#with references to my home town and my name and my talents and likes and dislikes

[djotime-allthetime]

hi!!! im back 😎✌🏼 i was thinking about y/n again (she literally hasnt left my mind yet) and was wondering if you've had a particular person in mind when writing her either in personality or in appearance? in my head she looks a bit like sydney sweeney, but more european or scandi if that makes sense?

also what accent do you imagine y/n as having, cos i imagined her speaking at the panel a london accent (like me!!!), but i am curious to see how you picture y/n in your mind!!!

👋🏼

hello my love!!

to be completely frank with you,,, y/n is me and i am y/n sooooo she is a short middle eastern girl with long hair and she has an international school accent lol

but! that's the beauty of self inserts! you can imagine her as whatever your heart desires!

[gallivantingheart]

synopsis: y/n is a witch from a long bloodline of illustrious Spellmasters. After a spell gone awry, they are left cursed to age prematurely and disfigured. In shame, they run and end up in the picturesque town of Martine to regroup and lift the curse. Enter Class A Spellmaster, Jeonghan - a little boastful of his talents, honestly - who agrees to assist in their research. All the while, a vicious wizarding manhunt sweeps the land - but what does the handsome Spellmaster have to do with it?

pairing: wizard!jeonghan x (f)reader feat. wizards seungkwan, mingyu, seokmin, soonyoung + joshua

word count: 41k+ (holy shit.)

genre/s: howl’s moving castle-inspired au, fluff, humour, romance, magic!

warnings: some very!minor body horror and dysmorphia, mentions of persecution by demographic, minor mention of blood, inaccurate references to witchcraft practices, some kissing

a/n: welcome, esteemed reader, to a fic over three years in the making. spawned from hannie's pretty pretty hair in ready to love era. my poor geriatric laptop is currently hemorrhaging due to the sheer amount of text right now. bear in mind that while this may be my magnum opus, doesn't mean it's going to be amazing. just damn long, which was never my strong suit. but hey, lore so deep i have a glossary? i hope you enjoy the ride anyway! also also @wonwooslibrary SAMMMM, SHIT LOOK I DID IT!!! thank you for your capital letter support, reading drafts and hearing my constant empty promise word count updates.

You caught your image in the reflection of a window; a bus stopping at a crossroads. By Merlin, you looked like a ghoul - swathed in layers of loose fabric, hooded to hide your face from direct vision. It was a recent image you had taken on in the last few days since you had left your family home.

You had cried for most of it, as if in mourning. Your veins feel empty and breathing is dull. You can’t feel the magic that you know is always in the air for the first time in your life and you’re panicking. Like drowning in a void. Suki, your familiar, looks as if she’s taken on a form of mange, her flickering whiskers wiry. She yowls often, glaring at you every moment you’re both awake.

It’s not until you reach a tram line and lopsided tram depot that you realise that you’re almost out of pity money in a far-off town. Said tram dings as it passes. Martine.

You went there growing up for a few school breaks. A hilly, seaside town that felt too modern yet nostalgic with its intricate and old tram network and tall brickwork. You really have been walking for a while.

You look at Suki. “Well. Back to civilization, huh?”

She seems to curl her lips up at you to bare yellowed fangs and turns to stalk down the main road. Fair enough.

In the time you’ve walked, you’ve had a lot of time to think of your next move. Too ashamed to turn back. Afraid of the debris you’d left behind and the consequences from it. You didn’t want to remember, ironically enough, seeing as memory spells are what got you in this mess in the first place. If you don’t want to go back, you must go forward. Fix this - and Suki, you guess. So, you had to reach for magic again and find a cure. It wasn’t hard for you to make that choice; you yearned for it to spark at your fingertips again.

But you feel so ashamed, wandering the town of Martine, a slovenly beggar in a matter of days. Just as people had on the walk here, everyone avoids any eye contact with you and Suki. Monsters in public, too grotesque to look at. Limp and withered on a park bench, you slip further and further into self-absorbed depression. How old were you now? How were you to survive? Where do you even begin?

A large hand touches your shoulder. In the almost-night, a tall young man smiles gently. “You look lost - are you okay?”

You shake your head slowly. “I - well no…”

“I’m Kim Mingyu, first of my name. You must be tired and hungry - Martine is quite far away from any other towns. Did you want a bite to eat?” He guides you to your feet, making your decision for you even as you protest in confusion.

“I, well yes, but - I have no money or - wait -”

He shakes his head and feather light, steers you through the streets to a corner of town a little less busy, but further uphill. Something more suburban. Suki doesn’t protest for the first time since the curse has struck.

“Don’t worry. I’d feel terrible leaving you exposed to the elements like that. Think of this as something for me rather than a favour for you. To keep my conscience clear.” He babbles on as shop signs are turned closed and street lamps are lit.

“Ah, here we are.” Mingyu says to a small manor house.

It’s quaint compared to the other houses that line the street, but still extravagant by regular residential means. Faded red brick and a thatched roof with a blooming front garden and white picket fence. Hanging from the fence is a lovely sign – Aji’s Home Away from Home: B&B. He doesn’t even lock his front door! In the entryway there is an altar, a wooden spoon amongst it - you bow. Leading you both down the low hallway, Mingyu seats you at a round dining table and swiftly puts a tattered apron over his head. The table rocks a little on old, uneven legs and he chats with you as he sets up.

“I never got your name - you are?” He looks over his shoulder expectantly with bright eyes.

You only give your first name, rude in most situations. “This is Suki, my fami- companion.”

A scrawny white dog enters, claws clattering over the hardwood floors. Suki and the canine are civil, seeming to communicate in a language all their own. Mingyu checks the pie in the oven - how he arranged it so quickly is beyond you - before eyeing you curiously.

“Y/n, do you happen to be of magic blood? A witch?” He asks.

You heave a sigh, unable to hide the glare you shoot the animals on the floor. “How could you tell?”

“Well, Aji never behaves this nicely with non-magical beings, like Suki. You bowed to my altar and didn’t panic at the dishes cleaning themselves. Most mortals are at least a little amused by it, even nowadays.” He surmises.

Honestly, the dishes were such a regular thing in magical households you didn’t even realise it was happening. Wooden spoon, quick food, warm house - must be a Kitchenmaster.

“I am - well, used to be. My magic is a little…. compromised to say the least.”

He hums in acknowledgement. “Well, if we can rustle up some sort of payment, you’re more than welcome to stay here for as long as necessary. I run the B&B here, anyway. Just me.”

You smile, idly adjusting the table settings in front of you. “I - Mingyu, thank you. That is most gracious of you.”

“So, you look like you’re a little lost to say the least - very far from home?” As he flits about the kitchen, he chats with you over his shoulder.

You bow your head, engrossed in the dents and pot burns that litter the wooden table top. “Uh, yes, very.”

“Something happen?” Something quietly simmers and bubbles as he works on some root vegetables.

“Yes. I - magic. I suspect.” It’s hard to admit any more than that.

Saying more means admitting to your own fallacies. Right now, you are content to wallow in your misery; lick your wounds. Suki however, gives you a surly side eye from her place by the window with Aji. He twists to properly eye you. You know how disarming and unsettling your appearance is, so having someone examine so intently makes you want to curl up into a ball.

Mingyu looks at you, thoughtful. “Magic related. Was this curse by someone else or a backfire - self-inflicted?”

You sigh, long winded. “Both? The spell was quite old, so it may have had caveats I wasn’t aware of.”

“Hmmm. I have a friend. Potionsmaster, Class B. Family run apothecary. He might be able to help. Lee Seokmin.” Mingyu stoops against his fridge to write it out on a notepad magnetised to it - of course he has one of those. He rips it off and folds it neatly, handing it to you. “Give him a try tomorrow - see what he can do.”

As soon as he’s written that, it's the blink of an eye and dinner is served. Something that would have taken the average person half an hour, takes the Kitchenmaster mere minutes. Mingyu pretty much force feeds you a stew of sorts with plenty of vegetables and hot spices - to warm you, he says firmly, arms crossed - and a side of rice. The pie he claims is for tomorrow - it’s better the next day when it all settles and isn’t so viscous. Suki gets a little saucer with salmon, mushed to bits for her little teeth.

After a waddle - read, struggle - up to the attic, his smallest room and a fitful rest, you drag Suki out at the crack of dawn to make the long walk down to Lee Seokmin’s shop, the address tucked into the pocket of your own apron. Suki, disgruntled by the wake-up call, trots haughtily in front of you, weaving about and purposefully getting in your way. You pull up to a stop, fists on your hips. You can hardly see her through the head covering you had meticulously wrapped this morning in the mirror in the attic.

You glare down at Suki. “Hey now, be good. If Mingyu is right we might just get out of this just as soon as we got into it.” She gives you a glare with her green-gold eyes and you sigh, amending your words. “Fine, as soon as I got us into it. Sorry.” The mangy cat seems to roll her eyes at you, trotting ahead with a haughty tilt to her nose. Even in her state she’s as proud as ever.

The door jingles when you open it, the light from the street shining in. The wood is warm and despite the knowledge that a lot of potion supplies need to be cool and out of direct light, sunlight illuminates everything - how was this supposed to be a Class B Potionsmaster with a place like this? Herbs and dried ingredients sit in jars on top of tinted glass cabinets. Touching them you find them cool, yet not icy or condensated - must be magic.

A door to the side is open, even more sunlight streaming through a room much like a greenhouse. A cauldron softly bubbles and smokes, its fragrance neither sweet nor unpleasant but inherently herbal. A young man, tall with narrow features and a sunny smile pops up. He wears a canvas apron, stained wooden spoon in hand.

“Hello - welcome to Lee Apothecary! How can I help?”

He’s so warm and sweet! “Seokmin?”

He nods. “That’s me – Lee Seokmin, first of my name.”

“Mingyu sent me. Said you may be able to help.”

You heave a breath, shutting your eyes. You can’t even bear to see your hands as you uncover your face from the loose coverings. You can hear the soft inhale of shock. Suki jumps from a shelf to land next to you, warm against your leg.

“It’s a curse. Can you help me?”

Your age and disfigurement are too hideous to be natural. The wiry age in your grey hair, gnarled limbs and wrinkles. One eye is different from the other. Warts and missing teeth. Your hand is strangely shaped and you try your best not to hobble when you walk. It’s only now that you notice Suki’s appearance goes further than mange, her tail with a sad broken kink in it.

He walks around his counter to face you, his long fingers cradling your own as he examines you. Touches your palms and turns them as if they will reveal something to him, like an Augur. The Potionsmaster does the same to Suki, who is for once calm and pliant - the moggie never does as she’s told.

He sighs and shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. This is too heavy a curse for a simple potion to fix.” He squints at you. “But...you knew that already.”

“I was hoping otherwise.”

“Even if I could tell you, no potion would do this, or fix this. A spell does something like this - changes your aura. However, if you want, I can make a glamour mist and tonic to lessen the blow. Your familiar, however, is stuck as she is.”

Suki yowls broken, and you nudge her into silence. “Please, it’s been awfully hard as I am.”

It’s only been a few days, but it’s more than enough to be grateful for however you looked before this.

He turns away to pick out ingredients, weaving through the store and dropping them into his apron. “What did you look like before all of this anyway?” He says.

“Younger.” Is all you say, guarded.

He tells you he’ll be by Mingyu’s tonight to drop off the tonic along with some other supplies for Mingyu – free of charge. Somehow your disfigurement has lost your youth but gained luck. Or pity. They’re both the same at this rate. Mingyu is welcoming new guests when you come up the road. So as not to scare his clients, you gesture to the courtyard, a tall gate on the left. With his towering height, he sees all and merely nods in the slightest. As soon as the door is shut, you carefully walk the winding side path to the gate, the path all but hidden in his immaculate garden.

He opens the gate for you from the other side. “Wh-”

“I don’t want to scare anyone.” You murmur.

He tilts his head in sympathy, dressed in brown trousers and a lovely knitted cardigan. “You needn’t worry. They were just dropping off their luggage and have headed off to the beach. You are welcome here, trust me.”

You both walk through the bright courtyard back to the kitchen. This is Mingyu’s home turf, his safe space and is quickly growing to be yours. He instantly puts the kettle on and sets the two of you up for late morning tea.

“So, how did Seokmin go?”

“He’s coming by tonight to drop a tonic off. He couldn’t fix it, only ease it. I think I will need to do some research myself, once I’ve worked out how to take care of myself.”

You’ve never been on your own, the family house your only home. So, you meant it when you said taking care of yourself. Never having had to stay under a roof that wasn’t your own. As promised that evening, as the sun is just beginning to set and the lamplights are being lit, Seokmin is at Mingyu’s, dropping off his concoction of cleaning supplies. The two of them chat away animatedly in matching aprons. The tonic smells like roses and ginseng, in a spray bottle. You could pretend and mistake it for a perfume if you wanted to. The directions, to spray three times in the morning, in sunlight, facing east are labelled on the bottle. His eye falls on you idly stirring Mingyu’s soup with only a finger against the spoon handle.

“You look dead bored.” He says to you in passing.

“I am. Magic used to be a crutch for me. Part of my studies and my livelihood. Now I don’t have it…” you go quiet on that sombre thought. “Anyway! I’ll find something to amuse myself and my creaky bones.”

They both laugh weakly. You were getting used to the old and geriatric jokes that spilled off your tongue. Used far too often to lighten the mood and ground yourself.

Seokmin perks up though. “Well, if you’re ever in need of something to occupy yourself, I could always use a hand down at the shop. Someone to cover while I’m on errands.”

“Happy to help, Seokmin.” You say firmly.

You take Seokmin up on his offer, puttering around out the back of the apothecary, cutting and preparing ingredients as well as appropriately storing them. His parents have retired so Seokmin runs the place on his own. It’s sweet, seeing packages come in from them once in a while with limited, rare ingredients along with heartfelt messages reciting their recent grey nomad adventures. His own family has limited texts on spells, the whole family being Potionmasters, but it’s a start. A way to adapt the spray that he provides and eventually add on a tonic to improve your actual health. You can’t run a marathon, but you can go the full day on your feet now, without feeling like you’ll keel over by the end of lunch. Seokmin graciously provides you a small salary - exactly enough to keep your lodging with Mingyu. By day you work out the back of the apothecary, by night you pour over any magical text you can get your hands on to gather knowledge on how to reverse the curse you’ve brought upon yourself - truly showing your real age with a part time job and all.

Sat one mid-afternoon at the iron garden table, you catch the tears in Mingyu’s apron - fraying at his shoulder and the scorch mark that wore a hole in his pocket. You pout and groan as you rise, feeling your body creak as you reach to pull it off the hook in the wall.

“Mingyu, your apron.” You murmur.

He’s come in from the garden, wearing a soft sage green one, the pockets filled with herbs. He has gardening gloves on, dusted with dirt. The Kitchenmaster splutters and panics at the sight of you up and about but you wave him off with a huff.

“Please, I can mend this. Something small for your kindness.” You say.

He must see the desperation in your eyes because he nods, tugging off his gloves to toss on the garden bench by the back door. Mingyu guides you back inside to plonk you back at the dining table, round and thickly waxed.

“I think I have some old sewing bits in a cupboard. I’ll be back, okay?” He says, gently as always.

You nod, smiling. “Yes, please.”

As he dashes off, his large frame swallowing any space down the hallway, you clutch his cooking apron. There are food stains on the canvas, obviously an effort made to clean them away to no avail. Not to worry - you can fix that too.

A small biscuit tin popped open before you. The young man hovers wearily in front of you for a moment, in and out of the natural lighting as you scrounge through for thread and needle as well as something like a patch. It’s sweet how he gapes like a fish, squeaking a little and flapping his hands in the air. Very distracting though.

“I - are you sure you’re okay? I mean - if the joints in your hands, well -”

You level him with a look. “I'll be fine, thank you Mingyu. Give me the rest of the night at most and it will be done. Don’t go fussing and panicking just yet.”

He falls quiet and nods, waddling back out to the garden to finish up his chores. Suki sits outside on the wooden bench where shoes were usually shucked underneath, snoozing in the sun. If you were sure of one thing, other than your magic, it was sewing. All of your family had a mundane ability. Your mother was a wonderful gardener, your father a mechanic. Your grandmother was a hairdresser before she became a member of the high council. You took up sewing - something your mum was also adept at so could give you a head start. So mending Mingyu’s apron was a slice. By instinct, you add a sigil, a meld of cleanliness and resourcefulness. If only to help in repelling any more potential food stains and to better utilise the pocket. Sewn with an off-red thread, for luck. By the time the sun sets and Mingyu heads inside to make dinner, his apron hangs back on its hook, better than before. He gapes, rubbing his calloused thumbs over the new thread. The splash of colour seems to bring a bit more life into it.

Mingyu plunges his hands, then his elbows into the pockets of his apron, wonder rounding his lips. “They’re… endless!”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “I merely sewed some charms and sigils into the inner. They aren’t magic or anything special I assure you. Holds just as much as you need - in theory.”

“You fixed it so well. Thank you.” The Kitchenmaster says softly.

“Of course. You’re welcome.” You shrug. “The least I could do. Now, what’s on the menu?”

Over time, between helping Mingyu and helping Seokmin, you would sew. Cloaks for Mingyu and his wizarding friends, sigils stitched inside to keep them warm and to not lose them. Resistance to wear and tear, to give luck. They were richly designed and soon others, magic or mortal, were taking notice, asking for hats or coats. They would pay handsomely too for their commission. Women who wanted bonnets and sunhats and men who wished for suit jackets and mending their jaunty hats. You would measure exactly to size and chat as you did so, posted up in Mingyu’s kitchen by day and your attic room by night. The attic now has bolts on bolts of fabric leant against the wall and sewing scissors constantly on your person. The research has taken a bit of a back seat, actually.

“So, this is awfully pretty. For any reason in particular?”

The young woman hums and gazes out the window to the courtyard, bright and peaceful. Her clear skin glows and her petite lips curl in a shy cherry smile. Minji is her name and this is the second time she has come to see you, the first time for some basic mending on a lingerie dress for a summer outing.

“I’m going on an outing with a very kind young gentleman - Hyungjin. His father works at the radio company, you see. He’s asked me out for a picnic - just us. Or, as just us as it can be with my sister chaperoning. I want to look my best.”

You smile. “And what do you consider to be your best? Imagine how you want to be seen - what you want him to think when he sees you.”

“Pretty. Oh, maybe a little taller? I just want him to think that there is no one else like me.”

“That makes sense. Remind me, when was the deadline for this hat?”

She looks at you, a little startled. “Oh! Three weeks from Wednesday - the outing is on Thursday.”

You nod, pulling away to a calendar in the hallway draw to mark the date. Suki follows in your shadow, eyes speaking volumes of curiosity. “So I don’t forget. This is a big commission, Suki.” You murmur down to her.

You pull over a sketch as you sit back next to her. Measurements down the left. A large floppy straw hat with sakura pink ribbon around the base and fluttering down to tie to her chin. A floral pin to the right, twined with many small flowers like a bouquet. The sketch shows how the inside will most likely be felted, to prevent the straw from snagging in her dark silky curls. Minji’s eyes light up as she coos and sings. Her slender hands clasp against her chest as she sways on the spot, ever the romantic.

“Oh it’s perfect. Delightfully summery. If we could have the brim a touch thinner and the band a quarter of an inch thicker, that would be divine.”

You grasp the pencil oddly in your gnarled grasp, roughly drawing the modified lines. This has her singing again, humming and clapping in agreement. She is only one of two commissions - the other being an optional winter cloak for Soonyoung, a vivacious Spellmaster that specialises in ritual dance. He was going up to the mountains for the next month and needed something a little sturdier than whatever he wore down in Martine. He’d even had the mind to pre-buy the material he wanted and bring it to you!

Mingyu lets you work in his kitchen for almost a month, one danish tin filled to the brim with sewing supplies and another biscuit tin on a shelf in the hall keeping your payments safe for board. He disappears out the back for long periods of time, banging about on the other side of the kitchen wall. He comes back sweaty and dusty, waving off your curiosity with a giggle. He would even shoo Suki out from around the corner.

“I promise I’ll tell you about it as soon as it’s done.” Is all he says one evening.

So, when he finally announces his work complete, you’re embarrassingly eager. The Kitchenmaster tugs you standing and holds your gnarled hands, guiding you up and around the back, down a path you’d never thought to wander to. Maybe he had cleaned this up too, recently.

He leads you around the back of the house to a little building, seemingly tacked on the end as an afterthought.  Somehow, you realise, you’ve never thought to look this way, even out of curiosity. The bricks were the same but the wood for the window frames weren’t. The door frame was different again in material and shape compared to the rest of the house. Pulling out an old skeleton key, Mingyu opens the peeling forest green door to a dusty room, odds and ends everywhere. The room is dark and a little musty. Dust floats free in the air. He’s quick to open curtains and windows to air out the sizable room.

“This used to be my uncle’s office - he used to be some kind of intellectual. The garden was planted for his studies, actually. But when I moved in, I never needed an office, so it kind of just became the storage room. But, now that people are asking for your sewing and tailoring skills more frequently, you need more than just the dining table or even the attic. I can of course help clean up, but I thought, maybe? You could set up here? I mean, the desk is big enough to do something with, right?”

His warm eyes are hopeful as he stands by a desk, hands fiddling with the pocket of his apron. Suki surveys the space, sniffing at boxes and furniture. Finally, she settles herself atop whatever was on the window seat. Her yellow eyes glare at you expectantly. Certainly not taking no for an answer.

“I mean, this has way more natural light and saves people from walking through the boarding house all the time? O-Only if you want to? Take up tailoring properly?” Mingyu babbles on.

You take it in, slack-jawed. “Mingyu...you...you found a room, just for me?”

You’re afraid to speak any louder than a whisper, unable to trust your voice. You rest your hand on the heavy wood of the desk, surely a generation old, by the carved designs alone. Suki is inspecting every corner, her twisted whiskers getting in everything and catching cobwebs. Mingyu starts to go a little red, chuckling with a shrug.

“Well, yeah. Can’t have you working on the kitchen table forever, can we? And I want you to feel comfortable here, for as long as you need to be.” He smiles.

You bite your chapped lips to stem the gurgled breath - your eyes prickle. You squeeze his large hand with your knobbly one, weak but meaningful.

You smile. “Mingyu, this is a lovely idea. How much extra would you like me to pay?”

He pauses to stare at you, as if you’ve grown a third eye. You flinch at the expression, uncomfortable with it in your current state. Mingyu softens his expression, shaking his head.

“Extra? No, I don’t use this room and you need it. No extra charge. It’s a win-win for the both of us. Please.”

You relax and nod, smiling tentatively. “All right then. If you insist. Thank you Mingyu.”

Mingyu tinkers away for a few days after. As do you, the both of you working on opening up the back room some more. Dusting and wiping down surfaces, packaging anything up that needed to be out the way. Mingyu carves sigils into cupboard doors, jamming more and more things into them than usually possible. You stare curiously at the lone sewing set you had been working with, sat awfully small on the desk – still out of a biscuit tin. You take in the rest of the room – empty window seat, desperate for cushions, plenty of empty shelves for whatever you desired. Fabrics and sewing supplies. Maybe a dress form and some hat bases. If you really dared in the far future, maybe a sewing machine.

It’s at the end of the week that Mingyu reveals his final work for you. Signs. Two – one to hang above your study door, the other to hang by the back gate of the bed & breakfast, facing the street. Martine Fashion and Millinery. You gasp, running your fingers over the painted and sealed wood.

“Mingyu, really?” You murmur.

He beams. “Well, if you’re going to be working here, your business needs a name. And customers need to be able to find you. Really, it was no trouble.”

He stoops to pick up and push a small lacquered chest across the table at you. You let out a wet gasp, hands trembling as you reached out, fearful to do so.

“Now, now before you panic, this came out of your board for the month, so this isn’t so much of a gift as it is an investment. And it’s just a basic one. You can add to it when and however you choose. But the biscuit tin was a little meagre at this point.” He explains.

You shake your head. “I don’t know what to say. I-I don’t understand. Mingyu, I’m just some lady you met and took in. There is no need to go to these lengths.”

He shrugs and smiles again. “Like I said, this is all just an investment for me. I know this will pay off, for the both of us.”

You nod and promise to yourself that you intend to make every moment of this work count. If not for yourself, for Mingyu and all his hard work.

So Minji’s commission plans get moved into the back room as does the calendar from the hallway. And the next morning, as soon as the sun kissed the horizon, you waddled through town to pick up supplies. Speaking of Minji, she’s just as delighted as you are at the new space, swaying and bouncing on her toes and clapping in joy in the doorway.

“Oh, look! It’s wonderful! Your own space! You’ll be flooded with work in no time.” She gushes.

You smile warmly. Suki isn’t even perturbed by her noise.

“I hope so. Here, this is yours.” You guide her to a hat sat on a back shelf where dry specimen jars were but days ago.

You turn to present it to her and watch with shock as her bright eyes go glassy. She holds her delicate hands to her little mouth. She glances between you and the sun hat, made to her specifications, almost as if you’d pulled it straight from the original plans.

“This - this is for me?” She squeaks.

You nod. “Of course. Exactly as you asked. Would you like to-”

She whipped her hat pin out and wrenched her current hat off, slipping the new sun hat on. In that moment, you had to tip your head up a little to see her as before. There is a little mirror nailed to a wall and Minji twists and turns to examine it and herself.

“I’m…it’s beautiful. Oh, Y/N, you’ve done a magnificent job.” She says softly.

“I hope so. Hyungjin can’t possibly resist you now.” You add.

You’re startled suddenly as she throws her arms around you, her soft floral scent enveloping you. She squeezes tight for such a petite girl, swaying you a little.

“I can’t thank you enough. Truly.”

She pulls back, radiant and pops it into the waiting hat box. She takes a moment to secure her current hat back in place with her glittering pearl hat pin and cradles the box close.

“I don’t care what happens tomorrow. I know it will go swimmingly. I’m telling all my friends about you. I want you positively swamped with work if it’s all going to be just as good as this.” She says, resolute, before whirling out with a spring in her step.

Minji quickly rushes back, swinging into the doorway. “I will have my father send payment to you by the end of the day. You’re getting paid handsomely for this, I assure you. A mere one hundred is not enough.”

You open your mouth to protest the agreed price but she’s already gone, past your window and away.

In the days after, a young man walks into the study, angelic and handsome. As if he walks on air and pretty eyes almost hidden behind a lemon blonde fringe. There is a sleepy yet sweet turn to his lips as he waltzes into the study, a bundle of fabric in his arms. However, as soon as he lays his eyes on you, his face twists unpleasantly.

“Oh dear. That is quite the curse you have.” He hums, letting the door shut behind him.

You deflate, leaning wearily against the desk. Of course, it has to be a wizard - a Spellmaster no doubt from the way he looks you over.

You heave a sigh. “How can I help?”

“Well, I heard there was an exceptional seamstress in town and I just had to see them. My cloak is in tatters after my last assignment - small chimney dragon. Mingyu sent me.”

You perk up. “You know Mingyu?”

“Certainly.” They smile. “I’m Yoon Jeonghan, first of my name, Class A Spellmaster - best in Martine.”

No wonder they could see through Seokmin’s glamour. You hold out your hands as he gives you the dusty pink and sky-blue cloak. It’s shredded and singed, limp in your grasp the way a wizard’s cloak never should be. Most cloaks of magic users had some sort of life or vibrancy to them. Their energy would zing over your skin, leaving you alive and sensitive. You lay it out over the heavy desk to make out the top and tail. He peers over it like a worried parent.

“So, can you fix it?”

You shoot him a scowl. “If you gave me some space and light, maybe.”

He ducks his head and steps back. “Right. Sorry. I just - my mother and grandmother made it for me. They’re my family colours.”

Something jabs right underneath your rib cage - an uppercut of feelings. Now you really can’t turn it down - not that you would, you need the money.

“I see. Well, come back in a few days and I’ll see how I go. I - you’re my first proper, official customer. With the sign and all.” You confess.

Jeonghan straightens up. “Well, that is an honour. Please, let me know how you go - good day.”

The way he eyes you, you’re not sure what he’s referring to. But still, you pass a vague wave and hunch over the garment. When he leaves it’s with a little less bravado as before, his airy gait is a little more grounded - vulnerable. But Suki is absolutely enamoured with him, watching him with intent from the window. 

“Suki leave him alone and come here, I need you to hold this.” You call, brisk.

She reluctantly turns and leaps up, sitting exactly where you need her as you unfurl it all and get to work on the spare space of the buffet. Your pencils and tailors’ chalk come out as you sketch plans and designs. You frown over your shoulder as you eye it again. This was not going to be some small feat, that’s for sure. By the end of the day, you have a semblance of a plan drawn up, especially after you realise that the tatters are worse than first feared. It’s as if a bear has torn into it then a flood of moths had a feast. That small chimney dragon certainly did a number on this. Too many holes to just sew back together and call it a day. He’s going to need a whole new cloak. So, you add new fabric to the list of shopping supplies. And then note that you’ll need to design something asap - befitting of the willowy wizard.

It takes until the end of the week to have the design drawn up and fabric brought and cut to size. At least the hood and collar are still intact, so the measurements from that are used. Mingyu approves of the new design heartily, mindful of spilling goulash on the plans.

“Oh, that’s just perfect. His family isn’t from around here, so he’ll be waiting for a new one from them forever otherwise. Jeonghan is going to love it.”

You work furiously with it, alongside three other garments for Minji’s friends – as she had promised, a steady stream of pretty socialites had come in with grand commissions, all with varying deadlines and needs. Jeonghan pops in once or twice as well, still appearing full of confidence, yet a little bare now you knew he was missing something. He didn’t quite look whole. You shooed him out every time, with the promise it would be done soon.

“Do bear in mind that this is going to cost you a pretty penny. You gave me some shreds of a cloak and expected me to work magic on it – of which I cannot.” You huff one day.

He shrugs blithely, lemon yellow hair shining in the sun. “If Mingyu and the others trust you, so do I.”

Then, he has the nerve to better eye you. “Hmm - cursed?”

You draw up short and glare at him. “How dare – yes. Why?”

Jeonghan shakes his head. “Who would curse you?”

“It’s none of your business!” Your grip is fisted in the fabric of his cloak, ready to slam it down and kick him out.

He slides his sight to Suki, looking at him as if he hung the moon and stars in the sky for her. He giggles and slants his head down at her.

“And with a familiar? So, you were a witch? A cursed witch with no magic. Hmm.” He ponders like a detective.

“Out with you.” You say through clenched teeth. “It’s not ready yet.”

The blonde draws back and tips his head as he backs out of the study. His shadow draws long over the floorboards.

“Of course. I will see you next week.” Jeonghan says softly. At least he has a bit of tact, you think as you heave a steadying breath.

When the assigned day arrives, Jeonghan is dramatic, splaying his body across your counter and disturbing your garments. Despite your irritation at the disruption, you smirk – your anger over the other day has dissipated. The secret is out, no use in holding anything over it.

"You roll wrong on that Spellmaster, and you'll become a pin cushion."

He sits up swiftly to attention, shooting you a pout. "Right. So, is it ready yet?"

You nod, opening the small cupboard above your head to pull down a folded garment, delicate and fine. You tuck some of the other pieces aside, folding them to hold their designs. The window streams in sunlight that catches on the metal of the pins.

"Now, like I said, I can’t work magic and that cloak you gave me just could not be salvaged." Jeonghan deflates at your news. "However, I hope you don't mind, but I did take the liberty of designing and making a brand new one, based on the old pattern and colour scheme, and with Mingyu’s approval. With some added practicalities."

You shake it out, holding it up, inside facing. It looked a bit like the old diamond design but stylistically fragmented, like falling confetti. You used most of the old cloak, in fact, splicing it over the new sky-blue fabric you’d brought. You added a hood lining. Thin gold trim along the entire edges and a pocket or two as well. What catches his eye though is the talismans and charms stitched into the pattern. Ones for protection and added strength to the material. Ones for luck and a weave of beauty charms along the bottom hem, as functional as it was decorative. He smiles blindingly, taking it from your grasp. The fabric is thicker than before but still breathable and good for varied types of weather. He holds the cloak to the window, inspecting it with awe rounding his petal-like lips.

“I - It’s beautiful.” He looks at you. “I’m glad you fixed this so well. I don’t know what I would have done if you had done any less.”

You’re a little overwhelmed with the compliments but shrug to take them, turning away and somehow trying to hide. But Jeonghan’s gaze isn't something you can hide from - he’s too talented and observant not to see. Every wrinkle and atom of your disfigurement. It suits his fair hair and skin, somehow more ethereal than before. Only now do you notice how discreet his wand holster is, tied under his shirt by his waist, only the wind giving it away. He steps in long paces into your personal space.

"And you used your magic as well! I thought you said you lost it along with the curse?" He blinks at you owlishly as he slides it over his solid shoulders - nothing like Mingyu's but still attractive. You frown. 

"I have. Sigils aren't magic per se. Regular mortals can invoke them." You mutter, shifting your face deeper into your swath of fabrics.

Ever since Jeonghan arrived and re-exposed your curse, you'd taken to wearing your well-covering garments, if only for peace of mind. Not to mention the fact he was absolutely gorgeous so who would want to be seen next to him in your condition?

"Still. These ones have power to them. I bet they've never failed." He replies in a hushed tone, running his fingers over the silvery white thread stitching it all together.

You stay silent as he caresses the fabrics again, his posture changing back into something haughty - just the same way as you had first met him. His dark eyes brim with sincerity though, a warm lopsided smile there too.

“No, really. I am indebted to you - this cloak is one of the most important things I own. Please, will you let me help you find a cure for your curse? I insist.” Jeonghan has to dip his head quite far to eye you with your lopsided hunch.

You wave him off with a scoff. “Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine. Just please ensure that I am paid for my work. It’s going to be a little bit more expensive than you probably expected, including labour and materials.”

You’re lying. Obviously. Your trip to Seokmin was enough proof of that. Your room in the attic was back to being littered with research texts from Seokmin and any of Mingyu’s other friends who you raided. It had even escaped down here, cluttered in the corner of a shelf behind you. For those moments when your fingers could not take a moment more with a needle.

“Of course - name your price! But please, I insist. I am a Class A Spellmaster - the best wizard I know, if I do say so myself. If I cannot find a cure, then I will leave you be.” He casts a glance at Suki. “But I'm sure neither you, nor your familiar, want to stay in these forms for very much longer.”

You grumble and gristle under your breath but concede - it couldn’t hurt to have another pair of eyes, not to mention the expertise. You knew you were just as smart as him, once upon a time.

“Tsk, if we can help it. I suppose another perspective isn’t the worst thing. Thank you, Jeonghan.” You straighten up a bit. “But, just for the record, I do know far better casters than you.”

He shows up bright and early the next morning, a satchel slung by his hip and a pile of books tucked amongst his arms. His lemony hair is in his eyes, from the wind. His cloak looks good on him still, settled with airy pride on his shoulders as it drifts about his calves. You splutter and scoff with disbelief from your new place in the study. You didn’t expect him to start so soon.

“I - good morning?” You grouse.

His back is straight as he plonks it all down on the buffet. “Hello, study buddy.”

“Hmm, speaking of that...where will you be studying? I have the desk?”

Jeonghan really makes himself at home, politely shucking his shoes off by the doorway to show white redarned socks with sky blue patches over his big toe sewn with swamp green thread. He hangs his cloak up on the prescribed hooks by the door, the curling bronze dulled with age. Somehow, he finds a stool and tugs that over. How he looks so at home with his pastel attire startles you. Suki, as usual, is no help at all, no matter how much you nag her - “this is for our board payment, you know. Keep a roof over our head? Useless cat.”

He pulls out his ink and quill and arranges himself neatly, a notebook rested against his thigh. A pair of thin gold rimmed glasses come out and gingerly perch on the bridge of his nose.

“So, how far have you gotten with your research? I assume you’ve done some?” He stares at you expectantly over his spectacles and you can’t help but screw your face up - he looks like some kind of fluffy gossip column reporter, even the way he crosses his legs in such a conversational fashion.

“Jeonghan, all my notes are in the attic. I don’t really have the time to trudge all the way up there at the moment - I have three deadlines to meet to make board for next month.”

He waves you off. “Oh, that’s fine. Just talk to me and I’ll listen - get what I can. Then maybe tonight I can borrow your papers and we’ll see what we come up with. I give it no more than a week and I'll have some answers for you.”

Ugh, arrogant.

It’s been a few months and business is booming. You work late hours most days and often carry some sort of garment with you to Seokmin’s when he is out on house calls and needs someone to watch the apothecary for a delivery. With you around he can even afford to do house calls now, something unheard of before, seeing as he was the only one at the shop. Suki doesn’t like those days much, moving about, so she stays in the study, the window opened a crack to let herself in and out as she pleases. Meanwhile, you enjoy working on commissions in the bright, warm conservatory attached to Seokmin’s apothecary. You make board and more, having the profits to purchase hat stands and so on, as well as squirrel away a portion into the former Danish tin for…well you weren’t sure what. But it felt responsible to have a bit aside for whatever emergency may befall you. Maybe injury? You were old.

Jeonghan has become a steady fixture in the study, between his own jobs. His cloak has been mended plenty of times since. His own corner while you take commission appointments at the main desk, his shoes staying on then. The Spellmaster even has the ingenuity to draw up a hefty glamour spell, with your expertise. You preen a little at his surprise at your knowledge – before all this you were studying to be an apprentice Spellmaster for the High Council your grandmother is on, so you needed to be a vessel of knowledge for anything. The glamour spell helps you ease the fear of leaving the study to retrieve any of your purchases from the post office, or even being seen by him. He brings lunch from the kitchen yet is fairly quiet, other than bouncing the odd theory about. It’s refreshing from his dramatics initially.

Jeonghan rushes into the study one afternoon, face flushed but eyes a light. He’s waving a scrap of paper in his hand, a massive book tucked under his arm. He had told you the evening before across Mingyu’s round, wobbly kitchen table that he would be working from his place - he had Spellmaster duties to attend to after all. He acted as if you thought he was the centre of the universe.

You scowl at him, a little irritated at the interruption. “Hmm?”

“Y/N! I’ve - I’ve got something!”

You look at him, nose screwed up. You roll your free hand at him, as if to continue. He rushes to sit on the edge of the desk yowling when a stray pin pricks his thigh.

“About your curse! It’s self-inflicted!” He says quietly, full of pride.

Your face turns even more and your voice drops deadly low. Everything goes still. “I beg your pardon.”

He wilts at your tone of voice. Deathly calm yet uneven to tread. Your glare is both old and young, a fury for any age. He turns out the tome he held, fabric hardcover soft and faded on the corners from age. He points to a passage that threw your entire life back in your face.

Self-inflicted curse caused by a power recoil, usually due to using a spell too advanced for one’s own capabilities. This can affect the caster’s relative surroundings in any fashion from explosions and fire to time displacement. The cure is unknown and inconclusive, suspected to be only found by the caster themselves. A caster’s Familiar, should they have one, is greatly affected by this curse, as they are linked. 

“It’s…the effects are the same.” He says carefully. “This is why you had so many sources on self-induced effects. You knew.”

It’s a slap in the face having your own suspicions said back to you. You didn’t truly want to admit out loud this was all your fault to anyone else except Suki. Nor did you want anyone else finding out your own monumental mistakes.

“With an unknown cure, Jeonghan!” You cry out, louder than you intended, but you meant it. “I can be stuck like this forever - or however long that is in my state. And all I know is that it’s my own fault! Which, from everything so far, was kind of obvious!”

You rise up and snap the book shut, narrowly missing his nimble fingers. You haven’t been this enraged in a long time. Before the curse. You shove it back in his direction.

“Get out. Get out!” You yell, shooing him out of the room like vermin.

Suki is rumpled and skitters around your feet, sending herself out with him. Traitor. You slam the door in his fearful face and bow forward, resting both palms on the wood.

Of course, it was your fault. You’re the one with the arrogance to try and cast the memory spell when your father had explicitly told you not to. It was old and full of components you thought you understood – you were studying this specific vein of magic, of course you should know by now. You could do everything else, why was this the spell that would hold you back? Once it had been cast, your memory would be able to hold almost infinite information. It was easier than binding a caster’s magic. Your own hubris led you to cast it in the sloping backyard of the family house. In the dead of the night with everyone away at a Council convention. You had felt it fly out of control, like a garden hose pressure sending it spinning and water flying. Your shout of shock and Suki’s yowls the last things you heard. Then the home that had been in your family for generations was up in flames, the frame hanging together by the thread. The force of it all sent you careening into your mother’s prized rose bushes. When you came to, this is who you were. So, you ran.

So yes, you’d known deep down for a long time where it came from. But hearing there was no cure? Well then, what was the point?

You work in a guilt and anger fuelled fever the rest of the day and only until the oil in your lamps had dwindled did you toss it in for the time being, dragging your feet around into the house. There was a serving of dinner set aside, still magically warm to the touch, but the rest of the place was dark and quiet.

Jeonghan waits a few days before he returns, devoid of supplies for once. You suppose now that he had worked out the crux of the curse, that that was it. Mission accomplished. You’re working on a suit for Eugene who owned the post office. He’s planning on surprising his wife for their anniversary and wanted to look as good as feasibly possible. Guilt has been eating at you like nothing else, but you were too prideful and busy to find him. His hands are tucked underneath his cloak, behind his back. You fold the suit away quickly.

“I’m sorry.” You say quickly, softly before he can get any thought in conversation.

He looks up, brow creased beneath his fringe. “Sorry?”

“For snapping at you. And not telling you everything about the curse. I let you go on a wild goose chase and didn’t stop you at all.”

Jeonghan sighs and smirks wryly. “Thank you. But I’m sorry as well. I was a little insensitive when I brought it up. Of course there is guilt to things like this. But, now that we know where this stems from, we can start working on how to reverse it.”

You can’t help it. In shock, you laugh, bowed against the desk. You laugh so hard, you must cover your eyes, tears seeping out with the force. Suki is at attention, ears folded back at the sharp noise.

“You still want to help me. Even though we may never find a cure?”

He nods and straightens up smartly. “Even if we don’t find one, we’re all still here for you. So, are you in?”

“Sure.”

He backs up from his place in the doorway. He hasn’t even taken off his shoes yet, like usual. “That’s great, since I left all my supplies in the kitchen, in case you said no. We’ve got a lot of work to do. But, imagine it - my life’s work, breaking the unbreakable curse. Yoon Jeonghan, legendary Spellmaster.”

You scoff loudly and turn away from him to let him bask in his imagination before retreating to get his things. Goodness, he was ridiculous. The most arrogant Spellmaster in Martine, surely.

Not even a week later, Mingyu peers in, a little frazzled. “I - are you very busy?”

Jeonghan is at his usual perch, swiftly sitting upright. You’re intently over another filmy garment - with summer breathing down your neck, a lot of commissions were being used with thinner fabrics, looser to let that salty sea breeze through.

“No more than usual. Do we have an urgent client?” You ask.

“Sort of. I’ll bring her round.”

Moments later, Mingyu is trailed by a young woman with inky black hair piled in a typical Gibson bun from the way her hair sits off her neck and forehead. She wilts in a large sunhat and pastel pink dress with a touch too many frills to be tasteful. There is a basket on her arm.

Mingyu ushers the young woman in. “Hi, Y/N. This is Park Haeun, third of her name. She’s holidaying for the summer. From Aria. I suggested she come round to get one of her dresses fixed?”

She’s petite and full of soft shapes - except her eyes. Despite how wide they were, her eyeliner is sharp and narrow. She’s the epitome of an Aria summer - all muslin fabrics and warm rolling hills. In her arms is the basket, and in quite a rough fashion she pushes it onto your workspace, disrupting some of your other commissions. Her little round lips are pursed in a pout. Jeonghan busies himself with Suki by the window, teasing her a little and scratching at her chin. He usually does this with any of your consultations, some false air of privacy.

“Oh! I - Madam Y/N!” You bristle at the title but understand - the glamour does show some age. “I met Master Mingyu’s current lodgers on the train when the most disastrous thing happened! One of my favourite dresses was caught in a trunk and ripped. Master Mingyu says you are a dream with a needle and thread! Is there any way to salvage it?”

You tie off your thread and carefully (yet hastily) fold the combination undergarment away into the cupboard you have commandeered from Mingyu. Wading over, you pull the dress out, shaking it straight. The hem of the dress has torn a good inch or three, leaving it frayed and disrupting the overall image of airiness. It was right at the front. Not an easy feat.

“The fabric is awfully thin. I mean, with the price of fabrics here, I would just recommend a little mending and sew a whole new layer over top, if you’re that attached to it.” You mutter.

She withers a little. “Oh. I was really hoping something could be done. It was a gift from my father.”

You clench your teeth. Sentimental stuff always gets to you - Jeonghan’s cloak was enough evidence to that. Laying it out, you better inspect the garment, comparing the tear, then the rest of the stitching. If you did it close enough with two strands rather than six like usual…

“Leave it with me for the week. I’ll see what I can do.”

She beams and you blink from the haze of her image. “Oh, wonderful! Thank you so much Madam Y/N.”

Haeun reaches out to shake your hand vigorously and draws back a little as she comes closer. Her joy morphs to concern and you can feel her eyes seem to go through you.

“Are you well, Madam Y/N? You look awfully...ailed.”

You draw back as well, tucking your hand into yourself and drawing your attention to Mingyu. “I... well, I’ve had a bit of a tough time. Mingyu, when is lunch?”

He blinks at you. “I - very soon. I’ll back around when it’s ready? Bye, Y/N.”

At least he gets the picture of dismissal. Haeun looks guilty enough for you as she dips her head in farewell. Only now you realise that she’s still wearing her hat. Inside.

“Thank you so much again, Y/N. Goodbye.”

They both exit and you can see her give a lingering look to Jeonghan, who she hasn’t had a chance to speak with at all. He smiles small and polite, eyes sliding to yours widened in alarm. The moment their feet hit the brick pathway, he steps over for you to catch his forearm.

“She saw through the glamour. All of it. How did she see through my glamour? We made it ourselves." You hiss in panic.

“What do you mean?”

“She couldn’t look me in the eye - barely looked at me at all. Asked if I was ailing. I’m supposed to look old, not haggard!”

He shrugs. “She may just have The Sight. No need to worry.”

You scowl and twist away to eye the garment darkly. You had to fix this pretty thing now. If only to be rid of her chipper disposition.

You tinker away at it, your assumptions right when it comes to mending it. You were glad that the waist was well gathered, so the movement mostly hid anything possibly unsavoury - which none of it was. With such a straightforward fix, you had no reason to sew in any charms. In those two days, Haeun was exploring the town, often running into any of the wizards you knew. Mingyu invited her over for dinner the night you expected her back for her dress. Jeonghan chatted with her at length about Aria, something you wouldn’t have expected of him - he was usually so private. Your chest would have a sharp icepick driving through you the more he opened up to her. It had you turning your nose up at him and giving him the silent treatment under the guise of commission work. Small wins, you suppose.

When she shows up in your workroom again, Jeonghan is on her tail, smiling brightly. It makes your stomach churn and you can’t work out for the life of you why. She may not be the most tactful person, but she was pleasant enough. There was nothing to be worried about, no matter how much your gut may think so. Mingyu was trying to get you and Suki to eat. Haeun’s dress, once you’d set up for it, was an easy job, finished in a matter of hours, so you were back to your more demanding garments. Minji’s new hat - yes, another, the girl had an addiction, you swear - is half done, glaring at you from the mannequin head standing on the desk. The ribbon looks limp as it seemed to reach out for you.

“Madam Y/N! How does my dress go?”

You duck into the side room, formerly what you assumed to be some sort of library or dark room before it was cleaned out and a window busted through. Hanging in the sun is the dress. She gasps on sight, rushing over to grab at the hem. Gently ruffling and tugging the skirt, Haeun deems it worthy. She scoops it from your arms, folding it hastily back into her basket. If that was how it was packed in the first place, no wonder it caught a snag – no respect.

“Thank you so much! It looks like it never happened at all. How much?”

You shrug. “Only $60.”

She looks at you from the side of her lashes but passes over the money for you to slip into the Danish tin in a drawer of the desk. Patting the lid of her basket, she beams back over at Jeonghan.

“You were right when you said she was the best seamstress you’d ever met in the world.”

“Are there no seamstresses in Aria?” You can’t help but ask.

She shrugs. “Yes, of course, but none of them would have said yes to this job.”

Oh. So it was like that then - the impossible job.

You’re still smarting over her comment when they sweep out in the same breezy fashion that they arrived and you get back to your work, ignoring the beseeching gaze of Jeonghan through the study window. You were tempted to pack some of his studies away for room, but at the heart of it all, you didn’t have a venom in you to do so - there was plenty of room elsewhere for your spread out. He was only trying to help, after all. And Haeun did pay as requested. Other than a foul mood there was nothing to negate or argue.

You are surprised though when Jeonghan reappears not an hour later. Your ears are attuned to the sound of his sensible boots over the pathway, even through a catching giggle of Haeun’s that carries from what must be the kitchen or courtyard.

“Jeonghan, is dinner ready so soon? It’s not even dark.” You comment, pausing to lean on the desk.

He shakes his head. “No, not yet. Mingyu is waiting for the others to arrive first before he even thinks about touching a spice or spoon.” You huff a laugh through your nose but he continues. “I was actually checking on you. Haeun’s words didn’t sit well with you and I wanted to settle her before I saw you.”

Again, you laugh at his turn of phrase - he treats her like a child to be coddled. Knows you too well not to make his words a statement. You nod.

“You are correct. I didn’t like her comment about the Aria seamstresses. I can’t pin down just one thing, but it’s enough to annoy and insult, Jeonghan.” You say as evenly as you can. It’s not his fault.

He hums and comes closer to lay a hand over your own gnarled knuckles. It still takes everything you have not to withdraw. His dark eyes are warm and the turn of his mouth sympathetic.

“Ah, I know. She is from Aria and they tend to be like that, you know? Bad at filtering their thoughts with a serve of perceived imperious. I should know, I’m from Aria, too.”

Your brows shoot up into your hairline, even as it comes together in your mind. Oh, of course! Jeonghan’s accent was a dead giveaway to his upbringing. Through his soft, slightly raspy voice the faint accent of those from Aria was present. Even in the way he dressed, simple but clean, unlike Seokmin and Mingyu who both looked more ready for a day farming and other labour in earth tones and natural woven fibre such as linen. So, he had that air of superiority about him you liked to pop so often. How had you not noticed it before? It was nice, as much as you hated to admit it, to work with someone a bit more well-travelled like yourself. Soonyoung was an exception seeing as his magical talent was so rare and sought after, he travelled often. But Jeonghan had grown up in another country. There were different customs and meanings for social etiquette and various objects. It meant more knowledge which you had always selfishly strived for.

“I see. That makes sense.” You say carefully.

He nods again, eyes shut sagely. “Hmm. Would you like to come inside now? Have a cup of tea before we send Haeun on her way?”

He squeezes your hand gently and you pull away from your work, letting him lead you out. Suki meows and takes the window exit instead as you grab the key and lock the door.

Famous last words. Somehow, you’d both forgotten she was here in Martine on holiday, so whether you liked it or not, she was sticking around for a little while longer. A few days later showing up at Seokmin’s for a chat and to arrange a lunch by the sea for those who could join - you were instantly withdrawn from this event as you had jobs to do and a trip to the post office for Eugene. 

Then, a day or so later after that, another feature at Mingyu’s place to see off his lodgers and stick her nose in your business. An empty babble about how hard working you were and a slight kickback about your age again. You bite your tongue at how the cluster of wizards humour her, like babysitting a child. Even Jeonghan gets in on it sometimes, your research on the back burner for his own jobs and Haeun.

Seokmin is walking you back to the boarding house, his arms full of fabrics ordered from the post office. The sun is almost set, gas lamps lit and casting everything in a dim, warm glow. But your hackles raise when you feel the rush of whispers through the air. For once though, they don’t seem to have begun because of you - in fact, barely anyone is looking. It’s the women of the boutiques and the populace donned in cloaks that huddle close and murmur, something akin to a buzzing hive. Pointed hats up and down the street, tilted together in hushed tones. Distress weaving them together. You glance at the Potionsmaster and he guides you to a pair of young men. Joshua and Soonyoung - you’re getting quite close to them as they drop into Seokmin’s store, asking for this and that or into Mingyu’s for Sunday night dinner. Soonyoung loved his cloak, toasty and functional up in the mountains for the solstice. They’re kind enough not to speak of your condition and they chat with you almost as easily as they do Seok.

“What’s going on?” Seokmin chirps, hands tucked into the pocket of his canvas apron - he’s resting your fabrics on the park bench the group managed to grab.

Soonyoung turns to him. “Where have you been? Have you not heard?”

You look between them all and shake your head. “What is it? Why are all the Casters out tonight?”

Joshua pulls out a limp and crumpled newspaper from his cloak. It’s folded back to a page in the middle. Wizards Flee Aria En Mass. He puts it away before you get a chance to read much else.

“The King of Aria has put a bounty out on a wizard who entertained the court for slighting the princess. Every wizard in Aria is being called for questioning - word is it’s more like torture. Soon, Aria will be devoid of magic users all together if this is how they treat us.” Joshua summarises quietly with a shake of his head and soft tut between his lips. “I thought it was bad before, when the royal family called wizards extortionists of the court.”

“I don’t know how much of a heart she has, honestly.” Soonyoung grumbles. “Enacted a ritual for them for the summer solstice once. She had the nerve to call it barbaric.”

Seokmin gently kicks his leg in silent scolding but doesn’t disagree. Nor do you. You can’t help but think of that throwaway comment of Jeonghan’s after hassling you one day in the office, feet kicked up on the desk. Then again, when Haeun rubbed you the wrong way.

“Jeonghan is from Aria.” You say softly, looking to the pavement. “He might get called up.”

The three of them turn to you, Suki plopped on a foot. You shrink into your head scarf, feigning cold. The crease to your brow has Seokmin slipping an arm around you, tucking you tightly to his side. He smiles small yet bright.

“Don’t worry too much about him. He can handle himself - besides, he’s here in Martine with us. They haven’t summoned anyone from over the border yet.”

You hum and nod, bidding farewell to the other two wizards as you turn for the hill.

The summer was in full swing, fresh sea breeze winding up the hilly streets of Martine and into the open window of your studio. It had the sun turn warmer and days drag languid. Sometimes you just wanted to stop and let the world go by, like today. Jeonghan seemed to be in the same mood, his notes open but empty in his lap and his ankles propped up on the window seat. He sits a little awkwardly, twisting to sit half in the sun. All he had asked was if your family was just as powerful as you. Then off you went. Tangents about your father and grandmother, the most powerful witch you had ever known. The gently rolled hill that made your backyard so smooth juxtaposed with your family’s higgledy-piggledy ancestral home, structures leaning and hanging off it as the members of your family grew over the generations. Your mother’s gardens, blossoming and flawless year-round. Shadows have changed for sure by the time you surface from your memories.

You feel like a bit of a fool for harping on so much about your family home, the homesickness eating away at you so obviously. Even as Jeonghan listens so intently to you, pausing his research. You laugh and shake your head.

“Y’know what? Enough about me. What about you? Did you grow up in Aria? What’s that like? Land of Melodies as they call it - oh! Can you sing?”

He chuckles but shifts, and officially closes his notes to toss them on the other window seat cushion - guess nothing was really getting done today then. You’ve mirrored him, putting a hatpin in the hat stand you were working on, setting it to the corner of the desk. You slump in your set, arms folded over the dark wood.

“I can - most of us in Aria can. If you can't, you play an instrument. Or if not that, you certainly have some kind of talent in the fine arts. It’s the backbone of the country.”

Jeonghan though, is quiet and guarded with his answers and you can’t help but think you’ve struck a nerve. But he lets you press on so you don’t quite know how bad said nerve is. You find out that he has a younger sister who is a beautiful witch herself who likes working with animals. And that he’s been away for a long time.

“So, what’s kept you away for so long? For work or - did you screw up at home too?” You laugh lighter than you feel at the self-deprecating joke.

He shoots you a look but shakes his head. “No, for work. I used to work in the King’s Court. As a performer.”

You coo in interest. “Ooh, what did you used to do!”

“I was a court magician. One of the best Spellmasters means I can do all sorts - make the stained-glass windows dance and sing, send people into the sky.” Jeonghan says gently. 

Is that a whiff of wistfulness you detect? You wouldn’t be surprised. Such a job could easily boost his already inflated ego on a daily basis. Listening to the King - a man with no magic, despite his daughter’s extensive magical talents - exclaim and wax poetic about Jeonghan’s abilities would surely leave any normal magic user with a sense of importance.

“I bet that would have paid handsomely too. Why did you leave?”

Then he goes quiet, a shadow passing over his warm eyes. You’re about to pull your question when he speaks again, glancing away from you.

“Uh, affections were not returned at court, so I couldn’t stay. The King was after me over the whole ordeal, so I had to leave.”

You can’t help it - you splutter out a laugh. “You’re...on the run from the King of Aria over a jilted lover?”

He pouts and huffs, sleepy eyes turning to a steely glare. It doesn’t quiet you at all as you stop further forward, howling with laughter. Suki is curled up on the floor in a slice of sunlight, one golden eye squinted open to watch the two of you. Tugging his cloak tighter around himself, he nods.

“Not just any. The princess; his daughter.” He mumbles.

You’d met her once as a child with your family on a work trip to Aria. Beautiful and graceful. A wonderful magic-user. But very haughty and condescending to your younger self, which you never took very kindly. You could imagine the two of them together easily. Jeonghan’s pretty appearance and her sophisticated beauty, not to mention their combined magic abilities would have been something to be reckoned with. Your own heart shrinks a little, aggravating the creak to your aged bones.

“Of course - you’re the wizard the King has a bounty on! It had to be you! But why would you run from a life like that?” You say with wonder.

“I didn’t mean to lead her on - didn’t even know I was doing it until I turned her down and she threatened my life! She told the King that I stole her heart and called a bounty on me. Good thing I used an alias at the palace or I would have been done for by now.” He explains with a sigh, raking his hands through his hair and pushing his fringe back.

Surely the use of an alias didn’t make him look much better, but you decided not to offer that opinion even as you ignored the way your heart picked itself back up again. You direct your attention back to the hat at your desk, nodding in understanding.

“Wow, I’m still impressed you’ve managed to hide out for this long.” You say instead.

Jeonghan smiles. “I know. But still, I try not to get too comfortable.”

You look at the way he’s kicked off his boots by the door and now shifted off his seat and into your sunlit window seat, curled up like a cat.

“Oh yes, you look most uncomfortable in a foreign space.”

He rolls his eyes but says nothing else. Your focus back on Ms. Kang’s summer hat, an odd request for autumn - nevertheless, it’s work. As you attach and gather the inner felt and matching ribbon, you can’t shake the questions bubbling on the tip of your tongue.

“Did you steal her heart, like she said? Physically or otherwise?” You ponder aloud.

“No! As able as I am, I didn’t. She still has one. Where, I don’t know.” Jeonghan whines.

Suki startles at that, eyeing you then the beautiful Spellmaster. She migrates to his stomach and he smiles softly, rubbing gently behind her ears. You snarl under your breath, lip curled back.

“Rude little…”

Jeonghan can slowly see your youth turn its head, in minuscule ways.

Your growing passion for your little sewing business. Minji especially brings it out whenever she comes by to say hello, the grey in your hair seeming to glow like starlight in the sun - two cosmic lights against one another.

You talk to him, not like a Spellmaster to be revered, but a person. A mischievous young man that won’t leave you alone. And when he isn’t actually doing his job as Spellmaster in Martine, you’re making him run errands for you. Haeun could try and vie for his attention as much as she wanted, with a pout complaining how he worked just as hard as you. But her saccharine syrup words had nothing on the whip tongue you had that would catch his ankles.

“Jeonghan, I’ve ordered a few bolts of fabric from Seychelles and had mail come by saying it is here. Can you go down to the post office and get it?” You say, a pincushion in the shape of a squishy cat sits on your wrist. If he squinted it kind of looked like Suki.

He jerks a little from his reclined perch across from you at the desk. “You want me to do what? Can’t you get Mingyu to do it or cast it over? Or delivery?” He complains without venom.

You shoot him a severe glare. “Mingyu has guests in the B&B at the moment. Besides, this is Martine, not Aria - you should know as well as I that they aren’t forward enough to have a delivery service yet.”

There are no fine wrinkles catching on the edges of your eye side, nor in your laugh lines. Like a young woman with a grey wig on. He has to blink away his awe and compose himself. Something, he thinks, to add to his study notes. With a dramatic sweep he settles his cloak on. Running his fingers through his lengthening blonde strands to clear his face he flops in the doorframe.

“I suppose you’re right. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

You smile, small and grateful with a minor tip to your chin as a nod, aiming your focus back on the garment scattered in front of you.

You’re still young on the inside, you remind yourself, every time you gaze a little too long at Jeonghan. Rain or shine, he’s angelic. Sometimes he helps you garden, hovering by you like a worried mother while you hack away at weeds and cut flowers for the many vases that are scattered throughout Mingyu’s house.

“I - be careful! You’re…” He murmurs under his breath, gardening gloves and a ratty canvas apron tied around his waist (that you made for him, a patch of blue flowers on the pocket) 

You twist on your knees to look up at him severely, a snarl twitching at the edge of your lips. “I’m what?”

“Fragile.” He sighs.

You’re still old on the outside, you remind yourself every time he says something like that, stamping out the skip in your heart.

Suki adores him, obviously - they’re just as vain as each other. Suki used to preen and fluff all the time before her mange. And now that’s back on form with the strengthened glamour, she does it twice as often, as if to make up for lost time. Jeonghan submits to her every whim.

“Oh Suki, you are gorgeous today.” He says, sickly sweet, clapping softly as she parades around the study, a new scarf made from fabric scraps nestled amongst her fur - this one in a brassy gold and green to match her eyes and her fur.

You roll your eyes. “You don’t need to humour her so - she does enough of that herself.”

She yowls at you, shooting you a scowl - you return the sentiment, sticking out your tongue over the combination undergarments you were mending - one too many romps in the field for Minji, you think wryly.

You don’t realise that your age eases every time you stay outspoken. How you glow cool yet bright like starlight, bouncing off Jeonghan’s warm and strong radiance with something softer but just as steady. You miss his glances - he has a bit more self-control - who wants to be caught daydreaming about the elderly seamstress that Mingyu houses? You hope he misses yours as it’s a little odd to be having someone of your condition look so at a young wizard of his calibre.

He doesn’t see your age very often any more - physically or otherwise. Whether it may be because he’s seen you without that elderly edge for a while or because often you don’t act your physical age. Maybe it might have to do with the fact that magic users age at a different rate to mortals, so age is less of an obstacle. But no, you're still twenty-something to him. You’re still magic.

A few weeks later, Minji, now a regular client of yours (actually, your most frequent and favourite, if you’re honest) comes rushing in. She’s a youthful whirlwind, running into the work room, the door left swinging open to let in the early autumn air. It’s not even a week after you finished her second hat and she’s waving her left hand around, shards of light scattering throughout the room.

“I - what is the meaning of this?” You splutter, squinting to shield yourself.

Hyungjin peers in from the doorway with a kind and soft smile, a little flushed in his cheeks. The ribbons of Minji’s hat flutter through the room as she squeals.

“We’re getting married!”

You stand up and eye the ring glittering on her finger, the gold band pristine and a teardrop shape of a diamond set in a gold crowning. It’s beautiful and tender, just like her. You smile brightly.

“I’m so happy for you! Congratulations!”

“It’s thanks to you - it has to be!”

You shake your head as you cradle her hand. “No, how can it be? Minji, you’re a wonderful person - of course Hyungjin would propose. He would be foolish not to.” You smile over her shoulder to him. “Just as you would have been silly to turn it down.”

She shakes her head. “No, no. It would have taken us forever! It must be you! Y/N, will you make my wedding dress? With your beautiful work and luck, I can’t imagine anyone else. Father and I will pay handsomely for your work as always, I assure you. Just, please, say yes?”

Her dark, sparkling eyes plead with you silently as Hyungjin shrugs - as if to say what his fiancé says, goes. Her hands swing yours as the bottom lip juts out in a pout. You screw your own nose up and turn away.

“Alright, fine. If you stop pulling that face.” You say gruffly.

Suki, however, has perked up immensely, golden eyes watchful and curious with their glow. Minji squeals, jumping on the spot. She even drags Hyungjin’s loping frame closer, planting a solid kiss to his cheek. Her skirts kick at your legs as she flounces about like a puppy.

“Oh, thank you! I’ll come by next Wednesday? To discuss design and budget, of course.”

Before you have a chance to even agree, she whirls out, her heels clicking over the cobblestone, but not before stopping suddenly, head tilted at you in confusion.

“I - yes?”

She laughs, shakes her head. “Nothing, only that it looked as if you had gotten younger somehow. Silly thought to tease you with, I’m sure. Goodbye!”

Her shoes sound over the stones and around the corner, naivety dancing past your window. You turn, bewildered, to Suki. She meets you halfway to stare at you just as intently. You look down at your hands, then to the half-sewn sigil in Seokmin’s mended shirt.

“Do...do you think it was really me?” You say softly to Suki. “I - do you think I can cast again?”

She chirps and leaps up to paw at the shirt, swiping it towards you. You nod and claim your usual place behind the desk, stitching away at the strength charm, pouring intent into every piercing of the fabric. You want this shirt to be strong, almost indestructible. The moment you tie the thread off, there is a gust of wind, warm and cold all at the same time. Suki bristles against it, struggling to hold herself upright. When it clears you let out a strangled scream.

Suki. She’s fluffy and majestic as the day the two of you met. As if the curse and mange had never happened. Whiskers straight and wispy, twitching proudly on her face. Her yellow eyes were vibrant, reminiscent of topaz rather than tarnished gold. She seemed to preen and wink at you, as if to say, yes, we’re back.

Jeonghan has shown up early - early being midday - for another round of study. But he’d gawked when he had seen you, claiming you were somehow different.

So, in a panic you dash back inside, scrambling for the powder room on the ground floor of Mingyu’s place. You delicately touch your face, watching your reflection react. Old. Not ugly anymore, but still old.

You tear up, biting your lip as your turn away in disgust all over again. You jump in fright at the sight of Jeonghan in the doorway. Then you promptly burst into tears, pushing past him and dashing down the path to your sewing room, slamming the door shut. You scramble to shut the filmy curtains there for privacy. Barely a moment later, there is a faint tap at the door.

"Go away!"

"Can I come in, please?" His voice is soft.

You whine out in disagreement. He knocks again, pleading gently.

"No! I'm still old! The curse isn't gone!" You cry out, crumpled against the wood.

Head buried in your knees, you lament your situation. He taps again, this time much closer to your head. His hand smooths down the wood and you assume he's sitting on the pebbled ground outside.

"Let me in so we can work this out together. Suki is out here and she looks perfectly fine. We really should talk about this."

"Ugh, I know she does! I don't want to! It's hopeless, Jeonghan. Go home, please. Take Suki with you if she'll let you. I really want to be alone." You whimper.

You can hear him shift against the wood. "Okay. But I will be back tomorrow. We will fix this. Together."

There is a soft tone of pleading you've never heard of before and he drifts away.

Jeonghan makes good on his promise, showing up the next afternoon to see how you are. He carries in a small pile of spell books, full of ideas. They fall quiet at the sight of you, passed out in the late afternoon sun over a half-made garment, the design plans crumpled under an outstretched arm. Jeonghan has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself silent. Your youth has returned to your face, smoothing out wrinkles and giving your hair a lively shade again. He seems to hold his breath, keeping the world as still as he can to look at you a moment more unbroken. This is really you. There is a pucker to your face as you shift in discomfort, opening your eyes. Then like the flood of a rainstorm, the age has returned, your prim hairstyle drawing your face back. He quickly drops all of his papers to your sewing cabinet, all of them obsolete at this new clue.

“J-Jeonghan. You are back.” You yawn, threading your needle into your garment in a baste stitch to hold it in place.

Standing, your posture isn’t as hunched as before and he can finally make out your proper facial features, even through the age. You would have looked beautiful a few months ago - you did, moments ago. The grey of your hair isn’t so wiry, more reminiscent of the silver that glints on his fingers when he casts spells - glowing and bright.

“I said I would be, so I am. Suki is in the kitchen with Mingyu. Seems like I’m not a cat’s cook.” He laughs softly.

You smile too and roll your eyes. “Don’t take it personally. She’s been my familiar for years and she’s never been completely happy with whatever I give her.”

Then, you look down to the garment you’re working on, fiddling with the rough hem. “By the way, I’m sorry for lashing out again, yesterday. It wasn’t the best news.”

He sighs and comes round to meet you by your desk. Jeonghan’s slender hand falls over your own, his thumb rubbing absent circles.

“I understand. Of course it wasn’t. It was something we didn’t factor into our journey. But it’s still progress. So now we work on this new phase.” He gives your hand a squeeze and a gentle smile. “Before you know it, you’ll be back to normal and even more amazing than before.”

With Jeonghan’s persistence at solving your magical mystery, you feel it’s only right to maybe divulge the true goal - your past. So one balmy afternoon, you walk to the back of the attic room, to the small shelf. Jeonghan is hanging in the doorway, polite yet curious. A single book sits flat - charred on the top corners and missing the back cover. Suki jumps up to the window sill and watches the two of you intently. You flip to the back few pages that move in a loop. Jeonghan leans over, scanning them carefully. It’s one of the few things you took from the accident, and it was only by luck seeing as it flew from the explosion and landed in the scorched grass nearby.

"That's Suki. Wait...is that. That's you." He says, pointing at one.

It's a personal favourite of yours. You were dancing in a circle on the back lawn of your ancestor's home, casting sparking light charms with your newly carved wand. Suki weaved and pounced at your feet, trying to catch them while you laughed at her. Even though it's in sepia tones you could see the life and youth that you used to have. The one next to it a few years before, out the front of the High Council building. You’re in your favourite cloak and a dark formal dress, the heirloom witches’ hat wonky on your head and a blinding smile. You’re holding your Class B Spellmaster qualification proudly in both hands, your wand clutched amongst it. A little over two years later, you were cursed.

"Yeah. That's what I looked like before the curse - that last one. A few months after this the accident happened and my wand splintered to pieces. I lost it and my youth to the fire." You murmur.

He smiles. "You're very pretty."

"Was, Jeonghan." You correct him gently with the slight gravel to your voice.

"Well, the ugliness was lifted, surely the age can be too." He says with conviction.

You shrug. "Let's hope."

All the while, Haeun slowly worms her way into almost every facet of your new life. Waltzing to your study space too often unannounced to do nothing but meddle and make herself at home.

Dinners and lunches at Mingyu’s round kitchen table he has to always polish before she comes or else she will say something about it. Perched daintily in the window of Seokmin’s conservatory as your little band of wizards tries another way to lift your curse. And if you weren’t familiar with these tactics you wouldn’t have picked up on just how damn nosey she was. She was no help in your quest to reverse your curse, content to babble and give the wizards the nth degree about absolutely nothing!

Asking Seokminnie about his wand skills, naively watching the shame round his shoulders as he confesses his minimal wand ability. Then her botched attempt to smooth it over and move on as if trying to hide a table under a rug.

You pat Seokmin’s arm later on, in a rare shadow of the greenhouse. “Seok, you’re the owner of the best apothecary in Martine. Who needs spells when you've got that?”

He smiles small and shrugs, his aura still seeming too dim for your liking. Such a kind young man didn’t deserve to be diminished.

“I guess. Thanks.”

“No, I mean it. Leave her be. You’re worth far more than you’re obviously giving credit for.”

Haeun isn’t a threat. You aren’t competition. There is no competition – you’re an old lady. Albeit a young woman trapped in the body of an elderly one, but still. Haeun doesn’t know that. Still, whenever she comes around to your sewing space specifically, babbling like a schoolgirl, you end up more accident prone and grinding your teeth. Mingyu and Joshua have wisely learnt that it is in your best health not to bring the Aria holidaymaker to the study.

Jeonghan is another story.

Suddenly, for all his perceptiveness, he brings her round every time he’s with her. Despite your abrasiveness toward her, he’s smooth as butter. Perches himself on the edge of your desk, the soft scent of honey and something fresh filling your senses. Haeun almost always tries to hover with him before resigning herself to the window seat, thus kicking Suki from her sun spot. You’re glad you have at least one comrade - as unlikely as she is - in arms against this imaginary foe. Surely he isn’t being that oblivious or insulting. Jeonghan isn’t like that. You hope it’s just a necessary evil he can’t get out of, or constant coincidence. Maybe she likes being in your space? Whatever it is, you wish it weren’t true.

Mingyu brings it up, oddly enough, as you nurse your tender, well-stabbed fingers just before dinner.

“Have you ever known Haeun to be a flirt?” He says over the chopping board.

You shrug. “Not entirely? She follows Jeonghan around like a lost puppy, but that’s most likely only because they’ve both been to Aria. I mean, I went when I was a kid - my grandmother had work liaisons with the royal family and their council - but I don’t remember much.”

The tall Kitchenmaster frowns and nods slowly. “I see.”

You stand up and scoop up the pile of carrots and drop it in the pot. “Why, ‘Gyu? Do you see something?”

Your heart sinks as you say it out loud and Suki peers up at you, careful and strangely still - now that she’s back on form, she’s exceedingly attuned to you, perceptive to everything you don’t want to say.

Mingyu shrugs. “I mean, it was fine at first - she’s new to Martine. But now she hangs off Jeonghan like a... a bit of a leech. She’s almost been run over twice! Jeonghan has had to pull her out of traffic both times and she fell all over him when she did so. I don’t know - it just seems a little too much to be coincidental. She’s even starting to stir talks in the bakery and the post office! Eugene is talking about her.”

Your brow shoots up and you decide to avoid Mingyu’s awfully accurate deductions. “Eugene! Well, she’s making an awful lot of fuss for some summer holiday maker.”

The tall young man shrugs, fluffing his brown hair out of his eyes. “I suppose. But I have a feeling she might fancy Jeonghan - she’s always trying to get him to go to dinner or lunch with her. He can’t seem to take the hint for once though. He’s usually so perceptive with people.”

You screw your nose up and scoff. “Oh, my days. Who would ever think that throwing yourself into oncoming traffic is a successful way of courting someone? I certainly hope you aren’t right, Mingyu or else I’ll be a bit sick. Poor Hannie.”

The taller man snaps his head up at the affectionate name, but says nothing else.

You see it yourself later in the week though when Jeonghan convinces you to come out with them for lunch. You even waggled your finger at him as menacing as you could.

“Only because I do have errands to run - I have some deliveries to pick up and drop offs to make, okay? Lunch is a maybe.”

He pouts at you as you leave the study and lock it behind you. Suki is right on your tail and you blow your silver-grey hair from your face.

“A definite maybe?”

You roll your eyes. “Fine… a definite maybe.”

Haeun somehow ends up trailing behind us and Suki, a third wheel dressed in a sunhat and another chemise de la Reine, a pricey garment for a stroll. “I - if you are too busy to come along, we understand, don't we Jeong? You ought to leave her alone at her work - she must have a lot to do.”

She hastens to shut the gate behind the lot of you, bundling up her skirts a touch so as not to catch it on the fence or the bushes. Her pet name for him makes you turn - it didn’t even roll well, you think in a petty tone. Jeonghan rolls his eyes, slipping your arm through his and patting your frail hand that rested over his forearm.

“Haeun, don’t be silly - our seamstress mistress here never comes out! She needs a rest - a breath of fresh air, hmm?”

He looks down at you kindly but you keep tight-lipped. You hope the elderly don’t know how to blush or you’re done for.

Jeonghan guides you to the inside of the sidewalk, closer to the shop fronts, his arm curled securely in yours. This leaves Haeun to bring up the rear, her steps fast and small as she tries to keep up with the two of you - Jeonghan’s legs long and your agenda short.

“So, what’s for lunch-”

“Can we go to the post office first? That’s why I came out. And to Madam Park.” You pat the hat box in front of you.

He rolls his eyes but smiles. “Ah, yes that. I suppose so - let me.”

He tugs the hatbox from your grasp, tucking it up under his arm. Haeun gasps and puffs on your tail as you turn into Martine’s post office, the door jingling brightly.

“Eugene!” You call.

A familiar man with dark wavy hair pops up around the corner, fluffy moustache and all.

“Ah! My favourite witch! And Jeonghan, Master of Spells!” Eugene cries out, heavily accented.

You roll your eyes. “You know better than to call me a witch - and don’t stroke his ego. He doesn’t need the help.”

You all laugh as the owner personally attends to you from the gate by the counter. His hands are permanently ink stained and a roll of postage stamps is unfurling from his pocket.

“Ah, but you have to be a witch to enchant Master Jeonghan to do anything!” Eugene counters.

Jeonghan’s mouth flaps indignantly, no sound able to come out, even as he goes a little pink. You actually giggle – Eugene had always been the best for banter, ever since you did his suit for him. The anniversary dinner went great and he had sung your praises to anyone in the post office that week.

“Do you have my parcels?” You chirp.

He nods and hums, flipping his imaginary mane of hair. “Certainly! A lot of them this week - are you sure you can carry them all?”

“I, uh just the little ones today - I’ll pick up the mannequin tomorrow.” You decide aloud.

He puts them in a little canvas bag, no doubt one of many from his wife, Francesca. “Here you go, amica.”

“Not to worry Eugene, I’ll pick up the mannequin tonight?” Jeonghan says breezily. Jeonghan scoops that the little canvas bag too, even as you grab for it in protest. He tips his nose up haughtily to end the conversation.

“Ah Master Jeonghan. Of course, of course.” Eugene smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges. “See? He’s so enchanted you didn’t even have to ask him!”

You protest again without much energy, more so out of propriety. They chat lightly and you happily wait. Maybe the wizard was right about getting some fresh air. Your shoulders felt lighter, your mind a little less restless. There is movement in the corner of your eye and you catch the tail end of Haeun slipping out the door to wait outside. With her many skirts and her feathered straw hat, maybe it had become a little claustrophobic in the little store for her. If she had learned to take off her hat…

Finally, the two of you wave off the postman and head back out into the sunny weather. Haeun appears indifferent and patient, turning from the shop window next door to brighten at the sight of you.

“Ah, Jeonghan.”

Oh. Right. Again, he situates you on the inside of the sidewalk and straightens his back. “Thank you for your patience, Haeun. Now, Y/N, what’s next?”

You lift the small package you bought with you; a pink cloth held together with twine. “I have to deliver this and the hatbox to Madam Park’s residence then I am back to the study.”

He pouts. “Not even lunch? Look, even Suki would like something to eat!”

You glance down to your familiar, sitting and glaring patiently. She just wants out, full stop. You stoop to glare her down – a stalemate. “You little… fine. Madam Park then lunch. Then, back to the study.” You state firmly.

Madam Park is not at home, but her doorman takes the package. You’re a little disheartened that you cannot see her reaction like you usually do, but surely she’ll come back later on in the week to thank you – she always does.

So as you walk down Martine’s cobbled Main Street – the only street in town devoid of any cars – the three of you discuss lunch prospects.

“What about that spicy thai?” Haeun suggests.

Before you can voice your weariness because you’re fussy like that, Jeonghan shakes his head. “No, Y/N is very sensitive to heat. There’s that tea house in the gardens? Overlooking the koi pond? An iced tea and something fresh?”

You smile. “Oh, you remembered. Thank you. But, I don’t mind.”

“The tea house it is then.” He decides.

As your little group walks downhill for the tea house, chat is mostly shallow - about things such as his upcoming jobs and rumours about Minji’s wedding. It was so far off but already the rumour mill was working overtime about anything from a secret child to his sister being snubbed from the guest list. You both know the truth and you’re delighted to hear that Hyunjin’s family has enlisted Soonyoung and Joshua to be part of the ceremony - both of their talents would be well utilised. Haeun makes comments here and there about the unfounded rumours as if they’re true but for once they roll off your back like water on duck feathers. His arm doesn’t loosen from yours once.

It’s mostly business as usual from here. Jeonghan brings your mannequin by and complains the whole time setting it up that it’s too heavy and any minor inconvenience in between. But it’s sorted eventually and just in time for Minji’s preliminary appointment - she’s bringing her mother and a few of her friends by too for an ideas session. She sent a brief message the other day that her whole wedding party was considering garments or accessories from you and you could already see how packed you would be leading up to it. Haeun comes around more unprompted, making herself a nuisance.

Haeun looks at you, pity bloomed like a garden in her eyes. “Oh, how horrible to be cursed with such an affliction. I would hate to be so old so soon.”

She shudders at the thought and you pause the mending of her winter stockings to glare at her. One positive to it all is how hard an old lady’s glare can hit home. It can silence even a morning rooster if used well. She stills and settles, suitably humbled-

“- but why someone would curse a mortal like us is beyond me.” She muses and your brows shoot up into your hairline. Mort-what? But she still wasn’t quiet, dammit.

“So, what did you look like before?” Haeun asks, fluttering her lashes.

She speaks as if she’s never been told no. You push her garment away, utterly finished for the day, no matter how much daylight was left. Although why she wanted to have a winter item fixed in summer was beyond you. Using and abusing your talent with a needle while she was here, must have been it.

“Younger.” You snap, rather loudly.

The young woman startles and looks at you, mouth finally closed.

“I have other errands to do - I’m sure you can see yourself out now. Suki.”

You stand, Suki hot on your heels, like she doesn’t want to be seen there either. There is a faint hiss from the furball as you turn the corner. And if Suki gets to her stockings again later on and renders them irrevocably damaged, you try very hard to appear ignorant and sorry. You don’t need her business - you weren’t that desperate.

But you startle on an overcast morning at the loud thunder of footsteps nearing you. There is a blur past your window before Jeonghan breaks into your doorway. His expression is the strongest pout you’d ever seen. He smells like smoked fish and his pants up to his knees sopping wet, not to mention the rest of him was at varying levels of soaked as well.

“What in Merlin’s - Jeonghan what happened?” You say, pushing your current commission aside. Suki stands still, very obviously torn between running and comforting him - the smoked fish smell is throwing her off, for sure.

He sighs, out of breath. “I was on a job this morning and the Port Authority forgot to mention that it was Flying Bluebream season. As soon as I started my casting on the first ship, they flew out of the water and into me! Then, since I hadn't finished the spell, the engine of the boat blew up with the sudden influx of weight and magical energy in the area and I almost sank with it! Never again. Soonyoung can have them.”

You take him in better and your chest seizes up. Softly, you mention the added problem. “Jeonghan…your cloak. Did it get caught in the engine maybe?”

His mournful eyes fly wide and he unclasps it from his neck, swinging it round for him to better examine. On the outside, there were fish scales and guts - that was an easy wipe down thanks to your sigils and choice of fabric. But the hem…it looked like it had been chewed on and spat out before being set on fire.  Then Jeonghan makes the loudest noise you’d ever heard from him - a raspy quiet-loud yell layered with dismay and frustration. He even gives it a maddened shake.

“How did I not notice? What are we going to do?” He cries out at the top of his lungs.

You’re shocked into silence with all the raucous he’s making and Suki has made her choice to back up behind the desk, her jewelled eyes blown wide. Carefully, you pry it from his grasp. As much as you’re annoyed by the destruction of your hard work, you know it’s not his fault. The Port Authority should have told him - they would know the seasons of the ocean off by heart, so to enlist his help but not think through all possible occurrences is their fault. Even the explosion is on their head. You carefully run your fingers over the damage, mind wandering. You still had scraps of his cloak material in the cupboard and you could add that length back along with the sigils, which had held up surprisingly well. They would be even better now you had some of your magic back.

“Calm down, Hannie.” You say, gentle. “First of all, we need to clean it of all this fish and guts. Go find Mingyu and ask for a bucket of warm soapy water and a soft scrubbing brush. And a stool - I’ll need something to sit on.” You give him a once over and frown, reaching for him - you weren’t sure where your hand wanted to land though. “Oh, Jeonghan, please get a change of clothes too. You’ll get sick.”

He nods and races out. You carefully drop it to the floor while putting your pin cushion and various other sewing supplies aside. Then you adjust your apron tighter and roll up your sleeves past your elbows, grabbing a scrap ribbon to keep your hair out of your face. Suki sniffs the air and backs up even more and you shoot her a look.

“Don’t you be so dramatic. When Jeonghan gets back, you need to be nice. He’s your favourite, so it shouldn’t be too hard, huh?” You mutter at her.

From there, you scoop it back up and take it outside, resting it on a windowsill. He waddles around the corner moments later, trying as best as he can not to let the water slosh. His lovely brow is furrowed deeply, teeth bared in concentration.

“I’ve got to get you a stool - be back.” He adds as soon as he’s put the bucket in front of you.

You pick up the brush straight away from the depths of the water, brisky brushing it down to dislodge the unwanted debris and give it an initial spot wash. You make a note to sweep this all away into the garden once it is all sorted. You delicately soak the swath of fabric and you’re about to drop into an awkward squat when he comes out in a shirt two sizes too big, sliding to bare his porcelain collarbones and a pair of trousers with a drawstring tightened over his hips and rolled up at the hem. He’s in a pair of clogs you would have thought were for gardening and a towel slung around his shoulders. Jeonghan’s wand holster has moved from under against his ribcage to sit lopsided on his hip, easier to put on but more often a more combat-style placement. You bury a chuckle behind your fist and he sets a three-legged seat by you. You don’t react and take a seat, getting to work on washing out the smell and anything else hidden.

“When I’m done, this is going to have to dry before I can mend it. If we do it without a spell, I won’t be done till tonight at least. Unless Mingyu or you have anything up your sleeves to dry it out quicker.” You say, starting to twist your wrist to scrub.

He’s gone again and by the time Suki has finally braved the mild elements and you’ve finished washing it, he’s back, his wand twirling between his gracefully calloused fingers. There is a bit more pep in his step too and his hair is dry, towel missing.

“Hang it here.” He says with soft command, gesturing to Mingyu’s washing line. 

Once done, his hand takes your wrist, keeping you close and yet out of the way. He murmurs an incantation and a sculpted blast of wind spurts from the tip of his wand, swirling and fluttering the garment in a targeted way before dissipating. Mingyu had obviously provided some kind of spell, as you suspected he had as a Kitchenmaster. You’re smiling smugly when you whip it from the line and bring it back inside.

“Jeonghan, can you give me…two hours? Then it’ll be good as new.” You say, already buried in the cupboard full of your scraps.

He takes a seat in the window, sleepy lashes fluttering expectantly with his chin in his palm. “I’ve got time.”

You can’t help but smile a little, trying in vain to press it down between your lips. In an effort to be nonchalant, you shrug and stoop over your emergency project, brandishing your scissors to the light like a mad scientist before hacking at the charred edges. His eyes on you set you ablaze and build the much-needed pressure to spur you on.

Finally, after exactly two hours and a lot of fiddly sewing and snipping, the sigils are fixed and the hem looks like it never happened. It had somehow gotten easier over time, your shoulders and knuckles not aching so much and more dexterous than usual. You put it down to finding a working rhythm. Now you lift it and flick it straight with a flourish, presenting it to Jeonghan, who has been mostly quiet during your fever state. He springs to his feet on your rug, having kicked Mingyu's gardening shoes by the coat hooks. He doesn’t even bother inspecting your work, reaching straight for it and slinging it over his shoulders. His eyes sparkle again and his lemony hair has regained its willowy life.

“Are you not going to check my workmanship?” You pout a little.

“Do I have to? I trust you.” Jeonghan says lightly, smoothing it down his sides.

“What about a thank you?”

He rolls his eyes and leans for you, bowing multiple times. “Thank you so much for your tireless work, Mistress Y/N. Ah, my hero - an angel.” Then he goes ramrod straight, his eyes lighting up, scarily so. “Yes, Angel.”

You squint your eyes in return. “Why do I feel like that isn’t good for me?”

He reaches to brush a non-existent hair from your cheek and you seize up with the affectionate implication. Then there’s that grin that only spells trouble, too pretty and too sly.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Angel.”

Then you scowl and clench your teeth, hoping you can’t blush - they way his grin widens and his shoulders roll back says otherwise. You curse Great Merlin, Morgana and all in between for the name. With that he whirls out, mentioning something about Mingyu and washing.

Haeun’s outspoken opinion really crosses state lines one blithe summery day in the studio, which has eventually become the main hub of all things – Mingyu’s kitchen is usually the other location of large discussion. Soonyoung has come in with another newspaper article, detailing the sanctions and tough conditions wizards and now other magic users are facing in Aria. You know that this would be a matter of great concern to your grandmother, as a principal member on the High Council. But, no mention of them has occurred yet. Perhaps they are biding their time on a plan of sorts. You look over to Jeonghan, who has sobered at the mention of other magic users. His sister. You hope the Council has a plan.

You frown. “That’s horrible. But surely, a crusade against wizards is a little much?”

Haeun looks at you with a glaring pout. “Love is enough for a war. A broken heart is enough for such a mission. I feel as though maybe your age may cause you to forget the strength of young love.”

You rear up, pushing aside the mending task at hand. Stepping around the desk, you point menacingly. Mingyu is startled, too stunned by the unfolding argument to intervene.

“Excuse me? Did you just call me a forgetful old biddy?” You snap. “Heartless and dismissive because I think the king and princess are being stupid?”

Her eyes widen and she puts her palms up. “No! No, not at all! Only that things feel different over time and such an endeavour is warranted for a higher power.”

Another step as you swat her hands away to encroach on her space even more, forcing yourself to look upwards at her soft face. You growl through clenched teeth, “you’re making it worse.”

“Whatever do you mean? Madam Y/N, the crusade in Aria is at the will of the blood of the monarchy and magic. I was always told that magic casters felt things differently - stronger - and that their love was not something to be messed with. It was fate and it cannot be fought. So of course the current situation in Aria is serious. But easily resolved.” Haeun pouts, tilting her head like a lost puppy.

Now your finger jabs her chest, hard and you bare your teeth just like Suki. She gasps, making a little squeak when you do it again. “How - How - just where did you hear all of this drivel! You Arians are delusional if that’s what you all think. It’s cruelty - even a mortal can see that!”

Jeonghan delicately reaches out to grasp your hand, turning your smaller frame away. His eyes are insistent, the quirk to his mouth begging you to back down.

“Okay, okay, let’s give everyone a little space. Haeun?” He soothes, even as his eyes slide back to you to betray his uneasiness. “Come, this kind of topic is not worth the energy.”

You’re still glaring. She relents and smiles prettily at Jeonghan.

Haeun nods. “Exactly. As much as the King is right, it’s not something to be debated over at this point in time. Everyone here is safe.” As you try to dodge and struggle at her underhanded quip, she looks expectantly at the wizards in the room. “Masters Jeonghan and Mingyu, will you accompany me to a lunch venue - I haven’t had a chance to find anywhere particularly enticing today.”

Jeonghan smiles diplomatically, stepping away from you and closer to the door. “Certainly, it would be a pleasure.”

Soonyoung has wedged himself up against the wall at the exchange, gaping like a fish out of water. All over a news article, he’s probably thinking. Haeun dips her head at you as you stew, smiling brightly. Her dress is taking up most of the work space and you want to yank off the silly lobster tail bustle you would never see in this summer weather. Not to mention the hat she rudely left on as she entered, despite standing right next to the coat rack. She keeps doing these things! How quickly your perception of a person can change.

“Right then.” She quirks her lips up in a wry smile, as if she knows something you don’t. Such a feeling is something you’re not used to. “I have a feeling our relationship is becoming quite interesting, Madam Y/N. Even with our differences - but that will only make it all the more intriguing, will it not? Hmm, goodbye.”

She turns with a swirl and exits the room, leaving you unable to make a reply as she leaves the door wide open. What in Merlin’s name is that cryptic babble supposed to mean? You turn your lip back and shut the door with a simple push - an action that takes about as much effort as a charm in a sock. So why couldn’t she do it! Jeonghan looks at you and presses a polite kiss to your temple, patting your hand.

“I’ll see you later, okay? Try to calm down. She’s from Aria - she doesn’t mean to antagonise you. That’s just the way their people are.” He says with a shrug.

You arch a brow. “What, like you?”

He clasps his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, Angel. I’m a delight.”

He tucks your grey hair behind your ear and waves you off. Jeonghan jogs after the others and around the corner, waving wildly as he passes the window - you roll your eyes and return the gesture, sagging against the edge of the desk the moment his shadow is gone. Suki watches you and in an uncharacteristic move, jumps the desk to your hip and settles against you, the fluffy warmth swathing you in a moment of calm.

Seokmin has a massive order of potions to send out, so he’s called everyone in to help. The sun doesn’t blister through the cloudy day, which is a saving grace. Soonyoung and Joshua, a Crystalmaster in the highest class are inside the shop arguing over whether rose or rose hip is the better ingredient while Seokmin is working on one cauldron in the warm conservatory. Jeonghan is there too, laughing amongst them all - goodness, he glows. You’re with the far larger cauldron outside - this batch flies off the shelves so it needs to last at least the rest of summer. It’s in the final stages of brewing, you know that much, with how few ingredients are left out.

You don't miss Haeun walking past the simmering potion, thick fluttering lashes blinking curiously as she passes by. You turn your attention back to the bunch of herbs you've twisted in twine, chopping the foliage as small as possible for the next step of the potion. You suddenly flinch as the sharp smell of something chemical and sour hits your nose. Looking back up to the potion, you see dark smoke curling thick from the cauldron.

"Uh, Seokmin?" You yell from the courtyard, unable to tear your eyes away from the vicious turn.

You shoo Suki back as you peer into the iron vessel. It bubbles thick and slow like tar while simultaneously bubbling and boiling in the middle like dishwashing liquid. It's turned from a calm aloe green to a sickly swamp and forest shade. You jump back with a squeak as a large bubble pops and spits. The four rush out, Seokmin pushing through. Haeun is perched on the entry steps, brow creased.

"What did you do?" Seokmin says accusingly, dipping his ladle into scoop some of the turning potion out into a shallow bowl. It hisses and burns, the smoke lessening.

"I didn't do anything! I don't have the recipe, you do. Besides, I don't have the kind of power to put something in with that much intent, we all know this." You snap, stepping back.

You cross your arms, indignant that you were accused of something that you didn't do. Joshua screws his nose up at the scent, falling back next to you. His built upper body dwarfs you greatly and you bury the urge to shrink into his dark navy cloak.

"Can you fix it, Seok?" Soonyoung murmurs.

"Maybe. Do we have salt, distilled water, probably sage and… ‘Shua, you got any quartz on you?"

Joshua beams and fishes amongst his many pockets to pull out a white crystal. "Always."

You and Soonyoung wade over with the other ingredients, watching as he carefully cups a small pile of salt in, a hefty splash of moon water and a whole bundle of sage. He murmurs to the quartz in his hands until it glows and drops it in, waiting. It seems to calm and dilute itself, falling back to a simmer. But as soon as it calms, it seems to turn violent, growing rapidly in size, the iron cauldron warping with the backfired potion. Seokmin's eyes fly wide.

"It’s going to blow! Run!"

The group scatters, but as you hear the rumble and creak growing in insistence over your shoulder, you worry if you'll make it. Jeonghan turns and yanks on your arm, huddling you in front of him as he dives for the work bench you were just at. There is a hollow explosion, seemingly full of air that bursts behind you and rocks the bench, then a heavy splatter. Jeonghan keeps you curled up tight against him, tucked under his chin. It goes quiet and all of you peek to see the damage. The backyard is covered with tar-like liquid, Seokmin's cauldron out of shape at the rim, but not burst. You're shaking from the suddenness of everything and Jeonghan is gentle in helping you up and trying to soothe your racing heart. Haeun and Soonyoung both pop out from inside the conservatory and Seokmin and Joshua from around the side of the shop. Suki is frazzled in the window.

"What the hell happened to that?" Joshua says carefully.

"No idea. Something might have fallen in it. Also, definitely the sage." Seokmin confirms, dodging the sticky substance on the floor and walls.

You can feel eyes on you and you slide your sight to catch Haeun staring right at you, mouth ajar. She blinks rapidly upon being found out, turning away purposefully. Her nose still tips up in the air. Jeonghan's arm doesn't leave your shoulder.

"I'm gonna get y/n back to Gyu's - she's a bit shaken up. Will you be okay here without me?" The pretty Spellmaster says.

Seokmin sighs. "Yeah, I guess. We have the cleaning here covered. See you guys later. Feel better soon."

You wave goodbye, not sure if you can trust your voice yet. Jeonghan's arm doesn't leave your shoulders, Suki trotting in your shadow. You're glad the walk isn't very far, but he still lets you take your time as your breath still rattles and your limbs suddenly fragile as glass. You hate being reminded of how out of touch your body is with your mind. It's not until you're back at Mingyu's, sat at his rocky kitchen table that you finally speak.

"Haeun was the last person near the potion." You murmur.

The pretty Spellmaster turns to you from the window - he’s gorgeous in that afternoon sunlight. "What?"

"Haeun. She was near the potion right before it went weird. I don't want to point fingers but there's a chance that she put something in." You dip your head.

Jeonghan takes the seat next to you, resting his hands over your knees. Dark eyes bore into you, steady and sure. There is no vengeful conviction, but you don’t need that. Whatever Jeonghan is, is enough.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this. I believe you.” His lip pulls up and he pats your knee again, a little more rough and good natured. Then he stands and pats at the sleeve of your dress, adjusting the strap of your apron. “I’m going to go back and check on the clean-up. But I’ll be back for dinner tonight. Will you be okay till then?”

You nod. “Sure. We’ll be out in the study, hmm Suki?”

She tilts minutely to open her eyes, the best version of agreeing you’ll get. Jeonghan hums. “Right, then, I’ll see you later, Angel.”

He floats out and you wave your fist indignantly after him the moment he closes his mouth. “Hey, stop calling me Angel! I’m an old woman for goodness’ sake!”

 You hear later on that the cleaning went off without a hitch and that the next batch of potions did as well, notably you were not invited. It feels like a bit of a stab to the gut, but you try to brush it off, especially with the amount of commissions you have this month - you would have more than enough money left over after Mingyu’s board and re-stocking your supplies you wouldn’t even know what to do with it!

Haeun comes by far more often than before, sometimes even unaccompanied. Still shoving Suki from her place in the sun and pulling out a battered poetry book that she didn’t seem to really read. Instead, she would interrogate you, full of backhanded compliments and badly veiled insults under the guise of curiosity and culturally different social etiquette. Suki had made it clear she hated her, even ditching you in favour of scruffy little Aji in the main house. You bit your tongue a lot with her, especially after the last argument. Pick your battle seemed to be the motto of your relationship.

“So, Madam Y/N. Jeonghan likes to be close to you. Wouldn’t you consider that a little odd at your age?” She says with her funny little lilt. Her poetry book hasn’t been touched, her pinky finger slipped between the wrong pages.

Your teeth grind but you don’t stop to look up at her. “Perhaps, but I’m also at the age where we can learn a lot from one another. He could stand to grow up a little. I don’t read into it, Haeun. Besides, didn’t you say that age moves differently with magic users?”

Her pillowy mouth rounds and flaps as she struggles for words. “But-but it still doesn’t make sense. He takes such good care of you and escorts you out of here like a date! I find it far too familiar of the two of you.”

“Jeonghan takes care of me. I am frail and ill-tempered at my age. He and the others are kind and attentive to me and my afflictions. There is nothing wrong with that, nor is there any more to it. Haeun, I would sincerely advise you to stop trying to read between lines that are not there.” You are quiet yet firm.

She merely ducks her head, scolded for the time being. After a long while where you manage to finish the darts needed for the garment and she ruminates in the quiet, Haeun sets her poetry book aside and reaches into her reticule to pull out an embroidery panel of Aria’s native flowers.

“Madam Y/N, I would like to give this to you. I am by no means the best at the work, but I thought you might appreciate it.” She lays it in front of you, right over the garment you’re currently working on.

Again, as if she is the centre of everyone’s universe. You pick it up to better inspect it. It’s a shocking result - the threads are uneven and twisted, front and back and you worry that the hoop hasn’t been tightened to the correct tension. You smile thinly and put it in the third draw of the desk - where you keep your scraps.

“Haeun, thank you for the gift. I can see you worked very hard on it and appreciate it very much.” You lie through your teeth.

She preens. “Thank you for noticing. I think I should get going though - I do have other appointments.”

You grunt a reply but question what other engagements she has - she has only ever oscillated around the young wizards you call friends. She pops to her feet and glides out, leaving a heady scent of roses in her wake that stab right between your eyes.

Perhaps it’s your own fault for going back this late at night – your last delivery could have waited, and you certainly weren’t given extra for it like usual. The sea breeze whipped through these narrow streets particularly sharply, so the shawl you had on combatted it well. Soonyoung had brought it back as a souvenir from his trip to the mountains, so the fabric was enchanted – thin but well insulated for versatility. Despite the late time, the shadows were longer and darker than expected.

Then there was the smell. Rather than the brisk tang of sea salt and a touch of pine from the shoreline, this was closer to sulphur or the mudflats from further down the coast. The swamp dwellers were notorious for their proclivity to dark magic. They were the ones you went to for revenge and the forbidden. So why that scent was here confused you. The air was thick and the streets devoid of people, something was very wrong. People liked to stand on the cobbled streets well into the night, warm drinks in hand, socialising in the most inconvenient of places.

You turn and stretching from every shadow and unsavoury corner are beings oozing and rasping toward you. Bottomless ink black Phantoms for your soul. The more shadows you pass, the more they catch and gather, growing in numbers. The smell is thick and suffocating, an ice cold rocketing up your spine. Mingyu’s is too far, Seokmin too far as well and under protected for such a situation. Joshua has already been passed. Jeonghan said he was on a job tonight. Which leaves Soonyoung. He’s a detour down a risky, dimly lit alley to the parallel street, but it had to be done.

“S-Suki, Soonyoung’s. Go.” You gasp, as she yowls and takes off running.

You pick up the pace as best you can with the uneven cobblestones and winding streets. The Phantoms sound like a windstorm, no human noise to be heard. They swallowed anything human or otherwise they set their sights on. You let out a weak yell when you feel a tendril, wet and viscous glance at your ankle. Soonyoung lives in a wonky little townhouse with warm brown and black fired brick and a russet brown door. There is some kind of sigil carved into the door, a pattern of them around the doorframe and windows as well. Perfect choice to seek refuge with. The door flings open before you can get to it, his keen eyes on you as he grabs both of your wrists and yanks you in. The door slams shut. Suki is sitting on his living room carpet, awash in warm tones and streaks of black.

“By Merlin, what’s going on with you!” He cries, patting you briefly to check you over.

“Phantoms.” You wheeze.

He jumps, wriggling about on the spot. “You brought Phantoms to my door! How did you find them?”

You lean against his hall table and glare at him. “They found me.”

“Phantoms are old entities. They need something physical to keep them attached to this plane.” He murmurs to himself, looking you over with his chin in his hand.

Soonyoung goes still then fixates on the brooch that kept your shawl on your shoulder. He points accusingly at it as it glints in the streetlight. “Where did you get that from?” He yells out.

You pat it, tracing your finger over the filigree edging. “I - Haeun gave it to me. For fixing her third dress this month. Said it was in her family but not her taste? Insolent girl.”

She’d implied that it was too dated for her and that your old age was perfect for it. By Merlin, always a dig at your age from her, constantly backhanded. He almost rips your shirt-waist in his haste to take it off your person. As your shawl falls away, he tosses it to the floor of his hallway like it burns. Again, he points at it aggressively.

“That - that thing is riddled with negative energy! It has to be cursed as well.” he tosses a glance over your shoulder to the Phantoms loitering outside his door. “That’s why those entities have been chasing you. Something has happened to set off the energy and attract them. We need this cleansed, right now.”

Soonyoung backs up the hall, eyes still on the glinting metal. “Stay here. Watch that. I’ll call the others.”

As soon as he turns the corner for his pokey kitchen, the windows start to whistle and rattle, as if there is a hurricane outside. You know it's the Phantoms. But you don’t dare face them with what Soonyoung has told you. Something you don’t want to risk blinking and missing. Moments later, he’s racing out the room, and grabbing your wrist, yanking you down the house after him. Throwing open a door with his free hand, there is a small, step-in study with all sorts of ritual resources. Instantly, he pulls a swath of cloth, a jar of salt, matches and some dried herb bunch. The phantom hurricane roars louder and you shriek in shock. His brows are set - you’ve never seen him so serious and determined, usually happy-go-lucky and chaotic.

He passes you the cloth and salt. “Can you help me block off the area? Until they get here?”

“Who’s coming?” You ask as you throw the sigil-sewn cloth over the brooch and trickle a steady unbroken ring of salt around it.

“Everyone - ‘Shua, Seokminnie, Jeonghan and Mingyu. If it can pull out all this level of Phantom, I don’t know how powerful it actually is.”

Everything within you seems to seize up as you stare, unseeing, at the pile of fabric at your feet. His warm hand wraps around your shoulder. He’s burning the herbs, waving the smokes in patterns over the brooch. Soonyoung’s sharp gaze shortens momentarily.

“We’ve got you. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m so sorry for bringing this into your house.” You lament.

He shrugs. “That’s what friends are for. I’m glad you trusted me enough to find me for help. I was probably your best bet in a pinch anyway - a lot of my magic works with physical items and energy signatures.”

There is a long, frantic knocking at the door and Soonyoung leans back to call down the hall, “come round back! Quick!”

Joshua bursts in first, his cloak pockets heavy and clinking softly with his multitude of crystals. His hair looks a little sleep rumpled. “I saw them crowd the windows - what’s going on?” He says.

“Y/n set off a cursed artefact. Phantoms ensue.” Soonyoung explains. “D’you bring cleansers and shields?”

You take offence to his choice of words. “I-hey! I didn’t do anything but wear it! Why do you guys keep thinking it’s my fault these things happen?”

The dancer gives you a sympathetic look but says nothing more of it. Instead they seem to ignore you and start to merge and chatter orders and ideas, Joshua setting crystals - most quartz - around your shawl. Static starts to build in the air and the Phantoms even more restless somehow. You feel listless and left out. Maybe even a bit envious - if you had proper magic this would never have happened. Jeonghan breaks in next, hair windblown and his cloak buttoned wonky over an undershirt and loose trousers. His scowl rivals the storm outside. Instantly he steps for you, raising a hand to your face, checking you over.

“What happened? Are you all right?” He says a little harsher than you’re used to.

Still, you nod as Mingyu jogs in, apron smouldering in patches and Seokmin carrying a large bag, a little pink in the face.

“Yes, I’m well. The brooch from Haeun is cursed.” You mutter.

His expression turns funny - something about it you can’t pin down - and he guides you to the edge of the stairs. “I see. Stay here while we cleanse it. Then we’ll dispose of it.”

“I’m sorry for pulling you away from your commission.” You mumble, tilting your chin away from him.

“Hey, hey. It’s alright, Angel. I’ll always come. Let’s go, hmm?”

He knows you too well, that after this ordeal you wouldn’t want anything to do with it anymore. That you knew he was busy and Soonyoung called him anyway. Seokmin is frantically stirring and splashing concoctions on the pile while Mingyu, Soonyoung and Jeonghan plan out a spell. The three of them start to chant in Archaic, wands aimed at a point in the air. You clasp your hands over your ears as the noise of the Phantoms becomes closer to a wretched scream. The fabric starts to smoke then is alight with bright orange flames, burning rapidly to a crisp, with the ease that the natural cotton had. Then the brooch starts to jump and rattle, writhing painfully on Soonyoung’s floor. Seokmin peeks under Mingyu’s arm to splash some more potion on it. Joshua is sat on the floor, eyes screwed shut as the quartz flexes and glows at his command - you can almost see the tangible webbing of magic whispering white between them, like a cage. There is the sensation of all the air being sucked from the room, into the brooch in its last ditch attempt to fight before it also screeches and pops, molten and limp. Mingyu’s forehead is beaded with sweat and Soonyoung’s jaw is cleaned so tightly you would have mistaken it for being screwed shut. But the Phantoms are silent, the streetlight back to glaring through Soonyoung’s front windows. You slump and heave a sigh, the air back to normal. Joshua, a little pale, collects his precious stones and stores them in his cloak, clattering away with the weight. He tilts his head to check in on you.

“How are you?” He says gently as always.

You smile. “Better, now that’s over. Thank you all for your help.”

He rises to his feet and rubs warmly at your upper arm. “Of course we would. Here, take a couple of these for protection for a little while. You know the drill - put them at windows and on your person.” He drops a few quartz and malachite into your apron pocket with a soft smile.

They’re all a little drained from the ordeal, so Soonyoung brews some tea and you all claim various seats, sprawling out from the front living room to the stairwell where you stayed on the bottom steps. The tea was warm and strongly herbal with lemon balm and chamomile. You were pointedly not looking at the heirloom item that had started all of this. Seokmin is the first to finish, taking his chipped mug to Soonyoung’s sink and meandering over to you. He leans on the banister to peer over at you. The tea serves to centre and settle your thoughts and Suki slips into the living room for some attention.

“Are you okay?” He says softly; kindly. “What a night!”

You shrug. “I am now. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry for causing you such trouble. This is the second time something has happened.”

His arm awkwardly reaches over and pats your shoulder. “No, not at all. Anything for a friend. As long as you’re safe now.”

Jeonghan is next, coming round to stoop by your knees. His eyes are more droopy than usual but they never waver from you. If he had the energy you were sure he would have crossed his arms or put his fists on his hips. The background noise of the house guests is an added comfort.

“I agree.”

Somehow, the very sight of him settles you even more, any walls or cautious misgivings crumbling away. He tips his chin and you shuffle over so he can sit next to you by the wall. His knees go up comically high with how low he sits. But instantly, his arm is around you, humming and patting.

“There we are. We should get you home soon, hmm?”

You nod and let Seokmin pull you to your feet. You squeeze his hand and look for a long moment at Jeonghan. “It happened again. Something from Haeun. She brought it from Aria.”

You’re thankful that Jeonghan is whip-smart - not that you’d ever admit it to his face - and can read between the lines. He smooths your stray hair down, fluffing the ends of it. He has that funny look on his face again, the same one he had before the spell when you had mentioned her and you physically bite your tongue, regretting even voicing your half-thoughts. Seokmin is too busy guiding you through the cluttered hallway of shoes and various items they had all brought with them, dumped unceremoniously. You call short and brisk for Suki and she brings the rest of your friends with her as they cram into the doorway. They look ridiculous, all wide, patient eyes watching you.

“I-I’m going to head out. So I’ll take the -”

Soonyoung’s eyes crease and he quickly scoops up the cloth and brooch, throwing it over his shoulder into the burning fireplace. The fire twists a brief cobalt blue before settling, the cotton and metal smouldering to nothing. It should put things to rest, but thoughts linger, like floating particles in water.

“No, you aren’t. I would never make anyone carry a cursed artefact. Y/Nnie, go home. Me, Seokmin and ‘Shua will clean up.”

Mingyu’s wide frame breaks free and meets you at the front door so you’re wedged in by Jeonghan on one side, and the kitchenmaster on the other. You give everyone brief goodbyes as you're escorted out the house and onto the hill. You didn’t do anything but you don’t have the effort to be part of the empty conversation going on over your head. The pair of them lead you upstairs and Jeonghan waits outside while you get changed and settle for bed. You have no shame as he moves about the room, murmuring some spells over windows and any kind of door including your wardrobe. Suki steers clear of the windowsill where the Spellmaster sets up Joshua’s cluster of stones. The moonlight that streams in seems to glow whiter than before the quartz was there, like filtering dirt and evil. Even with his sluggish movements, Jeonghan even tucks you into bed, patting the blankets down over you!

His hand stills on the folded edge as he seems to look past you. “Angel, if anything else happens, we will need to talk. You aren’t safe anymore.”

You try to sit up, but with how tightly he has you wrapped, it’s not possible. “What do you mean by that?”

“Once is a coincidence, twice is a maybe. Three times? Someone wants to hurt you.” His tone is devoid of the initial bravado or sweet warmth you’ve always known from him.

“Jeonghan, the only changed catalyst since I’ve been here is Haeun. I’m scared she has something to do with it. But I haven’t done anything to her - she’s just a rude girl from Aria.” 

Your turn of phrase doesn’t lighten his demeanour. But he says nothing else, instead, smoothing the covers down one more time and giving Suki a scratch behind the ear before turning out the light.

“Goodnight, Angel.”

Jeonghan is around far more than not now, as is Soonyoung who brings a life to your space that you appreciated in the short bursts he gave. There is a brightness and innocence to the energy he gives, always coming from a place of good - even as he grumbles when you use that boundless energy of his to rearrange the study. You aren’t sure how Jeonghan manages to hang around so often, especially between his jobs. If anything, they should be building with the near change of the season. But he even escorts you to your various deliveries and supply pickups from Eugene. He doesn’t say why, only that he “always has time for you, Angel.” Which you partially expect with your curse, but his world should not revolve around you.

It’s one of these various trips that Haeun tacks herself onto, drifting out of the tea house and sweetly calling Jeonghan’s name. She struggles a little to catch up but hums and smiles.

“Thank goodness. I haven’t seen you for such a long time. May I accompany you? Oh, Madam Y/N. You are out today as well?”

What in the - you had both walked past the window together! You simper over your shoulder at her.

“Correct. As long as we are not disrupting any prior engagement of yours.”

She tuts and shakes her head while Jeonghan has an eerily still look about him, his head slanted and eyes slightly squinted. His gaze is intense and disarming so you have no idea how she is managing to act so blithe under its beam. The plan now is to head back to Mingyu’s with a supply pick up and you wished she wasn’t accompanying the three of you to no doubt insert herself into her place in your study. No point arguing it now. Conversation is stilted and awkward as you personally struggle to maintain politeness. Suki has gestured to something for Jeonghan and he humours her, dawdling to a shop window she arches up to. A sharp shriek from Haeun cuts through you, right in your ear and you pause to turn at the drama. You don’t get to eye her when she cries out again in vague distress and leaps backwards, knocking you backwards over the edge of the sidewalk.

The tram is the only mode of transport along this road, horse and buggies no longer allowed due to the… smell, so usually you would be able to right yourself, dust off and scold the flighty young woman with time to spare. But the trolley cars were running late, almost front to tail. All you can hear is the persistent dinging of the trolley car rolling down the hill, signalling disaster. Haeun is still muttering and whining, her hands over her face and her pretty button up boots standing on your own skirt so you can’t move. Jeonghan yells, high and thin and while you’re struggling to move as close to the sidewalk as you can, he drops all your supplies and nudges the girl out the way. Her feet tangle and her eyes fly wide as she almost hits a store window - by Merlin you all must look like a slapstick skit. The ringing bell is deafening now and the Spellmaster stoops over to effortlessly scoop you up and onto the walkway, both arms wrapped tightly around you to tuck you against his chest. You can hear his heart flutter and his breath heave loudly over you. The tram rattles past, the passenger chatter an inaudible blur.

“Good Morgana, that was close. Y/N, are you well?” He mutters, leaning back just enough to eye you.

You nod. “Yes, thank you. I don’t know what happened, I - Haeun?”

You carefully unfurl yourself from the blonde, peering around to the young woman, tears dried on her cheeks. Suki stands between the pair of you, wide stance and glaring.

“Haeun, what’s going on?” You say sternly.

She sniffles and shakes her head, trying to almost bury her face under her hat like a child. Jeonghan’s hands fall protectively to your shoulder and the small of your spine, over the knot of your apron.

“Goodness, I’m so sorry! Only I - it was just here?”

“What was?” You press, scowling.

“The-the Kaononai. It came out from that bookstore. Oh it was so scary!” She cried out, her hands already reaching for her face.

You glanced down to Suki who hadn’t let Haeun out of her sight. “Suki, did you see it?”

Her tail flickered, as did her left ear, but no response - something to discuss when you both got back to the studio.

“Haeun, you need to be careful.” Jeonghan says, careful yet firm.

She pouts and goes a little cold, her fists bunching tightly so they turn pale. Suki’s tail has fluffed up and you make a point of looking around for anything dangerous. The only being that could cause trouble is Haeun at this second.

“Me, be careful? Jeonghan, if I was right and the Kaononai was really here, we would all be dead by now from it.” She says low - it’s the most threatening thing you’ve heard from her and sounds nothing like the obnoxious innocent little mortal from Aria that has been shadowing your group since the day she arrived.

His grip tightens on you. “Y/n certainly would be - she doesn’t have magical offensive skills and your panicked dancing could have killed her before the Kaononai got to any of us. Besides, Suki is a very well attuned animal and would have sensed it long before you.”

She glares down at your familiar, going beet red in the face - you could have sworn you saw steam billow from her little ears. It’s a miracle that no one else has shown up on your part of the street, even as onlookers on the other side of the street pass. Suki’s eyes glow and somehow, you’re touched by her fierce show of protection. She’s never done something like that for you in all your years of tethered companionship.

“Suki, shhhh.” You say, repeating it till she had taken a step back. You level a look at Haeun. “I think you ought to go back to your lodgings and lie down. It’s all been a bit much for you today. Good bye, Haeun.”

You don’t leave any room for argument with your patronising tone – you really couldn’t keep it to yourself, no matter how much you should have tried - and Jeonghan seems to take a hint, collecting everything from the pavement. He tips his head in a silent sulk her way and turns on the heel of his boot to follow you with Suki proudly leading. You leave her on the street and while you don’t regret it, something ice cold and viscous seeps down your spine.

Jeonghan guides you home startlingly somber, and drops your things in the study when he asks for the key while depositing you in Mingyu’s front living room. It’s a warm space of neutral cream shades and comforting textures and fabrics. The main window oversees the front garden, private enough thanks to the fence and the artfully placed rose trees - less so bushes from the way they grew upwards. Suki claims the space next to Aji, both little furballs feeding off one another’s warmth. Jeonghan returns with a glass of water for each of you and deposits it on a dated doily.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You can say no.” He says soft and firm, dark eyes settled on you.

You nod your head. “I’m a bit shaken, but fine.”

You have too much to do to be shaken. Jeonghan has now insisted on staying with you in your study, not hiding the fact he wants to keep an eye on you. He’s managed to simmer down much faster than you have from the events. A surprise with how riled up he was right after - he didn’t fight your cold dismissal of her either. You hiss as you prick your finger on the needle - usually hand sewing, as tedious as it was, could be soothing. It was one thing to focus on, those back and forth motions of the thread therapeutic. But not when you mind has way too much going on. You couldn’t quite sweep it all away with the repetition. You swear under your breath when you do it again, not a few moments later. Jeonghan looks up from his papers, a millimetre of concern between his brows. 

“Are you okay? You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Maybe you should take a break.” He hums.

You scoff. “Don’t be silly. I have three things due in the next week, I can’t really afford to take a breather. It’s this or go stir crazy here.”

He slants his head, his blonde strands glowing, again. “Like what?”

Jeonghan eases over on his stool, careful not to catch his cloak under its foot. You sigh and fold away the shirt you were working on for Joshua - he wanted something lightweight for the warm weather and you were more than happy to accommodate as much as he was willing to pay.

“I...It’s okay. Something for another day.” Your smile wanes.

“Don't be silly, Angel. I want to hear about it - it’s making you wrinkle.” He says as compensation.

You tip your head back to laugh. Of course that’s why he wants to hear - because it’s interfering with his research and studies of you. Another variable that needs taking care of. Sure, you’ll humour him.

“It needs to be kept quiet - I don’t want our friends getting all funny. Not to mention, we have been meaning to have a chat about it.” He mimes twisting a key over his lips and tossing it over his shoulder. “I’m a little weary of Haeun. Something doesn’t feel right. From the moment we met her, all that’s happened is trouble. She feels like some kind of bad omen. I don’t want to think that of her, but I can’t help it when hiccup after hiccup has happened. The cauldron, almost getting run over, the Phantoms? I don’t like it - her. But I also don’t want to look as if I am fixating on her unfairly either.” You gnaw on your lip instead of pouting, not a very flattering look for someone of your physical age. The Spellmaster’s frown deepens.

“Hmm, I understand that. And I know you’ve both been butting heads over a lot.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t be shy - everything.”

He laughs, airy like the weather outside. “Fine, over everything.”

“I just worry that there is more going on than we fully understand. If someone should be in danger, shouldn’t it be you?”

“But instead, this is the third incident that has endangered you since you arrived in Martine. Things that come in threes. Auspicious number – it means something.” He puts his little diary aside, filled with his upcoming commissions and appointments. You know for a fact that the pricing of his talents is the backs pages, well worn by now.

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right. The curse is one thing, all these almosts are another. And she has been involved with them, one way or another. willingly or not. It’s all too much to be coincidence. Please, be careful around her. Sight or not, something is off. I can feel it, with what little magic I have.” You softly argue.

His dark eyes scrutinise you, scanning for something, you’re not sure. Finally, his shoulders relax and he nods, giving in. “Of course, I trust you, Angel. And, besides, I have my own reasons to be wary of her too, thinking about it - she is from Aria. And she has had some part in all of our recent incidents, there is no longer any coincidence or doubt about that. I can’t get too comfortable, in case it all turns on me next.”

You chuckle - It’s easier to breathe now. “Oh yes, right. Fugitive of the law.”

He scowls and you laugh harder, letting him draw back to sulk in the corner. He even turns his back on you! “Leave me alone - don’t you have things to do?”

Haeun doesn’t see you buried in the extensive garden when she leaves Mingyu’s kitchen. You’re taking clippings of this and that, inhaling the intense scent of marigold when you hear her heels hit the brick flooring. The end of her voice still carries as she heaves a sigh, weighing at her delicate shoulders. The roll of her eyes is unexpected nor attractive on her doll-like face. It sits unfocused in your eyes as you squint and blink away the haze that clouds her figure. It flickers as she looks down to check her purse and you wobble on the balls of your feet, falling into the garden. Her eyes, a shocking forest green - the colour only found in the royal bloodline of Aria. Haeun’s hair is now a mousey brown in long waves. Haeun is really the princess of Aria. The scent of roses, heady and thick in her wake. Her opinion of the wizard inquisition - she was in charge of it. It was alarming how much of it made sense. As you fumble to right yourself in the dirt, your mind reels. Why hasn’t she attacked Jeonghan yet? Haeun has been in Martine for a good few months and the only one who’s had trouble since she’s shown up is you. But Jeonghan has never actually been left alone with her since he arrived in Martine. Maybe not as silly as you thought then. You feel wiry hands grip you standing. Haeun - Seoyun is in front of you, dusting you down.

“Madam Y/N, are you okay? I didn’t see you there, you’re so quiet!” She says.

The smell of roses is making you dizzy, now you’re close to her. She scoops up your clippers, dropping them into your apron. She guides you to the garden seating, pushing on your shoulders to encourage you. Her frown sits heavy on her brow while your stomach churns. The princess fluffs at your grey hair, shaking it of leaves and dirt.

“You really don’t look well - you’ve gone so pale. Stay here and I’ll find someone to fetch you. Okay?”

You hum out a response and she nods, dashing inside like a gazelle. You’re too shocked to do much else. Mingyu is running back out in a heartbeat, kneeling before you. His kind eyes search yours for anything. His big hands rub at yours, limp in your lap.

“Are you okay? Can you see?” He prattles off questions endlessly.

It’s only as you see her dress in the corner of your eye that you pull him in, whispering quickly, “get Haeun out of here and call for Jeonghan, now.”

“Thank you so much for taking care of Y/N. I’ve got it now. Will we still see you Thursday evening?” He says, hand at the small of her back. You can see the confusion and protest lining his lips and you scowl wordlessly. He nods, standing to turn to Haeun.

His tall figure leads her down the path out to the main entry. She looks over her shoulder in confusion, but still responds to him as they disappear from view. You lay your head forward on the cool painted metal of the table. You don’t know how long it takes but there is a cool hand curled around the junction of bare skin where shoulder curved to pulse, thumb stroking idle circles.

“You called?”

Finally, you lift your head to eye the Spellmaster. No doubt you have swirling indents on your forehead from pressing your face into the metal, but no matter. “I was right about Haeun. She’s not just bad news. She’s the reason for everything from the last six months. She’s the princess.”

The concern from Jeonghan’s face melts away and leaves him pasty and pale, eyes unseeing.

You barrel on, quietly, as if for fear she could catch you out. “She’s got a glamour on, really strong. Weaker on females though - she’s hiding from men because she wants to catch one. You. That’s why she’s been hanging around. She’s been trying to corner you for months. But you’ve never been alone with her.”

“I - Haeun is Princess Seoyun? Why didn’t… she’s an extraordinary witch, and can easily best most of us here at once. Why didn’t she just attack us and then deal with me?”

You shrug. “No idea? Too much of a scene? All of us are well respected here in Martine. It would be hard to be rid of any of us without drawing suspicion.”

He clutches both of your hands too tightly as he bows over you, as if holding on for dear life. Everything is shadowed about him. “So, what do we do now?”

“Neither of us can be left alone until we work out what to do with her. We need to protect ourselves first. So we need to let the others know. If we know anyone else, we should ask if they can help. It’s the entire crux of the wizard persecution at stake.” It’s unspoken that your side will not be called to arms. That means facing things you didn’t have time for. Jeonghan nods.

“Us against the kingdom of Aria, hmm Angel?” He smirks limply.

You roll your eyes. “Something like that. C’mon, better fill Mingyu in.”

It’s the earnest way you ask Mingyu to call in every favour or magical contact in Martine for a meeting at his place that seems to ring the severity of the situation home. Everything about Mingyu’s place was warm and safe and inviting. A levity about it that melted away when you reached across the benchtop to lay a hand over his as he cooked dinner.

You squeeze his free hand and stare him down as you say, “do not under any circumstances tell Haeun that this is happening. She must not suspect anything out of the ordinary or try to invite herself. This is for magic users only.”

He frowns but nods. “Of course. I think a few friends are passing through in a day or two from across the sea.”

“The more hands the better.”

Mingyu sends out magical mail from his fireplace that night to Soonyoung, Seokmin and Joshua, the ashes turning lime green in the fire and the smoke seeming to twist with an underlying life. Then another flash from the fire in a cobalt-ocean blue. You lean closer.

“Wow, who was that for?” You mutter from your place on the bowing sofa.

He pokes at the embers to drown them out. “A few friends from out of town - a Spellmaster named Boo Seungkwan and a caster called Lee Chan. Chan is only a Class C wizard, but he’s currently travelling for his Class B examinations so he’s pretty much passed. He’s one of the smartest guys I know - quick learner and good at anything he picks up. Actually! Last I heard he was currently out west seeking guidance from the only Shieldmaster known, Choi Seungcheol, first of his name.”

Your mouth rounds. You had vaguely heard of him - specialised in all manner of strength and protection magic. No one had specialised in it like him before. Moments later two flashes of green and a blast of blue spark in the base of the fireplace before settling at the edge of the hearth. They settled on three scraps of parchment. Mingyu stoops over to scan them. Suki has parked herself by the embers, soaking up what little warmth is left.

“Soonyoung and ‘Shua are coming, of course. Chan is still up country with Seungcheol.” Mingyu’s brows raise. “Now he would have been good to have.”

The next evening, Mingyu makes double his usual amount of food, seeing as there would be seven mouths in total crammed around his round dining table. Jeonghan had been with you all day, refusing to leave you alone. Neither of you were sure why you had become the target here if Jeonghan was supposedly the one at fault. Only that it was there to scare as much as it was to hurt you. It was odd how much the both of you were so right.

“Otherwise,” you scowl, “she could have finished me off at any time. She’s one of the most powerful magic users known by The Council. Ugh, it’s like playing with your food before you eat it.”

That notion has you quickly, stuffing food in your mouth to refute it with yourself. Surely Mingyu’s heartfelt meal would be distracting. Seungkwan was instantly very righteous and vocal, swearing to protect and agree with whatever it took to keep the pair of you protected. A rotating roster was easily set up to keep someone with you at all times. It didn’t make you happy, having to be guarded and helpless, but such was your current ability to protect yourself. Jeonghan’s eyes don’t leave you for very long and you try to be mature and not read into it, even as his knee bumps yours.

It felt like a long, slow limbo state, full of tension that sat in your shoulder blades you couldn’t shake. Not even Minji’s bustling plans and back-to-back appointments could distract you. Your friends aren’t the best liars, especially Seokmin, which certainly tells her implicitly that circumstances have changed. You’ve been deposited at the apothecary today as part of the roster, sat in the warm space under crystal clear sunlight as you work on a thank you gift for Seungkwan for coming into town just for you. Seokmin is making a batch of your tonic when he gives you a guilty expression, pinned with his lips worried between his teeth.

“She came by yesterday.” He says quietly.

Your needle goes still. “Oh, did she?”

“Hmmm. Asked for rosehip and some northern cinnamon. I said I didn’t have either in stock…then she pointed to the cinnamon right by my head. And the dried rosehip in my hand.” He goes tomato red and cringes over the pot. “She left after, really quiet.”

You can’t help but laugh, swinging back on your chair. It’s a laugh bordering on hysteria. “Ah, Seokminnie, you tried. It’s alright.” You sigh. “It just might mean she’s got a clue something is up. I mean, we know Soonyoung has been avoiding Haeun like the plague because he can’t hide his facial expressions. And ‘Gyu has locked the side gate.”

The sweet potionsmaster still pouts a little. “I’m just, worried.”

You rise and meet him at his weathered wooden bench, leaning your head on his shoulder. The tonic was clear at this point, having boiled and distilled for so long, past the grassiness of the herbs and sweet jamminess of the rosehip. It was still a little thick, so you pass Seokmin a glass of moonwater.

“I know. But we’re doing all we can - we don’t know her well enough to plan any other moves.” The words taste chemical and bitter with how unsure you were.

A week goes by and finally both yourself and Jeonghan have a shared roster - by Merlin, it sounds so boring. Soonyoung had gotten in the way yesterday during a commission and was back at home, nursing a pair of missing eyebrows. Jeonghan was haughty upon entry of the study, insisting that it was his own fault for dancing like a b-rate ballerina. As if a trap had been triggered, a yellow-orange spark appeared in the air between you, swirling open a portal. An envelope in peacock green hung in the air before dropping as the portal closed. The corner drops on Suki’s head with a petulant yowl. Jeonghan’s wand is out in an instant, aimed at the door, then the window.

“That sorceress.” He hisses.

You stoop to open it up, hearing Jeonghan squeak in protest. His name is at the top so you hand it off to him. “Oh hush, it’s for you anyway.”

His sleepy eyes scan the heavy paper and you watch them turn to stone. His fist crumples the paper to the point of ripping and you rush to ease it from his grip. Jeonghan isn’t a violent person as far as you know.

“It’s a threat. To hand myself over to her.” His gaze settles on you, grasp twisting from the note to your own hand. “Otherwise, you’ll get hurt. Like she has already tried before.”

Damn propriety - you step closer so Suki is forced to move and your toes of your shoes almost touch. “You’re not going to do that, are you? Jeonghan, she’ll kill you, or something worse.”

He’s quiet and you don’t trust him as far as you could throw him. So, you take the note and turn on your heel to your desk, tossing the letter away before he can ruminate on it longer. Today, he stays out of the sun, claiming the stool by the wall instead, just watching you. It usually annoys you, but at least if he’s watching you, he’s still here. By the time sunset hits and Joshua shows up with his soft feline smile to escort Jeonghan home, you’re even more on edge, the thought of Mingyu’s tea the only possible soother to your worry. Jeonghan is taking some time to fuss over Suki and Aji in the kitchen when you grab Joshua’s wrist, yanking him up to your level in the doorway to the courtyard.

“Please keep an eye on him. More than one of you. Haeun sent a letter to him today, threatening him to turn in or risk me. He didn’t answer me after that.” You wring his wrist with your fingers, as if it were your own instead. “I want him to be safe, especially after all he’s done for me.”

Joshua hums softly and nods. “Of course, Y/N. We’ll go round to Soonyoung’s tomorrow then.”

On Mingyu’s turn babysitting you, he locks up your study for the day and sends another note in the fireplace to Minji to delay your appointment by a day or two under the guise of supply shortage. The B&B is now quieter, autumn being the off-season. He’s repainting the front fence and has you checking bedding and towels for any moth damage. It has you in and out of the house so Mingyu can keep an eye on you. Once that was done, he had a stool in the front garden at the ready under an umbrella. You wished there was a way to stave off that upcoming boredom somehow. With everything confirmed to be moth-free – you had even refilled the mothballs, breathing through your mouth to avoid the strong scent – you turn the hall to smell the tell-tale scent of electricity in the air, sparks and cracks meeting your ears. It’s a slow jog to the courtyard and you find Haeun casting something, casting shadows dark and long.

“H-Haeun. What are you doing?” You call quietly from the doorway.

She turns to you, her glamour all but fallen away with the strength of her casting. Now green eyes meet you and burn, a manic edge to her lips.

“Ah, just the person of the hour. Come here.” You hesitate, still confused - the actions have all been proven, but not the motive. Her wand waves at you too casually. “Here!”

You stumble out with the magical force, looking down the pathway. “Where’s Mingyu?”

She shrugged. “Gullible dear - fooled him into thinking there was an attack on Jeonghan. Especially after yesterday’s little scare. The gate has been enchanted. I won’t need to stall that long, if you do as you’re told.”

Even your own shadow has been cast long, despite the clear weather. There is a wicker basket weaving itself with vines and roots. Black and red candles, obsidian and amethyst. Rust nails and something ugly and pickled. This was a vicious spell.

“So you baited them? He didn’t even have a chance to think about what he wanted to do?” You protest.

“Of course not. He has had months to do it. Those little scares should have been enough - he’s supposed to be smart. The most cunning member of the Aria Royal Artists Guild, apparently.” She almost sings and this voice feels more natural to you. No all-knowing simper that gave you whiplash.

“Haeun - no, Seoyun. What do you want.” You say, the fear fading from your voice, only left with caution.

“Your heart.” She shrugs simply.

Somehow, she is not surprised at your knowledge in the reveal. No dramatic announcement or offended gasp. So shameless, you think disapprovingly. The basket is placed on the ground, candles and crystals surrounding. The candles’ smoke swirls restlessly into the air and there is a putrid scent overtaking all else. She wants to catch it.

“Why? You have one - Jeonghan never took it in the first place - that was just some rumour of the court.”

“So? Yours is unbroken. You have the one he wants - why he wants your old, shrivelled up thing is beyond me, not to mention highly improper. I mean, a real step down in my perspective.” She makes a flourishing gesture at herself. “But you are to his taste, so I want it. If I have yours, I have his - ugh why do I have to spell everything out for you?” Seoyun rolls her eyes.

“I don’t know - why do you keep answering?” You grumble.

You startle though as she pulls out a bloody lamb’s heart from the depths of her purse, holding it aloft, the dagger in her left hand making you squint from the glare. She drops it with a sickening splat in the basket. The dagger stays though as she advances on you. You look around for something - someone - anything - until your back aches against the door frame. Suki yowls and rushes into the courtyard.

“Suki, go! Get away!” You command - you didn’t want her getting hurt.

And maybe she could get out of here for help. Suki’s claws clatter and fade down the hall. From her skirts Seoyun pulls out a corked vial, empty for the minute. She slices her own hand, red dribbling down her pale skin into the glass. She gestures for your own hand, jerky and severe. You hold it out limply in between you so she can yank it toward her. Instead, she initially bypasses it and yanks for your hair, held back in a severe, business-like braid. As you cry out sharply, her grip on her blade switches and she smoothly arches up and slices it off. Pocketing the hair, she twists your slack hand to her liking. You hiss and whine as the used blade cuts into your fragile palm. She squeezes and prods until she gets what she wants and you continue to whimper in pain. Seoyun tosses your hand away after that, marching over to her materials. You’re honestly a little curious as to how she is going to do it, so as much as you know the danger, you stay to watch while pressing your hand in your apron to stop the bleeding. The blood is dripping into the basket with the heart and suddenly she holds the dagger downwards.

“You have a heart,  I could use that. What’s yours is now mine. Love, loss, man. This heart, tied to another’s, Give this power to me.”

It feels like twine has been twisted and looped through your chest, tightening, everything seeming to go tunnel vision on the glinting metal. A sound like shattering glass. Then a crack by your ear and the blade goes flying. Another and the spell is scattered, candles rolling into the garden bed and the butchered organ making another splat to the stones. Jeonghan braces himself, breathless, around you. His eyes fall to your bloody and wrinkled palm.

“What did she do to you?” He hisses.

“Shhh, just a cut.” You say through the sting.

Jeonghan scowls darkly and cradles your hand, running his thumb over it and murmuring a spell that seals the wound. You’re finally given a moment to breathe, with the princess’ spell broken and the squeeze from your heart relaxed. 

He draws himself up and turns to put you in his slender shadow, asking again. “What did she do?”

“Tried to bind and take my heart.” You’re still a little too shy to say why.

She laughs now in surprise and over his shoulder she grins. It’s not hard to see her plan forming before you as she flicks a spell at him, the air turning hot and strong in the courtyard from her fury. Her power turns red, electric and vicious - it puts static in her hair. Jeonghan, though, steps flawlessly in front of you, bracing his forearm up and disarming it. The force is so strong though that it sends you both skidding back, what little strength you had before gone. Your legs wobble, forcing you to your knees, a wilt. They begin to duel, the smell of burnt electricity suffocating, smoke beginning to swirl. It looks like Jeonghan is gaining. Until she starts talking, her eyes glowing a sickening green.

“You lied to me, Jeonghan! Said you loved me! You string me along for my power, my status, even my money! You thought I was pretty until something prettier came along. Now look at you. Infatuated with some old hag, defending yourself from one of the best Masters in the world. You’re not doing very well.” Her lips curl up in a smug grin. “Left yourself wide open.”

She sneers as she lifts her free hand at you. You can already see it coming. You can defend yourself from it easily. So, as you brace yourself to stand, Jeonghan twists his wrist sharply to break the connection between himself and Seoyun and leaps to take your hit. The surge of animated smoke flies, flinging him into the wall behind you. He slides to the ground with a low groan, squinting his eyes at the princess. Now he’s physically vulnerable, she steps closer and closer as Seoyun lays into him, finishing him off with a psychic attack, a burst of pretty pink popping limp from his chest. He’s out of magic. She seems to love kicking a beaten horse when it’s down as shards of debris rise from the pavement and glow red and green – a toxic swirl of colour – to rain on the two of you. You make your way to him to shrink her catchment zone. It’s instinct how you want to whip your old wand out from your apron. Instead, you say the spell straight, a lot riskier and more unrefined. It does the job though as a dark metallic grey blooms to shield the two of you from most of it. A rock clips your shoulder and tips you forward. The princess’s eyes widen in manic surprise before she smirks triumphantly as you hobble over the rest of the way to scoop up Jeonghan's prone frame. He kind of smoulders, burning hot to the touch and his eyes unfocused and hazy.

"Jeonghan, can you hear me?" You call, patting his cheek.

Long lashes flutter as his head lolls to face you. He smiles. "Yeah, I'm still here."

"Can you - can you get up? On your own?"

He nods and braces himself on the wall, swaying. You carefully let him go, stepping back. His eyes fly wide as he collapses, hacking a heavy cough. His skin glows a sickly green. You can't catch him fast enough this time and you cringe at the heavy thud he makes.

"Maybe not. You should probably get out of here. Go find Mingyu and Seok." He groans.

You shoot a glare over your shoulder as the princess inches closer and you position yourself in front of him in a weak shield. Your thin hands brush his dull blonde fringe from his eyes. They have a halo of green around the irises that sets your gut off and you gnaw on your lip.

"Yeah, but what will she do to you?" You hiss.

"Probably take me back to her father. Maybe...hang me?" He rasps out and you gasp.

You can't stop your grip from tightening in his hair and he flinches limply. "So I won't make it back in time to do anything, will I? Jeonghan."

He doesn't reply, only looks at you with a deep fondness you hate. You can't leave him here, alone and vulnerable to a witch like her. Someone with too much vengeance in their power. You can feel her glare as you pull out a pen you had in your apron from Seokmin's desk. Quickly, you draw a few healing and shield charms over his skin, watching the glow fade into a pasty and clammy shade stuck to his skin.

"Move, hag. You are no longer my concern." She says haughtily. “The bait has suddenly served its purpose. I have you right where I want you, hmm.”

You hate the lack of respect she gives you, whether you are old or not. If he can't do anything... You yank his wand from his grasp and turn to face her. You can hear your back crack as you stand to your full height. The weight of Jeonghan's wand in your hand is equally familiar in your posture but different in the fact that it isn't your own - the wooden curves and ridges suited to his style. Just something to shield, you remind yourself. There wasn't much you could do but stall and wait it out. Hopefully the others would catch on and come in for reinforcements…through the back door. Soon.

"Surely you don't need to hurt him anymore. He didn't mean it. Jeonghan isn't like that." You protest gently, casting as you speak.

Another soft, rippling shield fans out in front of you and she steps closer, lip curled. "You act like you know him! He's a devilish warlock. I'll only ask once more. Move aside - now that I have him, I’ve no want to hurt you. Don't talk about what you don't know and let me deal with him, hag."

Hag this and hag that! You didn't look that bad! And how dare she call Jeonghan a warlock, a magic user of evil. Between his sweet, sleepy gaze and his dedication to you alone, he’s the furthest from evil. The princess shrugs helplessly and starts firing off spells when you don't respond to her. You’re quick to sling up another, more combat-suited shield to protect the two of you. You try not to let your surprise show - that has been the most powerful thing you could cast so far. Her brows raised in interest but nothing else was said from her. You step closer, finally dropping the shield and firing off your own spells with a deft flick of Jeonghan's wand, swiftly building in strength and speed. Sparks crackled in the air, flying into the brickwork and burning smoke grey shapes.

"Do you know who this old hag is?" You snarl.

She's a challenge but nothing you can't handle, being from such an old, powerful family. You had been taught well even with your current fallacy. Despite the odd weight distributed by your body, your stance is planted strong. Oddly enough, you can barely feel it.

She shakes her head, finally unsure of herself. The crease to her pretty brow is satisfying. "Nobody."

"Wrong. I am a descendant of the best Spellmistress in the land and sea. I am a Spellmistress strong enough to bind you."

Your head is tilted back as you perform the spell down your nose, murmuring low and fast under your breath. Vines from the walls shoot out to twist her into submission, her wand clattering to the brick floor. A moment of blinding light and a hot, burning sensation rips through the space and distracts you enough to flinch, but not much more, still steadfast in the middle of your spell. The spell you were casting didn't usually do that... Wand aimed at her, you don't bother to focus on Jeonghan. If you bind her, maybe her own spell will break. Her eyes bulge comically and she splutters and gapes like a fish, probably from shock at the trick you pull. You can hear a shifting and a soft groan behind you. Holding the princess in place, you glance over your shoulder to see the Spellmaster crawl to stand, leant heavily on the brick wall. His eyes are large, but still have a sheen of green shining over them with the light that streams in. 

"Jeonghan, if you can, get two empty jars from Mingyu's shelf. I'll separate her magic and make her a more...manageable size." You say, your newly claimed wand is still weaving your spell. He rocks to stand freely but doesn’t move anymore, still staring. “Jeonghan, now!”

You cast again, watching the vines tighten and shrink her, like squeezing water from cotton. She finally seems to find her voice, gasping and yelling a chant which is easily silenced with a magic laden word. You suck in a breath, holding it for a moment to centre yourself again before yelling a sharp chant to separate the princess from her core. A small marble sized shape hangs in the air, glowing a pulsing green, dark and fierce. Obviously, her emotions had gotten to her core - no wonder Jeonghan was a sickly green colour. You can hear him hop down from the step next to you and flicking your wrists inwards, you drop the minute princess in one jar and her glowing core in the other. He hastily secures lids onto them, while you're murmuring a shield spell over the two of them. It wasn't strong, but it didn't have to be with their sizes.

"Well, that's that. Let's get you ready and we'll get you on your way to clear your name, shall we?"

"W-wait."

You turn in the hall, pushing the jars on the bench. You've changed the princess's lid for a piece of cloth, so she can breathe. You can see her yelling at you, shaking the jar as she hits the glass with her fists.

"Hmm?"

He grabs your hand. "Go look in a mirror."

You roll your eyes, tugging your hand free to glare at him. "Wow, way to add insult to injury. No thank you, no nothing. Just a reminder of my appearance. It’s not like I cast magic, just for you to save your life."

Jeonghan glares back in return, surprisingly sharp, grabbing your hand again and pulling you down the hall to the bathroom. Suki has since slunk out from the living room, jumping sky high at the sight of you. Obviously didn’t bother looking for help. Damn cat. Jeonghan stands behind you as he manhandles you in front of the mirror. You gasp, reaching up to touch your face. You appeared your age again. No wrinkles, no bony hands. You smile, blindingly so as Jeonghan does the same.

"I'm...I'm me again. I'm..."

"Beautiful. But I already knew that." He says.

You chuckle. "Liar."

His brows shoot up. "No, really! I've seen you like this before. When the first one was lifted. Well, except…”

Your hair. It hadn’t turned back to its former colour before the curse. But instead of the wiry, dull white-grey, it’s vibrant, short and almost metallic, glowing like…

He runs his fingers through the uneven ends Seoyun cut. “It’s just like starlight.” The hand on your shoulder goes to hold your cheek, his sweet smile seeming to melt you a little.

You hear a strangled cry of shock and the soft slam of a door. You cringe - Mingyu must be home. The two of you rush out to the courtyard to meet up with him. He turns to look at you, his own wand – his kitchen spoon, of course – brandished and expression more furious than you even thought possible.

"What th- oh my goodness! Y/N! Your curse is broken! How?" He drops his things at his feet rushing to meet you. You hold out your arms as he comes crashing into you, rocking the two of you unsteadily. His laughter is loud and muffled in your ear.

“Hey. Uh, well. Kind of a weird story. But the princess of Aria is in a jam jar on your kitchen bench and I shrank her to help Jeonghan out. But we’ll need to take her back to the Aria court and plead Jeonghan’s innocence.” You pull back and shrug, shy.

You’re not used to the strength in your bones, the life curling in your hair. Jeonghan, in the meantime, has cast the courtyard back into its former state, garden table and all. You feel anew, the magic thrumming through your veins, your breath sweet and easy. Everything around you seems alive and restless. Mingyu marvels at you as well, giving you another not so light squeeze.

“That’s, uh, amazing. I’m so glad you’re okay! When I got to the apothecary, Seokmin almost chewed me to bits for leaving you behind.” He glanced at Jeonghan, who had picked up Suki in the hallway. “I - how did you know?”

The blonde shrugged. “I didn’t. Not until Suki here came out into the street. She’s never alone. Soonyoung couldn’t hold me back, even if he knew.”

Suki purrs, a loud rumble, quite impressed with herself. You’re grudgingly glad she actually listened for once, after all. You crouch to her level and reach out to give her a thorough pat and tail scratches in thanks. Jeonghan glances at you, going sober.

“We’ll need to leave as soon as we can to get Seoyun back to Aria and end this mess. It’s not right for our kind to be persecuted over the delusions of a young witch such as herself. She’s used her privilege so irresponsibly.” He tuts.

You’ve rarely seen Jeonghan so serious. You detach yourself from Mingyu.  “Go back to yours, and collect what you need. I’ll watch the princess, now I’ve got my magic back in full. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready. My commissions are not so urgent that I can’t be away for a few days.”

He smiles warmly. “You’ll come?”

“Of course! I’m not leaving for a while! If you’ll have me.” I whittle off.

Mingyu is watching the two of you like an avid sports match - back and forth in the kitchen. Jeonghan breaches the space between the two of you, a hand resting on your arm, his thumb idly stroking for a moment.

“Yes, yes of course. I’ll need the most powerful witch in town to help plead my case.”

He barely tears himself away before sweeping down the hall and back out the door he entered. You turn to Mingyu, to catch him out but he spins so violently to eye the miniscule princess in her jar. He raises his finger, about to tap on the glass as the princess screams and shakes her hand at him in spelled silence.

“Uh, excuse you. Don’t tap the glass – she isn’t a science specimen.” You scold. He rears up, going pink with guilt. “I’m going to pack a bag with what I can feasibly wear. Can you watch her? Suki, you as well.”

He nods his head. As you turn to the stairs, the young man calls your name.

“Yes, hmm?” You raise your brows in question.

He beams. “Your pictures don’t do you justice.”

Jeonghan and yourself catch the first trolley car you can up the hill to the outskirts of Martine. You swing out near the back door, feeling the afternoon sun and salty wind whip through you. You missed feeling at ease in your own skin. Maybe you would never have gotten used to ageing. Princess Seoyun is in a little picnic basket, napkins and a scarf tucked around her to prevent the jars from cracking.

“How long is it going to take us to get to Aria?” You ask as the two of you hop off at the end of the route, the trolley car stops connecting to a small train station.

Jeonghan has a small suitcase and is also holding your own, insisting on doing so, no matter how much you argue against it. Suki even managed to come with you, perched on your lap.

“Probably at least the rest of the night if we caught the express. If not then by midday tomorrow at the latest.” He gauges. “I just grabbed the first tickets they had.”

The train to Aria is spent with a million marvels and twice as many questions, try as you might to bask in your newfound freedom and youth. The magic that thrums through you feels stronger than before and you’re not sure if it’s because it’s true or that it’s been so long that you’ve been without it that you underestimated it.

“Oh, and we must arrange a new wand for you as soon as possible. You have a family craftsman, I assume?” Jeonghan says, wedged next to you in economy class, the best seats that could be arranged on the fly.

You go quiet at the thought. Your family. You had become so absorbed in your plight and new life in Martine. Now that you were cured of the curse, you could go home. Was home still there, despite the curse being lifted? Or was it irreversible collateral damage? The blonde frowns at your stillness and reaches for your forearm.

“Hey, what’s-”

“I – yes we do. Eight generations in fact. I’ll need to send word once we finish in Aria.” You look away from the changing scenery to the handsome Spellmaster. “Are you ready? We both know that Aria’s royal family are stubborn and arrogant, to put it mildly.”

He startles at your swerving topic but accepts it, sighing. Together you spare a moment to glare at the basket covered and locked on the seat across from you. Suki has a possessive grey paw on it and she’s already been told twice to stop batting at it to the point where it had to be locked away.

“As ready as I can be. But that’s why you’re here. Surely, he’ll listen to you – brightest witch this side of Morgana’s Gate.” He smiles winningly, a warm haze in the setting sun – you don’t remember Aria being this far away.

Your economy train cabin is not the most comfortable - the padding in the seats worn to indented lumps, potential carpet burn from the worn fabric and no curtains on the window. The doors rattle unless something is pressed against them, which is counterproductive for their use. It was not the most ideal conditions to be sleeping in, so for a while, despite how limber your new-old body is, you struggled to get comfortable to even doze. Suki had no troubles, curling up and a purr rumbling to life. The princess has been given some scrap fabric to sleep on like a mouse and the basket covered again. Jeonghan seems content to sit across from you, watching the dark scenery go by. Your body was exhausted though, the fluctuation of magic so soon and extreme wringing you out.

He glances at you, lashes fluttered and shadowy across his face. “Trouble resting?”

You hum. “I just want to sleep for a bit. I can’t even think straight now. But, well, it’s not the most comfortable spot, is it?”

He coos and hums at you like a baby, getting up and sitting on the side closer to the door. His hand reaches up to pat your silvery hair that now glows in the dark - another element that didn’t help. “Awh, my poor angel. Here, rest on me. Take your shoes off.”

The blonde lifts his feet up to show his green and grey striped socks with a soft chuckle. You mirror him, lifting each leg awkwardly so your knee hits your chest, yanking at laces and buttons to toe your sensible shoes off inelegantly with a thump. You wriggle your own stocking covered feet next to his, covered with blue flowers and he snuggles impossibly closer. You aren’t used to such closeness now and you gasp, looking up at him. His fluttery gaze stares patiently in the dim light.

“Sorry. I’m not used to… being close with people. The curse and all.” You say under your breath. He tries to draw back but your own brow crumples and Jeonghan sways back. “Stay though. I - well, I don’t mind if it’s you.”

Trying to pry honest, tender emotion for you is like water from a clogged drainpipe. Jeonghan seems to have the patience for it though as he loops his arm around your shoulders and you tuck yourself into the hollow of his arm. His thumb strokes slow, soothing circles into the sleeve of your blouse and you let yourself be sucked into the motion, going slack and limbless. He softly hums a song you’ve never heard and you struggle to remember where in the royal court he worked, only that his voice was as beautiful as him. Upon arrival into Aria, still a little drowsy and weaving on your feet, you’re stopped by guards at the station entrance. They demand to see identification. The moment Jeonghan pulls out his navy leather identification, you’re both swarmed.

“Magic Caster.” One spits with cornflower blue eyes and honey stubble.

Two guards flank Jeonghan, grappling roughly with each arm. His dark eyes were blown wide and furious on you as you were knocked about in the kerfuffle.

“Leave her be!” He protests.

Suki rears up and hisses next to you and you swoop to pick her up and shush her. You’re all making quite the scene in the old station foyer, all the commotion echoing off the marble flooring and domed ceilings. You try your best to struggle and get closer to the Spellmaster.

“You are arrested under the Imperial Aria Proclamation for treason against the crown. You are to be taken for questioning regarding the curse upon the crown princess and their whereabouts. Anything spoken or performed while in custody may be used against you in judicial proceedings as evidence. You will have your magic bound indefinitely or until proven innocent.” The blue-eyed guard says aloud.

You finally reach Jeonghan and grab the one part of his arm that isn’t occupied. You go still and stern, a pillar against the ebb and flow of the Aria guards. “I’m gonna say it.”

He frowns and limply struggles for some breathing room. “Say what?”

“It’s us! We stole the princess’s heart! We also kidnapped the princess.” You thrust the jar with the Thumbelina-like figure above the heads of the guards. “We demand an audience with the King of Aria, as is our right by Imperial Law.”

The station goes eerily silent from every person in the nearby vicinity. Suki and Jeonghan have mirrored, slack-jawed expressions. Then a riot ensues. Suki is ripped from your arms as is the jar holding the princess. Rough, armoured hands yank you back and forth, thus detaining you as well.

“What have you done?” One soldier mutters loudly.

“I’ll not free her until we have been given an audience with the King. Only the spellcaster can return a witch’s bound powers.” You repeat in return as you’re carried out to the nearest carriage.

Your legs dangle a little as they sway back and forth through the station. Jeonghan’s eyes are on you the entire time, watching intently of every move.

Aria is a bright, vibrant land, fairly flat in terrain. Where Martine uses patchwork cobblestones, uneven but full of character, Aira is laid with smooth stone brick to ensure the masses move easily - they do have a far larger population than Martine, after all. A charcoal grey that absorbs water well and makes the buildings pop with colour. All roads lead to the castle in the centre of the city, behind an inner wall. It used to be a liberal place, known for its talent in the arts and court of expert entertainers, the likes of Jeonghan included - singers, comedians, acrobats, dancers, musicians and so on. After the death of the queen, Seoyun’s mother, it had been a little off-kilter. That was why your family had travelled here when you were a child. To talk some sense into the king. The people of Aria had been walking on eggshells for years. Jeonghan still gapes at you from the bench across from you in the carriage. Obviously not prepared for more than one person to arrest. Not surprising seeing as they’ve questioned almost every Aria witch and wizard according to sources.

“I can’t believe you turned us in.” He says in disbelief.

“What else was I supposed to do? Let you get arrested without a chance? Whatever we would have done next would be weak without the other. We need to do this together.” You rationalise. “Besides, as if I was letting you try and sacrifice yourself to the royal family twice in two days. It’s almost like you have a death wish.”

The guards bracing you both watched the conversation intently, committing it to record for sure. But you had nothing to hide, no point in trying to protect some right that hadn’t been needed at this moment in time. You had faith that this would be resolved with the meeting at the palace. The Aria Royal Palace - Ritornelli Palace. A grand, sprawling building in Baroque-style with the central throne room encased in a large glass dome. It glittered like a jewel on the horizon. Of course, you lot were not paraded through the front gates, instead sent to an eastern entrance, nondescript and almost unbearably tight.

The guard on your left was more abrasive than the one on the right and by some miracle they all barely spoke. Suki was being given a rough time of it as well, flying about in the baskets at your feet, being kicked between guards. With your new found strength, you speak up.

“Hey! Be careful with her. She can’t do anything to you.”

She yowled loudly, the storm cloud of fluff persistent as you were. A different guard, dressed in emerald green marches towards the back of the carriage. This must be the royal guard of the palace - the inner circle, so to say.

“Take them to the Throne Room. The King is expecting them.” he says, before turning on his heels, back the way he came through a sliver of a tunnel.

The halls are low and curved in narrow arches, with enough room to fit two people passing. You’re sure that these must be the servant’s passageways; the highly functioning underbelly of the castle. Finally, you open up into a grand hallway with smooth marbled floors and rich carpets from the southerly countries. This looked familiar, vaguely. A glance at Jeonghan has his eyes roving the space, but you’re not sure what he’s seeing. The grand double doors open without even a creak and reveal the grand throne room. A rainbow of stained glass and exotic designs looks exactly how Aria is famed to be. The King Rodolfo of Aria is a stoic man with a short white beard and glittering golden crown. Stern green eyes bore into the two of you until you’re dragged to a halt in the centre of the space. So this is where his daughter gets it from.

“Ah, Yoon Jeonghan. Back from your grand escape to hand yourself in – with an accomplice.” His haughty gaze hits you in full, mouth twisted unpleasantly. “They’re pretty. Poor thing. With the nerve to summon an audience?”

Why Jeonghan is so quiet worries you. But with your curse broken, by yourself, you have a renewed confidence along with riding the fumes of adrenaline. Bordering on arrogance yourself. Just. As you glance at him briefly, you note his downward chin and the tensity of his muscles. Fear.

“I know my rights.” You barrel on, loud and firm that your voice projects to every corner. “To plead our case. Or else your daughter stays in the jar and I call upon my family.”

Okay, that last bit wasn’t supposed to come out. The Spellmaster whips his head around to gape. “What in Merlin’s name does your family have to-”

“You don’t get to bargain.” The King snarls, cutting you both off and leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees.

You’re on a roll now. “Yes, actually, I do. You aren’t familiar with it, but the spell on your daughter can only be broken by the caster or by death. And you can’t kill us after the scene we made at the station.”

Jeonghan has been forced to his knees, as the primary criminal and seeming the larger threat of the two of you somehow. Even though you’re the one running your mouth. The blonde looks up though, briefly, as if begging you to get on with it, a little bit of your previously possessed cautious sensibility there. How the tables have turned.

So, you arch a brow and tip your chin up at the King. “So, may we?”

King Rodolfo relents. “You may. Only you. Your testimony will determine the wizard Yoon Jeonghan’s fate.”

He gestures twice – once at yourself, the next at the quiet shadows of the room. Suddenly the guards have released you and Suki. Along with that, there are now two simple seats and a small table placed at the bottom of the dais. The princess and her little ball of power are placed atop of it. She’s making gestures at you and you just know that she’s trying every curse under the sun, just to see if any stick.

The King sits in one, so you cautiously claim the other. Now that you’re closer to him, you can see he holds a faint glow, like sunlight from within. His tunic is embroidered with vibrant feather motifs, a parrot red and sea green. Everything about him is fashioned brightly just like his country. Another silent gesture over your shoulder and Jeonghan is hoisted up roughly and pulled to end up on your left again, back on his knees on the mosaic floor.

“Now start from the beginning. Who are you? Who is the witch that defeated the best Spellcaster in Aria?”

Now that the focus has been put on yourself, you glance at Jeonghan who nudges his chin. “Tell him. Please.” He says in a breath.

“I am uh, Y/N, Class A Spellmistress. Daughter of Jisung the Magnificent, Granddaughter to Bora, Grand Spellmistress of the Magic High Council.”

The King’s brows shoot up and he leans in again, as if he can’t see very well.

“You’re a Class A, descendent of the L/N family. One of the oldest magic families in the world. The missing granddaughter.” He says in a hushed tone, oddly calm compared to moments ago.

“I gue- yes.”

“And you’ve been in some seaside town with a known fugitive for how long?”

You hastily put a finger up. “Almost seven months, but! I didn’t know Jeonghan was a fugitive. And I was in the middle of a very private, personal matter, which the crown princess inserted herself into. It all got very tangled and complicated. And private. Not really relevant here.”

He smirks at your fumbling and you shrink in your seat as best you can. Suki rubs against your weak ankles in support from beneath your seat. Meanwhile Jeonghan is agog at this influx of information. Oh right…no one knew who you really were apart from some old cursed lady. You ponder where to actually begin. First meeting you supposed. From that rocky first meeting in your study, to every run-in after. The explosion at Seokmin’s and the shadowy beasts that chased you. Your growing weariness of her every move – Jeonghan’s trust. Every now and again the jar would rattle in defiance, but the king stilled it with a hand.

“I promise I’m not trying to make her a villain, Your Majesty.” You hasten to add at one point. “But her actions don’t make it easy.”

“I am quickly gathering that.” Is all he says. “Continue.”

You’re talking so much that the shadows have changed their angles and Jeonghan has been forced to sit back on his heels, he’s getting tired. Then you explain the final act. Her delusional spell, the battle in Mingyu’s courtyard that ensued. It’s all gotten very tiring.

“Which brought us to the station and then here.” You sigh.

The King has since gone very quiet, bottle green eyes pensive. He looks at his daughter, so small. She’s since given up her protest and escape and now sits at the bottom of the jar in her mended chemise a la Reine, resigned. Elbows on her knees and chin in her palms - maybe you’re imagining it, but even a little red in the face from embarrassment. You wished you could reach for Jeonghan, just for another familiar soul.

“My daughter has caused you quite the…trauma.” He says finally.

You jerk at his turn of phrase. “I – well yes, I suppose that’s one way of putting it. I may have had the tact to lessen the blow and call it trouble – inconvenience?”

He smiles, wane. “Polite of you. But no need. The Crown Princess is unfortunately as immature as feared. I had hoped with time and goals she would ease and grow wiser. Particularly after the passing of her mother, the Queen. Her magic seemed to become her haven and I indulged it. And my own judgement has been clouded by grief and bias. The magic wielders of my land have been persecuted for long enough.”

He levels Jeonghan a look. “With this testimony, I decree Wizard Yoon Jeonghan, Spellmaster Class A, cleared of all charges laid against him by the kingdom of Aria. Your record will be scrubbed of any evidence or investigation. A formal apology will be published and the bounty removed. You will leave this room a free man.”

The guards release him and he springs to his feet, turned toward you, his smile blinding. At the last moment, he thinks better of it, bowing low to the King instead, to bare the blonde crown of his head, his lengthening hair drifting about his chin.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” He says, reverent

The glass jam jar is now jumping and rattling worse than ever, and you can hear the princess’s yelling, although a little indistinct – your silencing spell must be wearing off. The King lays his palm over the lid to press it still.

“And you,” he settles on you, “I decree you cleared of all charges laid against you by the kingdom of Aria. The same steps will apply for yourself as they will for Jeonghan. You are also free.”

The more he speaks, the older he sounds. You know how that feels. Age rushing into your body like a torrential flood. Reminding you of your limits and fallacies. You rise and bow as well, the curtsey you learnt as a child seeming little juvenile right now. Then you leap for Jeonghan, he barely manages to catch you as you squeeze tight as you kick up your ankles.

“We did it. You’re free.” You say into his shoulder.

 The Spellmaster’s hand is back in yours the moment you both finish and your gaze trails to the glaringly obvious loose end, now echoing through the hall like niggling background noise.

“I...what will happen to the princess?” You ask.

King Rodolfo’s expression sours. “She will be disciplined accordingly. When she receives her magic back will be up to her and her future behaviour. I’m not pleased in the least with how she has humiliated our kingdom and our family name.”

He gestures again and the chairs, table and this time, the princess are squirrelled away into the shadows. You feel all too exposed all over again, eager to end the meeting and return home. But the royal levels his gaze to the both of you.

“Yet, I am not done. You have both proven your worth as Spellmasters – even bested my daughter, the best in Aria. I offer you both places in my court and seats on the royal magic council for Aria. After this shameful time in our history, we should be eager for fresh eyes and new talent that has our people’s best interests. I can now see that the princess’s actions have left us vulnerable to the whims of the few.”

Your dream, within reach. Not completely what you had in mind, but almost. And with Jeonghan? You turn to him, to find him doing the same, an expression of expectance and some kind of hope in his eyes. You don’t know what for. But you can’t find yourself leaping at the chance like you used to. Before the curse. Before Martine and Jeonghan.

“‘Han, what are you choosing?” You say, turning to face away from the king.

He drops his gaze to the marble mosaic flooring. “I never wanted that. Being in the position I am and working hard where I am is enough. I landed well when I fled the castle. I’m going back to Martine. But if this is something you’ve always wanted? Whatever you choose, I will support you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

Jeonghan bows again. “Thank you for the generous offer, Your Majesty, but I do not feel capable of the task given and I’ll have to decline.”

You see the shift in sight to you and you shake your head with a tentatively growing smile. “I thank you as well. However, this isn’t my home. Martine is. I can’t just leave it all when so much has happened to me and I have unfinished business.”

He pauses to look between you. Suddenly, there is booming laughter as he nods, reclining back in his place. The gold halo appears again and the jewels in his crown scatter fragments of colour through the space and over your feet. You don’t feel as if he has taken offence to your rejection, which you're thankful for - you only just got into his good books. But your grandmother always told you about the library underneath the Aria gardens, stretching for acres. Full of magic resources.

“However, I do have my own request, if you please.” You call, holding a hand up gingerly.

Jeonghan whirls to look at you, but you ignore his pointed look and the miniscule tug on your wrist. Don’t be greedy, he’s saying.

“Open access to the castle’s private magic library, anytime we choose.”

There is a silence of mixed tensity before he nods, swatting idly with a wave of his hand. “I’ll grant your request, small in comparison to what duties you have declined. Thank you again for your service, you are dismissed.”

You beam and bow deeply, twice over before dashing out the door with a giggle. You tug the blonde along with you, Suki weaving about the both of you in joyful zoomies. By the time you have exited the castle - through the front gates this time - you have been given back your belongings and provided safe passage back to Martine as soon as available. There was even another carriage waiting, this time far more luxurious and less utilitarian in style. A guard follows you both, with explicit orders you’d heard in the hall to ensure that the three of you made it safely onto the train without resistance. With the drama of this morning, you were thankful for the promise of security. The footmen open the door and Jeonghan assists Suki in, then yourself, his hand gentle on the base of your spine for stability. He leaps in smoothly and the door closes with a mute click. There is a small lunch pack on the bench across from you, along with your tickets.

“Oh look, an en-route meal.” He says lightly.

While food sounded amazing, what you wanted even more was rest. The ordeal had taken it out of you and you longed for your creaky bed in the attic with the pink frilly floral sheets and Mingyu’s living room fireplace. Maybe that old age thing was still hanging around - everything kept wearing you out! Even as the thrum of magic through your body resisted it. Jeonghan glances over at you and shifts closer - By Merlin, your thoughts must be that obvious on your face. But then you remember how gruelling kneeling on the unforgiving marble floor must have been for the hours that you talked. The awkward angle that his arms stayed distended at to keep him subdued. Now you notice his own mirrored signs of weariness and the ginger way he held his arms. He kept rubbing the space under his kneecaps and he had limped with a favour of his ankles in the effort to move through the castle. Now it’s your turn to give him a haven, opening your arms for him to awkwardly settle into. His smile was warm like fresh pastry and made your cheeks heat up too.

“Rest. There's plenty here for the both of us and we can always take it on the train back.” You pat his knee and shift to lean back. He’s a little more firm and it’s a little more difficult to manhandle him to tilt so he’s leant against you. “Properly.”

You smirk a little before closing your eyes. The smooth stone that paves the roads comes in handy as the trip is easy and devoid of bumps. With the angle, your nose is now amongst his soft blonde strands and where you thought it might tickle, it doesn’t, instead gentle. The faint scent of cotton and lemon lulls you until you’re carefully shaken from the edge of sleep. Jeonghan’s dark eyes crinkle when you jerk upright.

“We’re back at the station. The footmen have advised that the next train is boarding and leaves in half an hour. Are you ready?” His already pillow-soft voice drifts quietly.

You sit up to attention, Suki already leaning on you with a paw that feels like a dagger on your thigh. “Sure, let’s go home.”

One of the footmen goes as far as to escort you all onto the train, flashing his seal and the tickets the King had provided. These tickets lead to the plush private cabins with their dark wood and red velvet seating. He stores the minimal luggage before pressing the tickets into Jeonghan’s grasp, bowing and exiting. Suki finally gets out and has a sniff around before claiming one of the window spots, with the wind away from her.

Poor Suki though, her peace doesn’t last long, seeing as this is yet another sleeper train back to the coast. You let Suki pick at the feather light slivers of salmon in your boxed lunch, while in turn, Jeonghan let you pick out the lettuce and spinach salad mix of his in exchange for your sheets of dried seaweed. You let him talk idly to fill the time, and prompt him with questions on his studies - ever the academic you were. It was also a ploy to push him out of his listener role between the two of you. At promptly sundown, Jeonghan casts the beds flat - the sight of the crisp monogrammed sheets had your drowsiness and worn magic come flooding back to the forefront of your mind. He could barely get them laid on before you were curling up in a ball, walking boots still on.

He nudges you. “Angel, you need to take your shoes off, get changed.”

You groan and sit back up, yanking at the buttons and laces to kick them off by the door. Even though you had sleeping garments, you didn’t quite feel comfortable yet in being seen in them. Your body may have felt like your own again, but not enough to not remind you of how old you’ve been.

“You go, I’ll do it after.” You lie, eyes closed.

That’s the last you remember until dawn, the cool sunlight piercing through the crack in the curtains and the steam horn blowing to announce the train’s arrival in Martine.

Your vest is off, hung on one of the coat hooks, next to his cloak and the collar of your shirt waist is loosened. You’re missing one stocking, your foot hanging off the edge. But you’re under the sheets, the sound of deep breaths next to you growing more familiar. Good Morgana, he sleeps like a god. He had the sense to change but the pity to leave you be. Suki is tucked right under your arm, her tail laid across your neck. The whistle sounds again and Jeonghan’s nose wrinkles like a rabbit’s. Rubbing at his eyes, he rolls to better face you, calling your name thick and low with sleep. You’re glad he can’t hear your heart stutter.

“Are we back yet?” He mumbles.

You hum, sitting up and adjusting the curtains to peek out at the landscape. The thinning trees blur by and the air is more arid - you can almost imagine smelling the salt on the rolling breeze.

“We must be. Let’s go home.”

A burning streak races through you as you say the words. Home. Martine was home.

Mingyu meets the two of you in the front living room. He takes your little suitcases and sets them aside, proceeding to wipe his hands nervously on his sage green canvas apron.

“You both made it back. How did it…” He raises his brows as he trails off.

You preen. “Yoon Jeonghan is no longer a fugitive and is now a free man. Aria is on its way to being back to normal for all magic users.”

The tall wizard heaves a sigh, then pulls a face. “Oh, thank goodness. I mean, it’s a little more than I expected, but!” Then he simmers, going back to being weary. “There’s someone here for you – just you, not Jeonghan. I told them you were out of town and wasn’t sure how long you’d be but they insisted they wait…”

“Good Morgana, for how long!” You shoot to attention.

Only then do you realise that Jeonghan’s hand sits loosely at your waist, an unconscious and certainly not unwanted notion. His grip tightens a fraction, becoming more noticeable.

“Only for an hour or two. Funnily, they didn’t seem to think you’d be too long.”

That sets you off even more. No one apart from the guys here knew where you were. With that, you ignore everything else and stride up the hall, Suki racing past and almost tripping you. Past the dining table to the courtyard-

You draw up short. An elderly woman in a simple blue and white striped shirt-waist and skirt at the garden table idly sipping a cup of tea. It would have been green or chamomile for sure. Her grandiose navy velvet cloak is slung over the back of her seat. She looks up at the thundering of your steps, her eye colour mirroring yours. A familiar coat of arms pin glints proudly on her chest.

“Grandmother.” You say quietly.

Suki is absolutely delighted to see her, meowing loud and persistent as she meanders over for pats. Meanwhile you’re halted in the doorway, your feet cemented in place. It’s been over six months. Which in theory, doesn’t sound like a lot. But after the curse and having not mentioned a word to your family of your condition or whereabouts, away from people you’d never been without, any amount of time is monumental.

“Enjoy your sabbatical?” Bora says dryly.

“I didn’t want… it’s complicated.” You murmur. You move to wilt and sit on the back steps of the kitchen, suddenly so small.

“From Kim Mingyu’s recount, so it would appear.” She replies. “The house is fine. It was in a temporal bubble so easily reversible. Our clocks are still off though, even now. However, perhaps that will have changed now you are…back on your feet.”

You slant your head in the afternoon light. “Grandmother, how did you know where I was after all this time?”

“Well, at first scrying didn’t work.” She begins.

“My aura had been disrupted.” You confirm.

She hums, levelling a glare to silence you. “So, after months of putting out contacts, we hear from sources in the palace in Aria of all places that you had returned, with silver hair. That you had bound the crown princess with the Vine Principle. We had informants work their way back from Aria, to here - this very house. The family was worried sick. Your mother had to close the nursery for a month – her emotions were affecting the plants.”

Guilt churned deep and thick in your stomach. Suki pulled back to headbutt your calf and comfort you. Now that the curse had been lifted, you were closer than ever. Bora’s gaze is expectant.

“I’m sorry, I just – after what I’d done and – I was cursed. I couldn’t bear to stay. So ashamed. I thought I had destroyed everything. But, Martine has made things better.”

She sighs softly. “I understand. I too, have made mistakes – nothing like yours, but mistakes all the same. But you’ve broken a strong curse that would have taken years for anyone else to even scrape the surface on. You have made an impact on the lives of those in Martine, without a drop of magic. And you corrected a wrong for our people in Aria that not even I could rectify when you were younger. Your journey and time away has done you good. It was necessary.”

Finally, the weight lifts and you can breathe. With a hand preoccupied, scratching Suki’s chin, you look up to smile. “Thank you. I think so, too.”

Setting aside her tea, she rises to stand and lean on the back of the chair. When your grandmother smiles in response, it’s rare and demure, the vision of elegance. But always worth it. Better than gold.

“You have done outstanding. Now, you’ve always had your eye on the High Council, yes? Like myself and your father?” Bewildered at the direction of conversation, you nod. This must be what whiplash feels like – you’ve seen the look you’re pulling on Jeonghan too many times. “For your diplomatic heroics, I would like to offer you a role within the Council. Most likely as an attendant for myself or your father as we both work in Spellmastery. But I believe your perspective would be valuable in furthering the strength of our people. You would have to leave Martine, probably stay in the Glass City, to attend to your duties.”

Six months ago – hell, even two months ago – you would have leapt and grovelled for a part to play in the High Council. But, you had roots here now. A happy future you’d carved by yourself. People who cared about you and you felt the same. And there was him.

“I – I appreciate the offer. Truly, I do. And I understand that this kind of opportunity isn’t given to just anyone all the time. But I have a life here now and I think I’d like to live it before having such a career. I hope you understand.”

You feel eyes on you and twist back on the steps to peer down the hall. A blur of lemon yellow vanishes round the corner, then pokes sheepishly back in. Eavesdropping. His cheeks are the faintest colour, his grin cheeky at being caught. Speaking of life. You wink back and then face your grandmother, to gauge her reaction. You don’t say no to a woman like her easily. But there’s something akin to pride blooming in her features, pushing her shoulders back and curling her thin lips.

“I do.” She makes her way back inside, climbing past you on the steps. She pauses at your side to lay a hand on your shoulder. “You have done extraordinary things here. I hope you continue to do so. Just please, call once in a while?”

You throw your head back to laugh as she passes you and glides down the hall.

Another, warmer presence is at your back moments later. “So, who was that?”

You roll your eyes and tip your head back to eye him upside down. “As if you weren’t listening.”

He holds his hands up. “I actually didn’t get all that much.”

You shuffle over so he sits. His knees sit up near his chin and it’s almost comical. “My grandmother.”

His eyes go wide. “The High Spellmistress?”

You nod and watch his jaw go ajar. “The very one. She offered me a place in the Glass City; in the Council as an attendant.” You can feel his presence dim and you reach out to lay a hand on his thigh. “I said no. That there was life to be had here - people I care about.”

He looks down at you, his expression calm but also unreadable. An aspect of him you were still trying to get your head around. From flamboyant, arrogant Spellmaster to careful and cautious Jeonghan.

“Like who?” He says, fishing very obviously.

Something you had absolutely no patience for. You purse your lips, amused. “Oh, I don’t know, Mingyu certainly.”

He deflates even more and now you can’t help but panic - you had hoped he could take a joke, like always. He had always had a confidence and bravado about him you didn’t think you could shake. Yet again, the shoe is on the other foot. You twist to better face him and tuck your knees under his.

“Hey, hey. And you, Jeonghan. Of course you.” You reach out to turn his face towards you. Dark eyes swimming beneath his sunny yellow fringe, almost exactly the same way as the day you met him. Your thumb runs circles over his cheek, daring for you. “You know, fishing for compliments is not very flattering, Jeonghan. And you don’t need to with me. I found my magic for you.”

He smiles, radiant, and puckers his lips to kiss the pad of your thumb - a gentle romantic, you’ve slowly realised. You gasp quietly, your heart stuttering relentlessly as it tries to catch up and regain control with your emotions. Now you know you’re blushing, your chest all tight and, oh maybe a little lightheaded with how easily confessions come to light. As much as he grated on you, Jeonghan made talking easy. Suki meanders closer and pleasantly interrupts with a loud meow. The sun is setting - dinner, like clockwork. Jeonghan grins and shushes her, still under your touch.

“Quiet Suki, we’re having a moment. That’s good. Because no matter what, I was going to be with you.” He says with a steady conviction that makes you feel as if an Augur could have predicted his from miles away. “The moment you laughed - really laughed - I was hooked. My angel, spun of magic and starlight.”

Martine’s annual Magic Festival is a month away, but preparations have been in the works for at least two months before. Between Joshua’s Crystal forecasting, Soonyoung gearing up for the many rituals to take place and Seokmin bringing in extra stock for the apothecary and any roaming magic users, everyone is busy. Jeonghan is slowly getting busier, with wards to put up and a lot of liaising with Aria’s magic council for their representatives to be greeted well. It was all about marketing, you supposed. And they deemed yourself and Jeonghan the best people for the job. You had still not been given permission by the King to release the princess, so she must not be… mature enough to participate in the event.

You had commissions coming out your ears, requiring daily trips up to the Post Office for supplies you had ordered. Most of the time Eugene would just throw your new supplies at you and send you on your way. Not that you weren’t welcome to conversation, but everyone now knew your services were a well sought after commodity. Even more so now the curse had been lifted. A better Spellmistress than Jeonghan in Martine? Everyone paid handsomely for your wares. 

Somehow between everyone’s commissioned garments, you managed to find time to work on planning your own. The week-long festival was the biggest event on the Magic Calendar. Held in a different city every year, casters from far and wide travelled to celebrate. Everyone dressed in their best and stored their best spells or potions for trading and enjoyment. Martine would become a city that never slept. Street vendors and magic demonstrations, parades and parties. You thought it a bit funny when Martine had been announced. Maybe, for those in the know, even rigged. It meant your whole family would be coming to town and making a nuisance of themselves in your business.

It’s a cool sunny morning when the post arrives to you first. It’s magic mail, from the way it’s wrapped in velvet and floats in the door of the study of its own accord, landing gently on your work - a suit for Soonyoung with glittering chains and coins that would jingle as he danced. Your name is in thin cursive on the note slipped between the many folds. The velvet is long and wide enough for a whole new garment - which gets your brain thinking before you’ve even reached your gift. You gasp and hold it to the light. Suki perks up and goes still as well. It looks battered and a little weathered in places, the top not quite pointing straight. But you’ve seen this hat in your family’s home for many years and in plenty of portraits - painted or photographed. The ribbon around the base needs freshening up since the last wearer and the dead flowers pinned beneath it look a little meek. Setting it aside, you reach for the note and unfold the heavy textured paper. The letterhead is emblazoned with the High Council’s coat of arms.

Y/N, It is now your turn to proudly represent the family in this years’ Magic Festival. Like those before you, decorate as you see fit and wear it with pride. I will be speaking at the opening, so I look forward to seeing you then. Regards, Bora

You look at Suki. “Are you seeing this too?”

She meows assurance in response. You twist it and tilt it to get a better feel of it. It even felt magic, humming with its own presence and life. Of memories from those before. This was monumental - you’d seen your mother wearing it for as long as you could remember and you’d been dreaming of the day it was your turn. When you had completed your studies and the family deemed you ready to represent them. While you had briefly worn it for graduation photos, it had still firmly been in your mother’s possession. You look past it to the fabric it arrived in - you now needed a whole new plan for what to wear, and that bolt of velvet was just where to start.

Some days Jeonghan deemed his jobs to be two-person jobs, effort and time cut in half he had said blithely. So you were tugged out of the studio and on the streets. He still walked on the side closest to the road and Suki still weaved trouble beneath feet. But the tasks were easy and a way to stretch your magic muscles, so to say. Today entailed a few wards and something about a “Full House Down”, an expensive offer that Jeonghan had available.

“What is a Full House Down? It sounds like a lot of nothing. Scammer.” You say, sceptical.

He gasps, mock offended. “It is not! It is a full sweep of a household to implement an integrated magic system. Wards, self-cleaning, security, and other such additions.”

You baulk at his list of services. “Oh. And what are you - we doing today?”

“Mr and Mrs Park Hyunjin require our talents for their new home.” Jeonghan smirks proudly over at you. “I thought you might enjoy flexing your magical talents for your dear friend and customer.”

You beam and twine your arm in his, your grouchy mood instantly mollified. “Ah Jeonghan, that’s very sweet of you. Thank you. Now, tell me the plan - what is the commission, so to say.”

The job is only an hour and half, entailing security measures over windows and doors, kitchen cleaning spells and temperature management. And if you managed to put in a few luck and protection sigils about the place, Jeonghan didn’t mention it. Hyunjin was in his office, Minji having tea with her mother and sister at the family home. His fine features greeted you warmly from the window as you carefully hovered a storey from the ground. Your wand was now your own, crafted by a close travelling friend of the other wizards, Minghao. It was a sturdy oak wood with lovely engravings around the top end that looked like rippling ribbons that curled into a comfortable moulded grip. The Tudor-style home with thatched roof positively glowed by the time the two of you were done with it.

You knocked Jeonghan’s hip with your own. “Well done Spellmaster Jeonghan.”

“And you, fellow Spellmistress.” His dark gaze slid to you, warm and crinkled.

Again, you slip your arm in his and he yanks you close to lead you back to your many garments awaiting attention. Idly he drops a kiss to your temple as you both pass a café, some mortal young women pausing their conversation to look at the two of you longingly through the window front.

“You’re a tease, Hannie.” You mutter with a smirk. “Oh, did I tell you my grandmother is coming to open the Magic Festival? She sent me the family Hat. My mother had it last.”

Your mind drifts from the cobbled pavement and pelting sunlight to the faded ribbon and withered floral you knew were hers. The embroidery was your grandmother’s and the patches and unfortunate kink in the pointed tip were your great grandmother’s - she worked on a farm and put the Hat through the wringer.

His breath catches as he looks down at you. “Really? Congratulations, I’m so proud of you, Angel.”

You nod, your face warming. “I- thanks. She sent it in a pile of velvet I just have to use. I have a feeling she knew I would - I don’t really have anything to wear that would be suitable otherwise. All of it is back home, for the best.”

He coos and pats your hand. “Oh, I would have loved to see you in your little dresses before you dropped the hem! So cute.”

You screw your face up and squirm. Suki has leaped up onto a brick wall to parade in the sun, her tail lax but pink nose in the air. He means the dresses and garments you would have worn before being deemed an adult, with hemlines to your mid-calf and flat slippers and frilly neck decorations. Even trousers and tunics for more manual work in pleasant pastels.  While you had worn more adult wear before the curse had happened, the darker tones and properly dropped hemline didn’t happen until you were in Martine. You had stuck to mainly ankle length skirts and light linens for breathability and easy manoeuvring for spells.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I looked like a child! I do not need the thought of you coddling me like one.” You softly snarl.

He simmers a little and gently sways the two of you. “I’m sorry, Angel. I didn’t mean to annoy you. Only that, I would have liked to know you when we were younger.”

“Not much has changed, apart from the fact I’m a little wiser.” You shrug. “Maybe a little grumpier.”

Jeonghan chuckles and leans forward to open Mingyu’s back gate. “Remnants of old age.”

You make a grumbling noise but leave it at that as you fish your key out of your apron to unlock the door. Suki dashes in first, narrowly missing tangling your ankles together so she can return to her well-warmed spot in the sun.

You work feverishly on your own personal project, stabbing your soft fingertips far too much for your lack of patience in the few weeks left. Mingyu is sweet enough to bring you dinner a few nights into the studio, humming positive observances of your progress. Suki is not allowed anywhere near the garment, for fear of having stray fur caught on the textured material. Minji has her regular tea appointments with you as well, perched in your window seat, every guest’s prime position.

“Oh, you know what would be absolutely darling? If you and Jeonghan matched! He is escorting you, of course.” She sings.

You slide your eyes at her. “I’m my own person, Minji. Besides, this dress is for me. It’s my first after the curse.”

She had been absolutely ecstatic for you when she came in the day after you returned from Aria to find a silver-haired young woman making measurements and grumbling remarks. She had claimed on sight that she knew you were magic - you had to be with the way you handled a needle and thread. Then she made a point of barging in unannounced just as often as Jeonghan in the lead up to her wedding with tea and gossip. It was what friends do, she preened. You don’t tell Minji after your conversation that you were now looking for a ribbon for lacing the same blue as his cloak - you refused to give her such satisfaction.

You could barely sleep the night before - Suki just as restless, bouncing up and down off the bed. Only after a potent, lukewarm shot of Mingyu’s lavender tea did sleep find you. Certainly not the way in which Mingyu intended for it to be consumed. You were meticulous when getting ready by the soft east sunrise, murmuring ceremonial incantations as you did so. Some to bring prosperity and power during this auspicious time, others for your family and magic. Everything felt warmer and buzzing, as if the magic that swirled within you was just begging to burst free. Suki’s golden eyes seemed to glow even more as the magic between you both strengthened. You were meeting Jeonghan in the studio, which was handy seeing as you had forgotten the extra pin for your apron there, hoping you wouldn’t need it. You can hear him before you see him, his boots making crisp steps over the russet pavement - even the air sung in his wake. Nervously, you smoothed down the front of your dress, spinning from the full-length mirror to face him in the entryway.

The velvet hugs your torso nicely, the sky blue silk ribbon of the back lacing popping brightly. It had thick straps and was long enough to hit your ankles. A thin white blouse underneath you’d been working on for a while with long sleeves to protect against the sun, a turned up rounded collar and rounded v-neck from the apex of your shoulders that met nicely with the straight neckline of your overdress. There were little lace eyelets on the neck of your blouse that had been painful to sew on that you imported from Aria. Sensible lace up boots in a shiny black leather - Eugene had recommended a fabulous cobbler, that turned out to be his cousin. Flowers embroidered on the hem of your dress, difficult with the thickness but necessary as they weaved with luck and magic sigils. And your hat. You had added that same Aria lace to the brim but dyed it a sky blue as well. Your apron is a crisp white with more lace on the bottom along with the sky blue silk ribbon in a strip near the bottom as well, white cotton sigils almost invisible to the eye stitched in. Jeonghan in his cloak and a starched shirt and sky blue pants goes still in the entryway. Multiple layers of long necklaces and talismans from his family glinted and shimmered against his pure white starched shirt. His graceful blonde hair curled gently with the magic in the town, a life all its own and dark eyes that glittered with morning light. Suki graciously let you tie the last of your ribbon around her neck in a pretty bow. And you bathed her too! Miracles do happen.

You frown after he neglects to move again. “Jeonghan, what? Is it not good? I mean I know the velvet is a bit much but-”

He scrambles now and shakes his head, closes his mouth. “No! Not at all! It’s beautiful. I’ve just - I’ve never seen you like this? So…I have no words. None that make sense.”

You smile and secure your hat. “Oh good. Let’s go then, I’m meeting my grandmother there.”

He shakes his head again and steps closer, reaching for you and tugging you by the waist close. You gasp and grab to steady your hat.

“You’ve almost made it too well. I wish I could keep you here.” It’s a pondering purr that electrifies you.

“If you would like to brave the wrath of my grandmother, then by all means.” You roll your eyes as best you can.

Jeonghan laughs and shifts your hand to lift your hat. He angles it to shade both of you from the sun blasting through the window. There is a sweet scent about him, like sugar dust and lilies with that undercurrent of pine that you would miss if you didn’t know he used it to fragrance his bedsheets.

“Sunlight and Starlight - I think we could take her.” He draws a long, meandering kiss from you, making your lashes flutter in a struggle to focus. He grins, cheeky. “But for you, Angel, I’ll escort you to town.”

He withdraws to settle your witch’s hat back on your head, straightening the brim. Looping your arm through his, you motion for Suki who leaps down and trots in front to the gate. The zing of your magic under your skin and through your pulse never gets old as you pull out your wand from the holster on your rib cage. A simple wave of the wood instrument and the door closes, sealing with a silver spark.

[gluion]

the book of us — masterlist

non-idol!zerobaseone x reader

wc — projected to be 10-15k words per story under side a, 5-10k words per story under side b general genre/warnings — fluff, angst, crack, band au, a mix of college, fresh graduates, and highschool aus, crazy case of loserism from the zb1 guys (as it should be), music is the connecting factor <3 make sure to read every story's respective genre/warnings important notes — stories can be read as standalones but it's highly encouraged to read through all! all previous and upcoming y/ns will be referred to as __!y/n titles and synopsis are subject to change but plots/genres are pretty set author's note — happy 500 followers! you cannot separate me from my zb1 guys and day6... i'm excited for this series so please send strength my way <3 i hope you guys stay seated for this series :D thank u again to @vernyangel and @shegotthewoobies for the support and helping me create this universe! always remember that reblogging helps a ton and will help me gain traction :3

want to be part of the series taglist? fill out the form! masterlist

synopsis — listen closely to the stories of zb1 as they find themselves entangled in lives filled with friendships, passions, hardships, love, and of course, music!

SIDE A

kim gyuvin’s track: missing home // teaser

when kim gyuvin is forced to volunteer at an animal shelter, the last thing he expects is to be compared to a rescued dog. (and to fall in love with you.) — strangers to lovers to exes to lovers, small town au, summer au, fluff, angst, based on “i smile” by day6

seok matthew’s track: the ballad of a lovestruck friend

while everyone seems to know who seok matthew’s crush is, he refuses to reveal the identity to you. (now, why’s everyone calling you dense?) — friends to lovers, university au, fluff, based on “i like you” by day6

kim taerae’s track: the plotted invisible string

if kim taerae had any regrets, it would be not asking out his first love. luckily for him, he’s got another shot now. (how’s he going to mastermind it this time?) — strangers to friends to lovers, highschool & university au, fluff, crack, based on “wanna go back” & “chocolate” by day6

zhang hao’s track: on (your) strings

if there’s anything zhang hao hated, it’s double harmonics, paganini’s caprice no. 24, and the annoying viola player in orchestra. (so why can’t he stop thinking about you?) — enemies to lovers, university (master’s) au, fluff, angst, based on “i wait” by day6

kim jiwoong’s track: first day(s) on the job

although kim jiwoong is set to impress his boss, he’s unlucky to be assigned with the clueless intern who seems to always cause a mess. (maybe you two wouldn’t be staying in your jobs for that long.) — strangers to lovers, workplace au, crack, fluff, angst, based on “man in a move” by day6

SIDE B

shen quanrui/ricky’s track: eye for talent

as ricky plans to invest in the next big band, his eyes are set on the university crowd’s favorite bar for their breakthrough. (and the owner who always says no to him.) — strangers to lovers, university au, fluff, angst, based on “emergency” by day6

park gunwook’s track: lost in translation

although park gunwook wants to make his name in underground hiphop scene, he’s set on meeting the respected, masked rapper that took the community by a storm. (it just so happens that he didn’t know he fucked up his first meeting with you.) — strangers to lovers, university au, crack, fluff, based on “what can i do?” by day6

sung hanbin’s track: 8,000 kilometers worth

if there’s one thing sung hanbin wasn’t expecting, it’s being kept far away from you. (did you two have what it takes to sustain it?) — established relationship, angst, based on “about now” by day6

han yujin’s track: slowly bruising but healing

han yujin’s biggest enemy is himself, but you’re here to remind him of his worth amidst a sea of criticism. (all you can hope is that he’ll listen to your voice as he hopes the same for you.) — platonic, highschool au, angst, coming-of-age, based on “marathon” by day6

[skyhavens]

i was tagged by the lovely and effervescent @rosenfey to do this uquiz for my ocs, and i thought! hey! this is a great opportunity to do a lore dump about ippolita! so that's what all of this nonsense is. 🖤

patron saint of lost faith — patron saint of leaving it by the roadside. patron saint of it slipping out of your fingers. patron saint of searching and searching. patron saint of yearning for it back. patron saint of scraping your fingers down to the bone trying to hold onto it. patron saint of losing it anyway. saint of lost faith. not the saint of getting it back.

ippolita cabrielli (eventually, ippolita de riva or ippolitta dellamorte, depending upon the date of reference) was born smack in the middle of 9:25 dragon, not long before the fifth blight. her father, filippo, worked as a dyemaker for a renowned vendecolori just outside of antiva city, in a small, riverside town called alivia.

not once did her father speak of her mother. only her paternal grandmother spoke of the woman at all, and every time she brought up her existence, filippo flinched like he'd been struck. there was a story there, but it wasn't hers to learn.

when she was barely ten, she watched the vendecolori's even younger son drown in one of her father's dye vats. not long after that, she was taken from him as payment for what he allowed to transpire.

after a confusing few weeks, she was offered to the crows for a surprisingly hefty sum, and not long after, she began the rigorous and often excruciating training required of crow fledglings. ippolita proved to have a somewhat innate talent in acrobatics, but her true skill was in observation. she did not just pick up useful information, but she picked up voices and affectations that would have made her something of a mimic, if not for the high pitch of her childish voice.

became an official crow at eighteen. during the celebration that followed, she engaged in a brief (and very drunk) tryst with illario dellamorte. she's forgotten; he hasn't.

when she was barely nineteen, she was tossed to the lions rather than the wolves. her first foreign contract was in far-flung serault. for a time, she posed as a soft-spoken washerwoman for the city's floundering chantry. kill the leader of the cult of masked andraste, she was told. and kill them, she did.

subsequent contracts left her circling around orlais, and with every finished contract, she waited, wondering when she would be brought home.

she was twenty-three when she returned to antiva — not to antiva city, where she'd received most of her training, but to not-yet-occupied treviso. and for five of the years that followed, she continued making a name for herself under the mantle of house de riva.

ippolita is a drowner. whether it's in a canal, a bath, or a particularly deep puddle, it's her go-to method of assassination. it isn't all she's capable of, but it's how she prefers to kill. otherwise, she has a particularly nasty stiletto that makes its way into the rest of her marks.

found a number of letters from an anonymous admirer upon her return to treviso. someone had been paying attention to her work while she was away. she still doesn't know who wrote them. the romantic in her has kept them for years and delights every time she finds a new one in her apartment.

loves music and has a lovely singing voice, though she couldn't play a note herself. there is little in the world that enraptures her like agile fingers on lute strings.

horribly allergic to cats.

would rather starve than eat rice and the smell of onions fried in butter makes her nauseated. eat something enough, and you find you cannot stand the taste.

she stands at an absolutely miniscule 4'11, but is powerfully built. she is small, but strong and fat around her belly and hips and ass. there's no knocking her over. varric thought she was a dwarf until he caught a glimpse of her ears.

[posebean]

fantasys your alkaloid‼️ ‼️ ‼️ ‼️ ‼️ ‼️ ‼️  ref sheet of alkaloid for my alkakurei fantasy au that i totally didnt abandon crazy:B here (notes abt world+magic system and other stuff on that post)

stuff abt their outfits and etc under read more

hiiro is fresh from his village baby boy left to go find his nii-san with only his clothes and a trusty satchel at his side- he just goes around looking for his nii-san and etcetc idk how long the gap is but he finds tatsumi and mayo and stays with them for some time and during that time tatsun gets him a coat because baby boy literally only has those and hes just been doing work for some guild (idk how to explain bc guilds require education but i guess tatsun pulled strings for him) so he has money to live while also looking for his nii-san and sometimes he has to go to cold places and one time he comes home after a job in a cold place and hes sick and tatsun is like hiiro-san please take this jacket with you :..) so now hiiro has a coat custom-made for him :3! he's good with elemental magic (the 5 core elements water wind fire earth plant) very versatile and a skilled little guy (not as talented as his nii-san but no one is as talented as nii-san!) anyways yadda yadda he gets a message or smth and is preparing to leave tatsun and mayo but (spoilers for meru fic) meru points him towards the town where everyone else is and yea he goes and finds his nii-san and now his goal has changed from find nii-san to convince nii-san to go back home but he befriends everyone else too and i think they do eventually go on some kind of adventure together maybe more the three younger ppl aira hiiro and kohaku

aira is a little silly fellow he dresses nicely (very inspired by fs2 but i cant stop looking at it and thinking damn he french colored......) and loves magic so much he admires all the grand mages and everyone in the upper echelons and loves watching other people cast spells and such unfortunately for him while he has a decently high innate talent, his control is God Awful which results in magic never going well for him- with no control at all, literally negative control, he can try to cast one spell and something completely different will be cast instead- and the skill level varies too it's literally just a roll of a dice for him if he tries to cast a simple flame spell he might end up flooding the room with a wall of water, it's that bad kkshfkj also he acts like he doesn't like it but he actually loves rabuhan-junior so much he secretly spoils the hamster named after him and rabuhan junior loves him back rabuhan-junior likes to sleep in his hat or on aira's head whenever kohaku goes out and leaves rabu-han junior with aira tatsun has very normal clothes bro dresses like a dad (did you know both of his fs have the same color palettes i didnt but using them as reference made me realize, anyways-) his clothes are very comfortable and easy to move around in, especially given his injury from [spoiler event here ]. he also has a cane and his injured leg has pain suppressor sigils and bandages wrapped all over it his leg isn't completely unusable like its not broken or anything its more like. a kind of necrosis like if you unwrapped it there would be a dark mark thats like icky and sometimes it flares up and hurts tatsun so much that he falls over and :( he found the cane one day in the catacomb (wonder who put it there) he added the begonia himself as a reminder of his sin... shiro is his little mouse familiar that he conjured with the help of kaname! she's a sweet little thing, often found sleeping on an open book on tatsumi's desk. she has the tatsumi-colored ears and legs because she was conjured up rather than a pact familiar. regarding magic tatsun is pretty average on both control and power, but that doesnt really matter because most of the spells he uses are passive spells more used for healing/doing work. he likes to garden and has a beautiful garden of all kinds of flowers at the chapel :) he just doesn't dare touch the flowers in the catacomb, because he knows someone else already takes care of those also that purple gem hanging around his neck is a gift from mayomayo it doesn't do anything and has no magic but tatsun still likes it :) mayomayo dresses in all dark colors because he believes that if he always dresses in dark colors no one will ever have to be bothered by seeing his existence he comes from a lineage that practices forbidden magic, not necessarily all dark but some of the more ... interesting spells . something happens in his past and he ends up leaving, taking with him his tome and well. proceeding to get chased by all kinds of monsters out in the wild because for some reason he just attracts all kinds of beasts poor guy magic-wise he does have the forbidden magic from his family but he more specializes in healing and curse removal- he doesn't dare do anything else for fear of (redacted). besides, maybe he'll one day be able to actually save somebody instead of hurting them, maybe his existence would be worth it some day. the ribbon in his hair (the green/teal one) is from tatsun :) he said mayo would look good in brighter colors and mayo disagreed so tatsun gave it to him and now its become part of his outfit and (i combust into a thousand bits ) also because of that mayo feels like he has to give tatsun something back so thats why he gives tatsumi a purple gem he had that used to hang from his spell tome anyways i still love this au very much and i hope you enjoyed now i will proceed to forget about it again /j i still really wanna write kohaku's fic and then maybe one last one for rinne-kun or smth because aghghj there's still so much that's not developed yet but (explodes)

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Come close and whisper my true name (part 2)

Dracule Mihawk x werewolf!reader.

This fic is part of the Beast in Black series. This is part two of two.

This fic is dedicated to @aamon47 and @madbadpadawan. Thanks for your encouragement!

Even though they take place in different continuities, this fic references events described in Love is a killer that never dies, even though in this AU they took place years before, when reader was younger and had only met Mihawk once.

*****

(name)'s POV

As you expected, the storm breaks once again while you were only midway to your island, but either because of your talent as a sailor or out of sheer luck, you are able to reach your destination safe and sound, and without meeting the Marines’ patrolling vessels whose captains might just decide to snoop around below decks - a troublesome waste of time in the best of cases, and that today would probably lead you to be arrested.

You have called your mother an hour ago on her Den Den Mushi to warn her you would be arriving soon, and as usual, she has acted to facilitate you; in the middle of the island’s small harbour, desert given that it’s the middle of the night, a small number of guards is waiting for you next to the carriage. Two step on your ship to dock it, while the others follow the direction you have silently pointed to and return a minute later, carrying the body-bag. 

“The lady Sinead arrived in the morning; and… her child.” you are informed, at which a sigh escapes your lips; you haven’t slept in almost forty-eight hours, not to mention you’re famished and soaking wet again, but the moment you’ll be able to rest a little is still a long way off.

A quick trip in the carriage, with Bogard’s remains as the only other occupant, and you have arrived, the fortress you have lived in since birth welcoming you with its quiet, reassuring stillness. You will need more than robust walls and a few dozen guards, most of whom have never seen battle, to protect you from the Marines’, and Garp’s, fury if they were to discover what you did, but you’re home, surrounded by people who know and trust and support you, and you can’t help feeling comforted by it.

If the Marines were to attack, your people would be the ones paying the price for it; you’d surrender yourself, not wanting others to suffer for something you have done, but not all Marine officers are honourable men like they like to present themselves, and there have been incidents, even in recent years, in which the whole population of a town or an island was decimated to force a band of pirates, or even a single individual, to come out.

You’d never let anything like that happen to your home, and to your people; you would gladly sacrifice your life to protect them… even though you have the unpleasant feelings it won’t be up to you to decide.

Despite the late hour your mother is still awake, waiting for you as she sits in her parlour with a cup of what is probably something stronger than her usual tea, and she’s not alone. 

“The lady (name), my ladies.” the servant standing guard at the door announces you; the woman sitting across from your mother simply stares at you, a vacant gaze in her eyes you cannot blame her for, while she immediately stands to meet and embrace you.

“Oh, my love.” she murmurs, and you hear her tremble in her arms. This is the first time you meet since Theon’s death since you were away on an assignment when she called to tell you what had happened and beg you to do something, and as you look at her, tension and grief making her look older than her years, the signs of crying in her bloodshot eyes, you’re suddenly reminded of the last time you saw her in that state, the day you lost both your father and your unborn child. Theon wasn’t someone you respected, let alone loved, but he was part of your family, of the pack she had a duty to protect, the son of her late brother, an uncle you barely remember since he died young; now he’s gone as well, and you know you’re both poorer for it “You’re back. Did everything go well? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, mother; I’ve been successful, and I’m sure no one saw me.” 

You linger in her embrace, as warm and safe as the ones she welcomed you in when you were a seven-year-old that nightmares had chased out of her bed, for a moment more before gently stepping back to walk to the woman who is now standing silently next to the table.

“Sinead.” you greet her softly, and then your words fail you, because what do you say in a situation like this? I’m so sorry would feel empty at best, especially given your and Theon’s not exactly affectionate relationship, and you know there’s nothing you could say to alleviate her pain, nothing that would not sound insincere.

“(name).” she greets you with a slight curtsy, and then remains silent, as if she had also perceived how useless words would be in a moment like this. She’s not an unpleasant person, you cousin-in-law, and you’re pretty sure she didn’t share Theon’s contempt and resentment for you, but the fact that she was his wife has always made it impossible for the two of you to become friendly. You have always wondered how a kind person like her could have fallen in love with your cousin, but she had, and he had loved her, since the two of them had been little more than kids, he loved her enough to sacrifice his life to save her and her relatives “I… did you do it?”

“Theon has been avenged.” you reassure her “His killer has paid for what he has done.”

“Thank you. I…” she stops for a moment to dab her eyes, no doubt for the umpteenth time in the last two days; her long, flowing hair, that you have always seen elaborately styled with ribbons and jewels and even flowers to decorate it, looks almost bare worn in a simple, tight bun and covered by a black veil “... is that him?”

Sinead is now looking towards the door behind your shoulders, at the servants who are now carrying the body-bag along the corridor. “It’s him, isn’t it? The man who killed my Theon.”

“Sinead…” your mother murmurs soothingly as she approaches, but your cousin-in-law ignores you both as she marches towards the door.

“You! Leave it down, now.” she orders, more commanding than you’ve ever heard her, and after a moment of indecision the servants obey; once the body-bag is lying on the floor, Sinead wastes no time in opening it, exposing Bogard’s face.

You see her hold her breath, and for a terrifying moment you fear she’s going to say this is not the man she and her brothers met that night in the woods, not the man she recognised in the register your mother has shown her, and that consequently you had killed Bogard in vain. A moment later Sinead’s eyes fill with tears…

… and then she kicks him. The vicious violence of the gesture, especially from a usually meek, reserved woman, is enough to elicit a gasp from your mother, and at that first kick a second follows, and a third, until you start fearing Sinead will rip Bogard’s head off.

“You monster! You… you bastard! We were not hurting anyone, only playing, what was the need to attack and hurt us? He was a good man, he didn’t deserve it, I needed him, and our son needed him! I hope you’ll rot in Hell for the rest of eternity!”

You don’t know what is more horrible and heartbreaking, Sinead’s helpless rage or the violence carried out on Bogard’s mortal rests; you’ve always thought the desecration of a corpse is a vile act, but when you share a look with your mother you know you are both thinking the same thing: that your cousin-in-law needs, perhaps even deserves, a modicum of revenge of her own, in the hopes it’ll help her.

It takes Sinead’s rage several minutes to subside; in the end, panting, she falls on the closest chair. 

“I brought Caspian with me.” she murmurs after a while, looking up at you “My mother-in-law couldn’t bear to come, but my son… he insisted; I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.” you reassure her, and I’ll be happy to see him again you’re about to add before quickly biting your tongue, and reminding yourself Sinead’s and her son’s is not a courtesy visit “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you, (name); and thank you for avenging Theon. You didn’t have to.”

“What are you saying? He was my cousin, I could have never let his killer get away with it.”

“Yes, but… well, given how… how things were between the two of you…”

Sinead blushes, despite her grief well aware of how discourteous those words have to sound at your ears, and they do: if your cousin’s wife expected you not to decide to avenge him, or at least not to feel as it was your duty to do it, she probably knows Theon wouldn’t have done the same for you, had your places been exchanged. Given how your relationship had evolved since you were still kids, you wouldn’t have been surprised if Theon had asked to meet your killer to shake his hand. 

“He was my cousin.” you simply say in the end “My family, my second closest relative left. He was part of my pack. I owed it to him.”

Sinead nods; she stands, gratefully accepting your mother’s arm in doing it, and asks to be excused, since she needs rest, and to be with her son. The two of you wish her good-night, and one of the servants accompanies her to her room, while two others take care of the body-bag and its contents.

“Shall we have it buried in the Sinner’s camp?” your mother softly proposes, mentioning the name most people on the island use to define the small cemetery facing the island’s only jail, where the bodies of convicts whose remains have not been claimed by their families are buried. It is an eerie, desolated place, that you still avoid walking past. 

“It’s better if we burn it.” you answer; you feel guilty just for proposing it, well aware Bogard would deserve better, a respectable funeral with his family and friends attending, but you know you can’t give it to him “I’m sure the Marines won’t be able to trace his disappearance back to me, but we have to destroy any evidence of what happened. His body has to disappear.”

“Then we could have him cremated, and scatter his ashes at sea.”

“I think it’s the best thing we could do. Gods, this is all a nightmare…”

“You need to rest, (name).” 

“I know; and still, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to. I know I’ve taken all precautions to cover Bo… that man’s murder, but what if the Marines find out? He was Garp’s attendant, I don’t know what I’ll do the next time I’ll meet him…”

If your mother is worried -and she has every reason to be; she hasn’t seen you this upset about killing someone, not even when you returned, victorious but still a little shaken, after claiming your first victim- she doesn’t show it; she gently asks whether she can help you in any way, and having received a negative response she urges you to go to your rooms, to sleep or at least take a moment for yourself. After all there is nothing else that you have to or can do; tomorrow you’ll have a small ceremony for Theon, who then Sinead and Caspian will bring back home to their home in the northmost region of the island, and then… and then you’ll only have to wait, hoping Bogard’s disappearance remains an unsolved case forever, and neither you nor Mihawk are suspected for it. 

Mihawk. It’s him you think about as, having said goodnight to your mother and stolen away to your rooms, you let yourself fall on the bed and savour the silent darkness of the chamber around you. He’s probably still at sea, sailing smoothly on his little vessel towards Kuraigana Island, and given the hour -it’s night; you have completely lost track of time, but given the complete lack of light filtering through the curtained windows it must be very late, although not so late it becomes early- you should wait until tomorrow to call him, but right now you need him - you need the sound of his voice, the reassurance of his steadfast love, the comfort of knowing he’s alright, maybe far from you but safe and sound, only a call away.

Your father and child were killed. Both of your maternal grandparents died, and you never really knew your uncle. And now Theon, who you didn’t love but who was your family nonetheless. It seems everyone around you leaves before their time; who will be next? Your mother, perhaps? Or your partner?

It’s useless to worry, of course; Mihawk is one of the strongest combatants in the world, he’s more than capable of facing whatever danger or opponent he finds himself facing, and even if something were to happen, you wouldn’t be able to do anything while you’re apart. You should trust him, his strength and resilience, like he trusts yours; and nonetheless, you can’t stop thinking that soon, tomorrow maybe, it’s his death you’ll find yourself mourning…

You retrieve your Den Den Mushi from the pocket of your dress, but after a moment of contemplation you place it on the bedside table, too tired even for the simple, pleasant task of talking to your partner. Forgetting the bedside routine you have been taught to follow since you were ten -put nightgown on; wash face; brush teeth; put derringer under your pillow- you simply kick your boots away, remove your holster and rest your cheek on the pillow.

You’re already fast asleep thirty seconds later.

*****

On the next morning, and after a whole week of sunny skies and unseasonably warm temperatures, rain keeps falling on the island - a misty, insistent rain, much less dangerous than the violent storm that had raged over the beach of Cartas as you took care of Bogard and then spoke to Mihawk, but still unpleasant and inconvenient. You don’t mind it though: once again, the bad weather kind of matches your mood.

You have just finished having breakfast -you’re famished, but at the same time you eat almost automatically, to satisfy your grumbling stomach without actually appreciating the food- when a small urn is brought to you, without label or explanation. You thank the servants, then you walk out of the fortress, reach a secluded beach nearby, open the urn and empty it, letting the chilly wind carry the ashes away. For better and for worse, whether it was the right thing to do or simply a decision you took when no other presented itself, there is no trace left of Bogard in the world, nothing save for the memories of those who knew him.

A category you’re also part of. You pause in meditation for a minute, unbothered by the rain, not asking for a forgiveness that you know you don’t deserve but simply remembering him, a man you didn’t know well but who was brave and capable and faithful, and who deserved better. Then, when any trace of him has disappeared, the winds having scattered his remains to the four corners of the sea, you turn and walk back home, the song of the sea filling your ears.

Theon’s funeral rites will take place at his home, so that he can rest where his family and friends can visit him; you and your mother have agreed you wouldn’t be welcome - at least, Theon wouldn’t want you there, and so you decide to say goodbye before Sinead takes him away. On the next full moon night, the whole pack will howl together, mounting the loss of one of their own, and wishing them safe travel to the otherworld. 

As you enter the fortress’ chapel the scent of frankincense is so strong to make you stumble for a moment, the darkness of the chamber barely illuminated by the dim light filtering through the glass windows. A few paces from you, a casket has been prepared on a low table, and a small group of people are standing in a circle around it: you see your mother and Sinead, arm in arm, and the few people living in the city who your cousin knew well. You’re about to join them when you notice a movement out of the corner of your eye; there’s someone curled up in the small space between the chapel’s wall and its door, invisible from the centre of the chamber, knees to their chest and face hidden behind their arms.

“Hello, Caspian.”

The child, who you were yet to meet after his and his mother’s arrival at the fortress last night, doesn’t answer, but he slowly raises his gaze to meet yours; he looks more like Sinead than Theon, except for his eyes, that are the same colour as those of your mother and her brother, Theon’s father. Neither you nor your cousin have inherited it, the characteristic having skipped a generation; you have always wondered whether your child would have had those eyes as well. 

“Hello, auntie (name).” he murmurs in the end “What are you doing here?”

“I came to say goodbye to your father.”

Silence.

“Would you like to come with me?”

Silence again; Caspian averts his eyes, preferring to stare at a damp spot on the wall as if he could read his future on it. From the centre of the room, your mother meets your eyes and shrugs helplessly, a sympathetic expression on her face. 

You easily understand what has happened. According to the traditions of your island, the casket has to be closed as soon as possible after the preparation of the body, so that the spirit can depart in peace, and never be opened again, not even during the funeral. This is the last opportunity Caspian has to see his father, but a dead body is not something many six-year-olds can face without trembling.

In the end you nod at your mother -It’s alright, I’ll take care of it- and sit on the floor close to your little nephew, who looks at you, vaguely diffident, but doesn’t protest.

“My father died as well, you know?” you begin after a while, your legs crossed under your skirt and your hands in your lap “It happened many years before you were born. He was… he was the same age as your father now.”

Caspian, who has hidden his face behind his arms once more, peeks at you, curious against himself. “What happened to him?”

“It happened that my mother and I were in danger, and he gave his life to save ours; just like your father did.”

“He fought a man who wanted to hurt mother and my uncles.”

“I know, darling. He was very brave, and I’m very, very sorry for what happened to him.” 

Caspian scoffs at your words - a sound you had never heard someone as young as him make, and that makes him suddenly look much more like his father. “That’s not true.”

You turn to look at him. “Why do you say that?” you ask, your tone calm and even friendly, but Caspian bites his tongue; even at his young age, he must have perceived that accusing someone of lying is a grave insult “You can tell me; I won’t get angry, I promise.”

Silence surrounds you for a little while until your nephew confesses: “Father said you hated him.”

“Did he?”

“Yes. He said that even though becoming the lord of the island was his destiny, since he was a man, and older, you insisted with auntie Veressa to exclude him, because you thought you were better and smarter than him. And then you told him he had to never talk to you about it again, and if he did your boyfriend, who is a very mean pirate, would kill him.”

He waits, expecting you to explain and to defend yourself - which you could easily do, even in terms simple enough for a child his age to understand, because as you should have expected of him, Theon hadn’t been exactly objective in describing to his little son the truth regarding the line of succession to the lordship of the island, not to mention the real reason for your resentment. Still, the last thing Caspian needs at this moment is to hear you describe his father as a liar, so you bite your tongue and carefully measure your words.

“Caspian, I swear to you I never did anything mean to your father; I never stole anything that was his, and I would have never hurt him.” you announce, a hand on your heart “Nor would I have asked my boyfriend to do it for me.” 

“Is he the pirate with the big black sword? The man they call the Hawk? I’ve seen his picture on the paper.”

“They call him Hawk Eyes. And yes, it’s him.”

“He looks very strong.”

“He is; he is the strongest swordsman in the world.” you confirm seriously, and Caspian looks at you, impressed; a moment later the expression of his little face falls, as he suddenly remembers where he is, and why.

“I didn’t hate your father, Caspian.” you murmur as you circle his shoulders with an arm; your nephew is hurting, maybe too much for his little heart to bear, and no one better than you can understand what it feels like “It’s true that we didn’t… always… get along…”

“Why?”

“It’s too complicated to explain now; one day, when you’re older, I promise I’ll tell you. Even so, there were many things I admired about him: I know he was very smart, and that he took good care of you and your mother. He also rode a horse much better than I do. And in any case, he was my cousin; he was my family, part of my pack, like you and auntie Veressa are. Even if we often fought, and we weren’t friends, I’m very sorry he’s dead, and I knew it was my duty to punish the person who killed him.”

Caspian has listened to you intently; he finally nods, accepting your explanation. 

“Now, you want to come say good-bye to him?” you propose “You don’t have to do it, but this is your last chance, because then they’ll close the casket.”

“I know; mother told me. Is he…” your nephew hesitates, as if lacking the words to describe what he means “Does he look bad?”

“No, darling; he looks… well, as if he were sleeping.”

“Alright…”

Caspian swallows. “Will you come with me?” he asks then, suddenly uncertain, because what he is about to do is no small matter for a person his age, or perhaps because he fears he has no right to ask for your support, given how things were between you and his father.

“Of course.”

You hold hands as you walk the short distance to the casket and the people surrounding it.

“Auntie (name)?”

“Yes, darling?”

“He did hate you, you know; father.” Caspian confesses; he speaks hastily, as if wanting to clear his conscience and, at the same time, afraid you’ll blame him for his father’s sins “Once, after he had drunk… I heard him telling mother he wished auntie Veressa had delivered you dead.”

You wish you could say you’re surprised.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, little one.” you murmur “And all the mean things your father said or did to me, I forgive him. Now let’s go say goodbye.”

Your cousin lies on his back, his hands on his chest, wearing rich clothes befitting a lord, his doublet hiding the bullet wounds on his chest. 

You let Caspian go first. “You don’t have to, darling.” Sinead warns him, but your little nephew approaches bravely, stares at his father for a moment, and then goes on his tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

“Good-bye, father.” he murmurs “I love you.”

A moment later Sinead has taken him in her arms, both mother and son comforted by the other’s presence. You stare down at your cousin, completely sure he wouldn’t want to be kissed by you, not even on this specific occasion; therefore, you limit yourself to brush your fingers against his cheek.

“Good-bye, cousin.” you murmur “Wherever you are, I hope you have found peace.”

*****

It’s only four hours later, once your cousin-in-law and nephew have departed to bring Theon’s body home and you have shared a quiet but comforting lunch with your mother, that you are free to retire to your rooms and call Mihawk. Curled up on your bed as you enjoy the cool breeze coming in through the window, you retrieve your Den Den Mushi from the bedside table; as you expected, he answers immediately.

“Is everything alright?”

“I think so. I waited two hours after you left before calling Garp, pretending to be upset that he -since I had no reason to think he’d send someone else- hadn’t come to meet me as decided.” you partner -your boyfriend, as Caspian described him; you wonder how Mihawk would react if you called him that to his face- explains “He was surprised his lapdog had not arrived, but he didn’t seem to suspect it had something to do with me, or with you. Before leaving I made sure to check there was no trace of his passage in the hut; even if they come investigating the Marines will have no way to prove he ever reached the island.”

You sigh relieved, the explanation of Bogard having run into some danger at sea perfectly believable even for an experienced Marine like him, especially since he sailed alone. “Thank you; I’ll find a way to blame Bontemps for his disappearance, I have already spoken about it to my mother.”

“I think it’s your safest option.”  

“I hope it’ll be enough. What are you doing?”

You were afraid you had diverted your partner’s attention from his training, but Mihawk tells you he was working in the fields, his interest in agriculture having developed after he moved to Kuraigana Island. “How are you?” he murmurs, his question much less banal than it could sound.

“I’m not sure.” you admit, circling your legs with one arm; a moment later you realise you have started rocking back and forth, like you did as a young girl to comfort yourself when you were scared or worried “Theon’s wife and son have left, everything is more or less back to normal. I cannot say I’ll miss my cousin, but I have to admit his death has… upset me.”

Mihawk meditates on the matter for a minute. “It must have brought back memories. Your nephew lost his father, like you did years ago.”  

You’re not saddened, and even less displeased, that your partner mentioned the most painful event of your life; rather you’re comforted, aware that once more, he was able to perceive what you were feeling and thinking, even when you’re so far apart.

“It did. I’m a killer-for-hire, I know how fragile life is; but what happened suddenly reminded me that death may come at any moment. So many of my kin died before their time, and I don’t know what could be worse: that I’ll be the next… or that I won’t.”

You know Mihawk has little patience for self-pity, but when he remains silent for a few moments, you know he’s not blaming you; in the end “Well.” he murmurs “I’m not your family, but you can be assured I have no intention of dying, at least for a few decades.”

Those words make you smile, for the first time in almost seventy-two hours. “You are my family, Mihawk.” you point out then; you’ve known for years, and the fact that the two of you are not married changes nothing.

Silence again.

“Sorry, that was… weird?”

“Don’t worry about it.” he says, clearing his voice; for a moment he sounds awkward, but in a good way “Changing the subject, you’ll remember there was something important I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh! Right. What was it?”

Silence again, this time only a few seconds long, but enough to make you perceive your partner is not hesitating, rather he’s searching for the right words. “You remember what we spoke about, that full-moon night you spent on Kuraigana?”

Of course you do. “Of course I do.”

“I want to do it.”

“... oh.”

“I thought you would be fine with it.” Mihawk points out; the tone of disappointment in his voice is subtle, but you know him well enough to perceive it “To be honest, I thought you’d be happy with it.”

“I’d be; and I am.” you quickly reassure him; you’re already smiling “I’m just surprised; you’ve seen how dangerous it is.”

“You think I’m afraid?”

“I think you couldn’t be afraid if you tried, Mihawk, but I want you to know what you’re getting into. I won’t ask you if you’re sure, but you never mentioned it after that night, and I always had the impression… well, that you were fine simply being a human. Remember once it’s done you will have no way to change back, and making sure you’re safe and alone every single full moon can be tricky, even for a man who lives on a deserted island.”

“I know. Believe me, I’ve thought about it for a long while, and I’m sure; I just…”

“Yes?”

“I want us to share this.” your partner murmurs, and those few words are enough to make you feel as if you could cry again - not in sorrow though. 

“Well, then…” you consider pensively as you move to find a more comfortable position on the bed. Now you’re grinning; happy, and excited, already looking forward to what will have to take place before the next full moon. “We better start preparing.”

*****

Mihawk’s POV

The moon is barely visible tonight, on account of its size rather than the presence of clouds: a thin sliver, whose light nonetheless resonates with that of the multitude of stars surrounding it. It’s a crescent moon night, which, from what (name) has told him, is an auspicious sign, usually reserved for new beginnings, like weddings, departures… and turnings. Mihawk doesn’t particularly believe in that sort of omens, but his partner chose this night for his transformation, and he was more than happy to indulge her.

In this, and in everything else. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for (name), no crime he wouldn’t commit and no sacrifice he wouldn’t bear; that is the sort of influence his partner has on him, she has changed his life, she has changed him, in a way Mihawk had never thought could happen. And the most unexpected thing is that he’s happy, even grateful for it, not last because he knows (name) shares and reciprocates his feelings in their full intensity and would never betray him. His partner has warned him about the turning, she has told him that he should do it for himself, not -only- for her, and he does: he can’t imagine his life without her, and he wants them to share everything, their bodies and their feelings and now their blood as well.

One day, perhaps, they will make it official; he’s confident (name) won’t decline, even though marriage is not regarded as necessary and essential on her island as it is in most places around the sea. That would require a few changes in their lives, but the swordsman is confident they can cope; they can overcome any obstacle they find on their path, as long as they are together.

“Are you nervous?” (name) murmurs as she joins him at the fortress’ open doors; she stops for a moment, filling her lungs with the pleasant smell wafting towards them, and then takes his hand in hers. His partner is smiling, happy and excited, and he finds himself grinning back before intertwining their fingers “Not that you’d admit it.”

“I wouldn’t need to, because I don’t get nervous.”

“Of course you don’t.”

They are alone, on Mihawk’s request, since he doesn’t need other people around when shifting into a wolf for the first time; his partner is the only person he’d accept being turned by, and the whole experience feels too intimate and delicate to be witnessed by a crowd of strangers. (name) has obliged, but she has nonetheless asked her mother and a few other people she knows and trusts to stand ready to intervene should things get out of control. “I’ve seen it happen many times, but this is my first time turning someone; the last thing I want is to put you in danger.” she explained to him as they laid in bed together, the woman’s cheek resting against her partner’s chest, the perfect position to listen to his still hastened heartbeat “They are my pack, Mihawk; they might not be yours, but it’s normal for us to share important moments like this.”

And now, the moment has come. Mihawk lifts his gaze towards the moon, reflecting that the next time the sun rises, he will be a different man; but he’ll be himself still, not needing claws or fangs to vanquish any opponent he might find on his path, and with his woman next to him. He needs nothing else.

“I am ready.” he says; the grip on his hand becomes firmer for a moment.

“Then we can go.”

They are both barefoot as they walk down the steps and towards the fortress’ gardens, a secluded, well-tended area where the two lovers have spent many pleasant moments, making love under the stars or simply enjoying a glass of wine and each other’s company. Tonight there is a small tray waiting for them as well, sitting on the top of a first-aid kit inside a small case, but the two glasses on it are empty, which Mihawk regrets for a moment: he has been instructed not to eat anything for the last twenty-four hours, in order to purify his body, and it’s not unusual for him to skip a meal or even two, when he is too focused on his training or in the rare cases the Marines task him with a mission worth the effort, but he can’t remember the last time he has drunk a drop of water, and his throat feels parched.

They sit cross-legged on the grass, the warm breeze of the night gently stirring their clothes. Mihawk wears trousers and a shirt, while (name) is naked under her dressing gown, a detail that would usually stir the swordsman’s attention -and something else as well- but that today he realises being due to simple practicality; his partner will have to be naked when she shifts, and the less clothes she wears the easier it will be to take them off. 

“Your father never became a werewolf, even though he lived here on the island for years.” Mihawk considers, eliciting a smile from his partner; she likes talking about her father “Did he never ask? Or was it you and your mother who didn’t let him?”

“It was his choice. No matter how much he loved us, he didn’t mind remaining human, and I don’t think our relationship suffered because of it, even though I would have liked to spend the full moon nights all together, as a family. We weren't any less close because my mother and I were werewolves and he wasn’t; and we didn’t love him any less.”

“I know what I’m doing, (name).”

“You don’t, my darling; not fully, because no one who has not experienced the shifting can. But I know you’re doing this for me, and I love you for this.”

A smile blossoms on (name)’s lips; she looks scared, and excited in equal measure, as she takes Mihawk’s hand in his. “Now, a normal human, like you, would become a werewolf if one, in wolf form, bit them; in case of a werewolf in human form, like me now, the victim would also have to drink their blood. If it’s all the same for you, I’d rather not shift; we know already I can recognise you in wolf form, but there’s always the risk wolf-me won’t be able to control her strength and will end up hurting you.”

“I thought shifting instantly healed bite wounds.”

“Not if I bite your head off. Shall we?”

She slips out of her dressing gown, which a moment later is folded and placed on the grass near the first-aid kit; a moment later (name) moves the tray away to open the case and rummage inside. “Now, there should be a knife somewhere…”

“Wait.” Mihawk, now equally naked, murmurs; unhesitatingly, he takes the Kogatana from its sheath around his neck to offer it to her by the handle. (name) smiles. “How many people have you ever let touch your weapons, even just to examine them?”

“Only you and Yoru.”

“I’m flattered. It’s nothing new, of course, since I have already handled your sword many times…” 

Mihawk, who has lost the ability to blush before turning twelve, raises an eyebrow. “Is this a time to joke?”

“Sorry, sorry. Will you pass me the cups, please?” (name) asks, but her partner’s only reaction is a shake of his head, and a hand that takes her free one to have her sit again. “No cups; I want you to drink from me, and I’ll drink from you.”

“Mihawk…”

“I’m serious. This is not a glass of wine in an inn, this is us exchanging our blood to turn me. It’s too precious to waste it in a container.” he points out; he waits for a moment before adding: “Unless you prefer that way, that is.”

(name) smiles; he can’t know, but she is thinking that there’s no place she wouldn’t follow him, not even to the other side of the world or to Hell itself. “Of course. Open up for me, please.”

Mihawk obeys, spreading his legs to allow his partner to sit between them. (name) kisses him, long and hard, almost biting his lips as their tongues dance; it should feel uncomfortable, maybe even painful, but Mihawk feels arousal pooling in his belly. His eyes closed, he moans low when (name) breaks the kiss, and a moment later he feels the tip of the Kogatana’s small but perfectly sharpened blade against his left pectoral.

“Don’t move.” she murmurs. It would have been more dangerous if she had attempted to cut Mihawk’s wrist or his neck, but she has never used a blade longer than a steak knife and she has seen her partner gut a man with that very knife; the last thing she wants to do is to injure him. When she finally wounds him Mihawk hisses, his breath held in pain “I’m sorry…”

“I’m fine.” he murmurs, a hand on the back of her head, and a moment later both of their gazes lower to observe the wound, no more than three inches long but quite deep, and the first drop of vibrant red blood that soon emerges from it, and then another one, and another…

(name) licks her lips; she has drunk the blood of her victims many times, foxes and racoons and deers, and even a couple of bears she and her mother have felled together, happily eating her fill from their carcasses and then returning home with blood smearing her snout and mouth, but this is different… not an element she can’t help ingesting as she feeds, but something that goes way beyond mere nourishment. This is the blood of Mihawk -her partner, her lover, her mate- a source of life and energy, drawn from his warm and powerful body, in a way the essence of his very being; she knows she has to drink it in order to transform him, the process still mysterious but well-understood by her people, but suddenly, as she regards the bright red liquid pooling down Mihawk’s well-toned chest, she feels an emotion she has never experienced fill her heart, both protectiveness and fascination. 

That blood is his, but hers as well, she has spilled it, to keep for herself and to drink in order to turn him, and then her partner will drink hers, and so they will be one - not in their pleasure and the union of their bodies like they have experienced it so many times before, and neither like they have long known they belong to each other, in the intimacy of their hearts. They are not vampires, they don’t need it in order to sustain themselves, but drinking each other’s blood, (name) sharing her gift with Mihawk and him welcoming it in order to be closer to her, means a part of each of them will forever live inside the other, and this, she think, is a blessing she and her partner are lucky to receive.

She licks her lips, suddenly hungry for that trickle of red liquid, the wound now bleeding freely, like she has never been for any prey or meal; every instinct she has is screaming at her to do it, but (name), now bent to observe the wound after placing the Kogatana on the grass next to her, forces herself to resist. “May I?” she asks, trepidant, as if actually fearing he could deny her. Mihawk smiles- another treasure she is one of the few to have seen.

“Take it, darling.” he murmurs, taking her face in his hands to draw her closer to his chest “It’s all yours, like I am.”

He moans, this time not in pain nor in protest, when his partner stars lapping up his chest, ignoring his nipples and the thin strip of hair under his navel to lick his skin clean of the blood; (name) pants, a sound Mihawk has already heard her make many times but that never ceases to have an effect on him, as she starts sucking the blood, avid for it, and for a moment the swordsman fears she could end up bleeding him dry, so intense is her thirst, but he doesn’t mind, he wouldn’t be able to worry even if (name) had pressed the blade of the Kogatana against his throat, because he likes this, he likes this a lot, enough to scream, enough to feel his flesh burn with desire, and it’s unexpected, because he has never been the sort of person who mixes pleasure and pain, but he’s doing it now, enough that his head is spinning…

“Mihawk.”

“Hmm…”

“Darling, open your eyes.” (name) murmurs, and when the swordsman obeys he finds himself face to face with his partner’s amused smile, no longer in front but above him, as he lays on the ground “Are you alright?”

“I… think so; I feel light-headed.” Mihawk murmurs; the truth is it takes him a while before his partner’s face stops swimming in front of his, his legs and arms shaking as if he had taken his clothes off in the middle of a snowstorm, rather than a warm spring night “It’s the blood, isn’t it?”

“It is. Now that I’ve drunk your blood your body is perceiving the call of the wolf, but only once you’ll drink mine you’ll become a werewolf in all respects; I’ll… contaminate you, not unlike a virus.”

“And then I’ll shift.”

“And then you’ll shift; I’ll remain human to guide you through it, and once you’re fully a wolf I’ll shift as well. Is that alright?”

Mihawk nods, forcing himself to hide the effort that simple movement costs him; he feels weaker by the moment, but when (name) places the Kogatana back in his hand, he doesn’t hesitate before sitting up, and taking the arm his partner is offering him in his free hand.

“This is the arm you use to shoot.” he murmurs, a mute doubt in his eyes, and his partner nods reassuringly.

“I trust you.” she murmurs “I’ve used this arm so many times to give death; it’s appropriate that it serves to give life for once.”

Neither speaks after that; Mihawk kisses (name)’s wrist before resting the tip of the blade on the inside of her arm for a moment and then sliding it downward, a perfectly vertical wound opening on the soft skin. Tiny drops appear on the seam, and for a moment he fears he went too deep, that a scar will remain defacing her lovely body, or even worse, she won’t be able to use the arm anymore, making her mercenary work infinitely harder…

But (name) is smiling at him, her face full of joy and anticipation. Drink it, she’s telling him, even though her lips are not moving, and he obeys, lowering himself to lick the blood, drinking avidly as if he had found a spring of cool water after a full day of thirst. Despite the impulse he feels, the weakness coupled with an irresistible impulse to feed, Mihawk only needs to drink a few drops before his body revolts against it. A sudden wave of nausea hits him, and even though he hasn’t eaten for a day and a night for a moment he’s sure he’s going to feel sick -that would be just perfect, to empty his stomach in front of (name), or worse yet, on her lap- but he can’t stop, he keeps drinking and licking and making a profoundly obscene sound as he sucks the wound, forcing himself to swallow despite the spasms. He can feel his partner’s hand on his hair, her caress soothing and encouraging as the pungent metallic smell hits his taste buds. It’s not pleasant, far from it, he’s going to start retching any moment now, but for some reason he can’t stop, a painful, destructing pleasure filling his belly the more of her blood he swallows.

He can feel the wolf awakening before rationally realising the shifting is starting; Mihawk growls under his breath, his muscles tensing, as a weird, incomprehensible feeling fills him - the sensation of being too small for his body, as if something were growing inside him, ready to tear him apart as it grows to its full size. (name) has told him the transformation is not particularly painful, at least once one grows used to it, but she was born a werewolf -in wolf form, on top of that- so Mihawk is not sure he can trust her judgement on this. He doesn’t regret his decision, far from it, but for the first time in decades he doesn’t know what to expect, this is completely different from anything he has ever experienced…

And then his heart stops. 

He knows it has stopped, which makes no sense, because he should have lost consciousness - he should have died, because not even the strongest swordsman in the world can keep living once his heart has ceased beating, but he hasn’t. He can feel (name) run her fingers through his hair, offering him comfort and reassurance, but he can appreciate neither; his back - no, his whole body is covered his sweat, and suddenly he feels hot, much hotter than the warmth of the night could account for, hotter than any fever-plagued patient has ever been. He feels his blood boiling, and perhaps this is what is happening, and he will be the first man in history to burn from the inside…

Relief fills him when his heart starts beating again, after a pause of a full minute, but he is still in pain, his flesh and his skin and now his bones as well hurting, it’s like they are stretching, which is absurd, because he’s an adult and he can’t be growing in height still…

Then it hits him. His bones are changing shape, adapting to the wolf’s build, and the reason why his skin itches is that fur is growing to cover it; the transformation has begun, his human body, and his human mind, giving way to the wolf taking control over them.

Mihawk can feel the grass under his curled body, the night’s breeze caressing his naked skin. He slowly, cautiously opens his eyes, and at first cannot make sense of the world in front of him; his eyes have adapted to the wolf’s sight, eyes that have a wider field of view but that can only decipher a limited range of colours and hues, but he doesn’t know, he couldn’t understand it even if the concept were explained to him, because Mihawk -Dracule Mihawk, the strongest swordsman in the world, an individual with his thoughts and feelings and memories- has by now almost completely disappeared, his mind dormant and his body transformed, a one hundred forty pounds predator having taken the place of both.

(name) is still sitting next to him, lightly caressing her partner’s back and hair as she sees thick black fur cover his skin; at that point the man she loves is halfway between his human and wolf forms, a strange, nameless creature with hands that could still grab a sword and a long furry tail that sprouted above his asscheeks. His face has already changed, a long snout, strong jaws, a high forehead surmounted by triangular ears; but his eyes… his eyes are still his, those lovely yellow bird-eyes that all the world knows and fears, and that she loves. They have remained as they were, and (name) knows her partner has as well, whatever body his spirit inherits.

“Are you alright?” she asks, regretting it a moment later, because she just needs to look at him to know he’s in pain, and also because he can no longer articulate words. At this point his body is mostly wolfish, adapted to a quadrupedal gait, feet and hands shifted into paws, his teeth elongated into fangs that could tear a bear or a moose apart; (name) can feel his human conscience slipping away, buried under the instinct the wolf is assaulted by but cannot control. When he meets her eyes, she knows he’s no longer seeing her, rather an unknown, potentially dangerous creature he doesn’t recognise; she tries petting his back, and the wolf growls under his breath, threatening and suspicious. (name) sees him squat, eyeing her suspiciously and sniffing the hand she has cautiously offered him before turning away; he whines, vaguely pensive, as if trying to decide whether he can trust her or not, if she is friend or foe. He tries to stand, and at first he fails, his new limbs not working as they should; he looks around, slowly acclimatising to the place around him, sniffing the air and then, when (name) moves to her knees, growling again towards her, as if warning her not to bother him if she doesn’t want to get hurt.

By the time he can stand and move, his long tail brushing the grass, his shifting is complete. The wolf is large, his ebony black fur covering a slender, powerfully built body, with strong legs, a long snout and a muscled neck; he spends a few more seconds sniffing around before raising his gaze to the moon, and there he keeps it, fascination and reverence in his eyes, as if the wolf had perceived the effect the far-away celestial body has on him, its silver light bathing him, surrounding him with its cool warmth.

They remain still for a while, the calm but vigilant wolf and the strange two-legged creature next to him observing the moon; it’s a precious moment, intimacy and understanding going beyond their differences and almost complete inability to communicate. (name) thinks back to the night Mihawk has refused to abandon her side when a storm had forced her to shift on Kuraigana, whatever danger wolf-her might represent; she loved him so much that night, a feeling the wolf shouldn’t have been able to understand but she had, for a creature so different from her and that had insisted to remain by her side, to prove how fully and unquestionably he accepted and trusted her. It’s only fair, and appropriate, that she returns the courtesy, sharing her gift with her partner and making sure his first shift goes smoothly. 

It has, thank all the Gods, and now there’s nothing keeping her from going as well; (name) keeps her gaze fixed on the moon as she begins shifting. 

*****

Mihawk’s POV

Relief is a feeling wolves know, including those like him who have just shifted for the first time and are still not completely steady on their paws. Relief is when the first call of spring fills the forest, and the she-wolf turns to look at her litter, still complete at the end of winter. Relief is when the wolf hunter observes the bear he and his companions have just felled, and decides it’s big enough to feed the whole pack so that none of them will have to sacrifice themselves. Relief is when they are able to out-run the two-legged beasts who chase after them, and to find a den to hide in until their attackers have left.

Relief is what fills Mihawk’s heart when he sees the weird creature next to him begin shifting.

She is one of those bipedal creatures as well, who for uncountable lives have oppressed those like him, hunting them out of fear or to compete against them for prey and land, and for this Mihawk should have felt wary of her, even though the creature was smaller than him, lacking fangs and claws like all of her kin. But he hasn’t; rather, as soon as he saw her, and sniffed her scent, he felt… he wouldn’t know how to describe it. 

A familiarity? A memory? A bit of both perhaps, and yet something different and special. He doesn’t remember who she is, when and how they met, but he knows they have, and that she is important and trustworthy - not someone to be suspicious of or to hurt, but a friend, an ally, who knows him well. She’s silent, since they wouldn’t be able to communicate in any case, but her body, her very being, is calling to him and his, the voice of her spirit intense enough to distract him from the enthralling view of the moon in the sky. Her scent is vaguely unpleasant, like that of most of her species, but Mihawk is not bothered; rather than mistrust, what he is experiencing is a pull towards her, the desire to approach to rest his head on her lap and let her caress the fur of his face. They could look at the moon together for a while, and then walk in the woods, and eat the prey he will catch for them; it would be nice.

Mihawk is about to cover the short distance between him and the creature when she starts shifting, a process she performs much more quickly and smoothly than he has only a few minutes ago, and that Mihawk observes, instinctively waiting for something he doesn’t quite grasp, and his heart leaps in his throat when the creature -the woman, a distant part of his mind suddenly supplies; he know that is the appropriate word to describe her, even though he doesn’t understand its meaning- suddenly disappears, and a beautiful she-wolf, strong and svelte, takes her place. 

A she-wolf Mihawk knows. A she-wolf Mihawk recognises.   

Mate, he whines, an amorous, needy note in his voice human-him would feel embarrassed at being heard using, and after a moment spent stretching her muscles the she-wolf looks at him, an amused, vaguely coquettish sound escaping her jaws. She remains where she is, allowing him to approach, and when they are face to face, Mihawk fills his lungs with her scent, lovely and enticing. My mate. I have found you. 

The she-wolf bares her teeth in an almost-smile; she presses her side against Mihawk’s, the two of them now close enough they can feel each other’s heart beating, and playfully licks his cheek and ear. Mate, she answers, without the need for words as it is normal for those like them, you have come. I have been waiting for so long.

A whole herd of boars or deer could pass right besides them, and neither would notice, so engrossed they are in each other. Mihawk rests his head on the she-wolf’s shoulders, enjoying the intimacy and peace of knowing they are in the right place, and with each other, finally even though he hadn’t known he had been waiting; he likes her scent, the bright softness of her fur, the way her eyes reflect the light of the moon, and he knows she’s admiring him as well. They’ll spend that night together, he thinks, they’ll hunt and run in the woods, feeling the wind on their backs and searching for preys they will then eat together, and they’ll play like the pups they no longer are, or perhaps they’ll find a secluded spot where no one can find them and mate, a moment of peace in the loud enormity of the world. Mihawk knows -he just knows- his mate can’t become a mother, and he doesn’t mind; all he wants is to share his warmth with her, an union that would be more than the sum of its parts. 

That would be nice; that would be perfect, Mihawk thinks, but when he tries climbing over her back, his mate quickly steps away, turning as if to keep her privates away from him. Not used to being refused by her, he whines in both frustration and supplication, but the she-wolf simply yips, and moves a few paces away; then she returns to him, licks his face quickly and runs away again, remaining close enough Mihawn can perceive her intentions. 

Catch me if you can, she’s telling him, and if you want me, and in his wolf form Mihawk can’t smile, but if he could now he would be grinning; happy and excited, he starts after her, and before long they’re both running, playing and chasing each other, their triumphant howling rising to the moon. 

*****

Mihawk’s POV

When the light falling on his face wakes him up, Mihawk immediately realises he has turned back to human, since the breeze is caressing his naked skin, without the wolf’s black fur to cover it. He moves cautiously as he sits up, a hand raised to rub his eyes, but his muscles and bones don’t hurt; rather, he feels pleasantly invigorated, like at the end of a fruitful training session or a restful sleep. A sunny, warm morning opens in front of his now-open eyes, maybe an hour after dawn; fortunately it’s still too early for anyone to decide to visit the gardens, because he’s completely naked. 

Mihawk looks at his hands -firm and strong, used to handle both the heaviest swords and a tiny dagger with deadly precision- as if he never had before, and then he does the same with the rest of his body, that he easily recognises but that looks strangely bare, with slim fingers and short nails instead of paws and claws. He has been a wolf only for a few hours, against decades spent in his own two-legged body, but for some reason he feels vaguely out of place, as if he had forgotten what it meant to be human; it’s odd… and vaguely disheartening, his heart mourning something he had for too little time to fully enjoy it. He knows he can now shift whenever he wants, and that on the next full moon he won’t be able to avoid it, but still, he wishes he had a little more time…

“Everything alright?”

(name) is still where she has spent the whole night, by his side, glorious in her nudity as she regards him, sitting cross-legged. Mihawk returns her smile as he reaches out to kiss her; wolves don’t kiss, he vaguely reflects, and even though his intimacy with wolf-(name) has been very sweet last night, when in the end she had stopped running, he no longer regrets having shifted back to human.

They are sitting next to a line of rose bushes, but the flowers are white, not red, which spares Mihawk from having to feel sad on such a beautiful morning. The small lawn where they have left their clothes is not far; they should go and get dressed before someone finds them, and especially the younger lady of the fortress, naked.

“Don’t worry; no one will come in before we are seen back at the fortress.” (name) reassures him “I wish you had let the pack welcome you, last night.”

This is what is usually done on occasions like this, she has told him, the whole pack shifting to witness the birth of a new werewolf, assist them, and celebrate their joining. A nice tradition, Mihawk thought, but that didn’t suit him; he only needed (name), in that moment like in any other. He has told her that he has no intention of joining her pack, nor of moving permanently to the island nor to consider himself a member of their community, at least for now, a decision that has saddened, but not surprised, his partner.

This has nothing to do with her, with the depth and intensity of their love, with the promises they have exchanged; Mihawk is a loner, at ease among other people but uninterested in most of them. She couldn’t change him if she wanted, and she doesn’t; she accepts him for what he is, she loves him for what he is, and is comforted to know that a man so jealous of his privacy chose to share his time, his space, and his heart, with her. He may never be part of her pack, but he is hers, and she is his, and this is enough for both.

“With all due respect, I didn’t need the pack; I just needed you.” Mihawk explains gently; taking both of them by surprise, he lowers his face on his partner’s lap, looking at her from below and thinking she really is gloriously beautiful, beyond her nudity, beyond the moments they shared last night. She really is his perfect companion, his mate; the wolf knows it, and the man knows it as well “Thanks for being with me. At first I didn’t remember being human, as if I had been a wolf my whole life, but… but I remembered you. I knew who you were, what we shared.”

“Of course you did. First time shifters sometimes struggle remembering their human life, but most of them instinctively know who their friends are; and you were a beautiful wolf. Was it like you imagined it? Better, or worse?”

The feeling of his partner’s fingers in his hair is almost too pleasant to think, but Mihawk reflects for a moment before answering. “It was… intense; knowing you, and Shanks, I sort of knew what to expect, but hearing others describe something is different from experiencing it. I felt I was exploring a part of me I wasn’t previously aware of.” he starts slowly “As if I was still myself, and something else besides. And I’m glad I got to share it with you.”

(name) smiles; for a moment Mihawk could swear he has seen a hint of fangs in her mouth. “Well, I owed it to you, after last year; and hunting together was fun.”

“I had never eaten a squirrel, especially with the fur.”

“Yes, squirrel is an acquired taste…”

They smile at each other, alone in the gardens, alone -or at least this is what they feel- in the world, both quietly aware of the deep syntony between them, whatever shape their bodies take.

“Shall we remain here for a little while?”

“Of course.”  

*****

(name)’s POV

No matter how many pirates and criminals you have already neutralised to collect their bounties, you feel unusually trepidant as you place the burlap sack on the space the Vice Admiral has made for it on his desk, and then open it to retrieve the severed head inside.

“This is -was- Jack Bontemps; I know I wasn’t tasked to catch him, but I know there was a bounty on his head.” you explain.

“Of course. Good job, (name).” Garp tells you, eyeing the man’s vacant expression; you have known him for years, but for the first time as you look at him you see the signs of old age on his face; of ageing, and heartbreak “I’ll need a few days for the bounty though, since I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Yes, no problem. Vice Admiral…”

“Yes?”

You swallow, forcing your voice to remain steady as you look at the man you have learnt to respect, even to like, in the many years of your collaboration, and prepare to lie to his face.

“It was him, you know; he killed Bogard.”

Garp, a veteran Marine feared by even the most powerful pirate crews, reacts as if you had punched him in the stomach. Colour drains from his face; he doesn’t speak, he doesn’t even seem to breathe. You’ve been informed of how hard he took the disappearance of his right hand man, sending several teams to his search and offering a reward for any information regarding his fate; Bogard had worked for him since he was a cadet, and while it would be excessive to say their relationship was akin to that of a father and a son, their closeness was easy to perceive. 

“Are you sure?” he asks in the end, his tone devoid of emotion.

You go on with the lie you have prepared. “Bontemps had your man’s picture in his cabin; I hid there to wait for him, and saw it. After subduing him I asked Bontemps what he knew, and… he told me he had been told an officer of the Marines was on his tail; he ambushed Bogard as he sailed towards a small island, I can’t remember the name…”

“Cartas.” No questioning tone. 

“Yes, that. They took him prisoner and… and killed him.”

Silence.

“I thought you’d want to know, Vice Admiral.” you murmur, avoiding his gaze, and you hear him sigh; the sack with Bontemps’ head peeking out lays forgotten on the desk between you.

“I did. Thank you, (name). I… well, part of me still hoped I’d see him return, but at least now I know what happened to him. It’s a good thing.”

Garp clears his voice, as if making an effort to regain control of his emotions; you’d like to think you helped him find closure, and you know you did the right thing to protect your pack’s secret and bring justice to Theon, but you can’t help feeling guilty, and that the lie you invented was a disrespect to Bogard’s memory. 

“I appreciate your time.” you murmur, breaking the vaguely uncomfortable silence, and turn to leave; you have almost reached the door when Garp calls you again, and you almost jump, instinctively fearing he has realised what you have done and, more importantly, that Bontemps is only a not exactly innocent victim you have chosen and sacrificed to make your story more credible without having to fear being contradicted.

He hasn’t.

“I’ll send the reward together with Bontemps’ bounty.”

You turn to shake your head; your grandfather taught you to never refuse money you have earned, but you know in this case it would only make you feel worse. “I don’t want it. I… I’m sorry for your man, Vice Admiral. He deserved better than this.”

A minute later you’re leaving the Marines’ HQ behind you; stopping a few paces from the double doors, surrounded by the bustle of the street, you sigh, feeling as if the recent ordeal had lasted days rather than a few minutes. 

Finally free, and satisfied of the ninety million berry you just earned, you depart, walking towards the harbour to take your ship and sail home; usually you would stay the night, to treat yourself to a nice meal in one of the city’s best restaurants, but it’s only two days until the next full moon, and last year’s incident taught you to be more careful regarding the management of your time, especially when the nights during which you can’t help shifting are approaching.

Also, you have discovered even the best food is less enjoyable without the right tablemate. 

Suddenly inspired, you retrieve your Den Den Mushi from your skirt pocket, already smiling as you place the call. “Still planning on spending the full moon night with us? Please don’t tell me you changed your mind!”

“Good afternoon to you too, (name).” your partner promptly answers, his voice faintly amused.

“Sorry, sorry; I’m so excited I forgot my manners.” you admit, privately happy your mother is not there to witness your oversight “I’m really happy you accepted to come.”

“Well, it’s your pack, they’re important for you, and you are important for me.” he points out; it’s been about one moon cycle and a half since his first shifting, and Mihawk has only turned once since, on his first full moon, in the privacy of the woods of Kuraigana. He still can’t do it intentionally, he told you, clearly annoyed at his own shortcoming, and you told him he’ll learn, probably soon, like you and all of those like you did. 

Those like you. Simply thinking about it makes you happy.  

“I think I can spend a night among other people -other wolves- for love of you.”

“I really appreciate it.” you tell him, and you really do “I’ll be seeing you there, Mihawk.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, darling.”

You end the call after saying good-bye; you smile to yourself as you put your Den Den Mushi away, and fill your lungs with the sea-scented air. For a moment, everything is good in the world. The harbour is still half a mile away; the sound of your paces resonates against the cobbled pavement as you hurry towards your ship.

[cdragons]

When the East Winds Blow

Stannis Baratheon x YiTish Second Wife!OC (who also doubles as a childhood friend)

Aka: A WOC fixes all of Westeros' bullshit with a magic flute and is about to whoop a bunch of old white men's asses with a slipper because they need it ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Next Part

Summary: 美灵 (Měilíng) was a young girl from the port city of Shenlong in Yi Ti when she learns that she is the only living child of 徐浩然 (Xú Hàorán), a cruel and powerful merchant in Wan, and takes her to Westeros to expand his company. Scared in a new land, her only companions are her trusty flute and memories of her mother's stories. But she will have a friend who will change her life forever, and she will do the same for him.

Warning(s): MDNI 18+; Domestic Abuse; Child Abuse; Cersei is the worst; Tywin is the worst; Robert is a pig; Měilíng's dad is like 40 years+ her mom's age, and the worst; the story is going to be written like those Ted Ed mythic videos; Robb and the Northern boys and the other OC don't show up for a lil' bit, but it's coming

Author's Note: Please read this post for reference. Exams and ADHD are kicking my ass, and I need a distraction. Please do not repost without my permission. I did not come up with the names for the Yi Ti regions; that credit belongs to the brilliant @anya-snow. If you are interested in the names' translations, it is at the bottom.

From the Beginning:

“As she entered the world and cried out in victory for her survival – the fearsome, dark clouds parted, and the sun’s feeble rays shone only to pool the delivery room as the gentle breeze brought by the sea welcomed Xīwángmǔ’s new child, and the small wind chimes and bells danced in its embrace.”

In the Shenlong province, a young girl gave birth to a young girl. However, the baby was exceptional. As she grew, she showed to have a very cunning mind. She has met thousands of foreigners daily since being born in a port town. Her proficiency in learning foreign tongues alone caught the attention of one of the oldest and wealthiest merchants in Wan. Měilíng did not have much, but she had her mother and her simple life by the docks, and that was enough for her.

Xu Hàorán, an aging but powerful merchant in Wan, was the most important port city in Yi Ti. The merchant was very old, and his wife had long died without giving him any children. At the news of the child’s birth, he ordered the child and her mother to be brought to his home.

After seeing the child’s face, it was clear that this was his daughter. Recalling the time he spent with a girl from a poor fishing family years ago, he realized that Měilíng was the product of that night. Overridden with joy at the idea of him finally having an heir, he immediately ordered Mei to begin her education as he locked her mother in a small, dark room.

Měilíng despised her father. Soon, it became years since she saw her mother, and she missed the lullabies she would sing to her. She would long to listen to the stories of the great water dragons that controlled the storms and the seas.

But still, she decided to continue her education. She showed much promise at a young age for business and trade. She had a keen eye for craftsmanship and a talent for linguistics. Her proficiency in learning foreign tongues made her a vital tool in expanding her father’s company across the Golden Empire to Essos and eventually to the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.

In return for how rich his daughter made him, Měilíng’s father granted Měilíng one visit to her mother. When the pair reunited, Měilíng’s mother gifted her beloved child a flute from the bones of a basilisk killed by the great Dragon King, who ruled the sky and its storms from his kingdom in the sea.

Because of how quickly she learned Westerosi’s Common Tongue, her father decided it was best to bring her with him on the voyage to Planky Town in Dorne, where he hoped to expand his trading route to the pockets of the high nobility.

On the seas, a cyclone headed directly to the ship Měilíng and her father were on, but only Měilíng was calm.

Taking out her bone flute, she played a simple but beautiful tune to the sky, and the cyclone disappeared, and the winds brought their ships to Dorne in half the expected time. Although this story was kept secret by the crew under strict oath of Hàorán’s orders, she was soon called “风子” or “Child of the Wind.”

“Bewitched were the Martell’s – for they have never seen such finery in all their years. ‘What luster! What radiance!’ they exclaimed. After rigorous negotiations that resulted in a broken vase and spilled wine by thrown glasses, a trade was brokered, and the Xu’s have planted their first flag in the West.”

After reaching Dorne, the Martells refused to meet with the foreign merchant. They believed that any goods his ships carried had long become spoiled and rotten from the sea voyage. But they were shocked to find the fruits fresh and ripe, the herbs and spices’ scents had not dulled, and the porcelain vases retained their glossiness and shine. But what caught their eye the most was how superior their silks were compared to their own. Their roughest bolt alone was far smoother than the Princesses’ finest dresses.

The silks and fruits caught the eyes of a young Princess, Elia Martell, and her younger brother, Prince Oberyn. Fascinated by the riches, their curiosity was peaked by the olive-skin-toned girl, who wore strange braids and smelled of the ocean and wind.

Elia asked Mei if Yi Ti was anything like Dorne. Měilíng replied that only one region in her country matched Dorne, and it was Ren. She wove tales of how the Renii managed to thrive in the deserts and become masters of magi and developing technology and medicine. Although Mei had never personally visited Ren, she told the Donrish princess and her brother all the stories of the province she could recall from her lessons and her mother.

Měilíng asked Elia if there was any magic or dragons in Dorne. Elia laughed in delight. She told the foreign girl that Dorne did not have dragons, but they had vipers with poison so potent that it would instantly kill a ten-foot man. The Seven Kingdoms' only dragons were underneath the Red Keep in King’s Landing. But they were all dead. But there was no magic. This disappointed Měilíng.

Elia asked if Měilíng knew anyone, and Měilíng replied that Elia was the first person in Westeros she had ever spoken to. Amazed by the girl’s fluency, Elia exclaimed that she and Měilíng would be best friends for the rest of their lives. Měilíng thought the young princess strange but agreed nonetheless.

Seeing her children make friends with the merchant’s daughter, Princess Lorenza was pleased to see the strange girl smile. But Hàorán was furious. Greed from his newly gained wealth made him paranoid, and he thought Měilíng was ridiculing him in the Common Tongue. He faked a smile before hurrying his sale to the mother so that he may properly punish his willful brat.

After purchasing their goods, the sewists in Sunspear immediately went to work producing the finest garments for the upcoming ball hosted in the Red Keep at King’s Landing.

Meanwhile, Hàorán grabbed Měilíng’s arm and dragged her to the ship. He locked her in her room and told her she would not have any food tonight. They would leave for Yi Ti after the Martells returned from King’s Landing.

“Silence swept across the hall when the heralds announced the arrival of House Martell. When Dorne’s ruler and her children arrived, a collective gasp was heard amidst the hushed keep – never had anyone seen such pure, unadulterated beauty before their eyes. Every young girl, hoping to catch the eye of Prince Rhaegar and hold his gaze, felt fury flush their bodies. But no other girl was more envious than the little Lioness of Casterly Rock. Cersei Lannister, daughter of the Hand to the King, had come in complete confidence that she would be the most beautiful girl in the Seven Kingdoms. But after gazing upon the young Elia Martell’s dress with silk-embroidered suns and stars, golden rings, and topaz diadems – she felt utterly and completely humiliated. She turned to her father to demand they go home, but his stern gaze made the spoilt and rotten girl stay silent in flushed shame.

Tywin Lannister was not faring any better. He had paid more than enough gold dragons to order the finest Dornish silks for his daughter’s dress – only to see it as a tacky, cheap counterfeit. But even he had to admit that Princess Elia Martell was the only girl whose beauty was worthy of watching the crown prince’s. Seeing how her father’s eyes were no longer on her, Cersei decided that she would do whatever it took for Elia Martell to die a miserable and painful death.”

Nobles crowded the Martells’ daughters and sons. They were driven mad with envy at their beauty– so rare to find silk so smooth and lustrous while remaining thick enough to keep away the chills in the evening sky as autumn chased summer away and winter was creeping on the Mad King’s doorstep.

One noble lady with embroidered turtles on her dress approached the Martell Princess. She was Lady Cassana Baratheon, nee Estermont. She begged her friend to tell her who gifted the princess with such luxury, and her friend revealed that her husband had brokered a deal with an old, wrinkled merchant from Yi Ti, along with his young daughter, who carried an old flute with her everywhere she went. She shared stories about how her little sun, Elia, was quickly won over by the foreign girl’s charms, and now they acted as close as sisters born from the same womb.

Cassana wished to know if they could invite the merchant to her home. She thought it would be cruel for such a sweet girl to be trapped on a boat with no companions.

“‘Oh, how wonderful it would be to have a girl around,’ thought Lady Cassana. ‘Robert has gotten too used to being so rowdy after being fostered in the Vale, and hopefully, the little merchant girl will straighten him out.’

Robert stood beside the table, its surface heavy with meats and sweet cakes. He was only ten years of age and had already managed to grasp the attention of every young man his age in the room. Her mind wandered off, thinking about her youngest son, Stannis, who locked himself away in the guest chambers after the Martells arrived—always studying, her youngest boy. Lady Baratheon adored her two boys, but she longed for the longest time to be blessed with a daughter. She thought if the Gods had blessed her and Steffon with a girl, she would help bring Stannis out of his walls and help reel Robert in. If what the Princess of Dorne had spoken true of this trader and his daughter, then Cassana had no doubt that she would make a truly excellent companion for her boys.

Back in Dorne, Měilíng scratched her ears. Had someone been talking about her? Was it the Dornish Ruler she met a few weeks ago? Perhaps Elia? Měilíng shook her head. Thinking someone would speak of her so much was a silly thought. She was only the daughter of a merchant who played the flute. Still, her ears burned as hot tears streamed down her cheeks. To forget her hunger, Měilíng brought her prized flute to her lips to ease her worries and blew to create a sweet but sad melody.

Back in the Red Keep, a young Stannis Baratheon had crept away from the banquet in the Great Hall. He despised crowded rooms, and Robert’s boisterous guffaws only added to his irritation. Once he entered his room, he opened the window and took out the book Maester Cressen lent him while packing for this trip. He had not begun reading it. But a stream of calm and soft notes entered his ear before he could read the title.

“A flute?” he thought to himself. He tried to remember the instruments played downstairs.

There were lyres, harps, and lutes. But there were no flutes. Stannis lifted his head and heard the sweet, silvery tune from the window. Book still in his hand, he decided it best to read his new book beside the window, where he could continue listening to the lovely melody. He glanced down at the book, finally reading the title.

The Golden Empire of Yi Ti”

Tagging: @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @a-libra-writes, @aphroditesmoon, @valeskafics, @anya-snow, @dreaming-for-an-escape and anyone who wanted more of the worldbuilding of GOT are welcome!

Translations: Mandarin was used for YiTish bc author is Chinese

美灵 (Měilíng) - "美" means "beauty" and "灵" means "spirit or soul"; it can be translated as "beautiful spirit"

浩然 (Hàorán) - "浩" means "grand or vast" and "然" is a conjunction and the author will look further into it; it can be translated as "vastness or expansive"

徐 (Xú) - a common Chinese surname that became popular in the Zhou Dynasty and has multiple translations, but the author chose the translation of "slowly."

瑶池金母 (Xīwángmǔ) - "Queen Mother of the West"; the wife of the Jade Emperor and mother goddess in Chinese mythology

风子 (Fēng zi) - "风" is "wind" and "子" is for "child"; it can be translated as "child of the wind"

[seb-reads31]

Request - Guess what- my brainn

Cautions - Fem pronouns, using "Faith", no real descriptions of Faith cause I can't remember how GBA described her 😔

Genre - Fluff, slight angst?

Type - head canons

Comments - Remember Dream World? Wellll, I decided to go more in depth with Faithful's past life with Kerano as well. (I will be referring to Faithful as "Faith" for this since that's technically her name according to GBA, and I wanna stick with this but I can make a Y/N version if anyone wants <3) I'm also gonna make a part two for Albus and Devlin for their past in dream world, then possibly a 3rd part about something idk (probably multiple lol)

If life could be a dream~

Faith is an artist, and always has been. Her early days consisted of her doodling on everything she got her hands on.

And as she grew, so did her talents. Her parents encouraged it, as well as her brother Joshua, who ended up raising little Faith when they were growing up due to their parents being absent for work reasons.

Faith was around 17 when she got her first serious commission from a bakery who felt like the place was getting a bit plain for both the owner and the customers

And boy, it was a SUCCESS >:DD

Faith was given so many compliments when it was done, and several offers for a portrait or 3 🤭

And that had her set for a good while lol, she both bought and made paints for her craft, some canvases while trading her art, and brushes from the market

She's 21 now, and living away from her brother in a different village. Not too far away, but enough so for her to remake her name in the town

It even helped that there were a few people who had traveled to her original village because they had heard of her amazing abilities!

Either way, Faith was set in her little cottage, painting away

She was there for about a year, aged 22

She's made plenty of friends while in the village and made quite the profit!

But one rainy night, as she mulled over her newest piece, a knock came from her front door

Which was.. odd, to say the least

But because she was up, she went to go see who it was even though she was covered in paint

She carefully cracked open the door, prepared with a greeting when she was met with the outdoors, not a single person to be seen

That's what she thought at least until she heard the cries of a small child at her feet, her eyes immediately darting to a small bundle in a basket, crying loudly from the cold rain hitting it

"Goodness.. a child??" Faith thought to herself, immediately grabbing the poor babe and bringing it inside

Her instincts led her, going to the fireplace and holding the small child close to her body to warm it up

As the child felt warmer, safer, it calmed down, cooing softly at the young woman

Faith sighed, feeling relieved when she finally saw the note attached to the basket the baby was in

It read as followed:

"Her name is Kerano, she was born on XX/XX/XX (idk when Kerano was born but assume the note is saying that she's at least 1.) Please, take care of her kind stranger."

There was no signature, or names aside from the name of the child. Kerano

It was a pretty name, one matching the sweet girl with the bright and curious eyes

"Kerano.. you'll be okay, I promise."

And Faith kept that promise for the next 6 years, Kerano turning 7 and Faith turning 28

Kerano has grown up to be a very outgoing, curious, and brave child

She was always outside hunting for bugs and such, and always returning home covered in dirt and scrapes here and there

But Faith never cared, always tending to her scrapes and bathing her thoroughly before they had dinner

They were living the best life ever, and Faith never once regretted keeping Kerano. She was an absolute joy, brightening up the atmosphere whenever she spoke

But, Faith was ready for a new look, a new area to explore and to refresh her inspiration. And so, Faith and Kerano packed up and prepared to move to another village just a few days travel from this one

They had visited before for a commission, and it was a gorgeous town. Bigger than either were used too, but a lot more people there would love to buy her art, and Kerano would be able to explore the new place with other children

Along the way, Faith stopped to paint the scenery, and allowed Kerano to adventure a little, but not too far

This time Faith had the intense need to paint this stream in a small meadow, surrounded by a lightly wooded area

And Kerano was doing her normal adventuring, but this time, she was following a super pretty butterfly and travelled a bit too far

As she was chasing the bug, she failed to see the tree root in the path and tripped on it, but twisted her ankle in the process

It was painful, and she let out a scream proving it

Faith was oblivious of where Kerano had went, and how far, too invested in capturing the beauty for the first time since they left

It startled the woman, but she immediately dropped her palette and brush, looking for her child

She called her name, but could only hear faint calls that didn't lead her anywhere

A man that was in the forest happened to be near the screaming child, and immediately ran to her

He was tall, with dark shoulder length hair partially tied back, a few light scars on his face as well as a short beard

He was in a knights uniform, although it was banged up in a few places, it still shone with the kingdom's insignia

As a knight, his first assumption was bandits, which had been getting more common around these parts

And without a second of hesitation, he drew his sword and ran towards the scream prepared for anything

.. almost

What he didn't expect was a small child clutching her ankle, tears running down her face, framed with equally dark hair

She was scared, staring up at the tall man as he held his weapon still. Which he noticed, immediately putting it away with a small apology but with a wide grin

"Sorry 'bout that, didn't mean to scare you. But I promise I'm not here to hurt you, Knight's honor." He glanced down at the little girl's ankle, already thinking of what might be wrong with it

"Did you hurt your ankle kiddo?" He had several questions in mind, but didn't want to upset the girl further

But she nodded, her tears still flowing, but at a much slower pace

"Mind if I take a look?" She hesitated, probably a good thing. She was taught stranger danger then

"Right, I haven't introduced myself, how rude. I'm Knight Captain Albus York, at your service."

He exaggerated, but it got a smile out of the little girl anyways. "K-Kerano. Nice to meet you Mr."

He chuckled, not really used to being called 'Mr' but hey, she's a nice kid

"Now then, can I take a look? I can't promise it won't hurt, but I can promise that I'll help you feel better."

And as soon as Kerano let Albus touch her ankle, she let out another scream, which helped Faith finally find her

But, Faith immediately assumed that the dark haired man was the one who made her kid scream, so we went on the attack

And damn, she has a good slap

Albus was quick to introduce himself and explain the situation after Kerano caught Faith's attention

She apologized and thanked Albus for helping Kerano :D

Notes - There will be more, but for now I'm gonna leave it here (I hate this ending but it'll hopefully make sense?)

[hooked-on-elvis]

🥳 Happy Birthday to beautiful Jan Shepard! 🎂

Born Josephine Angela Sorbello on March 19, 1928, Jan is turning 96 years young today. ♥

Jan Shepard interviewed by Joe Krein (2007)

Joe: Can you tell me a little about yourself, where you were born and raised? Jan: I was born in a little town called Quakertown, Pennsylvania, in Bucks County. It’s about 40 miles north of Philadelphia. I had a wonderful time there growing up, it was a tiny little town and everybody knew everybody. You got to do everything when you were in high school. I was a cheerleader and a drum majorette. I was in drama. I loved growing up there.

(...)

Joe: Did you want to become an actress? Jan: Ever since I was in second grade I was Miss Cleanliness, in a way. I got up on that stage and something happened. I saw all those people and it made me want to do something nice. So I did two class plays. I did junior high and senior class plays as the leading lady. I did summer stock when I got out of high school. I did that for quite a while and that was great fun. Joe: So did you go to Hollywood and say “I want to be a star”? Jan: I went to New York first and I got a terrible cold. I had gotten a reference from Samson Raferson, who did a lot of plays. He lived in our area. He sent me to Sherill Crawford doing Brigadoon. So I went there and I could barely talk. You think to yourself once they see you that you would be in Broadway by the weekend. You just think that they are waiting for you. But she said go back home and do summer stock. Do as much as you can of that. It was one of those things that you are so eager and you had no clue as of how to become an actor. So I went back home and then I had a chance to visit some relatives in California. So I never went back to New York. Joe: So what studio did you sign up with? Jan: I did some things with 20th Century, but mostly I did television like ABC, CBS and then Paramount. So I was working all the time. The kids that were under contract with Paramount, they had a class picture taken, and I wasn’t in it because I was the only one working. Will never forget that. How I wish I was in that picture. Joe: You must see a lot of turn over, kids coming and then going home. Jan: Yeah. You know there is a lot of wonderful talent walking the street, and honestly it’s a matter of luck. Plus it helps with who you know. What helped me was I moved in with Amanda Blake from Gun Smoke. We shared an apartment and Ross Hunter had an apartment in the same building. I was working a regular job then. We would walk together in the morning to work. There was an agent that also lived in the building. I was out sunning myself one day and he came over and started talking. He said, “Do you need an agent?” I said yes. That’s how it all started. Quite by accident. Joe: You worked in television? Jan: About 500 episodes. I did so much television. I did so many pilots and series. One of my first series was with McDonald Carrie, who was Doctor Christian. I was a regular on that show. I did two soap operas. Day in Court and Clear Horizons. I did so many Westerns. Every show that was in the fifties and sixties, seventies. At least five hundred television shows.

(...)

Joe: Were you an Elvis fan? Jan: No (laughing). Joe: Don’t feel bad, a lot of people have said that to me. Jan: It was so funny because I was sitting with Dan Duriah. I was doing a two hour film. We were sitting on the set. I had the reporter in front of me and it said “ELVIS PRESLEY”. “What kind of a name is that?” He said, “I don’t know.” I said there’s some kid in the south called Elvis Presley. I said he’s never going to make it (laughing). That was the first time that I had ever heard of him. So I didn’t know who he was. I happened to like his voice. I liked his voice but I am not the kind of person who is adoring movie stars. There was maybe one or two that I adored or would like to work with, but I was never like those type of people. But once I met him, I just adored him. Joe: When did you find out that you were going to do an Elvis film? Jan: I was doing a play at Paramount, with Dolores Hart, who is my goddaughter. She is now a nun. Joe: Oh, yes, I know who she is. Jan: She used to be under contract with Hal Wallis. Dolores came up to me after work. She said, “Jan, there is a part in this movie I am going to do with Elvis Presley you would be perfect for. The part would be playing his sister.” I said, “Yeah, right, terrific.” I just let it go at that. But the next thing I know she calls me and says Hal Wallis wants to see you. “I’ve talked to him about you.” So I went up there. He said to me, “I would like you to make a test.” So they gave me the script. When I arrived at the studio, there was four other girls that were testing. I figured I would be the only one. I was in shock, I almost walked out. Peter Baldwin, who was playing the Elvis role, who was a friend of mine, he said, “Stay, stay. These other girls are no way better than you.” I was the last one to be tested. After I just went home and prayed that I would get this role. I got it!

Elvis, Jan and Dolores Hart on set during making of King Creole, 1958.

Joe: And this was for...? King Creole! That was Elvis’s favorite movie. Plus it’s the fans favorite movie. It’s also mine. Jan: Yes, it’s mine, too. But I have only seen two movies of his. I only saw them because I was in them. That’s nothing to do with Elvis. It’s just because I was working all the time. I was doing soap operas. Different scripts every day, learning new lines every day. You just don’t have the time to go out and see movies. I had no social life at all. If you do have five minutes on a weekend, you want to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joe: Can you tell me how you met Elvis? Jan: When you’re assigned a film role, you have to go to the doctor, because of the insurance company. They have to make sure you don’t have a bad heart, any of that nonsense. They made my appointment for me at the studio, so I was there and I had on a white shirt and these slacks my mother had made for me that were like wine coloured. I went in the office and I was waiting to be called in. In walks Elvis with two of his buddies. I looked at him and he looked at me and we started to laugh. His jacket was the identical material and colour of my slacks. He looked at me and he said, “Honey, I’m either going to have to give you my jacket or you’re going to have to give me your pants” (laughing). That was my first meeting with Elvis. Joe: Goodness. Jan: Girl scout’s honour. Joe: Did you get along with Elvis? Jan: Oh, wonderful. He said if he had a sister, he wished it would be me. We got along so great because we worked alone the two of us the whole first week of the show. I would come to work and I would find on the set a pair of earrings he put there for me that cost about ten cents that he had liberated from the set. I have a marvelous picture where we are waiting to perform and we were just sitting down at the dining room table. I handed him this jewelry and I said I can’t take these from you, Elvis, you know it’s too much. You’re the last of the big spenders. He is there laughing so hard and they snapped this picture of the two of us. It’s a fabulous picture of him. But he would do little things like that. And he would play music on his guitar. He would ask me what I wanted to hear. Elvis loved Danny Boy.

Joe: Did you ever date Elvis? Jan: No, I was married (laughing). Joe: Oh, sorry, I didn’t know that. Jan: No, I was married, honey. But the thing was: Dolores Hart gave me a surprise birthday party. All the kids from Paramount studio were there. It was a big surprise to me. I was there for about ten minutes and in walks Elvis with the boys. He had this huge stuffed tiger under his arm. He knew I loved cats, so he had this stuffed cat and he named it Danny Boy. He gave me this big box. For weeks I had been asking Elvis for pictures that I could give the kids in my neighborhood when they had heard I was doing a picture with him. They all pleaded for photos of him. So I would always ask him for pictures for the kids. “Come on, please, I need pictures.” So he hands me this box and I placed it off to the side. He said, “Oh, no, you need to open that now.” So I opened it and it was a movie camera with a light bar and film. He said, “Now you can take your pictures.” You know if Colonel Parker was there, he would not had allowed that.

Early 1958. Elvis and Jan during surprise birthday party to Jan Shepard.

Joe: Oh, you’re right. Jan: Dolores said the next day she ran into Elvis and she said, “I was so surprised that you came.” He said I had to come, “She’s my sister. I wouldn’t miss her birthday party” (laughing). I ran into him in the studio. He said to me, “I hear Elvis was at your birthday party.” “Yeah, he was”. He said, “You know he never goes anywhere, people go to him, he never goes to other people’s homes.” Joe: That’s very true. Jan: I said I think we bonded a little bit. Joe: Was Elvis a good actor? Jan: Wonderful! Oh, just marvelous! I will never forget. You know every person that sings is a good actor. Because they have the sense of timing, the sense of rhythm, a sense of what words mean. He was a brilliant actor because he didn’t need any advice. He knew automatically what to do and act, as the show was going on. I kept saying to him, “Oh, Elvis, for God sake, you’re doing such a great job.” So one day we went for lunch. We were sitting there at a table and in walks Marlon Brando. Elvis was sitting with his back towards him. There was a table right behind Elvis that was empty, so Brando saw Elvis as soon as he walked in. So Brando got into the chair right behind Elvis. I said to Elvis, “Marlon Brando is sitting behind you.” Elvis said, “Oh, my God” and his head sunk into his sandwich. I said, “Look, he wants to meet you, I saw him looking at you, just say hi to him.” Well, that’s exactly what happened. He got up and bumped his chair. Marlon stood up and the two of them shook hands. They did a little small talking. Elvis was very cool. Elvis then walked out of the café very cool. But the minute we got outside he leaped up. He couldn’t believe he met Marlon Brando. He was so excited, we just danced all the way back to the studio. Then one day after the show had been released, someone sent me the review of King Creole. The title was “Bourbon Street Brando.” I raced over to Paramount and I grabbed Elvis and I said, “Look at this.” I showed him the “Bourbon Street Brando”, he just couldn’t believe it. I said, “See, I told you, you were going to be great in this!” Joe, Elvis was!

Scene of King Creole, 1958. Elvis as Danny Fisher and Jan Shepard as Mimi Fisher, Danny's sister.

Joe: Now you did another movie with Elvis. Jan: Yes, Paradise Hawaiian Style

Note: In Paradise, Hawaiian Style (1966) Jan Shepard played Betty Kohana, wife of Danny Kohana played by actor James Shigeta who's a friend and eventual business partner of Elvis' character Rick Richards.

Joe: Can you tell me about that movie and how you got the part? Jan: I had gone over to Paramount to have lunch with Dolores Hart. She was getting a wardrobe fitting for some picture. I ran into Paul Mason. He said, “Hi”. He asked what was I doing there. He said, “Hey, we need a wife for Jimmie Sakita for a movie Elvis is doing. Would you be interested?” He said, “It’s not a huge part, but it’s a good part.” I said, “Yeah, ok.” He told me to go up and see Hal Wallis. “I will give him a call and tell him you’re coming.” So I went up there. Well, Hal Wallis’s office is full of art. He has originals of Remington’s and Chares Russell, all those wonderful western painters. I walked in and I said, “Oh, my God, you have a Remington!” I knew art because my husband is an artist. Hal Wallis was very impressed, he asked me if I wanted that role? Yeah, fine, that would be wonderful! That’s how I got the part. Joe: Now what did Elvis say when he saw you? Jan: Well, the minute he saw me he asked how was Dolores because now she has been a nun for the past year. And I said she was good, I’ve seen her, I’ve gone there. And Maria Cooper, Gary’s daughter and I were the godmothers for her when she went into the monastery. And I said, “I’ve been there and she’s doing great and she, you know, I said you know if they let me wear eyelash mascara, I’d go in that place and say it’s beautiful. She’s home. This is where she wants to be and he wanted to see if she was okay and how you were doing. You know, and I noticed he was not the Elvis that was the little teddy bear that would run across the stage and pick up and swing you around. He was not that anymore. Joe: He changed? Jan: He was never in his dressing room and you know King Creole. He is always out with a group and having fun and playing the guitar and, you know, just a lot of fun. And he went to his dressing room and it was closed and I noticed he was drinking a lot of water. He had lot of glasses of water and he was drinking. Also, there was an attitude that was so different. He was kind of jaded and at the movies, he and I knew Charlie Afura who did all his choreography. Charlie was showing him something on stage, some dance moves or something, and he was just looking at Charlie, like “Charlie, I’ve done this four or five times already. I know what you want,” because it was the same movie every time. Joe: Right. Jan: He was always doing the same movie and I know he was tired of it.

(...)

Joe: When was the last time you saw Elvis? Jan: I saw him in Las Vegas. We went to a Casers Palace and I was so disappointed because he was into the karate stuff and he was turning his back to the audience all the time. And I just wanted to just go up there and spank him, you know. Joe: Yeah. Jan: Because he was just not him. You know. I think that when his mom died, that was just a terrible blow and that if she had lived Elvis would still be alive today. Joe: Yeah. When you were working in the movies, did you have the chance to have one on one conversations? Jan: Oh, yeah, all the time. Especially on the Creole, but not as much on Paradise Hawaiian Style. Yeah, like on the weekend it had rained all weekend and on Monday morning when Elvis came into the makeup room and I said, “Well, what did you do this weekend?” “I was on the phone with my mom all day, I didn’t go anywhere.” He told me one time they were on the road and they stopped at a diner, this was in the fifties. This big guy came over to him and picked him up by his shirt. He said, “I don’t like you”. Elvis said, “What’s wrong?” “My wife carries your picture around in her wallet.” Elvis said, “Hey, sir, I’m sorry, but that has nothing to do with me. I’m sorry, she should do that.” He let Elvis down and they took off. He had so much of that we had to fake people out when Elvis left the studio. We would send out a limo, the fans figured Elvis was in it. But Elvis was getting shoved into a taxi in the back of the studio. Elvis would be laying on the floor. Elvis said, “I know they don’t mean to do it, but sometimes they hurt me. They grab at me, pull my hair”. They have scratched his eye while trying to get some of that beautiful black hair. “I’ve been hurt,” Elvis said. “That’s why I don’t go anywhere.” We had a lot of conversations. One time I said to Elvis, “Why don’t you record Danny Boy?” He loved that song because he would sing it to his mom. Elvis said, “They don’t want that. They won’t let me sing something like that.” It was so funny, one day Pat Boone came walking on the set. Elvis spotted him and he started singing April Love, just the way Pat would sing it. Pat just grinned from ear to ear, Pat then came over and they met. But he never had the chance to become apart of the young Hollywood scene, because he was afraid to go out with the other young people who were at the studio. If he went to go to a movie, he had to rent the whole theatre. You know, Elvis never had a dime on him, he would follow me to the apple machine. I said to him, “You want an apple, right?” “Yes, please” (laughing). He never had any money. Joe: I know that to be true all the way up to the seventies. His men would carry his money and his keys. When did you hear that Elvis had passed? Jan: I was sitting with a friend at her business. The phone rang and they asked if I was there. They asked me if I had the radio on or had been watching television. I said no, why? “Elvis died.” I just couldn’t talk. When I was able to talk, I said I was so angry at him. I was so angry I could not even cry. Because he was doing all the wrong things and he knew he was, damn it! I could see that when I went to see him in Vegas. I said to myself, “That’s not my Elvis.” Joe: But you know the man was the greatest entertainer of the 20th century. Jan: There will never be another like him. In the Creole days he was just a big teddy bear. I asked him one time, “Ok, Elvis, when did all this swinging your hips start? Why do you do that?” “I do it for fun, I know just when to break it off.” I used to watch the little negro boys in his town, how they would sit on the curbs and sing. And they would stand up and dance. He said that’s where he got that from. They would sing and move their hips.

(...)

Joe: Well, I would like to thank you for talking to me today. Jan: You’re welcome, Joe.

Phone interview with Jan Shepard, done by Joe Krein, on June 22, 2007. YOU CAN READ THE FULL INTERVIEW ON: ELVIS100PERCENT.COM

Early 1958. Home movie. Birthday party to Jan Shepard. ♡

[throughtrialbyfire]

𝑾𝑰𝑷 𝑾𝒆𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒅𝒂𝒚 ♥

i hope everyone's doing well and taking care right now!! we're coming into the colder months in the northern hemisphere, and i'm always amazed how fast the sun begins to set around this time!

tagged by the amazingly talented @thequeenofthewinter and @mareenavee !! thank you so much <3333

tagging the incredible @dirty-bosmer @skyrim-forever @gilgamish @aphocryphas @totally-not-deacon @orfeoarte @viss-and-pinegar @thana-topsy @caliblorn @boethiahspillowbook @umbracirrus @v1ctory-or-sovngarde @wildhexe and you!!!! even if your name isnt here, you're always welcome to join in and tag me!!

i've got two story snippets this week! i'm starting on a new fic, but it's going to be slow goings. the working title is "Bone of my Bone", and it's the backstory fic for Wyndrelis of my Dragonborn Trio that i've been talking about! it's going to be a good while before i can post it in full since it contains spoilers for the main fic, but i love working on this and writing in his POV!

Another gods damned rejection. Wyndrelis paced the cramped room of the inn he'd rented, a temporary residence until he'd finished his application with the Synod. Of course, this proved in vain. He bitterly crumpled the parchment between his grey hands, balling it tight until his fingers ached. The Dunmer paused and loosened his grasp slowly, fingers uncurling until the ball landed on his desk in a sorry, compressed state. It curled up next to all the other rejection letters. Quick, biting, quill-strikes. Names of professors he'd never meet. Every Synod Conclave from here to Anvil undoubtedly heard the news, and every single one of them rejected him since that night. He heaved a breath, his cheeks hot with the frustration of the scenario he'd landed himself in. He was far from home, with no longing to go back, and all his bets misplaced in scholars and wizards who would have nothing to do with him. There were other ways, of course, other people, other groups. This did little to ease his vexation.

'Mr. Wyndrelis Femer, We at the Leyawiin Synod Conclave hope that this letter finds you well,' The pleasantries had ended there. Then began the statements of fact, the obvious ban on Conjuration, the musings of how it led to Necromancy, a reference here and there of the end of the Third Era. He rubbed at his temples in small, soothing motions to stave off a headache. He plopped down into a creaking wooden chair. He rushed his hands through his raven-dark hair, his posture slumped, his body thundering with his pulse so deeply it made his temple throb, his hands shake. Anger, no. This was not anger. Frustration, perhaps, or even guilt. Guilt. A sword he swallowed whole. Ever since he was a mere boy, the Hermoric clasping for knowledge pitted his stomach, burning up until he could deny it no longer. He'd devoured every book he could get his hands on that contained any fragmentary notion of the things he sought, and when his family was not around, he'd raise his palm and work the magicka into his fingertips and he'd weave it slow, in, out, like water through a sloshing pitcher. Waves of it, smooth as silk, heavy as lead. He'd learn how to move objects in their home. He'd know how to ignite a tiny spark on his fingertips, and eventually, how to dance it between the tips of several digits without letting it falter. His parents had always despised his knack for the arcane. The curse on their name had been enough to cause his ancestors to scorn the practice, leaving Morrowind generations ago and fumbling their way into a small, mountain town in County Cheydinhal. His home would be a memory he spat out. He was no longer welcome there. He did not want to return.

the next snippet is something i typed up in comic sans to break my brain out of a cage! it's chapter 27 of "Cycle of the Serpent", on the road to Mount Kilkreath to return Meridias Beacon, although they don't really know that's what they're doing. teehee >:3c

Fateless stars align, moons rise and fall, and all Athenath wanted was to be at the Bards College right now. That's what they had come here for, that hallowed institute of the arts, the halls which they'd heard whispers were paved with plaque-decorated displays of instruments from famous bards long passed, the stone paths that wound their ways through the high-rising establishment. From the moment that he'd gotten his wits about them after the first night in Solitude, he'd stretched longing looks in the direction of the building, knowing from the groups shared map what streets of Solitude lead where, and how deeply they wished to just march up the steps themself and ask about applications. The beacon radiated a warmth every time he touched it, like the sun off a rock, or the body heat of a small animal. It alarmed him to some degree, the strangeness of the feeling, but they embraced it. The journey to Mount Kilkreath gave them plenty of time to practice their talents, and practice he did, tossing the beacon to Wyndrelis haphazardly and bouncing from heel to heel, capering down the mountain paths and through the trees with songs bubbling from his lips. Sometimes, they'd trail off, coming to a silent standstill as the words escaped him, before shrugging and pulling back into another song.

[….]

"Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red…" Athenath sang in a sprightly tone, Emeros' eyes avoiding either companion, something the Altmer had noticed. From the moment the trio had decided to set up camp until now, he could feel Emeros' personal twistings of mental acrobatics, but exactly on what, he didn't know. All they knew was that the sun shone bright off the sea, glittering like beetle wings off an aristocratic Bosmeri gown, in its soft and elegant light. He longed to dive into the sea, deeper and deeper, gather shells in their arms and sort them at the beach, turn them over and over for signs of life, for molluscs and crabs, the kind of games he played on the rare visit to the Anvil beach with his family and their old friends, scent of salty, wet fur a brow-furrowing comfort for the Altmer. They could practically hear their old friends calling him down from the mountain, humming and hawing and beckoning the bard down to the shoreline. A hand on his shoulder planted them firmly in the grounds of reality, and Athenath slowed their stride, spinning to face Wyndrelis. "Yeah! What's up?" Wyndrelis pointed down the road. "We're nearing Mount Kilkreath. Do you want the beacon?" He asked in his usual, cold voice. Athenath nodded rapidly, taking the object into their arms. "Isn't it kinda weird how warm it is?" Athenath asked with a smile spread along his carmine mouth. Wyndrelis furrowed his brow. "Warm?" He repeated. Athenath looked to him, confusion dimming the brightness of their eyes.

if you read until the end of this i wanted to give you a special thanks <3 i hope you're doing well, and i'm casting spell of WIP Motivation be upon ye!!

[simstraterrestrial]

My Sims Kingdom Inspired Legacy Challenge

Recently, with the re-release of the My Sims games, I've began feeling nostalgic about the series. I played My Sims Kingdom a LOT as a kid and I love how the main Sim's games constantly make references to the My Sim's characters/games. Then, while i was deliberating on how to make the sims 3 more interesting, I decided to mix two of my most beloved games, My Sims Kingdom and The Sims 3, to create a legacy challenge!

I took some inspiration from the Store World Legacy by florydaax with this version of the legacy challenge as it encourages your sims family to move to a new town every generation to simulate the wandolier visiting different islands.

Each Generation is named after an island from My Sims Kingdom and is accompanied by my suggested world for your sim to live in.

Generation One: Capitol Island (Sunset Valley or A Small Empty Island)

Wow, you can't believe this is happening! You won King Rolands contest and are dubbed a royal wandolier! Now, with a magic scepter in hand, you are tasked with helping sims around the world. Are you up for the challenge?

Traits: Brave, Friendly, Sailor

Lifetime Wish: Seasoned Traveler, Great Explorer (Or any lifetime wish that aligns with your career path)

Careers: Any Public Service Career or Explorer*

Rules:

Make this sim a witch (You can ignore this one if you don't own supernatural/don't want to play with supernatuals)

Reach the top of your Career

Befriend 30 sims

Complete 10 opportunities (Another sim must be giving you the opportunity for it to count)

Reach level 10 of 2 different skills of your choosing

*If you have World Adventure, being an Explorer can be your career. To fulfill the reach the top of your career while being an Explorer, you must explore all ruins and finish all WA questlines. To see the quests look under WA opportunities. Generic Opportunities don't count towards finishing your career.

Generation Two: Renee's Nature Preserve (Riverview or Aurora Skies)

Your parent's dedication to helping others inspired you. After moving to Riverview, you decided that you want give back to the world by opening an absolutely adorable nature preserve for all the animals around town! Get ready for a full house because your home will be jam packed with fuzzy, fluffy, and scaly friends!

Traits: Animal Lover, Vegetarian, Eco-Friendly

Lifetime Wish: The Ark Builder, Animal Rescuer, The Zoologist

Careers: Gardening and Collecting

Rules:

Have 2 cats, 2 dogs, and 2 horses be apart of the household (You can only adopt one of each pet and will have to befriend/tame a stray to add any other pets to your household)

Own a bull ride game

Collect at least 10 minor pets (They cannot be brought)

Have at least 5 caught fish living in a fish tank

Make you sim home a nature preserve!

Generation Three: Cowboy Junction (Appalooza Plains)

You spent your whole life caring for animals, but you know you were destined for something greater. As a child, you discovered your talent for cooking and decided that serving delicious meals was your destiny. So you packed your bags and made your way to Monte Vista! Except. . . you somehow got stuck in Appalooza Plains along the way. Despite the slight mishap, you won't stop chasing your dream.

Traits: Natural Cook, Neat, Technophobe

Lifetime Wish: Celebrated 5 Star Chef

Careers: Culinary

Rules:

Reach level 10 cooking skill

Reach level 10 gardening skill

Reach the top of the culinary career path

Learn every cooking recipe

Host 3 great dinner parties

Own the Bistro and Hogans Deep Fried Diner

Make your house look like a restaurant

Generation Four: Rocket Reef (Lunar Lakes or Oasis Landing)

TODAY'S WEATHER CALLS FOR A 100% CHANCE FOR SCIENCE!!! Everyone in that dingy old town is a boor and HAS NO RESPECT FOR SCIENCE!!! You are a GENIUS and should be treated as such!!! Of course, the next most reasonable course of action is hopping in a spaceship and heading to outer space!!! At least on another planet you won't be judged for your "morally questionable" experiments!

Traits: Eccentric, Bot Fan, Computer Whiz, Genius

Lifetime Wish: Become a Creature-Robot Cross Breeder, More Than a Machine, Monster Maker

Careers: Science, Inventor, selling plumbots

Rules:

Reach level 10 logic skill

Reach level 10 handiness skill

Reach level 10 bot building skill

Reach level 10 of science skill

Reach level 10 of science career

Build a simbot

Build a sentient plumbot and install the steel chef and competent cleaner chips into it

Have a bad relationship with your plumbot

Make your home a science lab!

Generation Five: Candypalooza (Starlight Shores or Isla Paradiso or Sunlit Tides)

Your parent's obsession with science was really crashing your style. Yeah, being smart is cool and all, but you wanna be the life of the party! That's why you packed up your turntable and made your way to Earth. Get ready everyone, you're about to paint the town in multicolor LED's!

Traits: Party Animal, Social Butterfly

Lifetime Wish: Super Popular, Resort Empire

Careers: Resort Owner or Nightclub Owner

Rules:

Reach level 5 of the DJ Turntable hidden skill

Reach level 10 of the Laser Rhythm-a-con skill

Reach level 10 charisma

Have 20 friends

Throw a party once a week

Create a 5 star resort or open a fully upgraded nightclub

Generation Six: Forest of the Elves (Dragon Valley)

How did you get here? One second you were playing sweet tunes in the club and now you're suddenly being told that you are the chosen one!? Recently, the unicorns have disappeared and the animals are acting strangely. The elves in Dragon Valley tasked you with saving everyone by bringing the unicorns back to Dragon Valley. Will you be able to rock out hard enough to bring these mystical creatures back home?

Traits: Virtuoso, Loves the Outdoors

Lifetime Wish: The Fairytale Finder, Rock Star, One Sim Band, Vocal Legend

Careers: Musician, Singer, Horse Rider

Rules:

Reach level 10 of guitar skill

Reach level 10 of riding skill

Reach level 10 alchemy skill

Cure 5 cursed sims with alchemy

Befriend a Unicorn

Build the temple of the woods (add a hot tub in the temple)

Generation Seven: Cutopia (Hidden Springs)

Living as the child of a legend, you were always treated like a princess/prince. Despite getting spoiled with gifts and praise constantly, you felt like you had a different purpose. The world just isn't as cute as you think it should be. So, you decided to solve this issue yourself by making the town cuter, one pink house at a time! Maybe, along your mission, you might find the cutest thing of all - LOVE!

Traits: Snob, Hopless Romantic, Irresistable

Lifetime Wish: Home Design Hotshot, Fashion Phenomenon, Heartbreaker

Careers: Fashion Designer, Interior Designer

Rules:

Reach level 10 of the painting skill

Reach the top of your career

Make each townie or home you work on cute

Go on 10 dates

Have your home be worth at least $100,000

Lock your heir for the next generation in a dark tower or basement and make them home schooled (You can't let the world know that one of your children aren't cute)

Generation Eight: Spookane (Midnight Hollow or Moonlight Falls)

You lived your childhood surrounded in darkness. During the time you were locked away, you thought about life and it's meaning. As a result, you took to writing poetry to express your feelings of melancholy. Once you became an adult, you moved to a place where the people understood you and gothic self expression wasn't shunned. Now you can live your life freely as a writer. . . or you can get revenge on everyone who has wronged you and cover the world in darkness.

Traits: Bookworm, Brooding, Evil (optional)

Lifetime Wish: Illustrious Author, Emperor of Evil,

Careers: Author, Criminal, Mausoleum

Rules:

Write 5 poetry novels

Make $15,000 from book royalties

Learn the recipe to make cookies

Have your sim discover the meaning of life*

*This rule is a goal for you to set for your sim and entire depends on what you believe the meaning of life is (e.g Having a big family, having a lot of friends, being sucessful, having fun, etc). This goal can be more than one thing.

Generation Nine: Trevor Island (Monte Vista)

Art has always enraptured you since a young age. Music, painting, sculpting - the form of art never mattered. What you especially loved most of all was theater. The drama! The emotions! It is all so glorious. You knew you were destined to be an actor after your debut role as Spagula in your school play. So, you moved to Monte Vista to fulfill your artistic persuits.

Traits: Star Quality, Charasmatic, Dramatic

Lifetime Wish: Superstar Actor

Careers: Film

Rules:

Be in the drama club in high school

Reach level 10 of the film career

Become a 5 star celebrity

Obtain a statue of yourself

Complete the local celebrity skill challenge

Write an auto-biography

Own the town theater

Generation 10: Academy Island (Twinbrook)

Education is the key to sucess! Your parent encouraged you to follow you passion like they did. As it turns out, education is your passion! Make straight A's, find love, join a club or two, become valedictorian, and then guide the next generation into sucess!

Traits: Ambitious, Nurturing, Neurotic

Lifetime Wish: Perfect Student, Big Happy Family, Major Master

Careers: Education, Daycare

Rules:

Make perfect grades throughout your school life

Reach level 10 for 3 skills

Enroll in university and obtain a degree

Adopt 4 child sims (Your sim may not have any biological children)

Home School all of your children

Build the perfect academy with a classroom, dorms, and headmasters office!

If you have any suggestions or changes, please give them to me!

I cross posted this challenge on the sims 3 subreddit here.

[simpofhans]

short introduction of the OC's in my spin-off Hans fanfic, being at once F3/F4 fan prequel/AU, how I could imagine the plot of the future sequels (but not entirely, that fanfic is a messed up mix of different fanfic genres but... it makes 100% sense in headcanon realm lol)

so :

Freya (30+ years old) - the mayor of Northundel, the desolate, wintery Southern Isles town, being away from the tyranny of King Friedrich and his 12 sons (Friedrich name borrowed from @galaxygolfergirl, earlier I called him Hubert, BUT TF IT SOUNDS LIKE KING FROM SLEEPING BEAUTY AND I WILL NOT INSULT THIS SWEET FUNNY OLD MAN LIKE THIS LOL...), where Hans is saved of being publicly executed. Caring, soft, mother of the group, kind of mysterious, kind and motherly. Red hair, teal eyes (just like Anna's), with a small braid behind her ear. She also hides a secrets that as a mayor of the community, she can't say to anyone. Even Hans, because as a motherly person, she wants to protect him at all costs (Wish reference. that was the only good song in this movie lol).

Anders (21 years old) - Freya's brother, standing lower in town hierarchy, but also, as his sister, trying to protect his home and help its people the best way he can. Bubbly, akward, optimistic, with a talent of cooking and doing extremely delicious homemade food, with a dark brown curly hair and green eyes. The clown of the group, always cheering up the others, with a small gestures.

Diana (23 years old, yup, Hans's age in F1.) - The only woman beside Freya living in her house in Northundel. Snarky, not trusting anyone, loves to argue, overprotective and kind of possesive, with black long straight hair, and blue eyes. She hates Hans because she's somehow afraid what could happen to him if he will leave Northundel, that is only a temporary home to him before he will go on his own adventure, but at her deep, he is madly in love with him from the first time she saw him. She seems cold, but her golden heart is reserved only for specific people, and when she will show it, she's just a lost, traumatized young girl with obsessive need of protecting others, after her loved one died. She's the outcast of the group, unseen and invisible, but with golden heart hidden under the cruelty and cold (you see what I did here, did you? ^^).

Marc (35+ years old) - The only man beside Anders and Hans living in the Freya's house in Northundel (btw his design is slightly borrowed from @pirate-of-the-southern-isles's Burro, with slight changes lol), with a short black hair, beard and brown eyes looking right into your soul. He is the caretaker of the group, and kind of its father, just like Freya is group's mother (Yup, you can ship them. They definetely have something for each other ^^). Strong and massive, but he even doesn't hides his kindness - he is always here to help, extremely caretaking and emphatic of others. He was the first, alongside with Freya, that actually trusted Hans, before Anders, and especially Diana, actually did it. He is good at constructing things, and his secret passion is woodcarving.

And of course Hans, the disgraced prince, who was saved by all of them. And who maybe, will find a new home alongside with them. Or Elsa, which he asks for help later to save magic discovered by him in Northundel. Or maybe with someone and somewhere else? This fanfic is freshly written, and it has nearly 60+ pages now, so you must wait for all your answers.

and also, For the First Time in Forever fanfic is cancelled after 400+ pages. It just... wasn't good enough and the plot was a mess. It didn't felt content and like a real plot, either gibberish plot made into the fanfic. And that fanfic was mainly used for fake laugh so... that one is better. The fact that I'm openly talking about this fanfic now, and not the previous one, says a lot.

So sorry for cancellaction FTFIF fanfic, but I promise, the better one is on the way... with near half of the first act written in a week. While FTFIF was written with a one chapter for two weeks. That says a lot again.

[dr-docktor]

31, 52, and 53?

31. 3 random facts

Let's see.. I was born in the middle of a huge storm

both my deadname and last name can be made into popular pop culture references that I got really sick of hearing from every adult around me

The metro/subway organization in my home town was possibly tricked into abbreviating one of the stops to 'Fggy Bttm'

52. something I’m talented at

uh. I like character design?

someone also asked 53 so I'm gonna answer that one there :-]

[crowandmoonwriting]

Get To Know My OCs

Thank you for the tag @elshells! This looks like so much fun!

For this, I'll be using Aderyn and the Usurper (referred to also as the King), from my WIP On Crimson Wings. I'm very excited to show off their dynamic and their personalities. I'm not used to writing second-person POV, but I'll do my best lol.

The tavern is warm, filled with the fragrances of mead, ale, rosemary, and roasting meat. It is a welcome respite from the frigid Merovyn winter outside, and you settle in comfortably to meet the King and his closest advisor. They come in promptly, two tall, handsome men of long shining hair and brilliant eyes, their pale cheeks flushed and ruddied, snow glimmering in their hair and on their winter cloaks.

Aderyn is unmistakable, a slender young man of ruby-red hair and large, thoughtful (almost fearful) eyes. His tunic is the same colour as his eyes, rich emerald velvet, edged in simple gold embroidery. His eyes seldom leave the King at his side. He is expectant, nervous, and all the gossip you have heard about his looks are true. He is a beauty, androgynous, graceful. You notice the King does not look away from Aderyn either.

The King himself is clad like a thief, in worn blackened leathers, with a shortsword at his waist and a simple knife strapped to his thigh. He wears a wolfish smile, guarded but charming, and he says something quietly to Aderyn which makes him blush. The King's regality shows in his bearing, in the obvious strength of his slim but muscular physique, and in his characteristic raven hair. As he finally spots you, you see his strange violet eyes are filled with many colours, sparks of fire like those in the depths of an opal. They match the opal ring on his right hand.

They approach, and after ordering (juniper mead for Aderyn, blackberry mead for the King), they settle in for the interview.

1. Are you named after anyone?

The King: No. I was named after several virtues in my mother tongue, as is customary among my people. Whether or not I embody such virtues is...up to debate. {he smirks}

Aderyn: My name comes from the ancient Merovynian word for red topaz.

The King {looks at Aderyn's hair fondly}: I wonder why.

2. When was the last time you cried?

The King: The King doesn't cry! {laughs} Like three days ago.

Aderyn: Oh, well...maybe three days ago.

3. Do you have kids?

The King: Oh no! I'm not what you call the marrying kind, if you catch my drift.

Aderyn: The marrying kind? I suppose I'm not either. {he and the king share a look, as though they're sharing a secret}

The King: And it would be unkind, wouldn't it, for the poor thing to be born a bastard? I wouldn't want to do that to a child, at least in this country.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

The King: Never! Do I look like the kind of man who would be sarcastic? {he says this with a heavy dose of sarcasm}

Aderyn: Now and again, especially when His Majesty teases me.

The King: Oh, it's all in good fun, huh? {he slings his arm around Aderyn, who blushes}

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

The King: Their outfits, of course!

Aderyn: Their eyes.

6. What's your eye color?

Aderyn: Green.

The King: {blinks, fluttering his eyelashes} Many colours, so I'm told, but mostly violet.

7. Scary Stories or Happy Endings?

Aderyn: Happy endings, certainly.

The King: Scary stories with happy endings! I like a bit of adventure, a bit of danger, you know? Suppose I wouldn't be king if I didn't, eh?

8. Any special talents?

Aderyn: I am a fair horseman.

The King: He's being modest. He's the most brilliant horseman I've ever had the honour of meeting. Horses adore him, and his seat is perfect.

Aderyn: {blushes} Really, Your Majesty.

The King: I'm not so modest! I'm an excellent swordsman. I've never been bested. {he taps the hilt of the sword at his side} Never leave home without it.

9. Where were you born?

Aderyn: In the far east of Merovyn, in my family estate near a small town. Quite a boring place. I much prefer court and the capital. {his eyes shift to the side; is he telling the truth?}

The King: The far east as well, though further east than Aderyn's estate perhaps. {he also seems to be lying, or at least hiding something}

10. What are your hobbies?

The King: Hunts, tournaments, festivals, plays, getting drunk on cheap ale and going for rides to the mountains. All with Aderyn, preferably. There's no better company.

Aderyn: {rubs his cheek as though to wipe away his flush} I love to read, particularly volumes of history.

The King: He enjoys a good chivalric romance or two as well.

Aderyn: Your Majesty!

11. Do you have any pets?

The King: There's my horse, Bastard! He's sort of a pet. Although I've always wanted a kennel of dogs. Not for hunting, I wouldn't want to endanger them. Dogs are so loving!

Aderyn: The horse that his Majesty gifted to me, a fine white stallion. I would love to have a dog too, though. Or a cat.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

The King: Is hunting a sport? Tournaments, jousting?

Aderyn: If so, both of us do that, quite often.

The King {smirking}: Wrestling.

Aderyn {glares at him}: I suppose.

13. How tall are you?

The King: In your measurements, I am six feet and six inches.

Aderyn: I am five feet, ten inches.

14. Favorite subject in school?

Aderyn: History.

The King: Lies! {laughs} He likes poetry. I love poetry too, but history as well, and languages, ooh, and music, who could forget about music? Art, though, that's so important, so very important...

Aderyn: Yes, but a favourite, Your Majesty.

The King: Well, everything is my favourite! Except for mathematics, I suppose...

15. Dream job?

The King: Honestly? A farmer. With a great big farm with many animals, far away from people. With a garden and enough to sustain me and my family. A little cottage near a river, woods nearby, mountains.

Aderyn: A peaceful life. {nods} Yes, that sounds ideal. As a noble, I've seldom thought of 'jobs,' but I could be a farmer.

The King: Oh? You could be a wonderful horse-trainer.

Aderyn: {looks at him fondly} I could train horses at the farm.

On Crimson Wings taglist (ask to be added!): @angie-j-kay

This was sooooo much fun! Can you tell these idiots are in love?

Tagging (if you've already done this feel free to ignore!): @sam-glade, @lola-theshowgrl, @contes-de-rheio, @birdy-boy, @moonshinemagpie, @thewritingsofevbrowne, @thewardenofwinter, @chromehoplite, @nerdishwrites, and anyone who sees this and wants to do it!

[necroangelz]

Im watching a documentary about celts and white people and white power and Europe and Finnic people and Scandinavian people and The Roman Empire and white people feeling real nazistic now anyway sends all the emojis of the emoji game -🎀

Sana Tamaan Ka Ng Kidlat Ni Bathala

haha anyway wow 🎀 anon that sounds like a very educational documentary. did that inspire uu with any nazi feelings?

『 💉 』

a kin memory

as sunny omori, i was genderfluid afab, probably on the aroace spectrum, and used any pronouns. mari's full name was Marianne. can't remember my first name, i just know that sunny was a nickname that literally everyone used so it became a substitute for my actual name

mari and i were filipino-chinese (+american), kel and hero were south american, Aubrey was filipino-american, basil was just north american. faraway town had a lot of poc

『 🎀 』

a name/prn/title/label i hoard

I'm super drawn to anything related to stories :P

『 💊 』

5 min edit of a random character

yk uur talented when uur 5 minute edits still look good as hell /J

i love the "unmotivated" frame sm i wanna use it in an actual edit someday....

"angel stop editing NSO" NO!!

『 💌 』

a quote/song lyric

" i have nothing to complain about. i may not be perfect to you, but I'm plenty good enough to myself. "

" ... now i understand. i wanted everyone to love me. i sought for so much. to know everything when i had everything. but i never tried to find out what i truly wanted... and i can't have it anymore. ah, i could have turned back any time, but now it's all gone because of me ! "

dialogue from the houseki no kuni/land of the lustrous manga. can't remember which chapter but it's near the end. i won't talk about the context much in case i spoil someone but i really really really truly super duper resonate with this dialogue 🙃🙃

『 🫀 』

a game i played

today's game is... va-11 hall-a: cyberpunk bartender action! also known as waifu bartending and the true lesbian experience

time to mix drinks and change lives.

i first learned about it when my friend told me it was the type of game i would like. i looked it up and, wow he wasn't wrong. it really did look like something I'd be into. so when the steam spring sale rolled around a few days or a week ago i bought it!

honestly the title is very direct with what the game is about. you play as Jill, a bartender in va-11 hall-a (referred to simply as Valhalla) in a technologically advanced world and a corrupt city. you serve drinks to your clients, have long conversations with them where stuff about the characters and world is revealed, and tolerate their weirdness. the game is visual novel heavy and focuses a lot on the talking, which is fine with me! i like the combination of lots and lots of dialogue and casual gameplay where uu still kind of need to use uur brain

there's a lot of cute girls in the game (re: waifu bartending and the true lesbian experience)

to the left is Dorothy, a lilim robot (basically an advancedsex robot. her product line in particular is modeled to be on the younger side physically) she's really sweet and bubbly and she has a kind personality. to the right is Dana, Jill's boss. i don't know much about Dana yet but a lot of mystery surrounds her. a lot of characters say she's very strong and there's lots of rumors about how she got her prosthetic arm (a lot of rumors may have been started by her.) also Jill's wallpaper is of herself and Dana together and she apparently has lots of photos of Dana in her gallery. i hope i can see them get together

i find the GUI very satisfying. there's also a home segment where uu sit at home with Jill's cat, fore, and browse Jill's phone. uu can also buy stuff. Jill gets distracted very easily so sometimes uu have to buy things from the online store so Jill would be less distracted at work (SO REAL she's the most accurate representation of ADHD lesbians ever)

since it takes place in a cyberpunk setting there's some political shit going on, the city they live in is a really Bad city with lots of crime and injustice, and the organization "white knights" (basically the cops but stronger and more organized) are known to be power hungry and use their power unfairly for the wrong reasons. also the prime minister seems a bit incompetent? there's also something about a hacker called Alice rabbit... but also at the start of the game, Jill had this weird dream about a girl and occasionally the girl appears on the bar's tv for a split second...... yeah there's a lot going on here

anyways i find the game really fun and i hope to play it more when i have more free time! im still super early in the game . i don't have a singular favorite character yet bc I'm still at the beginning so idk much about them yet and they all look cool to me!!

『 🪽 』

infodump about an oc

OKAY, SO! the oc i will discuss here is connected to nyxa, an oc i discussed here but reading that infodump isn't necessary to understand this one (not like anyone reads these anyway /lh)

remmeber when i said that, as far as nyxa knows she's the only surviving member of her family after they all killed each other?? WELL! that's wrong she's not the only survivor. her older sister survived as well!

this is Amos faust! (or fraust... i spelled her last name differently sometimes) although Amos isn't really her real name, it's just an alias that she always goes by. shes the head of a detective agency! (in my phoebe and nyxa infodump i mention that nyxa becomes a head of a detective agency when she's an adult. she takes over amos' agency)

her backstory is she studied in cloud tower but in her 3rd year she dropped out and disappeared. no one came looking for her because.. no one really knew her, yk? she was quiet, mysterious, she avoided everyone and everyone avoided her. eventually after leaving cloud tower she began a personal investigation where she hunted down a specific person/group that had something to do with her family's demise (like an enemy of the family) and it led her to a detective agency. she concluded that her target was the director. so she entered the agency, climbed the ranks,became trusted and known within the agency, until she had the opportunity to get close enough to the director and kill them. except, she was wrong about her target, so now she had the blood of an innocent person on her hands. out of genuine guilt and regret (and also because she was emotionally attached to this agency and she figured she would have an easier time continuing her investigation within the agency) she pulled some strings and appointed herself as the new director. and she has been the director for the past ██ years.

Amos is a very eccentric person, and those who don't know her well might even regard her as scary. she arrives to strange conclusions, she comes up with strange plans, but somehow her plans always work. most of the time. the people working under her have learned not to question it. she's very skilled at fighting, spywork, reading and using people, etc. it's hard to know if any of her current personality is even true. but sometimes, one can observe that she genuinely cares for the few people who are very close to her, such as her sister nyxa and her assistant. shes also sarcastic, unafraid to speak her mind, really confident in herself and her abilities.

so how do Amos and nyxa meet again?

basically in their 3rd year at alfea, students can sign up as for different part time jobs with agencies that alfea partnered with. there's a wide range of jobs and it's meant to help the students get familiar with the work environment of the career they want to pursue in the future. yk, gain some experience, make connections, get a paycheck, etc. phoebe and nyxa try applying for many jobs but in the end they go with a detective agency. very few students applied for it so they easily get hired after they attend the orientation and pass the test, and also they think it's really cool

when they applied and worked there for a few weeks/months, the director was away on a long business trip so nyxa didn't immediately realize that her fucking sister was in the agency. and idk if she would realize it immediately either. because she hasn't seen her sister in YEARS and i like to think something separated them very early in their lives so they weren't close at all. but Amos would immediately recognize her i think

but yeah. skipping past the specifics of the situation: eventually nyxa learns the truth, she's no longer alone, she still has surviving family etc. nyxa and Amos try to rebuild a familial bond again but it's awkward bc its like.... honestly at this point in their lives they're like strangers to each other. but it's okay they take the time to get to know each other again

i like to imagine nyxa and Phoebe going on missions together with Amos as their chaperone/guardian/protector/guide ^_^

anyway yeah that's all i have to say i think

[faneposting-my-beloved]

Elane Masterpost (for my and your reference)

Full name: Elane Ravenloft

Race: Elf

Tags: NOBLE, BARBARIAN

Class: Inquisitor (Warfare x Necromancy)

Talents: Corpse Eater, Leech, Executioner

Origin instrument: Cello [TH link] Who is Elane Ravenloft?

The earliest memory Elane has is one of constant danger and pursuit. She and her mother tried to escape the Elven Forests years before the Deathfog struck while being chased by their kin like valuable prey. Elane's mother died to the arrows of the hunters, and since then, Elane had to fend for herself on her own.

She was like a wild animal, living and hunting - usually other elves with the wicked pleasure of revenge - until, accidentally, she ventured far beyond the reach of the elven lands.

Life outside varied little, the child, a mute animal focused on survival spent her days stalking the woods in search of something to eat or a pit to sleep in. One day, however, she spotted strange, short, and bowless creatures moving through her territory. Curiosity piqued, she keenly observed the group of bandits setting up a trap on the nearby road. Soon a noble carriage rolled over the beaten, dry earth, and expectedly got besieged by the highwaymen. Elane heard screams, lurking on the tall trees above, and pushed by some unknown feeling, decided to intervene. She dropped down on the first bandit, breaking his neck, and the others she slaughtered. An elven child massacred five adult men.

The saved nobles were terrified, but not ungrateful.

Elane, who had no name at the time, with effort repeated the only word her mother ever said to her. 'City' she struggled to repeat, 'We must get to a city'. The couple of older humans exchanged confused looks and allowed the strange forest orphan to travel with them to their home.

As it happened Teodryk and Marais Ravenloft were unable to have children of their own and they took the girl's sudden but crucial appearance in their life as a sign from the gods and decided to adopt her. It was them who gave her the name she uses to this day - Elane. Alongside the respectable surname. Elane's father owned a mine and the entirety of the town of Agrid Hall, a dwarven-human community that he helped to build in Lower Stormdale. He was a proletarian entrepreneur, who happened to fall in love with the daughter of a rich Arxian aristocrat, and dream of a better world. Her mother, a warm woman with a love for gardening, could not bear children, and she was the one to actually propose to take the girl in as their own. Since then, Elane lived in the Ravenloft manor, learning how to speak and how to function in the civilized world. She was curious and learned surprisingly fast. She had many teachers, from fencing to calligraphy, but the most notable of them was Arhu the Wizard. Just how her father got such a prominent persona to tutor his adopted daughter remains unknown.

Elane grew past the title of adopted rather quickly, and in her parents' eyes, she was nothing but their firstborn child. They paid little attention to her elven quirks, be it her amazingly long hair, strangely glowing eyes, or her inability to scar. The servants of the house took a while to grow used to the tall, lanky woman, but she eventually won their hearts over, albeit the beginnings were rough. Elane's most beloved servant, however, had to be the gardener tending to the manor's greenery. An older human going by the name of Adrick, whose eyes were usually hidden in the shadow of his straw hat. It was he who showed her how to plant roses that not only were thornless, but they bloomed in unusual blue. When he retired and returned to his homeland, she took the gardener station in his place.

In the meantime, she made best friends with a worker's young son, Phillip, who appeared in the mansion not too long after her.

When she wasn't busy in her garden, her father eagerly passed down his knowledge of history and eloquence, and economics to her, hoping to see Elane step up as his successor.

Her birthday is on the 12th of Fengali - the date when her feet crossed the threshold of her forever home for the first time. Her parents gave her a set of artisan hair adornments after the 10th year she spent with them. She finds those items dearer than her own life.

Years passed, and the inevitable came. The death of her parents left a daunting mark on her psyche. Elane inherited her father's estate and proved to be a more than capable businesswoman.

One of Elane's (wrongfully recognized as) elven quirks

Her eyes lit up with silver after nightfall - the shape of the light mimic the current moon phase

Elane's attire of choice. All of her clothes had to be custom tailored to fit, but she prefers to wear ill-fitting human clothing over any traditional Elven garments.

Personality

Elane's is a walking contrast. On one hand, she is a curious individual, who likes to know what is going on in the world. Despite her attachment to her hometown, she keenly follows the things that happen in the present and the past. She is still occasionally visited by her old tutor, Arhu, and she never spares him the questions putting his wizardly knowledge to the test. But she also likes routine, and habits. She finds comfort in having a rhythm, of sleeping in the same place every night - a cruel echo of her urchin past sends her into a feeling of mental instability.

This is also tied to the other side of the woman. Elane killed in her life, a lot. When her adopted, cultured mask falls, one faces a bloodlust animal underneath. Elane had to survive by any means necessary, and when pushed, she is just that. A cornered beast. The worst thing about it all is that usurping violence over others brings her a great deal of joy she constantly denies.

She hates all things elven, another result of her troubled past. All elves speaking in the traditional manner as stupid and inferior, and given she had to deal with those kind whole lot as a town official after the Deathfog struck, she is more than likely to assume the worst about her pointy-eared kin. But she does look fondly at the ones who actually try to assimilate, and drop all their barbaric predispositions.

Observations of Elane's swordsmanship found in the notebook of the Eternal scholar Fane

During my travels, I have come to observe many of so-called Rivellon’s best fighters. Despite the prideful titles and spry footwork, no one managed to overcome our elven companion in battle. Her skills are so far unmatched and also so very different from what the previous subjects had presented. The specific fluidity has piqued my attention and caused me to closely observe her movements when she fights. I deem the observations I have made on the subject curious and worth noting. 

She begins the fight with a collected stance, tall and focused as if waiting for a partner to start a dance. While I am no expert on dueling, I suspect that there is more than meets the eye in the art of hitting adversaries with a pointy rod, and I will try to give my best impression. Reviews might be needed. Reassuming, her first movements remind me of those of the Guards I have seen back in the Eternal City; adopting both grace and disdain towards the opponent. However, this illusion breaks as soon as the first step toward the enemy is taken. All grace becomes forfeit. Her paces become quick as she leaps through the battlefield, turning into more of a beast than an esteemed warrior. The swings of her blade are calculated yet savage, oriented at doing as much damage as possible to as many foes as possible. I believe some mortals call this state ‘berserk’ or ‘battle fury’. In all honesty, it indeed appears as if she turns into an unstoppable force, using her height, nimbleness, and the sheer weight of her weapon to her advantage. Her battles possess the finesse of a cornered animal fighting tooth and nail for its very survival.

As macabre as it may sound, there is a certain beauty in the sheer force inflicted ferociously upon the fools’ heads. It truly makes me wonder; What circumstances granted her such a feral mastery with the blade?

Trivia:

Elane's astral sign is the Ice Basilisk

Her blood type is all

The first time she used her 'corpse eater' trait was when a murder happened in Agrid Hall, and the culprit escaped seemingly without a trace. The victim's family actually asked Elane to try and pluck a useful memory from the mangled corpse.

She can play the piano. She was taught by her mother.