if I am being set on fire, but my skin is not the one burning, no - it is my organs that are going up in flames. It becomes almost unbearable, as he peels layers and layers of thoughts away inside my head. Tears begin streaming down my eyes. This is too much for me, I realise that I will not hold up for much longer. 

My nails dig in harder into the wood, almost meeting in the middle of it. Everything aches with this surreal pain that I know will evaporate as soon as he finishes his ugly deeds inside my head. This is what magic like: it is obvious only once you show it and when the task is done, it vanishes. This is why no-one knows about it. Right now, I can only hope that this torture end soon or he will lead me to my death. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. I shut my eyes even tighter, unable to bear it anymore. There is little strength left in me and yet I still manage to gather it all. I lash out. Opening my eyes, I attempt to gather every single bit of energy left inside me. I take my hands off the armrest and quickly place them in front of me, producing a pushing motion. Langdon is torn off his feet from the impulse, not stopping until he hits the wall opposite me. He hits it with a loud thump, sliding down, but manages to keep his composure. He gets up, fear evident in his eyes. 

I feel the pain stop. I manage a loud exhale, full of relief, relaxing almost every single muscle in my body. It takes me a while to realise what I have just done now and my mouth almost opens in shock. I have revealed myself to him and now, he knows who I am. What great power I possess, he has been able to test it himself. Even though I have let almost every last bit of strength go into that impulse, the fear in my stomach does not stop. Something inside is gnawing at me. 

“You revealed yourself," he states, coming up to me, "in a very gallant manner, I must say." 

His lips extend into that evil smile, as he moves his hair out of his face gracefully. I continue sitting there, awestruck and completely shook. Fear begins building up again inside me and thoughts begin racing inside my head, predicting what happens next. I am completely exhilarated and yet, I still have some energy for worry. The situation has been too uncontrollable to relax even for a second. I need to stay strong. 

I cannot. Tears begin streaming down my cheeks. I know that after having revealed myself, especially in such a way, my only consequence is death. There will be nothing, but it. For a moment, I think about this comforting darkness, almost romanticising it for myself. Perhaps, it will not be such a bad outcome, after all. I hear him, as he walks behind me, placing both of this arms on my shoulders. I can almost feel the pain creep up again, but when I brace myself, there is nothing. Just the tears on my cheeks and his warm hands touching my shoulders. His touch comforts me, soothes me. 

“It is over,” he almost whispers into my ear and I feel goosebumps crawl on my arms and down my spine. My breathing is slightly off, but I try to control it. I feel my knees shaking, as I try to grip the wooden chair, but my fingers are too limp. There is nowhere for me to hide, even now that the torture has ended. In this room, it is just him and me. "You have shown your true self"

“I did,” I reply, my voice a hoarse whisper, still too loud for the silence of Outpost 3. It feels almost gravely and no wonder, it’s like all of us are buried in a large crypt, walking around it like ghosts without a cause. "You can kill me now, or do whatever you do with those like me." 

"Those like you are not killed," he says, in almost a matter-of-fact manner. His words feel surreal inside my head, a distant sound penetrating through the countless thoughts. "At least, not by me or the Cooperative." 

Some mystical force pulls me upwards and I get up. My knees still shake under the weight of my body, but I try to hold myself still. My eyes sting and I try to hold back even more tears. Even in such a calm manner, he manages to touch a nerve. My past is too painful to bear. I break down in tears. Darkness engulfs me, as I quietly sob to myself, disgusted from all of the emotions I am exhibiting. As I fight my way through my emotions to some sense of reality, I feel warm hands beings placed on my skin. His fingers lightly clutch my shoulder, applying just the right amount of pressure to return me to a sober state. 

Slowly, almost cautiously, he brings me closer to him until I am fully shielded from the awful reality. I do not object to his actions, nor do I want to. Burying my face, I feel tears stream down my cheeks. His hands are now carefully stroking my back, his touch warming up my skin, almost setting off chemical reactions from the contact. It feels too surreal to find myself in the arms of somebody I considered to oppose. In the arms of someone, who managed to hurt me by barely doing anything and yet now, is doing everything to comfort me. 

Only now do I notice how much taller he is than me, after returning to a more or less sane state. He smells of expensive cologne - strong, but at the same time not irritating. Inhaling and exhaling his scent, I find myself gradually calming down. My heart is slowing down, my breathing becoming less out of place, the anxiety in my mind is retreating. Maybe, it is truly the magic of his touch, of his comfort, maybe it is just placebo: whatever it is, I am grateful for it. It has brought me back to life. 

He has brought me back to life. 

[that-wandering-belle]

The Beginning of Another Story...

 So this was my contribution for the Klaroline Sweet Swap exchange :P Hope you guys enjoy and thanks for reading! :)   

                                              Isn't it lovely, all alone                                Heart made of glass, my mind of stone                                     Tear me to pieces, skin to bone                                              Hello, welcome home

There's screaming. So much screaming coming from what feels like every direction around him and it takes Klaus a moment to realize the screams are all coming from him.

And there's the pain too. The type of pain that makes you feel like you're being ripped apart from the inside out and if he were more coherent, he might wonder if this is karma for all the people he's caused this very type of pain to.

There's another flash of Henrik covered in his blood, Kol engulfed in flames. Mikael's hateful face as he finishes beating him.

And then, another blood curdling scream as he feels a new and stronger wave of pain.

He can hear the chanting but his mind is too far gone from the pain for him to discern who's chanting what and his eyes are too blinded by that same pain to see who it is.

And as he lies there, his body writhing in the most excruciating pain he's ever endured, he knows. This is it.

So this is how I go out…

He closes his eyes and the pain subsides just enough for all the shouting to stop for a moment. And for just a moment, he's able to think a little more clearly and he thinks about his life. He thinks about his family, the ones he's lost and the ones still here and all that they've been through over the centuries. From being turned into the first vampires, to hybrid curses, to running from Mikael, to daggers and coffins.

And he thinks about her.

Caroline.

He had told her once, "It would be impossible not to notice you," and he meant it.

He thinks about their first meeting in that classroom with Tyler to when she walked back into his life after more than a decade because of his sister's doing. He thinks about the months they spent in Buenos Aires with her friends, Bonnie and Enzo, trying to figure out a solution to their problem with the Hollow and how miraculously during that time, he and Caroline grew closer. He thinks about the time he'd almost kissed her while they danced too slow for the upbeat song on one of those nights, before they were interrupted.

And he thinks about how bittersweet their last exchange earlier that night and he hated the thought that it could be their final exchange...

He finds her in the library, pouring over one of the grimoires but he can tell by how tense her body is that she's not really concentrating.

"Hey," she says when she looks up and sees him, her eyes raking over him but not the lustful way he's caught her doing over the last few months when she thought he wasn't looking.

No, she's looking for any sign that something's wrong.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, her voice laced with a worry she can't disguise.

"I'm fine," he assures her. "No pain. No hallucinations. Unless this is one of them but even if that were the case, I can't really find it in myself to complain," he adds with a smirk but she doesn't take the bait.

With a sigh, he moves around the desk where she's sitting and gently takes the book from her.

"What are you doing?" she immediately protests, trying to snatch it back but he places it out of her immediate reach.

"When was the last time you slept or fed, Caroline?" he asks seriously.

"I'm fine," she repeats his words. "Now can I have Bonnie's grimoire back please?"

"That wasn't exactly an answer to my question, love," he points out dryly.

"Really?" she laughs humorlessly and it hits him how much he misses the sound of her laugh.

Not this, but her actual, genuine laugh. And her smile. God, what he wouldn't give for a genuine Caroline Forbes smile right about now.

Both had started to diminish when the hallucinations had started because of the Hollow a few weeks back, and he hadn't seen or heard either again since he'd received that phone call from Freya, letting him know that something was wrong with the others.

The four originals had taken the Hollow from Freya to save their sister. Since the Hollow could only be anchored by something nearly as ancient and powerful as it was, at the time, the only solution they had found was to transfer into themselves but they had split it into four and went their separate ways to weaken it and keep it from possessing any of them. But as it turned out, it had only been weakening their own bodies all this time.

Weakening them enough that it would have completely possessed or killed them had Klaus not taken all of the pieces of the Hollow inside of himself after trying to dessicate them as another temporary solution had failed.

Being a hybrid and therefore more powerful than the others, he had the advantage of not being as affected as they were. Not at the time. 

But that had soon changed after all of the Hollow had been transferred into just him alone a few short days ago...

"You're concerned about me when you're the one who- who…" she trails off, shaking her head with a sad smile.

"Hey look at me," he speaks quietly as he crouches in front of her and gently tilts her chin to get her to do it. "It's all going to be fine. Aren't you supposed to be the ever optimistic one?"

She shoots him a look and he smiles a little.

Truth is, he wants to believe his own words but he has no idea if this plan will actually work. "All magic has a loophole, a check and balance of some sort, even this," Freya had insisted. There was scarcely any information to be found on the Hollow, most of it being myths and legends, so their search had not been easy or very fruitful. But, after searching for years and working tirelessly for the past couple of days, they thought they had finally managed to find a way to destroy it. It was a long shot, Bonnie had said, but it was still a shot, and it was better than nothing.

Well, he couldn't argue there.

Now the plan was set and now they just had to wait until the moon was at its highest for that would be when the witches would be at their strongest. Unfortunately, there was no way to determine if the moon's position affected the Hollow too but it was a risk they were going to have to take because they were running out of time.

He brings up his hand to cup the side of her face and gently strokes it with his thumb and feels her lean into his touch, her eyes softening as they meet his.

That doesn't long however, when she notices the black veins on his arm from the dark magic roiling inside him and growing more powerful while his body grows weaker by the second. He feels it, but he's determined not to let it show, especially when he sees the worried look cross her features again and decides she could use with a distraction.

What a nice change in roles, he thinks wryly.

"Come on, love," he says as he stands and gently tugs on her hand to get her to stand too. "I think a break is in order and I do believe I owe you a tour," he smirks.

Since they had arrived in New Orleans a few days ago, they had all been too busy trying to find a solution to get a chance to look around the busy and colorful city.

"A tour?" she repeats incredulously. "Seriously?"

"Yes," he chuckles. "Believe it or not, I'm a fantastic tour guide. There's a lot I can show you about this city."

"You mean all the food, art, and culture?" she asks, with the first hint of a smile he's seen in a while and that, coupled with her words, have a bright and dimpled grin forming on his face.

"You did get it. I had wondered…"

She looks away briefly and if he didn't know any better, he would say she looks almost embarrassed.

"What is it?" he asks curiously.

"I…" she sighs and takes a step back to retrieve her phone from where it sits buried under some books on the desk.

He watches her curiously tap away at the screen until a few moments later, he hears his own voice playing through the speaker and he didn't think it was possible for his smile to grow anymore but trust Caroline to be able to do the impossible.

"You kept it."

She nods once, another small and almost shy smile playing on her lips.

"I've been transferring it from phone to phone over the past 16 years," she admits. "I think a part of me has always known that I would eventually take you up on your offer… I was just scared before."

He feels a sting at the thought that Caroline was afraid of him, but he nods in understanding because he can see why. He had given her plenty of reasons to fear him in the past.

"I can see where it's not so simple deciding to take a trip with the big bad hybrid," he tries to say jokingly and is a little confused when she quickly shakes her head.

"It wasn't that," she assures him and looks away with a small sigh before continuing. "Years ago, there was a hunter that was after Stefan and was targeting everyone he cared about to lure him out of hiding. She almost killed me, but I managed to get away with Matt's help."

Klaus listens intently, inside feeling the anger rise and already plotting the death of this nameless hunter if she wasn't already dead.

"Matt told me it wasn't safe for me to stay in Mystic Falls, not until that had all blown over, so he told me to go somewhere I knew would be safe. So… I packed some things and got into my car and I drove here… to New Orleans."

Klaus isn't sure he remembers how to breathe. He's watching her intently and trying to keep that wretched hope at bay but failing miserably and when she looks up at him and finally meets his gaze again, he knows he's done for.

"I was in trouble, and I came to find you," she speaks softly but firmly. "Because I think deep down, a part of me has also always known that you weren't the villain of my story."

His hand is moving before he can even think, coming up to cup the side of her face and pull her closer, unable to stand the distance between them. He wants nothing more than to feel her, to touch his lips to hers but he shows some restraint and instead closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against hers because not touching her at all right now feels like an even worst agony than the one he's been subjected to the last couple of days with the Hollow.

So he takes a moment to just breathe her in and he feels her hand come up to clutch his arm, as if she were trying to hold his hand there. As if he would even think about moving it.

That wretched hope courses through him but it feels like it's taunting him. Making him think he might finally be so close to having everything he wants, his family well and together and Caroline by his side, all at once. If only he could count on having time…

"In all the time I've been alive, I have had but a few regrets," he speaks so quietly she would probably have a hard time hearing if not for her own supernatural hearing. "But I think perhaps one of my biggest regrets is not getting more of that time with you, Caroline."

He feels her grip on his arm tighten as she shakes her head.

"Stop," she says as she pulls back and he can see the tears that form in her eyes. "Stop talking like you're going to die. You're not going to die. You can't. You owe me a tour remember?"

He can feel his chest constrict at the way her voice cracks in the last part.

"So you can't die because I'll find a way to bring you back just to kick your ass myself understood?" she tries to add on jokingly as she blinks back the tears.

Or at least, he thinks it's jokingly.

He smiles a little and uses his thumb to catch one of the tears that escapes her in that moment.

"I'll try my best," he says with a ghost of a smile as he touches his forehead to hers again and closes his eyes.

He wants nothing more than to be able to stay with her like this forever. To just be able to hold her, to feel her just like this always. He loves her. The time spent apart had not changed that. He still loves her and somehow, by some miracle, he did something right to earn her affections enough for her to not push him away in this moment. And if this moment is all he has with her, it was worth it.

He pulls back just enough to take her in, his eyes taking in every little detail, recommitting every every line, every curve, every freckle, every inch of her face to memory.

She opens her eyes and meets his gaze and he feels that now too familiar ache in his chest. He stays absolutely still as she lets her eyes explore every inch of his face like he'd done with her just moments ago, before she lets her hand trace the same path her eyes had just followed.

He just watches her, suddenly too afraid to move and realize that this was yet just another hallucination. But then her eyes meet his again and her hand slips around his neck, pulling him closer while she leans in and closes the gap between them and presses her lips against his.

The kiss is soft and almost tentative at first, but it quickly becomes hungry and passionate and his arm wrapped possessively around her, holding her close, like he would never be able to hold her close enough. For a split second, he worried he might be hurting her, but when he loosened his hold on her, she immediately used her own hands to pull him closer again, almost like she couldn't stand any inch of distance between them either.

When he pulls back, he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against hers again and the words slip past his lips.

"I love you."

Her eyes snap open and for a second she looks just as surprised as he feels and almost a thousand years of insecurities and believing no one outside of perhaps his family could ever love him, have him bracing himself for the sting of her rejection.

But then he sees her eyes soften again before she captures his lips again in a kiss that's not soft and tentative like the other first started. No, this kiss is filled with a passion he's not experienced before. As if she's trying to show him how she feels about him even if she can't say it in words and it's more than he thinks he deserves.

She finally pulls back but doesn't leave his arms and he tries to hold her closer, ignoring the pain and trying to focus only on the blonde in his arms for just a moment longer.

But soon, too soon, they hear the sounds of his siblings and the others, and they both know it's almost time to go.

He doesn't immediately let her go however, and brings up his hand to cup her face and let his eyes take her in, even if only one last time…

"In case this is all the time we get-"

"If you start saying your goodbyes right now, I will hurt you," she tries to say sternly but her voice cracks as she speaks.

He feels the faintest of smiles tug on his lips as he nods and gently strokes the side of her face, like he's unable to stop touching her.

"You were my last love," he murmurs almost as if he were speaking to himself, speaking so quietly, nobody else would be able to hear him.

But she does. And she chokes out a sob as the tears start anew and it takes her a moment before she can finally speak.

"And you're supposed to be mine," she whispers.

And as he presses his lips to hers again, he wonders how it can be possible to feel his heart simultaneously soaring and breaking at the same time.

He thinks he hears someone shouting his name. He even thinks it might be Rebekah but he's too exhausted to check to be sure.

When the darkness washes over him, he can't help but welcome it.

                                                            xxxxx

Klaus can hear the sound of voices off in the distance and he frowns, unable to discern what they're saying.

The pain has seemed to finally have stopped, but he feels like his body's trying to recover after being broken in half.

Hell, for all he knows, maybe it was.

The voices stop and everything is quiet again. Too quiet and he has to wonder if he actually heard anything at all. Everything feels so uncertain and he hates it.

As more of his senses seem to finally start to become more alert, he becomes aware of the weight pressing against his back and around his middle.

That's enough to make him finally jerk awake and for a second, he's confused as to where he is until he recognizes his surroundings.

He's back in his room.

He has no idea how he got there, no idea what happened-

"Klaus?"

At the sound of her voice, he immediately turns and finds Caroline blinking up at him and he has a sudden and strong urge to take her in his arms and hold her close. To confirm that this was real. That she was real.

"Are you okay?" she asks as she slowly sits up, her voice laced with a concern that matches the one in her eyes as she takes him in.

He nods, because he can't seem to find his voice in that moment.

He feels like everything is still uncertain, his mind still not entirely convinced that this is all real and not another one of the Hollow's tricks.

Maybe he was still dying back in that circle. Maybe they had failed in defeating the Hollow.

But then he feels her hand cover his, distracting him from his thoughts for a moment.

"Hey," she says softly, keeping her eyes on him. "What are you thinking right now?"

"What happened?" he asks. "Is the Hollow-"

"It's done," she informs him, with no small amount of relief in her tone. "Bonnie, Freya, Davina, Vincent and the coven… they did it. We don't know if it was because they all combined their powers or the spell actually worked, but they did it. It's really gone," she gives him a watery smile. "You've been sleeping for like 10 hours now but, it's gone, Klaus. It's done."

He almost doesn't dare believe her, a part of him doesn't want to. A part of him still unconvinced that this isn't all just some hallucination, the most cruel hallucination of them all so far. To make him believe that he might actually have a chance at getting what he wants before ripping that hope away.

Almost as if sensing his thoughts, he feels her bring her hand up to cup the side of his face, her soft blue eyes peering intently into his own.

"Hey, listen to me," she says softly but firmly. "It's over. It's done."

He brings up his hand to cover hers, as if her touch is the only thing anchoring him, making him believe that this is real.

"It's done…" he repeats, needing to say the words himself to believe it.

It's not exactly a question, but Caroline nods anyway, and he sees the beginning of a smile form on her lips. That honest to goodness Caroline Forbes smile that he had missed since this had all started and his eyes eagerly try to recommit it to memory.

"Thank you," he says, keeping his eyes on hers.

"For what?" she asks with a slightly confused look.

"For helping me," he answers earnestly. "For staying by my side through all of it. I know it wasn't exactly easy."

She nods subtly and gives him a slightly watery smile.

"Thank you for not dying," she responds, only partly joking and it brings a small smile to his face. "I really would have hated looking for a way to bring you back just to kick your ass."

He can't help the laugh that escapes him then, and as he watches the bright smile that appears on her face as she looks at him, that honest to goodness Caroline Forbes smile that could light up the room, hell the whole block , he can't stand the distance between them any longer.

He slowly leans in and she meets him halfway, her lips easily finding his as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer. This kiss is different from the others. Whereas the others were filled with heartbreak and the regret of unfulfilled wishes and promises, this one is full of life and promise. A promise of something new. Something better.

And as he eases her down back onto his bed, he pulls back just to take her in again, as if to reassure himself one more time that this is real. That they are real.

He takes in her blue eyes that are once more shining with that happiness he's missed seeing in them. He takes in her lips, swollen from his kisses, and he sees the corners tug up into a blinding smile that's he's powerless not to return.

He quickly leans in and captures her lips again in another hungry kiss and soon he's moving them down her neck, leaving a trail of kisses against the soft skin he's longed to taste since he left her that day in the woods.

He hears her giggle when he finds that ticklish spot so he repeats his motion just to hear that sound again.

"You know your family is probably going to be waiting to talk to you right?" she says as he kisses his way up her jaw now.

"I know," he agrees, smiling when he feels her shiver slightly as he softly nips at the skin.

"I'm serious," she says a little breathlessly. "They wanted to talk about your meeting with the witches later."

The witches had all agreed to help the Mikaelson's, well, primarily Klaus, on the condition that a treaty be put in place between them. While Klaus had grumbled about how impractical it would be, he was running short on options and Caroline was optimistic that this treaty would allow the witches and vampires of New Orleans to peacefully coexist.

"Later," he says, stealing another quick kiss. "It can wait for now."

And he would talk to them, he wasn't trying to avoid anything, he just wanted to enjoy this moment with her a little longer before it was time to go out there and face the world again.

Either she senses his thoughts or she feels the same way as him, because she subtly nods and brings up her hand to wrap it around his neck and pulls him down to her again.

This time, their kiss is unhurried, the two of them content to just be together like this. To be together at all.

And as he feels the weight of her arms wrapping tightly around him, holding him like she'll never be able to hold him close enough, he smiles into the kiss and he thinks this must be what coming home feels like.

Because in that moment, it's what he feels. Like he was coming home after almost 1,000 years and finding peace.

Yes, it felt like coming home and finding peace at last.

                                                      xxxxx

Caroline is now convinced that the Mikaelson's really do have some kind of Cinderella fetish.

After the Hollow had been defeated, Rebekah and Kol had almost immediately announced that a celebration was in order. And of course, that celebration came in the form of a ball.

"It's Mardi Gras, it would be a crime if we didn't celebrate!"

Caroline had only rolled her eyes half-heartedly while Marcel laughed and Klaus smirked, both very clearly receptive to the idea.

Even Bonnie and Enzo had seemed a little more than receptive to the idea.

Not that she wasn't receptive herself. She always did enjoy a good celebration herself (especially if she was the one planning it), but if she were being completely honest, it was the thought of attending this grand party with a bunch of old, powerful, and worldly vampires that made her a little nervous.

Especially considering that she would be attending the party with Klaus as his… girlfriend?

They haven't really gotten the chance to really talk about everything in relation to them yet.

After he'd woken up that morning, they might have gotten a little carried away doing other things that certainly involved their mouths, but not exactly talking.

She's not sure if she'll ever be able to bring herself to look most of his family or his minions directly in the eye after she'd been horrified to discover that they had heard everything that she and Klaus had been up to when Freya not so subtly (but kindly), suggested getting sage for all of the rooms and the embarrassed look on Elijah's face, amused look on Kol's, and disgusted look on Rebekah's more than confirmed why.

Klaus of course had remained completely unbothered by it all, but he had made sure that none of his family -Kol and Rebekah- would make her feel even more uncomfortable about it.

After that embarrassing meeting that thankfully ended sooner rather than later, she'd bid Klaus goodbye much to his dismay. But she knew he needed that alone time with his siblings and Marcel, knowing that after that ordeal they had all gone through together, they needed that as much as she and Klaus needed it in the morning.

And maybe she also needed that time with her friends. Bonnie had also been through her own ordeal with helping in defeat the Hollow and Caroline wanted to spend time with her oldest friend and see how she was doing.

They had spent the rest of the afternoon at the place Bonnie and Enzo had chosen to stay at since arriving to New Orleans, and apparently would continue staying in for the foreseeable near future. They watch reruns of crappy day time TV while sort of talking about what came next, and listening to Enzo's old stories about his Mardi Gras experiences before Bonnie announced she was hungry.

They were supposed to be trying to decide on what to order for dinner, but Caroline finds herself a little distracted. Has been a little distracted almost the whole day, truth be told.

She keeps thinking about his confession, his 'I love you' replaying over and over in her mind. She remembers all those years ago, when she told him she knew that he was in love with her and he hadn't denied it, and of course, she remembers clear as day her graduation night, his whole 'I intend to be your last' was pretty dang hard to forget, but hearing him say the actual words, especially more than a decade later, it felt like something else entirely.

Needless to say, it had taken her by surprise. It had left her breathless… and maybe a little scared. Not scared of him. No, scared of her feelings for him because she knows she's falling for him too. Falling hard . She meant it when she told him that he was supposed to be her last love. Because since he came back into her life, a part of her has known that he would be. But believing and knowing don't make this all any less terrifying. Sure, she's fallen in love before, but not like this. This is different and maybe that's why she was afraid of loving him but she knows, she can't stop herself from falling for him anymore than she could stop the sun from rising or setting.

And she's terrified. Terrified of losing herself and after what they've just gone through, she's terrified of losing him too.

"Gorgeous?" she hears Enzo's voice break through her thoughts and she quickly turns to look at him. "Where'd you go just now?"

"Yeah, is everything okay, Care?" Bonnie asks, looking at her with a hint of concern. "You've seemed a little distracted all day."

"Yeah, no everything is fine," she quickly assures them. "I just…"

"Don't tell me there's trouble in paradise already?" Enzo asks, only half-joking, making Caroline roll her eyes.

"No, everything with Klaus is fine," she answers and looks away as she feels her face heat a little. "He told me he loves me."

Both Bonnie and Enzo don't say anything for a beat and she looks back at them.

"Sorry Gorgeous, but was that supposed to be a secret? If so, it was the worst kept secret on the planet after the BT Tower in London."

Caroline shoots him a look and hears Bonnie laugh.

"Sorry Care, but he's got a point," Bonnie agrees. "Is Klaus telling you that he loves you a bad thing?"

"No," she answers quickly.

"But?" Bonnie probes, sensing there was more.

"I'm… I'm falling for him too," she confesses, feeling her cheeks flush.

She catches sight of Bonnie and Enzo share a look and she frowns a little.

"What's that look?" she asks.

"Nothing," Bonnie answers. "It's just… that's also the worst kept secret on the planet after Klaus being in love with you."

"Seriously, Bonnie? You too?!" she reproaches, making the couple laugh.

"I'm sorry but it's true," Bonnie shrugs. "Anyone who sees you two together can see it."

"Yeah, you two always look like you're one loaded glance away from tearing each other's clothes off," Enzo mutters with a smirk.

"Thanks, Enzo," she smiles sarcastically.

"You haven't told Klaus, have you?" Bonnie guesses. "That you're falling for him?"

She looks away sheepishly before answering.

"I couldn't…" she admits. "I'm scared I guess."

"Scared of what?"

"I've just… I've never felt this way about anyone before and I guess I'm scared that I'll lose myself. That I'll wake up 500 years from now and I won't recognize myself because I've let myself be consumed by this love that it's changed me. And maybe I'm scared that if I let myself love him, I won't know how to stop and that one day, I'll wake up 500 years from now and he'll decide forever is too long to spend with someone like me, and he'll walk away. And what if something like the problem with the Hollow happens again but this time we're not so lucky and I can't...," her voice cracks, and she feels her chest constrict at just the thought. "And I just keep hearing this little voice in my head that keeps telling me that maybe I should just walk away now before I'm in too deep."

"Oh Care," Bonnie says with a sympathetic smile as she moves to sit on the couch beside her and wrap her arms around her. "I don't really don't think you have to worry about any of that. For one, I won't let you lose yourself, even if that means locking you up and doing hypnosis," she jokes.

Caroline shakes her head with a small laugh, especially as Enzo agrees he'll help.

"But I don't think I'll have to because I know you won't let yourself get lost," Bonnie continues sincerely. "The fact that you're even thinking about this let me knows you'll be fine. And yeah, this was a close call but you have to focus not on the fact that he almost died, but the fact that he lived. Besides, like death would be able to stop Klaus Mikaelson for long? I think he's more stubborn than you so between the both of you, nothing stand a chance," she jokes. "That voice in your head is wrong. I mean, you're already thinking about a future 500 years down the line with him. I think you're already in too deep."

Caroline can feel her face burning and finds she doesn't know what to say to that, especially as Bonnie's words really hit her and she realizes in that moment that her friend is right.

"And don't worry, Gorgeous," Enzo smirks. "He's definitely on the same page as you. Trust me, he's thinking of forever with you too."

"How could you know that?" she asks genuinely curious.

Sure, his whole 'last love' speech implied he was thinking long-haul with her, but she had never told anyone about what happened that night on the football field.

"I see it in the way he looks at you," Enzo says simply. "It's the same way I look at Bonnie."

There are no words to describe the smile that spreads on Bonnie's face and Caroline feels a smile tug on her lips as she looks at her two best friends, feeling a rush of happiness for them. And maybe as she watches them together and sees how easily they can talk about forever, well maybe it eases some of her fears too.

                                                       xxxxx

A while later, Caroline arrives back at the Mikaelson's and is surprised to find Klaus waiting for her.

"Hey, is everything okay?" she asks, concern lacing her voice.

"Everything is fine," he assures her with a grin as he wraps his arms around her. "How was your visit with Bonnie and Lorenzo?"

She rolls her eyes a little amusedly the same way she always does every time he calls Enzo by his name.

"It was good," she answers with a slightly sheepish smile as she remembers what they talked about but she hopes he doesn't notice the slight change in her behavior. "Bonnie and I are planning on going dress shopping this week for your family's ball. You guys really have a Cinderella fetish don't you?" she adds teasingly.

"I have not the slightest idea what you mean," he smirks.

"Do you think your sister might want to come dress shopping with us?" she wonders and sees him smile.

"I'm sure she'd enjoy that. Bekah looks for any excuse to go shopping, how much more with someone who has the same penchant for it," he teases.

"Sorry not sorry," she shrugs with a smirk. "How did it go with your family today?"

"Better than I could have expected," he smiles and she feels a smile tug on her lips too. "Now, how's about a trip with just you and me?" he adds with a mischievous smile.

"And where are we going?" she adds with a raised brow, a smile still playing on her lips.

"I believe we have a tour that's long overdue don't you think?" he asks with a dimpled grin.

She smiles and eagerly takes his hand and as they make their way out the door, it's hard to tell who's leading who.

                                                       xxxxx

They spend the next couple of hours exploring New Orleans which is even livelier and more colorful during this Mardi Gras season and as he shows her some of his favorite spots, she thinks she can finally understand why this is one of his favorite places in the world and she thinks she can't wait to see his other favorite places in the world with him.

She has to admit he really is an excellent tour guide, providing just enough information about certain places to be helpful, but not enough that it keeps her from enjoying it and deciding what she thinks about it herself. And she loves hearing his own stories he shares, making her that much more eager and impatient to hear stories about his other ventures in the world.

He takes her to the places that serve some of the best food she's ever tried and by the end, her waistline is very thankful that she can't put on any weight as a vampire. Especially after she has her first beignets.

As the night wears on, Caroline finds herself thinking more and more about her earlier conversation with Bonnie and Enzo. She had left their place determined to tell Klaus how she feels about him, but the problem is she doesn't exactly know how. So, as the night wears on, she finds herself stealing more glances at him, trying to decide if this is the right time and of course, always chickening out.

That seems to come to an end however, when Klaus finally calls her out as they're walking down one of the crowded streets in the French Quarter.

"Something on your mind, love?" he asks a little hesitantly after about the fiftieth time she's looked at him and quickly looked away.

"Uh, yeah. Sort of. Yes," she answers, trying and failing, to keep her nerves at bay.

She sees the corners of his lips twitch but he doesn't say anything and allows her to continue and she sucks in a small breath and decides this is it.

"I have a confession," she starts.

No doubt sensing her nerves, she sees him tense even though he tries not to let it show.

"Oh?"

"About you," she continues.

This, understandably makes him pause, and the two stop walking as they turn to face each other.

When he doesn't say anything, she knows he's waiting for her to continue, so she does.

"I… I'm falling in love with you too, Klaus," she confesses and when she sees the flash of surprise that gives way to a joy and hope he seems to be trying to keep contained, almost like he's waiting for the ' but... ', she decides to put all her cards on the table. "I am," she repeats, taking his hand in hers because she knows he's having a hard time believing what he's hearing. "I'm falling for you. Every day I feel like I fall more and more. And I couldn't tell you before because it scared me…"

"Why did that scare you?" he asks, genuinely wondering and she laughs a little as she shakes her head.

"I don't know. Maybe because we're not talking puppy love here, no pun intended," she says, biting back a smile when she sees him roll his eyes but she sees the beginnings of a smile tugging on his lips. "I just… I want it all with you, Klaus. I want to travel the world with you, come home to you, experience all the art, culture and food in the world with you and I want you to be my last love and I…" she trails off, cursing herself for rambling when she had this whole speech planned out in her head.

"Done."

She looks back at him and sees that dimpled smile she loves so much and she thinks she's never seen him smile like this before. It's the type of smile that could light up an entire room and she knows she wants to see this smile again and again in the future.

But his response comes back to her and she forces herself to focus.

"Done?" she repeats dumbfounded. "Which part?" she asks with a breathless laugh.

"All of it," he smiles as he moves closer and wraps his arms around her, pulling her close and she goes more than willingly. "Done."

"Just like that?" she repeats incredulously.

"Did you really think I would object?" he chuckles.

"No, but I don't know, I didn't expect it to be so easy. I had this whole speech planned out and everything."

He laughs and steals a quick kiss.

"It won't always be easy because you and I are still first and foremost, you and I, so I've no doubt there will be challenges, and maybe I'll be shit at this, but I like to think of myself as a smart individual who can learn from his mistakes, and I trust we'll be able to overcome and learn from whatever challenges come our way together."

"Sounds like you've given this some thought," she says teasingly, if only to try to lighten all the emotion she feels welled up in her throat.

"Caroline, I've been where you're at for a long time," he smiles. "I've just been waiting for you to catch up."

She feels the laughter spill past her lips before he captures them with his and as she eagerly returns his kiss, she feels her heart racing. Racing with a happiness and love she had only ever hoped would be hers and as she pulls back and meets his eyes, she knows he feels it too.

"So where will we be traveling to first?" he asks as they walk back sometime later.

She smiles and shakes her head.

"I don't know," she answers, amused that he's already planning their first trip not even an hour later.

"Rome?" he asks teasingly. "Paris? Tokyo?"

She shoots him a look, rolling her eyes at him playfully as memories of the night he proposed this very same offer comes to mind but she feels a smile tug on her lips at the reminder of how far they'd come since then, and that his offer still stands more than a decade later. He smiles too, almost as if reading her thoughts, and kisses her again until she forgets what they were even talking about.

In the end, they decide to go to Paris first.

But that, is the beginning of another story…

[awriterstransition]

Lessons Part 2

        If you find any of the sections of stories I write interesting, I’ve tagged every story with “Isen” so if you search for Isen’s name you get every part I wrote.  If you have any questions about my stories, or want to tell me anything, go ahead and send me a message.

        Lessons Part 2

         I woke up on my own some time later, the guards had gone but the Qire Mage, or water as the word would be translated in English, was still sitting at a desk. He was reading a book as he leaned on the desk with his right arm, his left arm was propped up on the desk and on the tip of his finger he spun a ring of crystal clear water. “How are you feeling Isen?” The Reptile asked not looking back at me.           “I’m feeling much better sir, thank you for your help. I’m sorry I was such trouble. I’m normally able to care for myself… Just been trying to get situated.” I sighed, I felt fine but inside I felt pathetic. On earth I could easily walk around the city, and nothing could bother me, I knew how everything worked, I knew how to act, and how to help others. I’d be happy to do favors for others, but now in this world I just felt like I was relying too much on everyone else. I hated it, I didn’t want people to think I’m incompetent and couldn’t do anything on my own.           “Your new to Matra, you’ve never been around so many spirits. I can understand how you might have a problem with the illusions Dragon Sprites can create.” The Reptile stated as he swallowed the water ring, and got up from his chair, coming closer to me. He was tall and sleek when he stood beside me, he took a trained military stance with arms behind his back. “I was there during your combat lecture on the Black Queen Snake, it was fairly impressive. To think you took one down all on your own without an amplifier; your soul must be massive in order to contain that much magic. What number did you get on the Soul Gauge?” The reptile asked kindly as he offered a hand and I took it and helped me from the bed. Lynn’s simple lessons going through my head. Amplifiers were magical tools that focused the power of a mage, it was normally staves and wands, but amplifiers could truly be anything including swords, shields and simple earrings. The soul gauge is simple test that tells a person how much magic can be stored in their soul without the soul exploding or organ failure.          A rank of fifty was the lowest possible score, and it meant you were the lowest class of mage and had hardly any potential beyond combat arts, which were just simple spells that ranked one-one hundred, ninety-one to one hundred were normally forbidden to only masters of magic. A sixty-six was the lowest scores for familiars, their jobs was to help mages cast spells and had a special quality. A mage could bind his soul to a familiar and that familiar could help the mage cast far more intense spells, but it also connected their thoughts and feelings, you could never lie to a familiar when bound to them and the connection was permanent. No matter where a person was in the world as long as both parties were alive they could read each-others thoughts. Lynn wanted me to become his familiar when we first started training, I of course refused because it sounded more like a marriage then anything. Seventy-eight was the lowest possible score for a person to become a mage, and seventy-eight to eighty-five was where most new mages started.          Ninety was the rarest of circumstance, and most would refer to you as a mystic born, or gifted, because those that scored a ninety were seen to have the souls of master mages at birth. Mystic born was a term used for a person who was either born from two mages, a magical pureblood in a sense, but even then being mystic born was not normal, it could also mean a child born of just powerful magical presence. Normally strange things happen around a mother when she is pregnant with a mystic born, flames will flicker wildly in windless nights, or go out all-together, water were swirl when no one is around, flowers would bloom in winter, and spirits evil and good natured will come around the mother.          Gifted was a term given to a child later in his life when strange things happened to him or her, these gifted children had as most would say it, blessings from the gods. Lynn was a Gifted and a Mystic Born, it said that when he was born the world just became black until he started to cry. He also inherited the family gift of seeing the dead and spirits who hid their presence from mortal eyes. It was the perfect gift for a Grave Keeper. Some gifts were precognition, unnatural strength even among Mincridarins, mind-control and other strange supernatural powers.           “Ninety five.” I stated looking up at the mage and he became stunned by my simple words.           “That explains plenty… to think a Master of Magic was in my midst, I never even knew. Your ability to suppress your magic is amazing, I would have never thought you could even use magic, that’s why I thought your words were lies during the meeting.”           “Thank you, would you like me to prove it?” I asked and the reptile shook his head wildly in agreement as he took hold of my hands. With a simple breath I expressed my magical presence, and the reptile moaned in pleasure, and leaned into my chest, his entire body becoming shaky with pleasure, I could see knees grow weak.           “Your power is truly amazing, it’s so smooth like water, it flows so naturally; it was warm like a fire or laying out in the sun, but cool like a breeze on the wind. It felt dense like stone, unwavering in its strength.” The Mage said speaking of the texture of my magic, magic was different for everyone and it’s reaction to others shifted too. Whenever I had expressed my magic like this to others, mainly lynn, they could feel the power of my soul. Strangely enough, every time they were always overcome with a sense of pleasure. I had made Lynn cum twice just from expressing my magic to him, and made him rigid a few times, he never got over how my magic felt to him.          But then the mage pulled away and looked at me with wide eyes. “Your gifted, I know what you are. Come with me quickly I was reading a book in the Magical library about ancient magical blessings over the centuries. The ones that have at least been recorded, and one mage, I read had something similar to your gift.” He explained quickly getting excited as he ran to a book shelf near his desk, tossing the books back and across the room when he picked up the wrong book.           “I’m not gifted, I’m sure I would have found out by now if I was.”           “No your gift isn’t as defined as others, it exists in the background like an echo, it’s always there. Here it is, oh by the gods you don’t realize how special your gift is.” The Reptile stated happily as he slammed a large book on his desk and started to rifle through pages until he came to a large set of text.           “Your gift is a blessing from the dark goddess of love, you soul radiates an aura that draws people to you, giving them feelings of lust. Your soul makes others feel attracted to you when you express it to them personally. When you touched me and showed me your magic, I had never felt such a powerful desire like that before. I’m joined with my lover and I had only felt something similar to the day I had joined with her, and mated with her for the first time. Please tell me have you done this with anyone else other than me?”           “No this is insane, I’m not a gifted I’ll accept mystic born, but I’m not blessed by the gods I can’t be.” I countered firmly; what the reptile was simply saying was that I was some kind of succubus or incubus without the life draining part.           “Isen there has been a blessing of love in two hundred years, it’s such a rare gift very few gifts exist in the back ground of a mages soul. DO you realize how similar your soul is to that of a Gate’s?”           “I’m absolutely not a gate!” I countered, because being called a Gate was someone born with a soul over a hundred in rank, and also that they were bound to the very core of a type of magic, granting them nearly unlimited magical potential and powerful gifts. Lynn had only ever told me that there are three known gates. The Gate of the Venfas, or wind, was controlled by a rabbit mage who could condense the wind down so much it created glowing pink petals, that when ruptured sent out a blast that could level forests and summon storms. The Gate of Qire, was found in a water mage who could cast such powerful illusions they could warp reality, even Lynn was said to be the Gate of Gaie, the Gate of Darkness, because of the fact that demons thought he might, because they had stated the gate of Gaie had been opened. The Gate of Dimen, earth, was opened at birth by a mage in Leggala who with a snap of his fingers could turn buildings into nothing but dust. “No I’m not saying you are but Isen, a Gate’s soul radiates magical presence, they almost are literally magic. Your soul radiates love, and desire, people are attracted to you, even if it’s subtly, they don’t even know it’s happening, not even you do. Isen the last person who had this gift was a gray mage herself, a Mystic born. Please Isen just think about your gift try it out, but I’m certain you are Gifted with the Goddess of Love’s blessing.” The reptile simply protested and I just shook my head, because that idea was insane. This reptile must have been reading to many books. I wasn’t gifted, because if I was did anyone ever actually truly love me, or care about me, or were they just drawn to me because of some stupid gift? I just grabbed my things and left the room. “Isen please, think about it.” The reptile quickly called out to me as I felt my head, I hating the idea, of course something else I had to deal with had to fall on my plate. Learn to live like a Matra citizen, learn to be a noble, teach Matra people about earth, and now this. I might be gifted crap, I was a fucking human, no human was gifted, how could I be blessed by the goddess of Love, when I wasn’t even born into the world under their damn gods? I was fine with being powerful in magic, bearing a soul sword but gifted? This wasn’t some stupid comic book, where I become some kind of choice picked hero because the gods were like, hey let’s throw him into this mess and see what happens. But most of all I hated it because it made sense, no matter where I went I always drew a crowd, even in the sanctuary. I had so many asking me to be my mate or if they could mate with me, some females asked if they have my children.           “Isen what’s wrong?” Master Raven asked, and being in my mentally dazed state I had of course run into his chest, he grabbed my shoulders, remembering what the stupid gift meant I smacked his hands away.           “Don’t touch me!” I cried out in anger before running away from the stunned Cheetah. IF I  was so gifted, why did children when I grew up want to hurt me? Why was I left alone and hated if I was supposed to be gifted with some kind of love aura? Then I remember that moment in the store, and my thoughts fell silent as I relived the memory. Then after I realized where I was now living, I wanted to cry from laughter. Of course I end up picking the one master who owns a damn brothel, where loves is supposed to be fake and it’s all about the sex and mating. If this was really the gods handiwork they really knew how to throw a fucking curve ball. Why couldn’t I just find a home and settle down. Why did something always have to happen to me?           “Because we are opening the gates.” A voice called out from nearby, and I turned to the side as I left the Embassy, and looked upon the form of a Reaper. The Ram Mincridarn had no skin just bones, his skull was pure white and his eyes a pitch black holes. He wore a human formal black suit as if preparing for a funeral.          Lynn had told me about Reapers, I wasn’t afraid of it, they were not evil and they were governed by the Gray gods. They simply collected the souls of the dead so they could be judged by the gray god, so there after life could be picked, based upon their actions in their mortal life. But what I walked away from was the idea that I could see a fucking Reaper. Reapers never showed themselves to mortals, Lynn could only see them because he had the gift of sight.           “No, this is not happening.” I protested aloud walking in the other direction, the ram followed me with out walking just appearing in my line of sight.           “We need the Gate of Gray to Open, war is coming and the gods wish to protect those who hold them dear.”           “This isn’t some fantasy novel?” I protested coming over to the Reaper and took hold of his formal black coat.           “Who is to say it isn’t, there a countless realities, who is to say their isn’t one where a person is simply writing this very sentence. This very moment?” The Reaper simply informed, and Isen just cracked from listening to such an idea, and it took him a moment to process the information.           “Then what the fuck is wrong with whoever it is?! What did I do to deserve this? I can even live a normal life!” Isen called out angrily, holding the Reaper over the edge of the railing, though the Reaper was unafraid.          “Because the Gates are opening, and you are the Gate of Gray, the finale gate. Without you there can be no future or balance on Ecorein. All those you see around you will perish if you do not accept what you are.” The Reaper finished and in the blink of an eye he was gone.           “Fuck you and you’re fucking riddles you, bastard!” Isen called out before falling to his knees leaning against the bottom half of the railing, utterly lost in his own thoughts.           “Isen, what did he want with you?” I flinched hearing the familiar voice and looked back at Lynn who was kneeling behind me wearing his familiar gray robes.           “Lynn? Why are you here?” The stallion said nothing and he had a pained look on his face and shifted me to my feet.           “I told you I’d move to Matra, now please just calm down and let’s go someplace and talk… I think for once you need a drink.”           “Yeah… I can agree to that.” I agreed, thinking the alcohol might clear my head or knock me flat on my ass, either option sounded fine right now, as long as it got these stupid thoughts out of my head.           “Let go of him, right now!” Master Raven commanded aggressively, moving in closer before pushing Lynn away from me, before holding me close to his chest defensively, spawning his bull whip. “Who in the gods’ name are you?” Lynn countered angrily as he watched Master Raven shift me behind his back, though of course I could tell Lynn wasn’t going to back down. The overprotective stallion was always like that. But Master Raven’s duty was to protect me and so he did.           “I’m Isen’s Master, now answer my question, who are you and what do you want with Isen?” A dark glare crossed Lynn’s eyes.           “You are the bastard that raped him?” Lynn called out in anger and a dark green glow flashed in his eyes, I knew more than anything, in this state Lynn was expressing his demonic nature. He was truly intending to kill. So I jumped between the two males holding them back with magic.          “Lynn stop, it’s already done and we worked through the problems, it fine.”           “This bastard rapped you?”           “And what did you do while I was bed some nights? Not like your much different Lynn.” I protested and the stallion quickly snapped out of his gaze looking down at me sadly.           “Isen that isn’t fair.”           “You blackmailed me and forced me mate with you Lynn, it’s pretty damn equal, and at least Master Raven apologized for it.” Lynn stammered words before falling silent and still.           “I’m sorry Isen.”           “Do I need to put the collar on you?” I asked looking up at Lynn who fell silent and nodded, with a soft sigh he pulled the collar from his robes, and handed it to me. The collar was a thick metal circle with runes that would suppress Lynn’s strength and Magic, when he was getting to aggressive, I put this on him and he’d have to calm down or he’d just get hurt. I formed a black chain to the collar and he said nothing as I looked at Master Raven.           “Can we talk about this later… I just want to go and lay down.” Master Raven settled down but he looked at Lynn carefully and then at me.           “So this is the stallion I heard so much about? I do want to talk to him personally. But we should get going, you caused a large enough scene earlier and people are watching.” When Master Raven said this I saw the faces of those around us and took note of their confused and worried looks, it would be best to leave I probably had looked insane yelling at nothing.          So Master Raven led the way as I dragged Lynn behind me. He was still very much quiet and displeased, but the collar made him dead quiet, he couldn’t even speak if he wanted to. It was perfect some nights when he lost himself in anger and wouldn’t listen to me.          But when we went to Master Raven’s home above the brothel, we settled down at the table in master Raven’s personal dining room, he had fixed the table and the lights personally. So the room was well lit with soft yellow light. Master Raven sat at the head of the table, Lynn to his right and I too his left.          A slave was upstairs serving us all drinks, but after leaving three mugs for each of us he was ordered to leave. “Isen mind telling us what happened earlier.” Master Raven asked watching me as I chugged the bitter brew, when half of it was empty I was already feeling its effects in my gut. It was my first time drinking in years, I was pretty much a light weight. But regardless I told them everything downing more of my first mug as I talked to them.          Though by the end of the story I was slumped on the table my mind was slightly foggy and I let out quiet burp from all the air in my gut, which I barely suppressed with my hand.  At this point Master Raven took my last two mugs saying that one was enough. I tried to debate him but I ended up slurring my words and just passing out on the table. Which at this point left the two alpha males alone.

-Master Raven/Lynn-

When they watched Isen pass out from only one mug of alcohol, they looked at each other and laughed, apparently they both had never seen someone pass out after one mug before. Though Lynn’s laugh was silent, but he personally removed the collar afterwards, and looked at Master Raven, tapping the edge of his first mug not drinking. “Thanks for looking after Isen, I know he can be a handful, but he’s more capable then he looks.”           “I know, that’s why I’m so hard on him, if I don’t push him he’s just going to slack off.” Master Raven stated looking down at me with his arms crossed. “But do you really believe he is a gate?”           “I thought he might be… I lied to him about his test, he scored a hundred and twenty three times. I wasn’t sure if it was right, but that’s why I watched him so closely and tried training him in magic. I knew if anything found out about his powerful soul, he’d be hunted down. He’s a pure rarity, but this gift of his. I knew about it when we first met and he touched me. His gift does everything he says it does, but only to those that can sense his magical presence, so as long as it’s suppressed no one will be under its affects. I also cut out the portion of his soul that might contain it. I must have left some of it still behind, and that’s why he still has some of the effects.” Lynn explained as he pulled a small silver necklace that glowed in a soft gray light from around his neck.          “You knew about all of it? Why didn’t you tell him?”           “I’m a Grave keeper and I was asked to do it by the reapers. They were the ones that helped me separate his gift from his soul, though it looks like I didn’t take enough. I was trying to protect him, a gift like his could easily get out of hand, plus I couldn’t train him with out getting in trouble.” Lynn explained tucking the necklace away under his clothing… “I blackmailed him to keep him close, to protect him but after living with him for so long I truly did fall in love with him.”           “So he is a gate?”           “And the reapers want me to return his gift, but you saw how he reacted when he learned the truth. He’d lose is mind if he found out it was true.           “That is because you first told him otherwise, he doesn’t know what to believe, just tell him the truth Lynn.” Mater Raven stated firmly before looking down at Isen and groaned in annoyance smelling something off in air. “The damn cub wet himself on my floor! Now my room is going to smell like fucking piss; Dammit!” Master Raven protested feeling his head.           “Ever try putting him in diapers, he loves those.”          “I will not be changing diapers like a damn father!” Master Raven countered loudly as he got up from the chair and picked up Isen by the collar of his shirt, revealing the dark wet spot between his legs “If he wants to piss himself he can do it in his own bed.”         Lynn said nothing as he watched Master Raven carry Isen away, and soon came back with a towel that he threw on the piss stained floor.  “When he wakes up I’m going to tan his hide.”           “Just let it go it was his first time.” Lynn simply countered and Master Raven sat down on the chair and looked at the stallion, not pleased with the idea of letting such childish behavior go.           “What would you do if he made a mess like that?”           “If he did it one purpose, stick his nose in it like a dog and make him lick it off the floor. If it was by accident I’d have him scrub down the floor.” Master Raven grumble but nodded hearing this finding the stallions punishments fair.           “What would you do if Isen cowered in fear over seeing a spider?” Lynn looked at the male as he was about to drink from his mug, and put it down.           “What happened to Isen?” With that simple question Master Raven told the stallion what had happened earlier in the day and of the story, in the end Lynn’s tense hid grip on the mug nearly broken it.           “Isen never mentions his past to me. I don’t think he had a bad life, but I knew there was a reason to why he left his home town. OF course it’s not because of the spiders, but I’m sure it was something else, he came to me just wanting to get away from something. When I talked to his parents they didn’t know what the problem was either, but they just asked that I look after him all the same. When I first met Isen, for nearly a month he never left his room. He was just on his computer writing. It was around the third week when the reapers came to me and asked me to take a portion of his soul away, in order for doing this they would read me a part of his life. I didn’t want to be invasive to his past because he seemed to want to hide it, so I asked them to show me something I could use to control him. They showed me what he was scared to tell anyone and scare of people knowing. I used his fetishes and black mailed him forcing him to do as I wanted. That was kind of our life together. I controlled him and he’d submit, but after years of living with him. I fell in love with him but he never loved me because of everything I did to him. He might never love me but I’ll still be happy as long as he just accepts me. I just don’t want to lose him.”          Master Raven watched as Lynn looked down into his mug sadly. “I’m sure he cares about you, he remembers everything you’ve taught him. It was because your damn spells I had rapped him, your darn magical teachings. He challenged me in front of my slaves and mocked me, but he was still…” Master Raven trailed off but Lynn wasn’t going to kill the Master though he wanted to when Master Raven said he had rapped him. Though he truly wanted to, Isen had already shown his disproval to the idea, and Lynn wasn’t going to go against Isen, not when it could only make things worse.           “Isen was still the better male, he gave me permission to abuse him in the end, he didn’t want to fight me and he wanted to make up for what he had done. I was the one who went too far… It’s hard to beat a slave when they have done nothing wrong, even though they just annoy you.”           “I know what you mean, I had points like that when I was still in control of Isen. He’d piss me off but in the end, he’d always come back around and try and make things right. I hated it when he did that, because I wanted to be mad at him, but he was almost always right.” Lynn added and the Master raised his mug.           “I accept your hatred, I ask you forgive me for abusing your friend.” Lynn knocked mugs with Master Raven with a smile. “I will forgive you, as long as you don’t repeat it.”           “That’s fair.” Master Raven finished as he tilted back the mug, and Lynn did the same breaking his own rule. After that though the two quickly calmed down telling stories of their sexual affairs.

[rcdixon]

“Blood of the Lamb”

Father Seamus was uglier than sin. He had posture like a question mark, crust in nearly every crevice of his sagging face, and unkempt eyebrows that eclipsed a pair of bloodshot eyes always pointed in separate directions. What little skin poked out from his vestments was jaundiced and decrepit. All the same, despite these unfortunate conditions, Seamus knew how to enthrall a crowd. His presence was commanding—prophetic even. When reading from scripture, the man would rock back and forth, waving his arms maniacally. He’d holler and shout and storm and stomp all around the altar, punctuating Bible passages with the slamming of a clenched fist. His booming “amens” would shake the stained glass in their panes. And when it came time to turn wine to blood and bread to body, Seamus would bring every parishioner to the edge of their pew all watching him with bated breath—as though it wasn’t a miracle they had seen every single weekend. Lord knows he relished the mysticism of it all. I remember every Sunday being the same ol’ bit, and while I didn’t know it at the time, I realize now, looking back, Father Seamus’ schtick was nothing more than a pithy act of dramaticism to maintain his rule over St. Joseph’s Catholic Church.

For the better part of my youth, I shared an altar with this character. To tell you the truth, I had never intended to get into the business of being an altar boy, but after a bit of pressure from my mother, and seeing how closely the garbs resembled those of a Jedi, I gave in and took on the role. (I know what you’re thinking, and it was never all that bad. Hell, it even gave me a strange sense of humility to sit atop the altar next to Seamus and his deacon, watching the crowd beg for forgiveness for this, that, and the other.) That’s just how it was, you know. Back in the 60s, most Catholic kids were roped into serving the church in one way or another. And even though I was a born agnostic, I didn’t mind it at all. Donning the robes and bowing my head every now and again was simply something to do—something to keep me busy. But this story isn’t about me, or even old man Seamus for that matter. It’s about Marcus Sanders, a total roman candle of a kid—the kind of kid who would’ve lit the world ablaze if given half a chance. Even those caught in his destructive wake would applaud him for the light. I was certainly one of them. To me, he was the alpha and omega.

Marcus had a ruddy red face with one of those sloping Roman noses. Even at twelve, wrinkles were etched around his eyes from the crooked smile he always sported. And for some reason, he usually smelled faintly of tobacco. Like me, Marcus answered the higher calling of servitude at a pretty young age. We were both from the same crop of kids enrolled in St. Joe’s Sunday School, so we had to endure the same slew of fire and brimstone stories. However, unlike the rest of us church-going kids, Marcus wouldn’t feign interest or any kind of solemnity. Not in the least. Instead, the budding heretic would fire off a torrent of questions at the teacher. Never know how to answer those “big questions,” our leader would defer him to a couple go-to Bible verses to quell that “silly imagination” of his. Responding in turn, Marcus would channel his contempt by distracting the rest of us kids, occasionally offering us apples as a joke. Marcus was the one to give a slingshot demonstration, showing us exactly how to take down a Goliath. (Deacon Paul sported an eyepatch for a few weeks after.) He was the one to snicker anytime we heard a story about Sodom. Marcus was the first one to crack a cannibalism joke back when we got our First Communion. He never gave into our straightlaced dogma. All this aside, though, Marcus’ most impressive feat to date was how he managed to survive all the biblical discipline which inevitably befell him. One toe out of line, and wham! The back of Seamus’ hand would come down on him with the blunt force of the Old Testament. Needless to say, this occurred quite regularly back then. Different times, as they say.

And somehow, amid all the beatings, the kid never believed he was in the wrong.

“It’s ‘cause my mom shot him down before he went into seminary,” Marcus would say. “Not that I blame her or anything—I mean, look at him. At the very least she could blow him a kiss every once in awhile. Anything to get him to cool off.” You may call this delusional, but back then, us Sunday school kids called it heroic. I suppose every good Catholic loves a martyr, and Marcus sure knew how to play messiah. For the most part, the kid tended to brush off Seamus’ brutalizations, proudly wearing his bruises like stigmatas. But at a certain point, his welts really began to add up. And that’s where his story picks up. At the end of each mass, when it came time to hang up our rope-belts in the sacristy, Marcus would usually want to put on a little pyrotechnics show with the candle lighter and napkins—just for the hell of it.

“Stop it, man. Grady’s going to smell the smoke,” I said one Sunday.

“Quit being such a pussy,” Marcus sneered. “She won’t smell a thing. There’s plenty of water in here to put out anything that catches too fast.”

As per usual, Marcus held the candle lighter to the wine-stained napkin, watching with captivation as the flame overtook the fabric. The fire would lick his pinched fingers, he’d release the napkin, and he’d stamp out the ashes with his polished loafers on the sacristy floor.

“See? No harm, no foul,” grinned the alter boy. “Now, let’s see how this bread fries.”

Marcus opened up the eucharist package, and worked out a wafer from the plastic. He clicked the lighter, and just as the bread began to brown, Dorothy Grady, St. Joseph’s humble administrator opened the door of the closet-sized sacristy. Her dentures seemed particularly too large for her mouth that day.

“Boys, are you almost done preparing for the next sermon? I’m just a minute or two away from locking up the building for the day,” said the frail woman, somehow oblivious to the pungent smell of burnt yeast. Marcus had the lighter behind his back—cooth as ever.

Aside from doing most of the practical and clerical tasks around the church, Grady functioned as Seamus’ number two. She had been around since before Seamus’ time, ostensibly since Adam and Eve’s day. Rumor had it that they made a pact back in the day to clamp down on the vile liberalism that began to sweep over Catholicism back then, and as such, they’ve long since imposed an impressive degree of draconian rule on St. Joseph’s. But thankfully, a healthy combination of senility and old-age pacifism had taken the fervor out of her sails—shame the same couldn’t have been said for Seamus. “Yes ma’am, just about finished,” I said, but Grady had already hobbled out of the small room. Marcus and I hung up our robes, washed the communion chalices, finished arranging the candles for Wednesday’s mass, and then made our way out of the church into a crisp autumn afternoon.

As Marcus and I walked home, exchanging kicks on a pebble, I noticed a fresh welt on his forearm. Purples and blues spread across his swollen skin.

“What was it this time?” I asked, breaking the silence between us.

“Ah, the back of my tie was showing from underneath my collar,” he said. “Something about it being the last straw.”

Marcus must have seen my wide-eyed disbelief because he added, “But you know, old man Seamus has said that a million times.” He tittered. “Boy, you should have seen the way his temple was pulsing. I thought he was going to explode!”

We both started laughing. A few kicks of the pebble later, Marcus cleared his throat and said, barely above a whisper, “I’m getting pretty tired of it all, though.”

I looked over at him. His typical cavalier expression had morphed into something grave. He stared at the pavement passing beneath our feet.

“Are you going to do something? Maybe tell someone about all this?”

“I think I might. The teachers at my school are asking more and more questions,” he said. “And I bet they’re going to call social services on my mom.”

“Dang, that’s the worst. Teachers are always so nosey,” I said unconvincingly. (I happened to love school.) “I know,” Marcus grumbled. “But I’m coming up with a plan. That jaundiced sonofabitch priest is gonna get what’s comin’ to him.”   Before I could ask what he meant, he gave a quick wave goodbye and turned down Pleasant Street where his ramshackled house was. I still had another couple of blocks to go.

Later that night, lying in bed, I started to think of all the things Marcus could nail Seamus for. There’d be no way anyone would care about a priest pushing a mischievous altar boy around every now and again. Priests have gotten off scot-free for a lot worse. Though, over the years, Father Seamus had been noticeably falling apart—he’d sure as Hell been rubbing certain parishioners the wrong way. Brenda Lee from my Sunday school class said that he had showed up piss drunk to give her grandma her last rights. According to her, the old man got a little spittle on grandma’s bedside and could hardly keep his composure. Another thing that rattled some chains was how often he’d would fall asleep in the confessional booth—even with someone bearing their soul on the other side of that curtain. I remember hearing something about old Albert Knox. I guess once he heard Seamus sawing logs from the booth’s other side, he rapped as loudly as he could on the wood paneling. Seamus jolted up, and out of reflex, told his parishioner to get to work on a couple Hail Marys. I think Knox became a Lutheran after that.

Little Johnny May, who’s a year behind me in Sunday school, one day said that he thought Father Seamus had been cursing people in Latin during mass. He knew because he began looking up dirty words in his Latin class at school, and it struck him how familiar some of the vocabulary sounded... But like Marcus, Little Johnny May was kind of a shit. The cursing thing might have been a rumor, but the fact remained that Seamus’ periodic use of Latin in his services didn’t sit well with quite a few people at St. Joe’s. Orders from the Vatican about ten years prior dictated that all masses were to be conducted in English. I suppose Grady and Seamus wanted to keep the old tongue for nostalgia’s sake. Just the same, despite all these faults and slip ups, Seamus was cherished by and large. For many of the parishioners, Seamus was their only connection to the heavenly beyond. For others, he was closest thing to God they knew.

                                               ~       ~       ~

The following Sunday’s mass began just like any other. The crowd was jammed shoulder to shoulder in the wooden pews, all stiff in their Sunday bests. The late summer air was thick, and the slow-spinning fans overhead did nothing to quell the stifling heat. Bells outside gonged over and over again—the clock had struck 11:00 am. Not a second later, the pipe organ rang with its powerful timbre. And right on cue, the parishioners rose in unison and began singing along to “The Lord’s My Shepherd.” Following the first verse, our holy cohort came onto the scene.

For the second week in a row, Marcus and I were the servers. Clad in our pristine white robes, we glided down the center aisle, leading the holy procession. I held the elongated crucifix as high as I could. Marcus was behind me, struggling to hold the heavy Holy Book with outstretched arms. Deacon Paul trailed behind, lazily swinging the incense burner. Wispy gray smoke rose over the pews, filling the nave with a pungent musk. And who else brought up the rear of the procession other than the showstopper himself, Father Seamus. On this particular Sunday, his matted white hair looked more disheveled than ever. Even at the front of the procession, amid all the singing and grinding organ, I could hear Seamus’ dead foot scrape along the wooden floor. As our cortege made its way through the church, I glanced around at all the sweating faces pressed into their hymnals. No one sang on key.

Once we made our way to the altar, the four of us bowed, walked on stage, placed our various materials in their proper place, and finished singing along to the solemn tune. At its conclusion, Seamus hobbled to the center of the altar, and began.

“Blessed be this day, my parochial people!” his voice thundered out. For a man who looked as though he’d just crawled out of a grave, he had the vocal chords of someone a third his age. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” He raised a gnarled hand and gestured the cross over his sunken chest.

Mechanically, the congregation replied, “Amen.”

Seamus creased the back of his vestments, and took his seat at the top of the altar. The deacon, Marcus, and I did the same in our respective chairs, and in a chorus of creaks, the crowd followed suit.

Next came the Scripture readings. It was Mrs. Johnson’s turn to step up to the plate and recite a few riveting words from the good book. Johnson, bless her tired old heart, was a notorious mumbler. Even with the microphone millimeters away from her tightly pursed lips, perhaps every one in ten words would come close to audible. Worse yet, she was monotone. I swear, if ever an angry mob needed to be subdued, plop Mrs. Johnson center stage and give her a few verses to read over. Not a soul wouldn’t be sedated. “A reading from the... first letter... of Paul to... the... Corinthians...” she began, adjusting her coke bottle glasses as she stood behind the podium. And as per usual, this was about the point in mass when I’d check out and eat up time with some mental games—anything to keep me awake, especially that Sunday with the humidity. I began to look over the parish. Flies darted between the shifting bodies. Old women were fanning themselves with their bulletin pamphlets. At some point, a baby let loose a quick blood-curdling wail. The cry cut out—undoubtedly stifled by the mother.

“For what have I to do with judging... outsiders?” Johnson rambled on. “Do you not... judge those who are within the... church? But those who are outside, God judges... Remove the wicked man... from among yourselves...”

I began to hear a tapping from my right. I glanced over and saw Marcus clicking the sides of his dress loafers together. Like mine, his feet couldn’t entirely rest on the ground. I wasn’t sure how loud the clicks were, but they were persistent. None of the parishioners seemed to notice—their eyes were either rolling in the back of their heads or were lazily fixed on the woman behind the podium. Marcus’ toe tapping continued—out of boredom to be sure. From the corner of my eye, I swear I saw a blood vessel start throbbing on the side of Father Seamus’ blotchy temple. He cleared his throat. Still, click click click click. Johnson appeared to still be droning on. Marcus kept going. Suddenly, Seamus forced out a violent cough, and in one fluid motion, swatted his right hand against the back of Marcus’ head.

“Hey!” Marcus called.

“The Word of the Lord...” murmured Mrs. Johnson.

“Thanks be to God,” called back the congregation.

She shuffled off the altar.

Father Seamus heaved himself out of his ornate throne and lurched over the the podium. Time for the homily. No longer separated by old man Seamus, I looked over at Marcus. He grinned and shot me a wink.

Again, Seamus cleared his throat—only this time, his wretched throat conjured up to be what sounded like a loogie from Hell. He tugged on his clerical collar and hocked the vile wad somewhere down into his vestments. The old man looked over his parish (both sides of pews at the same time), licked his fingers, and smoothed out his bushy brows.

“My brothers and sisters,” he roared. “I stand before you fine folks on yet another glorious Sunday that our Father on high has bestowed upon us.”

I thought I heard thunder rumble somewhere off in the distance.

“I’m here, not to coddle you with more fanciful tales of hope and inspiration—thank you, my dear Mrs. Johnson, your voice is lovely as ever. No! Not at all, my brothers and sisters! As a proper prophet should, I am here to deliver the gospel straight from the eternal bosom of an angry God! Yes, our Father who forever arts in Heaven is unhappy. I look around at you miserable, fearful folks, and all I see is sin! You are enveloped in your licentious sinful ways! Fornicating instead of worshipping. Laughing instead of repenting. Smiling instead of groveling. God sees this. God sees this all, and he is not pleased. Not one bit, I tell you brothers and sisters!”

As ever, the parishioners appeared to be eating all this up. I could see women’s hats bobbing up and down in approval. Men with their stern, contemplative expressions. Jaws all clenched with guilt. Even the crying baby from before seemed to be all ears.

Their beloved prophet continued: “Who among us is exempt from this unholy lifestyle? Sure, you say, you’re changing... you’ve turned it all around. Yes, I see many of you Sunday after Sunday on your knees, begging for forgiveness for your countless transgressions against His will,” Seamus growled. “But I’m here to say—with God as the orchestrator of my voice—that it is not enough! And you know what, our children are the very proof of this shortcoming in piousness!”

And to punctuate his last line, he outstretched his crooked arm, dramatically gesturing toward Marcus and I—both sitting dumbfounded on the altar behind him. (Deacon Paul appeared to be asleep, so he didn’t care much about the priest’s insinuation.)

“Every day, I read stories about our decadent youth! They’re in the streets, terrorizing our families, disrupting the quiet tranquility of our fair village, painting obscenities on the walls, cursing to high heavens in the middle of the night! Oh, yes, I see it all. God sees it all! Behavior like that, and they’re bound for the brimstone, I can tell you that. Forgive them not, Father! For they know precisely what they do! Let us remember, my brothers and sisters, the brilliant wisdom we gather from Proverbs, chapter 13, verse 24: ‘He that spareth his rod hateth his son, but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes!’ Indeed, the time has come to once again retrieve our fateful rods, and reacquaint our increasingly rebellious youth with their righteous might. Lest we leave the youngest of our kin behind come Judgement Day, we must whip them into shape, and bend their knees to kneel before our God.

“In the name of the Lord, we pray,” hollered Seamus, whose voice had been ground to gravel.

And instead of the reflexive “Amen,” the congregation erupted into applause. Not just any run of the mill clapping either. All the able-bodied folks stood up for a full on standing ovation. The baby seemed jubilant amid it all.

Marcus, under the cover of noise, leaned over to my ear and said, “Can you believe that guy, huh? What is he trying to do, start a crusade against us? Against me?”

“Right—what’s worse is that the whole freakin’ parish seems to be on board.”

“Don’t worry, just hang tight. I’ve got something good up my sleeve. Before mass started I ca—”

Marcus stopped as soon as Seamus reeled around and began lurching back to the Holy Table. The priest’s bloodshot eyes were fixed on the two of us, and his lips cracked into a heinous smile. Without saying a word, he pivoted, and placed his hands upon the white table cloth. Right on cue, the pipe organ came alive with “Agnus Dei.” The walls rattled from the slow, mournful melody. The crowd chimed in: “Lamb of God... You who take away the sins of the world... Have mercy on us...”

Father Seamus began preparing the eucharist. He held the bread high above the table, muttered something under his breath, and started to break the wafers into small little pieces. He made a quick sign of the cross, and then proceeded to divvy up the wine in the four golden chalices. Again, the muttering, then the cross.

“Lamb of God... You who take away the sins of the world... Grant us peace...”

The organist hammered the last chord, and the church fell silent. The thick air had grown near intolerable. There wasn’t a dry forehead among the crowd.

Seamus cried out, “Brothers and sisters, now join me in the Lord’s prayer for—”

“Step away from the altar!” bellowed a voice from the back.

The crowd gasped in sharp unison. A squad of seven police officers stood next to the choir, each with their glocks pointed at old man Seamus. He raised his knotted hands in the air.

“What on Earth—”

“Not another word, Father!”

Two officers sprinted down the center aisle of the church, guns still drawn. One grabbed Seamus by the scruff of his neck, the other crossed his arms behind his back and began fastening the cuffs. The parishioners, who finally seemed to be emerging from their shocked paralysis, started panicking. A wave of nervous whispers and murmurs echoed throughout the nave. Hands cupped mouths to ears, fingers pointed, women began to weep.

Seamus was now bent over the altar as one of the officers made one finishing click with the cuffs. He was led down the center of the aisle which split a confused and mortified congregation. The deacon, Marcus, and I were still atop the stage. The former was still somehow asleep despite the chaos. As for the two of us, we were watching these events unfold with mouths agape. Seamus was now being read his Miranda Rights as he was forcefully pressed against one of the stained glass windows depicting the Archangel Michael stabbing a serpentine demon. I met eyes with Marcus. Again, he shot a sly wink, and an enormous grin spread over his face. He began cackling, slapping his hand on his knee between breaths.

“Officers! Officers, please! What is the meaning of this nonsense!” gobbled Grady as she strode as quickly as she could to the scene. She had her hand over her mouth—I suppose to keep her teeth from flying out.

“Ma’am, please step back,” said one of the cops. “We have it on good knowledge that this priest—Seamus, was it?—was attempting to slip a little arsenic into the wine. He’s getting at least three dozen accounts of attempted homicide slapped on his record.”

“Wh-What?” Grady said. “That’s not... That can’t be possible. Father Adam Seamus has been leading the St. Joseph’s community for over four decades! This cannot be true.”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” the same cop continued. “We received a credible complaint from one of the parishioners here. The alibi was air-tight as far as we’re concerned. At the very least, we’re taking this creep downtown for some serious questioning, but based off some of the information the informant gave us, well... You should probably start looking around for someone to lead next week’s Mass.”

“This isn’t right! He’s innocent! He’s—”

And in that moment, something came over Grady. A grave realization perhaps. Her face flushed, and slowly it turned towards the back of the altar where Marcus and I were doing our best to stifle laughter. Her expression had shifted from frantic to malicious. Her eyes narrowed, she extended her bony finger and suddenly she called out, “You!”

As the police ducked Seamus out of the nave, Grady bounded toward Marcus with immeasurable aggression. Again, the crowd gasped in astonishment. I was frozen in my seat—the heat mixed with the tumult was almost too much. Grady staggered as quickly as she could towards us, muttering all kinds of unholy incantations under her breath. Once she reached the altar, she stepped up (neglecting to genuflect, mind you), and approached Marcus.

“Come here, boy,” she said with a wry toothy grin. “We’re going to have a little chat.”

Before Marcus could get out a single syllable, Grady pinched his ear with the strength and precision that only a Catholic grandmother could muster. She hauled the poor kid back down the center aisle, as he cried out, “Wait! Stop, no! I didn’t mean it! What are you going to do to me?” Grady hollered at the top of her hoarse lungs, “Ite, missa est! We’re through here, folks. Say your prayers, then get gone!”

The two frantic figures disappeared as they descended down the spiral staircase leading to the undercroft. A final pleading whimper echoed back up to the church where a silent and expecting parish sat. A few moments and some signs of the cross later, the bulk of the crowd genuflected out of their pews, and dispersed almost as if nothing had happened—as if their beloved priest didn’t just get carted off for attempting to poison them all, as if an altar boy hadn’t just been sentenced to some unknown fate perhaps worse than death. I remained seated, unsure of what to do next... Go home with mother, I suppose. What does one do when a friend gets dragged to a hell he probably deserved?

All the same, I never again saw Father Seamus after that day. I remember hearing a few days after that turbulent mass, he had been released—something about false charges and being “framed.” My guess is that guy had some lawyers come down from on high  and testify on behalf of his character. I don’t think anybody heard much from him after that, though. Someone told me he starting doing mission work near Lima, Peru. Even if he hadn’t actually slipped a little arsenic in the eucharist that day, my guess is he would have done it eventually. Lord knows he was fed up with all the insolence.

Not a whole lot has changed at St. Joe’s since the days of Grady and Seamus. The church cycled through a couple replacements, but no one really stuck until we landed on Father Simon, a younger guy from Santa Monica with a ponytail and a penchant for incorporating his acoustic guitar into his homilies. Aside from him, masses are largely the same as they ever were.

As for Marcus Sanders, I haven’t seen him around either—not since he was dragged kicking and screaming down that spiral stairwell. And, if you want to know the truth of it, I’m kind of thankful. Who knows what would’ve happened to me had I kept trying to keep pace with the kid. A couple folks from St. Joe’s started a petition to get him excommunicated—loyal acolytes of Seamus, no doubt. But the whole initiative was in vain because shortly after Marcus’ mother pulled him out of Sunday school, they moved to one of the Manhattan boroughs. He was soon enrolled in a science-oriented academy—at least, so I heard. And if you want to know about me, well, I’m still putting on my Sunday best every weekend at St. Joseph’s—along with most of my old Sunday schoolers. We all grew up, got ourselves married, had a couple kids, and fell into the kind of routine that can turn even the most ardent of agnostics into a pious stiff. We make sure our kids tuck in their shirts, we tell them to behave and to respect their elders. We tell them to bow their heads, and look towards the sky for their salvation. It’s strange how the pendulum swings, I suppose. In a way—now that I’m thinking of him—I almost envy Marcus for getting out. Catholicism has a way of grabbing ahold of passive fellas like me and never letting go. Sure, that ruddy-faced boy might have gotten burned a bit as he was expelled from the holy garden, but from the inside looking out, I can’t help but to wonder what it’s like out there. You know, beyond all the stained glass and the pomp. I wonder what it’s like in Peru. What it’s like in the academy. But above all, I wonder what what it’s like in the head of a man whose faith in himself cannot be broken.

[donaldharryrobertscreativestudio]

ABOUT MY STYLE

Imagine we are in a café’….sitting across from each other sipping on a coffee…cappuccino…tea….whatever….and I am telling you a fanciful story….a fantasy or mystery or sci-fi or a combination of all…

That is how I write…like I am sitting with you…..

There’s minimal punctuation…just pauses here and there.

My style of writing is pre…sixteenth century which is delightfully void of annoying piques and marks that the brain does not need…..I write much in the fashion as to these brief paragraphs…which you probably understood quite without difficulty.

Thanks a million

Donald

                  Last Part Recap

Outside the lights were dimming. The carnival music had grown silent and everyone was gone except the workers who were shutting the rides down.

“I suggest we fine lodging for the night. I don’t think it is wise to be out and about after the stroke of twelve.” Eifion suggested.

“Why?” Timothy demanded.

Eifion shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose the only way to know is to stay out…..if you dare.”

“Maybe I dare.”

             1

“Yes….Maybe I will dare.” Timothy cheered. “And I dare you Mr. Cavalier…if you have the courage?”

“Sometimes Mr. Mundanie…..What looks like courage is stupidity. However…if you chose to be stupid then I must follow and try to keep you from something totally disastrous.”

The midnight trumpets sounded and suddenly the streets were abandoned and silent…..almost silent.

"So." Timothy said with a hint of challenge in his tone. "What should I be watching for?' He asked and was answered but not by Eifion.

"A human....and a Cavalier. How unusual is that?"

The voice came from above.....along the eaves of a grand old manor.

"Very unusual and not very polite. The Cavalier at least should know that the night belongs to us."

"Absolutely rude." I would argue.

Timothy looked in the direction of the voices and to his awe and....hint of delight he spied upon the eaves of the Manor a pair of Gargoyles.....a few moments ago simply statues of stone, but now....living breathing creatures.

"Forgive us. I did not mean to be impolite ore rude. I was merely curious why we should not be out after midnight.....and now that I see you I think the rule is a sad one.....I think you are delightful creatures and would so much like to learn more about you." Timothy exclaimed...or would that be....Proclaimed......Hmmmmmm.

"Interesting. It appears he was not warned." Said one of the Gargoyles.

"Definitely." Said the other....then he asked of Eifion. "You should know. Did you not explain us to this....Human?"

'Yes.....after a fashion....however.....This is a human of a different sort...not born of this realm...but of Mundanie and more so he is the Grandson of that most auspicious hero Wilf Chyme. That is why I did not press the issue of staying in past your hour of waking. You may well wish to meet this Grandson of our Hero." Eifion replied instructively....with his fingers crossed. Gargoyles are notoriously poor tempered even with heroes and Grandsons of Heroes.

The two Gargoyles turned to face each other....conversing in a language none could understand except creatures made of stone....which are actually quite numerous in Majixland.

After a few minutes they spread their wings and glided down to land in the street facing the midnight intruders.

"I am Grunfedol. Captain of the Gargoyle Guard. We protect this city by night. This is my Second, Andringal. We forgive you your rudeness Timothy Chyme...not because of what the Cavalier said but because we have learned that Majixland is once again in need of a Mundanie Hero....and we are charged to advise you to go to Palisade City." (Sometimes called a Stake wall or a Paling which is typically a fence or wall made from wooden stakes or tree trunks and used as a defensive structure or enclosure.) "The King of Majixland is waiting for you. I am afraid what your Grandfather fixed has been....well......unfixed.....by another Mundanie....an unlooked for and unwelcomed Mundanie who is wreaking havoc throughout the realm."

"It seems my journey has taken on a whole new perspective and a very dark one." Said Timothy.....Then he asked..... "Who is the interloper?"

 2

"I am afraid you will have to ask the King." Said Grunfedol.

"Then I suppose we should set out for Palisade City as soon as possible. This very night I should think." Timothy responded contemplatively.

"And I Andringal will take up the journey with you.....as I did when your Grandfather disgorged the Fell-beast from its lair....in the first war of Majixland."

"First war....You mean this could be the second war?" Asked Timothy.

"Could be....nonsense....undoubtedly would be far more accurate. Whenever unwelcomed Mundanie try to over-throw Majixland a ware is a certainty." Answered Andringal.

"How would you travel by day?" Timothy queried.

"We sleep by day....usually, but under given circumstances....such as now....we can function by day as well as any." Grunfedol responded indignantly. "You Mundanie's really are dense between the ears." He grumbled.

"Yes well.....if we are to get a start we should get started." Eifion interceded. "Palisade City is a five day march from here....if we don't dilly dally along the way or something does not interfere with our progress."

"We will prepare and meet back here in two hours." Timothy instructed....taking command of the expedition.

"Now we are three." Said Eifion. The odds grow in our favour....especially since our third is a Gargoyle who are legendary warriors in a battle.....Very hard to kill since they are made of stone....living stone but stone nonetheless."

"If we are moving toward war we will need more than three soldiers Cavalier." Timothy replied sullenly. Then he said. "Grandfather told me stories about the First Majixland War but I always thought they were just stories. Now here I am writing my own tales.....for whom.....maybe a son or grandson....or maybe no one if I do not survive."

"Be of good cheer and hope Mundanie. Do not defeat yourself before you are even on the road....because it is always a good chance your road is the road to victory." Replied the Groundhog.

Andringal was waiting as planned clad in armour and weapons....a sword and a crossbow. He was as grim looking as Timothy had ever seen someone looking grim.....and dangerous. He was glad in that moment Andringal was a friend and not an enemy.

"Very well my worthy companions. Let us be off and pause only when we cannot take another step....or flap a wing one more time." Timothy ordered cheerfully.

"I will walk and save my energy for flying for a time that it is needed."

"And look skyward Timothy. We are four. She has decided to join us on this expedition." Eifion directed.

Timothy looked up. Circling against the star filled moonless sky was the Qilin. Then a moment later she swooped down and in a mystical transformation she stood next to Timothy as human as he and as beautiful a girl a Timothy had ever seen. She said in a soft, musical voice..... "I see in your eyes those of your Grandfather....a true creature even though he was Mundanie."

And so they....the four companions set off for Palisade City to visit the King and.....well.....sometimes not all things are bright and cheer.......or go the way one wishes things to go.

 3

The first day's march went along delightfully uneventful....at least in those first early morning hours then while the sun shone a bright gold in the azure sky. The company had only allowed themselves a few brief rest periods so by sunset they were bone weary and ready for a good...log rest....at least until midnight....everyone except Andringal who seemed to have managed plenty of rest while marching...his mind lost in some form of sleep peculiar to his kind. So when the others were ready to sleep he was waking and took the post of guard...which as you will discover was a very....very good thing because the uneventful day did not continue into night.

Luanna curl up near the fire...her human body unused to the open air of night. Timothy was at the edge of the fire light stretched out in his bed roll and using his back pack for a pillow. Eifion had dug a small hollow to bed down in and Andringal had found a branch high in an old oak to keep watch from.

The air was still and silent......

Some of the most treacherous creature of myth and lore are small....but by no means weak.

A sound. A scuffling...like footsteps in gravel drew Andringal's attention. It was faint and far off....on the very edge of the Gargoyle's acute hearing. It was a sound he had heard before and a tingle of alarm went up his spine.

"Wake up." He warned in his gravelly voice. "A troop of Stonemen approaches. It cannot mean anything good. In the first war they hired themselves out to the enemy of Majixland and served as the main fighting force. It seems they have come down from their mountain caves and are abroad again."

Timothy was on his feet in a flash...already wide awake having not being able to find sleep.

"Stonemen....By that you mean Trolls."

"Yes....but a smaller version and far more vicious than trolls."

"Are they coming for us"? Timothy asked cautiously.

"I suspect they are searching for us....but I do not think they have found our company yet. If they had they would be moving much faster and more in our direction." The Gargoyle replied. "I think we should move on now. If the horde catches us we are most certainly doomed." He advised.

But the words had barely faded from his lips when a screech resounded across the night sky that even Timothy recognized as dangerous.....

Andringal spun about abruptly. "We must hurry....The Stonemen have been warned of our presence and most likely our location. That screech came from a Darkingbird....companions of the Stonemen. The will double their pace now."

Luanna slipped into the dark of night and a moment later the Qilin was aloft and a moment after that the screech of the Darkingbird was last in a blast of blue/red flame.

"Run!!!" Cried the Qilin who then swept down and quick took up Eifion on her back then veered north to scout the way ahead.

"Do not stop. Do not rest." The cavalier's voice faded into the night.

Andringal and Timothy set off once again....following the northerly road 30 paces at a trot....30 paces at a walk...

 4

The miles and hours blurred by....at first in hope but then when the Qilin returned and Eifion rejoined the company he told them that the Stonemen were gaining on them quickly and before the next nightfall it would come to a fight....30 against 4...the only bright light being that the Qilin was worth all her companions and more in a fight. The bad news was, swords and bows were of little to no use against these dwarfed Trolls, unless you could take out their eyes....which was unlikely. The only weapon that was of much use was a stone-crusher which only Eifion possessed. Of course there was the Qilin who could do a good deal of damage to any creature....which would have proved good....but after another scouting flight she reported that another band of a hundred or more Stonemen were in approach from the northeast and would intercept the company almost at the same time as those coming from the southeast.

The Qilin descended to the earth and in a swirl of light transformed into Luanna. She joined the others and said...."There is a way out of this.....at least enough to gain us some time. I could carry Timothy for an hour...in flight....and Andringal could carry Eifion. If we were to fly northwest then we would have some distance between us and the Stonemen....and hopefully they would lose our location....I have seen no more Darking Birds in my sojourns."

It was considered by all a good plan and may have worked but just as the decision was made the whole plan was made useless for out of the darkness came a horde.....as nasty as nasty can be. Some might have called it a swarm...but whatever name it was called the giant Praying Mantis were hunting......and they could fly.

"We are doomed." The Gargoyle screamed. "These creatures have only the very basic survival instincts....eat and reproduce."

"Great....Eaten alive by bugs. I find this....." Timothy was saying when suddenly he felt something grab his arm. Without looking he drew his sword and lashed out.....a lucky blow lopping off the head of a large green mantis....as big as an eagle. Then another came right behind it and knocked Timothy to the ground......

And if that was not enough Luanna who was now the Qilin cried out a warning that the Stonemen were closing in.....All of them.

Like it was told....you cannot reason with an insect....no matter how small....or....big it is....but they can be tricked and sometimes running toward danger has its merits.

"Follow me." Timothy commanded as he turned toward the oncoming Stonemen but not exactly running straight at them. It was more like charging the space between them as they approached from the north east and south east.....I am sure you can see the merit in this desperate plan....and the folly if it failed...which it did not do....however the plan did not go exactly the way Timothy hoped. Still.....In the finally throw of the dice it worked out.....more or less.

What happened was what Timothy hoped. When the Stonemen met the swarm of giant praying mantis there occurred an incredible battle that took all the attention away from the company.....and that gave them time to put some distance between them and the battle....which Timothy thought would go on for some time.....But things don't always work out....as you probably well know from your own experiences in life.

It was only a matter of twenty or so minutes before the Stonemen decimated the Mantis because...even the jaws of the giant praying mantis is a match for the rock hard skin of the Stonemen.

So...Before the company could get any good distance away...The Stonemen were in hot pursuit of their quarry once again.

5

The night wore out and dawn etched a white/gold line across the eastern horizon. The company....who had been running now for three hours was quickly slowing to little more than a weary jog.

And the Stonemen were coming on tirelessly.

"If we run ourselves ragged we stand no hope at all of defending our selves." Said Timothy as he slowed to a halt. "Can we not try the first plan and let our winged companions take us away....at least put some distance between us?"

"I am weary beyond reckoning but I will try." Said Luanna.

"Yes. We could but I too am weary...." the Gargoyle was saying when an enormous harangue reached them.

"What is it?" Timothy cried out.

A cloud of dust to the north rose skyward.

"More trouble I suppose." Timothy added sarcastically.

Andringal took to his wings and rose aloft quickly....flying in the direction of the dust cloud. Only a few minutes later he returned with cheer in his voice.

"We may face battle this day but we will not be alone." He announced. A cavalry of mounted Cavaliers is coming.....Your comrades Eifion....They ride Centaurs and like all Cavaliers the bear Stone-crushers. I count thirty....but that will make sixty fighters...as well as us four. A great battle will be had and I am sure we will rise victorious from the melee'."

"But where have they come from and how did they know our plight?" Timothy asked excitedly.

"We shall ask when this is done. In the meantime my Mundanie friend just accept the boon and prepare for battle. I have a spare Stone-crusher.' Said Eifion then handed Timothy a short handled sledge hammer.

And a cloud of dust rose in the western sky.

*********

Have you ever had to wait for something horrendous to happen....inevitable but seemingly taking forever to get at it and get it over.......and......your life is at stake.

Probably not and you must believe you never want to experience it....especially when you are far away from home....in a world you don't know or even understand....but you cannot escape because you are not entirely certain how you got there.

I mention all this because I wanted you to have some understanding of how Timothy Chyme felt as he waited to engage in battle....waiting to live....or....not.....

*******

Timothy took the Stone-crusher in both hands and swung it freely. He never realized how much a ten pound block of iron attached to the end of a 2 foot stick could weigh. He tested it on a rock about the size of a man's head. The weapon crushed the rock to bits and pieces.

It frightened Timothy as he wondered if he could do such a thing to a living being....even a malevolent one.

He was minutes from finding the answer.

The Cavalry to the north began to take form and in the east the vague shapes of living rock resembling a rounded form of human thundered ever closer by the minute and it would only be a short time before the clash of weapons filled the air.

 6

It was good fortune that the Cavalry of Cavaliers and Centaurs arrived first......announcing that the King's Watcher had seen this foray but.... "We were not aware that treachery was so close at hand....Otherwise we would have come sooner." Said the Captain...who then added.... "Nonetheless we are here now and we shall fight the good fight all the way to victory." And as the Captains words faded his companion.....the Centaur turned toward the oncoming horde.

And they advanced.....Stone-crushers at the ready. Timothy and company followed close behind.

Their fate was unpredictable....They were still out-numbered.

Luanna took to the and for the first time Timothy saw her fire.....a fire that would melt iron.....and....stone.....or anything else that got in its range.

*****

"Who won the battle on the Plains of Abraham?.... Timothy Chyme.......Timothy.....Chyme....Are you paying attention?"

Mrs. White's angry tone crashed into Timothy thought and startled him back to the class room.

Mrs. White was already to scold him for daydreaming........again.....but he stood and answered the question.

"The Battle of the Plains of Abraham fought on the 13th day of September 1759 was an important moment in the seven years' war and in Canadian history. A British invasion force led by General James Wolfe defeated French troops under the Marquis de Montcalm, leading to the surrender of Québec to the British."

Astonished Mrs. White replied. "Correct young man but I know you were not completely attentive. Just what were you thinking about....besides history....

Timothy Chyme smiled devilishly and answered as honestly as he could...."Ma'am...You would not believe me if I told you so it is best I keep it too myself." Then he retook his seat and waited for the repercussions of his insolence...which never came.....Mrs. White just stood there string menacingly at him for a moment then turned away and went on with the class.

If you did not get it....Timothy essentially....however politely it seemed....told the teacher to shut up and mind her own business.....in a diplomatic way that is.....sort of.....

Timothy turned his head and let his thoughts follow his gaze out the window. The mundane world faded and once again he was back in Majixland.....on the brink of battle.....

What do you want to know.....the horrors of battle.....the blood and guts of it.....loping of heads.....severing of.....well.....it was all there and fortunately it was all on the Stonemen. Except for a few cuts and bruises and a broken finger the Cavaliers and Centaurs and the company came out the end of the battle almost unscathed....Dust and rubble was all that was left of the Stonemen Horde...

 7

If there was a back-lash to the battle of note....they were weary.....and hungry.....and thirsty....and not looking forward to continuing their march to Palisade....not would the Centaurs consider carrying any one on their backs save the cavaliers. So after a bite of food and drink and an hours rest the company moved on north....their pace fitting their fatigued bodies.

And the afternoon faded to evening and the evening on to a star lighted night with a bright full moon. Finally the company....It was Timothy who made the decision....decided to stop and rest.

"I am too bone weary and foot sore to take another step and I long for a good meal in my belly." Said Timothy Chyme as he came to a halt and let himself fall to his knees and roll out of his back pack. "I am sure we all could use some food and a rest until midnight would do us all good.....and the march would go faster than a snail's speed."

No one argued...not even Luanne who needed the least rest of all for even she was feeling the drain of endless hours....battles and an empty belly....She flew off to find her own food.

"And what do we find here. A lazy troop in desperate times." The voice came just as the company was snuggling in for an hour or two of sleep..... "And no guard set."

Timothy recognized the voice and lazily climbed from his bedroll to greet the visitor. "It was not you who did battle today or marched five leagues since the fights end old Hobo." His voice was not unfriendly but it carried a hint of sternness in its quality.

Strebor Nod laughed heartily then bowed his head and replied. "I have heard of your troubles friend Chyme. And there is no doubt that you are weary but I come to offer fair warning that something very....very dark and dangerous is coming this way. Even now it sit on the edge of dawn....not many days from this. The sooner you get to visit the king the better. I suggest you do not remain long in your lazy mood.....That is all...." Said the old Hobo....Then he turned and walked away....fading into the darkness of night.

"He has never been a bearer of good news or good hope....but he never has spoken of doom and that doom not come as he warned. I believe we should push on....weary or not." Eifion's voice filtered into Timothy's thoughts of defiance.

"Very well....let us pack up and march on.....We cannot be all that far from Palisade City." Timothy relented.

"We are near indeed....but a day and a half." The Cavalier agreed.

So long before midnight and with only a short rest the company gathered their belongings and set out at a steady pace northward.....silently.....

The mood was sullen until Eifion began whistling.....as only a ground-hog cavalier can whistle.....a cheerful marching tune that fit some lyrics Timothy had learned from his Grandad Will.....

"The ants go marching one by one hoorah...Hoorah"

Soon they were all in on it.....out of tune but well in beat of the march....hoorah.....hoorah.

 8

And the sun came full and golden over the eastern horizon. The company spied a glint far to the north....a glint as golden as the sun.

"That would be the spire of Palisade City." Luanna announced. If we keep our pace and nothing more comes to hinder our passing we should be there not long after midnight......an hour or two.....or less if we hurry along.....just a little quicker."

"Going faster is out of the question.....I for one need a rest....even if it is only for an hour......or two." Timothy complained.

"Yes....you would....I forget that you are Mundanie and do not have our stamina." Luanna replied with a teasing quality in her voice.

Timothy almost fell for the taunt but instead he grinned....shrugged his shoulder.....slushed off his back-pack and quickly laid down in his bed roll. He was asleep in the time it took to take a couple of breaths. The others stood there staring at their fearless leader for several minutes then realizing he was really asleep they set about other business.

"Mundanies....sometimes I wonder how they survive." Andringal muttered amusedly.

*****

Timothy Chyme checked his stride just before stepping off the edge of a precipice. He should have been afraid or at least startled....but he was neither.....It was like this was exactly what was supposed to happen at that very moment.

He gaze whimsically at vast sea that stretched out from the base of the cliff and in the distance....dancing on curling...white capped waves were dolphins....riding on their tails.

"Beautiful are they not?" It was the voice of his teacher Mrs. White.

"What are you doing here?" Timothy asked....miffed at the intrusion. "This is my place....my dream and you are not welcome....you belong in the class room."

"I am your teacher Timothy and believe it or not I understand the world you see outside the window. I only want what is best for you and your imagination. I will see you in Majixland very soon.....but when you see me you may not recognize who I am."

Mrs. White blinked out.....

"What does that mean? I don't understand." Timothy shouted but no answer came from his teacher. Instead Will Chyme appeared and looked at Timothy through his warm blue eyes.

"My Grandson. Nothing that happens in Majixland happens by chance.....nor is it fore told. It happens as you see it.....and that includes all things good and all things bad."

"Does that mean I make it up as I go Grampa?"

"Not exactly Timothy. Thoughts you have are translated into your journey. If you have a good thought....good things may happen.....If you have a bad thought....Bad things may happen.....but there is always that random thought that is neither.... good ...or bad. Still it its effects can be monumental."

Will Chyme faded away. Timothy was staring out across the sea again.......

"Hey. Timothy Chyme. You cannot sleep forever. We must be off. Our journey is not yet over."

Eifion stood over Timothy shaking him with his clawed foot.

"Yes. Now we must hurry. We are standing on a precipice....looking out over the sea over time. We must........"

Timothy did not finish. He jumped to his feet....collected his belongings and took up a quick march.

 9

Palisade City. It was nothing like Timothy expected. It was exactly as the dictionary described Palisade..... A palisade is sometimes called a stake wall or a paling and is typically a fence or wall made from wooden stakes or tree trunks and used as a defensive structure or enclosure.

In this case Palisade City's fortification was made of tree stumps beautifully carved into magnificent creatures from the world of myth and magic and the gate was made of polished iron hung on iron wood post figures of Cavaliers mounted on Centaurs.....and as was so common in Majixland much of the display was gilded in silver....helms....shields.....weapons in hand.....leaves on the trees and in the back-ground towering over the city was a silver gilded spire that rose out of a palace that made the best of Mundanie Places look dwarfed and diminished. But most magnificent of all was ornament at the peak of the spire.....A great, white, horned owl with eyes of amber and talons of ....yes....silver. It seemed to watch everything as its head turned about...first to the left and then to the right.

The gates opened and heralding trumpets sounded welcoming Timothy Chyme and company. And the street leading to the steps ascending the palace entrance was lined with people....and creatures of a nature Timothy was in awe of......elves, dwarves, leprechauns, Brownies, Dryads....too many to list them all.

And the street approaching the palace steps were made of silver....specked with sapphire, emerald and amber......and if it was old it was not worn....in fact it appeared never to have been used.

Timothy was smiling but he said to Eifion. "This is all very....very beautiful and wonderful. I feel welcomed.....However I also feel a strong reverberance....Timothy made up his own word to fit..... Of apprehension.....like the unwilling cow entering an abattoir.

"Given the reason you have come to Majixland I can understand. But it will not be all bad I am sure......" The Cavalier replied though there was less than absolute confidence resting in the quality of his tone.

At the head of the steps stood the King......not at all looking regal.....but like a Hobo straight out of a photograph Timothy's Grandfather had shown him once a long time ago. "Remember this man Timothy. One day he will become very important in your life."

'"King Albert. Grandfather was right." Timothy said when he stood before the Regent of Majixland. Instead of a bow he offered a handshake.....the secret handshake of the hobos of the dirty thirties.

"Will was a great companion when the times were hard in Mundania. And when he came to our aid at the time of the first Majixland war he was and remains our greatest hero. I welcome you Timothy Chyme....Grandson of Will Chyme.

"It is a shame that my family only visits this marvellous kingdom when things are treacherous." Timothy replied.

Albert nodded his head and countered. It is a shame indeed but it happens that these treacherous times have a great deal to do with your family.....Majixland has a great deal to do with the Chyme family....and today you and I must decide what your Family is going to do about our current dilemma.....We are threaten by a Queen.......a very dark and evil Queen who believes what she is doing is for the best of all who dwell in this land.

 Now.....until next time......see you in a month or so....

Brahahahaha.

8Tm8 A�Z �

[workreveal-blog]

Female gamers: can they game?

New Post has been published on https://workreveal.biz/female-gamers-can-they-game/

Female gamers: can they game?

They say Female gamers game better than male gamers. My earliest childhood memory is pointing and crying at a kitchen cupboard that presumably contained apple sauce. In my next most initial reminiscence, within the identical condo, my start father is gambling Mountain King at the Atari 2600 There have been different video games in our circle of relatives library: Berzerk, Asteroids, Haunted House, Adventure. But Mountain King, released in 1983, became mystical. It is also frequently stated, 30 years on, because the toughest sport for the Atari gadget.

game

as the “Intrepid Explorer” my father could deftly manoeuvre up the mountainside, accumulating gems and hunting the elusive Flame Spirit, which seems onscreen as a dancing shadow. (As soon as the Flame Spirit is captured, it encircles the Intrepid Explorer’s head like a flickering, ghostly wreath.)

Then my father would assignment down the treacherous peaks closer to the Throne Room, that is guarded via the ominous Skull Spirit. He would kneel at the Cranium, provide the Flame, be granted safe passage into the Throne Room where the crown rests. As quickly because the queen became settled on my father’s head, the music – a violent However strangely lively rendition of inside the Hall of the Mountain King – would play. My dad might clamber returned up the mountain, in a ballet of arcing leaps. (There’s also a tremendous inexperienced spider that trawls alongside the mountain’s base, that is ever a lot greater scary to a toddler than grey bats are. In spite of the Atari 2600’s constrained sound competencies, the spider made this lousy skritching sound as he approached.)

From time to time my father made it to the top of the mountain But regularly he didn’t. This turned into after I’d usually pay attention him swear a little bit.

In lots of methods, Mountain King was my first bedtime story. And like any toddler with a favourite bedtime story, I wanted my father to inform it to me time and again. Best, my dad advised it to me with small, dexterous bends of the 2600’s joystick, with a cartridge and a tv set. He was in his late 20s then.

Besides, I assume this is how I fell in love with video games.

A year after my father’s death, my adoptive mother and father gave me a laptop, a Packard Bell 486-33. Of route, I in no way asked for a laptop – I wanted a Splendid Nintendo or, God helps me, a few type of Sega aspect – However my old dad and mum had decided that video games corrupt young minds and that PC video games are so much more highbrow. (For anything cause, recreation Boys have been high.)

I was pleased, though, and using Christmas 1993, I used to be on the line for the primary time. My piano instructor – an older neighbour with a brilliant-red dye job and a penchant for floral muumuus – taught me the way to navigate file directories in MS-DOS. Soon my piano classes had was me, an obstinate eleven-year antique, traumatic that my neighbour educates me ever-more tricky DOS commands.

It by no means As soon as struck me as strange that my piano teacher – a politically conservative retired nurse with cats – also became a Pc whiz. I don’t think kids ever absolutely be aware that form of component.

Or perhaps kids do. When I was round 12, my adoptive mother advocated me to inform an own family buddy what I desired to be when I grew up. “I need to jot down PC video games!” I instructed her triumphantly. “I’m going to be a clothier!”

“Well, then,” the lady warned, “you ain’t be capable of having children.”

“I gained,” I promised her in a serious voice. Proper around the time I demanded my dad and mum let me pick out my very own garments – being dressed like Patty McCormack from The Terrible Seed does little good on your social standing – I began choosing out my very own video games, too. I played plenty of Adventure video games during the next five years. Those games had been heavy on textual content and tale-pushed, and they took a long time to complete.

And at the same time as I gained defend it as a favourite sport, I keep in mind loving Myst once I first played it in 1993. Superficially, the sport is about strolling round, getting misplaced and clicking on matters; at its coronary heart, even though, it is very similar to Mountain King. Each is approximately a type of video game agnosticism; about learning an esoteric mechanical vocabulary and, from there, intuiting the way to absolutely play.

My mother and father had a coverage stipulating I wasn’t allowed to have a new computer sport until I’d finished the last one. After months of being stuck in Myst, I sooner or later lied. I don’t forget it because it was my first actual lie. I hated Myst.

Using 1996, most of my girl classmates had stopped gambling video games. I assume some of this had to do with societal pressures, but the rest of it had to do with the Nintendo sixty-four. Even now its controller is nonsense; in 1996 it was outright galling. Where had these types of buttons come from? Why became it shaped like that? Why become there an analogue stick stuck in the middle of it?.

In the meantime, liked franchises inclusive of Mario and Zelda had shifted from dimensions to a few, and not every girl become without problems able to adapt to those new spatial challenges. For the primary time, some us started out to think about console gaming as “boys’ toys”. I did, too, and that I began to regard my personal regular after-faculty laptop gaming as my secret shame.

I suppose 1998 marked one in every of video games’ hugest upheavals. The Sega Dreamcast – which would move on to grow to be a technical failure – supplied thrilling arcade studies (Loopy Taxi) for gamers at home. Journey games had been additionally trying to adapt and failing. Sierra’s King’s Quest franchise, as an example, chose that yr to alienate its in general girl target market with 3-D platforming and hack-and-lessen fight (which was routinely amusing But in the long run did no longer paintings. That attempt, King’s Quest VIII, would be the closing access in the series). The similarly maligned Gabriel Knight three has long past down in history as incorporating the dumbest puzzle of all time.

However that same 12 months, Sierra published a primary-person shooter known as Half-Existence, which instantly became the enterprise’s gold famous for high-quality. The market was flooded with modern thoughts, most of which failed, But Half of-Existence seemed to stick. And the marketplace, in turn, narrowed its cognizance and became greater homogenised in its services. A variety of genres died that 12 months.

In 1998, my very own tastes – which are fortunately flexible, luckily – adapted to this climate shift. The two CD-ROMs I took to college have been 1/2-Existence and American McGee’s Alice. Each day after lunch, my subwoofer boomed in time with the subwoofers up at the 1/3 floor of our residential university, wherein the men lived. Perhaps not coincidentally, my roommate transferred to every other university.

I loved multiplayer video games. Playing video games had continually been any such lonely endeavour; I’d ultimately determined others. I ended being shy about games, started evangelising approximately them.

The idea of gamers as a unified network become new to me – to each person. It felt like When someone abruptly turns up the lighting in a darkened bar, and you understand there are some humans within the same room, all jostling for the area and they all appearance distinct to what you expected (and lots of them, to my excellent remedy, had been ladies). I assume that second must be very jarring or scary for actual humans and Possibly makes them feel even extra alone.

gamer

But I never wanted to move again to the darkness. I by no means once more wanted to experience like a 13-12 months-old lady, hopelessly by myself and disconnected, go-legged in front of a Tv or sitting at a computer, hiding.

In 2005, sparkling out of university, I took on freelance paintings reviewing games for a mag called Digital Gaming Monthly. I welcomed this work specifically to harass my mum. But I additionally took on the process due to the fact I intended there could be 13-12 months-antique ladies like I had been, who would possibly turn via the magazine and experience remedy to see my byline.

It wasn’t easy to work. I remember wondering that EGM has been probable giving me evaluations because a salaried writer couldn’t end them. I often received games Only days before the opinions have been due. Once, I fell asleep in the course of a longwinded Suikoden cutscene (a series where the participant has restrained manipulate). Every of those evaluations paid about £37. And I’m describing the enterprise When pay was at its exceptional.

In 2006, I commenced paintings as 1UP.Com’s community supervisor, an article role that worked with fellow writers, PR, builders, the advertising and marketing department and “person retention” groups. I was not very good at that activity and that i had never purported to be. I in no way labored Well in a group. I often want I could have remembered that approximately myself on my way in.

However the position opened my eyes to positive aspects of online gaming, consisting of harassment, abuse, threats and even stalking, and In many methods, it’s far an sad enjoy that I wish I should undo. After that activity, I spent a yr in therapy.

Weeks in the past, I wrote a 500-phrase opinion piece in the Mum or dad, titled “the way to attack a lady who works in video gaming”. I used my pulpit to sentence abuse, which is rampant in my enterprise. I have lengthy witnessed on line abuse firsthand, and that i trust the mainstream video games industry’s silence tacitly condones it. I don’t care who the goals are or what harassers can also agree with they have performed. it’s miles unacceptable. it is usually unacceptable.

But ultimately saying so was by no means my “dream article”. Once I, elderly 12, advised that female I dreamed of being a laptop video games designer, I used to be not dreaming of ultimately writing an opinion piece denouncing abuse. However acknowledging that violence exists is – sadly – enough to inspire it. Days after the book, I retired from writing approximately games.

female

Then an editor on the Mum or dad requested me if I’d task out of my two-week retirement and give an explanation for why I like video games. It’s smooth to be coaxed out of retirement if you have loved video games for 30 years and written professionally approximately them for nine.

And so I had to take delivery of because I clearly do love games. Oh, my God, I cherish them, all the way down to my material, right down to the crude, essential Lego bricks that made me. I like what they’re, and what they can be. And that I wholeheartedly love everybody else who plays them, all people who would name themselves a “gamer”.

Being a gamer, though, way you essentially must trust in belonging: consider that people of all attitudes, from all walks of Lifestyles, can peaceably coexist. And while I would in no way outline myself completely by using just one pastime or function – whether or not it’s analysing comedian books, gathering toys, playing video games or being female – I do trust that some rare matters in Lifestyles, like loving video games, defy all limitations.

[amycathryn]

Everyday Magic

I know I'm starting this post off with a cliché, but...magic is everywhere. It's in the air. It's the blissful feeling when you're around someone you love. It's the hope you get in a beautiful morning sunrise. It's everywhere.

For me, magic is what I prefer to call "energy". In my not-so-scientific opinion (as I drink my glass of cab sav) I view the "energy" I sense as the thing that puts movement to mass—regardless of whether or not it's kinetic or potential. It's just energy. It's what makes atoms vibrate. It's what ties this reality together. I may go as far to even say mass (in the physical realm anyways) is really just thought-forms vibrating at the lowest and densest frequency they can vibrate (without going negative) and energy is the force that puts these thought-forms in the state of kinesis.

It's even in science, in my humble opinion. Science has this funny way of historically trying to catch up to things magic already had a handle on...and just when Science thinks it has a handle on things, along comes Quantum Mysticism and Von Neumann–Wigner. I've also noticed when studying energy and its behaviors that an even basic understanding of Quantum Physics/Mechanics can be useful—especially concepts like Schrödinger's cat and Tesseracts.

What is magic?

Yep. In all likelihood, you've probably done magic (or "magick" as some like to spell it) without even knowing it. It's in just about every religion (sans Atheism) and numerous cultures. The concept of magic has been on an interesting roller-coaster throughout history and I'd like to clear some misconceptions up about it. But first, let's have a look at its definition: 

According to Merriam-Webster, "Magic" is defined as:

"1  a :  the use of means (as charms or spells) believed to have supernatural power over natural forces      b :  magic rites or incantations"

...or, my favorite interpretation:

"1. used in magic or working by magic; having or apparently having supernatural powers. 'a magic wand'"

So, if you've ever prayed, believed in a lucky charm, listened to a weird (yet accurate) feeling, or crossed your fingers, that's a form of magic. When it comes to magic, it is all about intent. It boils down to doing something to encourage or alter seen forces with unseen ones. And just because it didn't work, doesn't mean the magic wasn't necessarily working. It just means it wasn't working strong enough. Not enough gas in the tank, so to speak.

Let's take prayer, for example. Prayer is a form of communication to a supernatural entity (often times in my case, asking God for help). The act itself of communicating to God is magical because he's supernatural...and even more so when he answers my prayer!

But what about that "feeling" you've gotten about someone—a feeling you couldn't explain—and it turned out to be right?  That time you just knew your friend or family member was in trouble, or that dream you had that came true. That extrasensory way of knowing could technically be called "magic"... 

...Psychics especially so. I've even begun to break it up into levels and a noticeable (though not necessarily a causal) correlation in personality traits. Read it here, in case you were curious...

Magic is for EVERYBODY!

Just like being psychic, magic isn't just for "special" people, or for people belonging to a specific religion. It's for everyone. Belief and intent are the gas and steering wheel, so to speak, behind doing magic. The best way to understand it is this—magic is like a hammer. You can use it to make a home or smash someone in the head. It depends on the person wielding it. 

I have personally used spells and rituals to encourage the outcome of certain events and circumstances, and they have always worked to one degree or another. I also consider myself (very loosely) Christian. In the VERY old days, before science, hygiene or antibiotics, people used magic and rituals all the time. God gave people magic as a tool to affect the world around them. Certain religions adopted and integrated these rituals into their beliefs, but if you do enough research you can find there are basic common "themes" to magical rituals and prayer. I guess what I am trying to say that magic is magic, and no one religion or another owns it. As long as you are respectful, mindful and ethical, it's no holds barred.

Magic You Can Do

There are plenty of rituals out there involving magic. Some you might've even heard of. I'm going to list three common, ethical and safe ones I do that you can do at home as well.

Moon Rituals

This one is crazy simple. Lots of cultures & religions base rituals on the phase of the moon. Especially Paganism. However, just like magic, the moon doesn't belong to any person, religion or culture in particular. 

The moon has 4 phases: Full Moon, Waning, New Moon, and Waxing. Many people, including myself, believe certain times of the month, depending on the phase of the moon, can increase the potency of other rituals. This ritual, however is pretty basic—but first you must have a basic understanding of the meanings/symbolism behind the phase of the moon. 

The Full Moon is all about releasing. It can be associated with the apex of inhaling. You're about to let go of all of that air in your lungs. So can be said with the light of the moon. If you're wanting to release or banish something—worry, anger, frustration, people, you name it—a full moon is the perfect time of the month to do just that. Just stand outside under the full moon (doesn't matter if it's cloudy or not) and visualize letting go of whatever it is you want to let go of. Imagine the moon's rays taking it from you. You could also write it down and burn it in a candle. As the month progresses and the moon shifts from Full to New, you'll notice the issue dissipating.

The New Moon, as you might've guessed, holds the opposite energy of the Full Moon. It's all about intake. Just like when you've exhaled all of the air in your lungs and are about to take in a breath, the New Moon is all about bringing things to you. Just as with the Full Moon ritual, stand outside under a new moon (regardless if you can see it or not—though preferably at night) and imagine receiving the thing you're wanting. The stronger you believe in the ritual, the greater effect it has. As the month wears on and the moon shifts from New to Full, you'll start to notice the energy of what you're wanting start to come to you.

Salt Baths

Not to be confused with Salt Bae, salt baths are perfect for releasing. I recommend them all the time to clients—especially empaths who've taken on too much energy. I take one about once a month. It's perfect for releasing just about anything, and is great to do at bedtime because it puts me in a relaxed state. 

What I usually end up doing is cleaning the tub out first ('cause let's face it, it needed it), then get 4 white tea candles and place them on the four corners. I'll take 2 cups (or more) of kosher salt and dump it in the tub. Then I take 2 cups of epsom salt (especially the lavender kind) and put that in the tub as well. I fill it with hot water, maybe add some sage drops to the mix and BOOM—Amy soup.

The best thing to do before you get in, however is to pray first. Ask God to bless the water and for your angels to help you release what you need to release. That's the part that is most important. I usually make sure I submerge myself and even dunk my head under water to get everything in contact with the water. I recommend sitting in the tub for at least 10 minutes, 30 ideally for optimum effect. Then afterwards, simply drain the water and rinse off.

Candle Magic

I briefly mentioned this under Moon Rituals and saved it for last—partially because they're so powerful. Remember, with great power comes great responsibility. The most effective way to use candle magic is ethically. Make sure your intent is clearly stated in your mind before you even go out to get the candle you're wanting. Also, please keep the free will of others in mind. Getting a "love" candle to attract a certain person is a big no-no. Getting a "love" candle to attract love into your life however, is just fine. Another tip is to always keep positivity and God-like love in your heart to attract the best outcome that serves everyone's highest good. 

I tend to buy my candles at Phoenix & Dragon here in Atlanta—especially Coventry Creations brand. What you do is buy a pre-dressed candle (or dress one yourself if you have that kinda time on your hands) and write your name (or the names of who you want the spell to effect) on it (I do it with a pin/needle). Then, set the candle on your oven on a cake pan or cookie sheet, since this ritual will be involving fire. Heck, you could even set it in the sink if you're not planning on using it for a while. Just be sure to use a fireproof surface. 

Write down neatly and clearly your intent for the outcome of the ritual. Do so as clearly and neatly as possible. If it involves specific people, use their full name(s). Please also be sure to mention that you want the outcome that serves the highest good for all. 

After writing what you want down, fold up the piece of paper and light the candle. State your intention out loud as clearly as possible (you could even practice beforehand) and use the flame of the candle to burn the paper. I like to hold the paper with a pair of tongs so I don't get accidentally burned. Then simply let the candle burn. Sometimes it can take up to 48 hours to burn—though I would strongly recommend to NEVER leave a candle burning unattended. 

When I light the candle I'll start to immediately feel the effects of it. It feels like tingling or a "shift" of sorts. It's also handy to pay attention to the wax after the candle has melted. It has interesting symbols that can form. Also, keep the wax in a special place to retain the effects of the candle. You can keep it in a cabinet, under your pillow, or even under your bed. Often times the candles will have a nice scent to them so they're fun to keep around. 

So, In Conclusion...

Magic is neither out of your grasp nor complex. It is easy to do and accessible for all—regardless of religion or beliefs. It's all about intent and ethics. The more ethical you are with magic, the better the results.