#Third husband was a sweet little shopkeeper

[the-crow-cryptids-domain]

I saw the trailer for the new Fable game and, as much as I greatly dislike the SUPER-HYPER REALISM they're going for (like I genuinely hate it it's so unsettling to me, where's the Stylized Charm of the old games???), seeing all the comments on said trailer about 'Fable Going Woke' makes me want to Commit Crimes.

Like.

Tell me you've Never fucking played a Fable game without saying you've Never played a Fable game.

Now I want this new Fable game to be WILDLY successful just out of spite for these empty headed fuckheads.

#Fable #Fable 1 #Fable 2 #Fable 3 #crow speaks #the crow speaks #I used to always play a gay or bi hero too #First husband was a pious monk #Second husband was an evil cultist #Third husband was a sweet little shopkeeper #Now I just want to play Fable again... #vent #rant #Also don't fucking get me started on the fact Fable 2 and 3 aren't on Steam #But my point is in the old Fable games you could be gay do crimes and also Everyone was 'Ugly' and that was part of its 'Charm' #Guess what Fable's been Woke ALL ALONG #Ok that's enough screaming into the void

[peculiarmindset]

The Chinese Firecracker Fart - This is an exceptional multiple noted fart identified by the number, and variety of its noises, mostly pops and bangs. Often when you think it is all over, it still has a few pops and bangs to go. In friendly company this one can get applause. Uncommon.

*This is the third and the final part of ‘The Biggest Fart Ever’ Trilogy (I don’t even know how this ended up as a trilogy- I swear I never planned for it to be- it just happened, lol). So I suggest you read my other two stories first of you haven’t already: ‘The Biggest Fart in the World Fart’ and ‘The Sonic Boom Fart’.

This is my fic for New Years (I posted my Christmas fic yesterday so make sure to read it in case you haven’t yet). I’m posting it early cause I’m gonna take a short break from tumblr this week. I’ll also be busy celebrating on New Year’s Eve, but on New Year’s Day I’ll be back and I will be posting the first chapter of my long-awaited second HP story! So please enjoy (heads up: the story below is a bit NSFW) and see you all in 2022! 😘🎇🎉🎊🎍🧧🎆

“Oh, Draco. I-urrp! Oh, excuse me. But I’m so glad you suggested to travel for New Years this year.” Harry sighed as he and Draco came back to their hotel room.

For New Years, Draco suggested that the couple go to Paris, France to celebrate the upcoming year.

Harry had been a bit hesitant at first, due to they usually celebrated the holidays with their friends and family, but now he was glad that he agreed to go- not only was France beautiful during the New Years, but he loved having his husband to himself to celebrate with just the two of them.

The married couple had just came back from enjoying the celebrations going on in town, where the Arc De Triumphe at Place Charles de Gaulle was.

They had feasted on a wide variety of foods and drinks while receiving warm greetings of “Bonnes fêtes de fin d’année!” (which was a pre-welcoming to the New Years that literally meant “Happy end of the year celebrations”) from the shopkeepers and townsfolk alike.

After they ate their fill of France’s traditional New Year’s cuisines such as foie gras, oysters and plenty of champagne, they decided that they had enough of the crowds and headed back to their hotel room to welcome the new year together.

The hotel they had booked was very high class and was the located right in the area where the epicenter of France’s New Year’s Party was- The Champs-Elysées.

In fact, their hotel room had the perfect view of the Eiffel Tower, which was known to display a light show at the stroke of midnight for New Years.

The couple went straight to their bedroom, snogging on top of their bed, groping each other fervently as they enjoyed the feel of having one another in their arms.

“Hmm…I love being in France. It gives me the perfect reason to french kiss you anytime I want to.” Harry grinned as he did just that.

Draco chuckled when his tongue was finally released from the other’s delicious playing. “Mmm…as if you need a reason to snog me, Mr. Malfoy-Potter. Urrp! Oh, excusez moi!” Draco blushed as small burp came out unexpectedly.

Even though he had vowed just last week to never eat too much during the holidays, Draco once again overindulged for the New Years- consuming everything that the streets and little shops offered, and especially took second helpings of their sweets.

But Draco couldn’t help it- they were in France for Merlin’s sake!

Harry grinned as he felt Draco pressing their groins together suggestively. “You’re absolutely right, Mr. Malfoy-Potter and did I mention that you speaking french is so sexy.” Draco smirked as he pulled their lips together again.

They both continued to snog until things started to gradually heat up between them.

Pulling away once more, Harry caught his breath, lifting his arms when Draco began to remove his shirt.

Just as Draco was unbuttoning his own top the blond noticed the time on the small clock on their bedside table. “Oh, it’ll be midnight soon. Let’s open the curtains so we can see the fireworks.” He told Harry.

Harry nodded excitedly. “Yeah! I bet it’ll be great welcoming the new year with me balls deep inside of you while the fireworks are going off around us.” He said in a sultry voice.

Draco gave him a heated grin. “And if I wanted to come inside of you instead?”

Harry winked. “I’m open to anything, dear.”

As Draco got up from the bed to get the curtains, he suddenly paused when he felt his stomach give a loud gurgle.

Cheeks reddening, Draco slowly sat back down on the bed.

“Draco?” Harry called out to him, sitting on the bed with only his boxers on as he raised a questioning eyebrow at the other. Draco avoided his eyes as the blond briefly debated whatever was on his mind.

Sighing, Draco decided to just bite the snitch- there was no way he was gonna make it to the loo in time- and said, “I have to…fart.” He haltingly admitted, thinking he was probably more tipsy than he thought since he had just confessed to his husband about his gassy situation.

Harry was able to hear the soft admittance and perked up at the other’s words. “Really?”

Draco grumbled under his breath, mostly about how he really should stop binging during the holidays, and nodded reluctantly.

“Well…” Harry gestured, giving Draco the okay to proceed. Draco sighed again and just gave him a pout.

BrrrrrrrrrrrRRRTTTTT!

Draco’s fart started off normally, very bubbly, then slowly the volume picked up and ended on a raspberry note.

Harry giggled as Draco’s face was nearly a tomato red at that point. “That wasn’t so bad- doesn’t even hold a candle to the one you let out during Christmas or even Thanksgiving.” Harry pointed out, trying to make his husband feel better.

Draco harrumphed as he pushed off the bed to finally deal with those curtains. “It’s still embarrassing!” He whined, sending a glare as Harry continued to giggle.

Never mind- with the level of embarrassment he was feeling, Draco was without a doubt sober. He now actually wished he was drunk to forget this moment.

Returning to the bed, Draco quickly rid of his clothes and thrown himself over Harry’s body, quickly silencing Harry’s giggles with his lips.

“Okay, I call top first.” Draco ordered, shoving Harry’s boxers off.

Harry grinned as he opened his legs wide and welcomed his lover willingly. “That’s fine with me.”

Afterwards, they both gasped, panting hard as they caught their breaths.

Getting down from their highs, they both smiled lovingly at one other as they waited for their bodies to recover from their climax before they began round two.

Slipping out of Harry, Draco grinned when Harry made an incoherent noise as a wet ‘pop’ could be heard.

Moving off of Harry and going on his side, they both cuddled on the bed as they exchanged more sloppy kisses and touches between them.

“Mmm…okay, my turn.” Harry pushed himself up and moved on top Draco now.

Just as Draco opened his legs, the alarm from the clock inside their room went off, alerting them that it was nearly midnight soon.

“Oh time for the countdown.” Draco noted as he looked back to Harry and pulled the other closer. “Shall we start the new year with you inside of me?” He winked.

Harry beamed as he nodded his head hard. “Can’t think of a better way to welcome the year, love.”

10…

9…

Harry put his hands on Draco’s hips as he looked down to see Draco’s pucker looking very inviting for his member to come inside.

8…

7…

Draco had his own arms wrapped around the back of Harry’s neck, his stomach bubbling in anticipation as Harry happily counted down to New Years out loud.

6…

5…

4���

Draco started to realize that his belly was bubbling a little too much for it only to be out of anticipation.

Harry didn’t notice Draco starting to frown as he brought himself closer to his husband.

3…

Draco’s eyes widened in horror as he felt a bubble drop down to his bum, just as he felt Harry’s cock press against his hole.

2…

1…

“Happy new year.” Harry whispered, touching his lips to Draco’s.

But suddenly Harry found their lips being ripped apart as Draco shoved him away.

“What-“ Harry began but suddenly stopped as he met with horrified grey eyes staring back widely at him.

And then the sound of fireworks went off outside…

…or what Harry thought were coming from outside.

PHHHHBBBBBLLLTT! BLLLRRTT! BRAP! BRAP! PPRRRTTT! PPRRRTT….

Feeling something warm against him, Harry looked away from Draco’s horrorstruck expression to look down and saw Draco’s arsehole opened wide as it let out large amounts of gas from within.

Draco farted.

No, Draco was currently farting.

And that was putting it lightly.

What was coming out of his husband wasn’t just a cacophony of flatus, nor was it a symphony of gas like the previous two farts that Harry had the privilege to witness before.

No, this was even more monumental than all of those farts put together.

This was a fireworks display in and of itself- a sheer pandemonium of pure flatulence.

As the lights and sparkles from the fireworks bursting outside lit up the night sky from their hotel window, France’s fireworks display had nothing on the show that Harry was experiencing from his husband at that moment.

The exploding sounds that erupted from Draco derrière overshadowed the fireworks outside. All that Harry’s ears could hear was the pops and bangs as every single fart was shot out, loud and proud, and in quick succession as there was no stop in between.

The sounds of TOOTS and POOTS, the more nastier sounds of BLOOPS and BLORPS, and with a massive SPLURRRT at one point that Harry could have sworn left Draco’s pucker questioningly moist, was all that penetrated Harry’s ears.

The stench of his husband’s gas was simply indescribable.

It was to the point that Harry’s nose had literally broke or had shut down, which was a good thing since if it turned back on, Harry would have definitely been upchucking all the French pastries and the escargots that he had eaten that day.

But his mind was able to register the deep stench of pungent rotten cheese and pure shit in the air. Any more than that, was something Harry simply could not find the right words to describe how powerful the smell it was.

And this time, it wasn’t only the sounds and smells that Harry was witnessing- he was now able to actually look and feel Draco’s farts against him as well.

Harry could see the muscles of Draco’s abdomen working as it tightened whenever an incoming fart was about to erupt, and then the muscles would relax once the fart was released. This was also the same for his bumcheeks- Harry watched Draco’s pale globes tightened then relax in an almost rhythmic session.

Draco’s hole opened wide with every fart that came out, the inside dark but Harry was amazed that it looked as if Draco’s arse had a mouth of its own and was literally shouting, no, belching out air!

At particularly long farts, Draco’s arse hole would stay wide open, and Harry could swear that he could see it shake around the edges.

And the feel of it was what affected Harry the most out of all the sensations.

Every single fart that Draco gave off, his arse released hot air that Harry could feel caress his own body, feeling the gas seep through him, warming him up.

It was a strange feeling that even though they were in the middle of winter, Harry felt as if he were in a sauna right now.

When Draco’s gas slowly died down and Harry saw his husband’s pucker closed itself tight up again, Harry was left completely speechless.

He looked up at his husband’s face and saw the expression of sheer relief mixed with deep horror at what had occurred. Draco looked just as speechless as Harry did right now.

“Drac-“ Harry started, but quickly stopped when Draco gripped his right arm tightly.

“Nnghhh!” Draco’s mortified face twisted painfully as he involuntarily grunted out loud.

BRAP-BRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!

And Harry could see exactly when Draco’s arsehole opened wide once more, apparently not as done as they both had initially thought.

And this time, it was not only filled with more pops and bangs, but the farts coming out this second round were similar to the first two holiday farts- long, wet, spluttering and downright massive.

“Uh, nngh..ngh! Uhhh…” This time, Harry could clearly hear the soft grunts and moans that Draco quietly let out, as more gas forced its way out of him.

It was like there were no holds back any longer- his inner dementors all wanted to come out and Draco was powerless to stop them otherwise.

When finally this all came to a stop once more, Harry this time stared quietly at his husband, prepared to see if more was about to come out.

And come out it did- in one final burst of flatus for its concluding finale.

“UNNNGGGHHH!” Draco let out a loud, guttural growl and his entire body was straining as he bore down.

PPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLTTTTTTT!

Harry saw Draco’s hole open up the widest that he had ever seen it open, as it howled loudly up to the skies, in a cry of pure vulgarness and freedom.

The final fart left no room for any thought, taking up everything around it and leaving nothing left in its wake.

As silence finally settled around the both of them, they both laid there, exhausted (even Harry, and he wasn’t even the one farting!)

It took some time for the couple to put themselves back together after that extraordinary display of flatulence, both of them just staring at the other in a daze.

Draco had closed his eyes right when it was all over, just waiting like a prisoner waiting for his death sentence, not brave enough to look at what Harry’s reaction would be to his most shameful, disgusting display right in their bed for the other to actually experience full on with him.

When he suddenly heard slow clapping, Draco opened his eyes immediately and stared at his husband, who was the source of the sound, in confusion.

Harry was beaming at him, his lovely green eyes wide in wonder. “That was…Merlin, Dray. Not only the farts itself but your entire body that was able to produced all that gas….that was BLOODY BRILLIANT!”

Harry gave his baffled husband a sheepish look. “I think I may have a fart fetish after all.” He added, finally accepting it as fact.

And with that, Draco couldn’t help but burst out in laughter.

Harry grinned at his hysterical husband, waiting as he watched the blond flail around the bed, holding himself due to laughing so hard.

Draco got a hold of himself again, still laughing a bit but was no longer looking like a maniac.

As Harry reached up to wipe away the blond’s tears (tears from his earlier laughter and out of pure relief that Harry wouldn’t indeed divorce him after all) Draco smiled widely at Harry. “I can’t believe I married such a madman. But I guess I’m not surprised at all, you barmy, beautiful wanker.” He said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Instead of fighting against it anymore, Draco decided right then and there to just accept his fate and just be grateful that his truly horrendous flatulence at least wasn’t a turn off for the love of his life.

Slytherin through and through, Draco might as well just use this to his advantage for the future.

Harry chuckled along with Draco as they both hugged one another tightly. “Great! Well, now that you know that I don’t find your farts gross nor that you don’t find me gross for actually liking it, shall we continue celebrating the new year together?”

Draco gave him a warm smile as he leaned in to kiss Harry gently on the lips as he nodded. “Of course. But I call top again this time too. My arsehole is still smarting from earlier.”

They both giggled as they knew exactly what hard obstacles Draco’s bum had just gone through. “No problem, love. Come here.” Harry opened himself to the other.

As Draco moved his body over Harry, Harry smiled as he opened his arms and legs to invite his husband inside him once more.

“Happy New Year, Draco.” Harry told him as he wrapped his arms around the other.

“Happy New Year, Harry.” Draco returned the smile and they both leaned forward to capture their lips into their first of many kisses as they celebrated the brand new year together.

#Farting #Fart Drabble #HP #Draco #Harry

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 19

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-18 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: psychological whump, emotional whump, memory whump, angst... like so much, Lyrem centric chapter

-------------------------------------

CHAPTER NINETEEN: A BLAST FROM THE PAST

        Daffodils and tiger lilies.

        Lyrem had to admit that they went well together. The sunshine colours would brighten the deathly cold winter’s day in an instant, and he desperately needed some warmth right now. The frigid January day was threatening to bring him under the tide of darkness. He had been away for a while. A job that was supposed to take a week turned into a month of running around and making deals with all sorts to please a certain U.S. senator. A republican, no less. He was dying to have Maria back in his arms again. It had been too long.

        The radio lit up on its own.

        “-great start to 1991 from Janet Jackson, folks! Next up we have Madonna with ‘Justify My Love’”-

        “Scared?”

        Paimon appeared in the passenger seat. Lyrem looked past him to glance at the bright yellow door at the end of the walkway. The snow had been cleared already, and the lights in the house were all out save for the porch.

        “Why would I be scared?” he asked.

        “You missed Christmas. Women love Christmas. They build up so much hope and sing Baby Please Come Home!” Paimon chuckled. “And you know, if you’re not coming, then she might be singing it to someone else- in more ways than one, if you know what I mean.”

        Lyrem scowled at him and opened his truck door. It closed with a loud creaking at the hinges and being stupid in the moment, re-opened the door to retrieve the lovely blooms that he had picked out.

        “She’s my true love,” he stated, peering in to Paimon. “Isn’t that what you promised me? She’d never hurt me like that. She’d never betray me.”

        “She’s not a robot, Lyrem, she’s a human being with control over her own choices. Even true love can’t compete with free will.” Paimon shrugged and forced a small smile. “But, you know, perhaps she’s one of those really special ones. You best take care of her.”

        Lyrem grew disgusted at the insinuation and slammed the door. Paimon had already vanished into thin air.

        Before he realized it, he was facing the yellow door, and holding the flowers close to shield them from the cold. The door was unlocked, and he stepped through. It was just after dinner-time. Something about the house felt wrong. There was too much energy. Lyrem wasn’t much of a psychic, but he could feel the heat in the air- oppressive and… suffocating. The words that Paimon had spoken lingered in the back of his mind- or maybe it was the front of his mind disguised as the back of his mind…

        Get rid of the thoughts Lyrem. They are not yours-

        He turned, kicking off his shoes and flicked on the light.

        “SURPRISE!”-

        He ditched the flowers, and pressed his back against the door. Lyrem prepared to defend himself with a knife that would have been on his person if it weren’t for security confiscating it as he tried to take it as carry-on. The rest of the lights in the house lit themselves with the help of some extra hands from recognizable faces- but Lyrem was on high-alert. They may as well have been strangers. In reality, they were friends. 

Well, Maria’s friends. Lyrem didn’t have any friends- not human friends.

        There was a bright flash of light, that caught his scowling glare and froze it in time. The grinning face of a dark-haired man looked back at him over the camera as it spit out a polaroid.

        Slowly, Lyrem caught himself up. There were streamers of bright colours draped along the ceiling and a shining banner that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY hung across the entranceway to the living room. Realizing that his reaction to the event was less than ideal, he smiled. Maria popped in front of him, escaping her hiding spot from behind the couch.

        “What… what is all this?” Lyrem started. He knew what it was. It was his 42nd Birthday, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled.

        “It’s your birthday, you goose!” Maria wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him quickly on the lips.

        “Right.” He picked up the flowers off the floor, and handed them to her, in a less ceremonial fashion than he was hoping.

        “Awe, aren’t you sweet.” She accepted them and played with the petals idly. “You forgot last year’s too, but this time, when I heard you’d be coming home, I knew you couldn’t miss out on Christmas and a birthday party! Just wouldn’t be right.” She ran off into the kitchen, abandoning him.

        The rest of the guests, couples mostly milled about and filtered into the hall. Lyrem nodded and smiled to them kindly.

        “Good trip?”

        He nodded, taking the questions like a politician surrounded by nosey reporters.

        “Where did you have to go this time?” Kelly, a blonde lady with thick lenses in her bright pink bifocals inquired of him. Her husband wrapped an arm around her waist. Lyrem always forgot his name but it was something very basic. He was the one with the camera.

        Valhalla. “Norway,” he replied.

        “Remind me, what is it that you do again, Lyrem?” the husband asked.

        “I’m… a liaison. A third-party negotiator of sales. Very boring work, I assure you.”

        “Oh? What kind of sales?”

        “Depends on the client,” he answered shortly. “I’m a freelancer.”

        “Happy Birthday, to you… Happy Birthday, to you…

                    Happy Birthday, dear Lyremmm, Happy Birthday too you!”

         The chorus of voices broke out amongst the chit-chat as Maria carried the cake all the way into the hall. It was lit up and lighting up her face. Kelly’s husband lifted the camera, and snapped a quick photo.

         “What are you all still doing in the hallway?” She snapped playfully. “Get in the dining room already so we can eat cake and play Pictionary.”

        They all filtered off to the dining room to the side of the Georgian style house. Kelly ran off to bring in the wine that had been left chilling in the fridge. Her husband handed off the pictures to Lyrem.

        “This one of you didn’t turn out, I don’t know what happened. Your face went all black and fuzzy- but this one of Maria’s looking pretty cute, eh?”

        Lyrem took the photos graciously and clicked his tongue.

        “Philly, could you open this one for me?” Kelly ushered her husband away to help with the wine bottles. She giggled out loud and sneered. “I have the worst grip.”

        “Lyrem!” Maria scolded. “You need to blow out your candles! Make a wish!”

        He sighed. He wished that the party would be over. He wished that these people would go home. He wished he could get a night alone with his fiancée. He wished that he could find something… anything that would bring him comfort. Then, he wished he wasn’t constantly wondering if he was a bad man.

        And that was all he wished even before he reached the end of the table.

        By the time he leaned over the cake he was completely out of wishes, but blew out the candles anyway. Maria smiled. He loved it when she did that.

        The room went dark, delving into the shadows and engulfed by the confusion, Lyrem blinked, and realized suddenly that he wasn’t back in the old Georgian house, with Maria and surrounded by friends and… Phillip.

         . . . . . . . .

        “No, go back!” A light voice said through the dark.

        “Persephone, it is unkind to spy on the lives of others, even if they are guests in our realm”-

        “Pfft,” the higher voice brushed off the scolding lower one. “This isn’t our realm and you know it.”

        “Nevertheless, he is our guest. We ought to treat him with respect.”

        “But I want to see them kiss again”-

        “Persephone, stop”-

         . . . . . . .

        Lyrem almost woke, but was jolted back to a time… different than his birthday and he lost control over his own mind once again.

        They were awake and lying in their bed, bodies bare and snuggling beneath the quilts as the powdery snow fell, piling against the bedroom window and onto the boughs of the trembling aspen outside. It was a bit less than a year later. They were married now. The little gold ring was on his finger and hers matched just as simply. Carolers were outside, they were a week too early, but then, he didn’t mind the soft sounds that seemed to leak their way in through the window on the second floor.

        He wasn’t looking out the window, entertained by counting the snowflakes like she was. He was enjoying her, watching her. Kissing her olive skin and wrapping himself in closer to her back as one hand played with her soft hair and the other stroked her waist. He felt like himself. He felt warm, and safe, and loved.

        “I have to tell you something.”

        He stopped kissing. Maria rolled over to face him and stared into his eyes. Suspiciously, he leaned his head away from hers and she pursed her lips nervously.

        “What do you need to tell me?” he prompted.

        Maria took a long breath, putting Lyrem on edge.

        “You were gone a long time for this last client, you know? I didn’t have a lot to do, and I tried to start my own travel company after Jet Rover let me go. I tried to stay busy… you know?”

        Lyrem nodded and swallowed. The travel agency went bankrupt soon after. Maria had been left by the wayside to pick up her life and start something new just before Lyrem needed to travel out to Belize for work. He came back with one hell of a tan. The tone of her voice grew shakier. The anxiety was growing stronger for both of them.

        “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He said gently. He was gone too often. For too long. Dammit all. He should have told Paimon to shove it instead of going along with his ridiculous schemes. Huitzilopochtli, an Aztec God of War, never did end up striking a deal with them to give the Pentagon a little morale boost after all. Lyrem ended up losing money in that charade too. Not the wisest bet he had ever made. He wouldn’t blame her for leaving him- for sleeping with another man. These winters were hell on earth, after all-

        “I bought a place,” she said.

        Lyrem twisted his face-

        “You bought a place?” he repeated, confused. They had a place. It was a beautiful place. He wasn’t always in it either. She didn’t need her own place.

        “On seventeenth. I thought to myself, you know, there is no point in me wandering around and trying to make a living for myself in travel if you’ll be off travelling for work too. And I can’t just eat, cook, and clean for myself all the time- I’d lose my mind so... I’m starting a business!”

        “Oh,” Lyrem’s eyes grew wide, and then interested. “What kind of business?”

        “I… I don’t know yet”- Maria grinned excitedly, glad that his interest was showing. “I just bought the space on a whim. I don’t even really know why. I just needed to do something.”

        “Well… That certainly is something.”

        “You don’t like the idea?” She asked. Puzzled by his sudden change in demeanour, taking it as a briefly condescending tone. 

        “No, no. It’s not that. I just…” he was lost in thought as the air grew chilled. He watched the skin on her shoulder pebble up as she sighed.

        “You thought I was about to tell you I was pregnant,” she surmised.

        “Mm.” he nodded, even if it wasn’t true.

        The thought of having children had crossed his mind. She wasn’t as old as he was. It wouldn’t be so risky to bring kids into this world except-

        “Not really on my mind, you know that,” she commented in a rush.

        He nodded again.

        “I know… But what if we did try?” the words fell out of his mouth suddenly and without much thought. Entertaining the idea of being a father was something that he often did before Maria had announced her opposition to the idea. Perhaps something had changed in her since she was let go from Jet Rover Travel Inc.

        She turned away from him, focusing on the snow as it fell from one white blanket to another.

        “I just... I don’t want to be a mother,” she said quietly.

        He didn’t remember how painful this moment was. Though quiet in her refusal, his heart was still brutally torn open by her words. That was her choice, and he would respect it. That didn’t make the reality any less painful to accept. True love didn’t include a perfect family. There wasn’t a written agreement for something like this, but if he wanted Maria to be happy, he would have to learn to live with her decision. He rolled off his side of the bed.

        “It’s fucking freezing in here, isn’t it?” he commented, rubbing one eye. “I’m going to turn up the heat.”

         . . . . .

        “Are you happy, now?” the voice from the darkness asked.

        “No, I thought there was more love here than that”- the light voice said annoyed. “Ugh! Did I skip over something?”

        “Look at what you put him through, the man is crying.”

        Lyrem searched the darkness as it quickly enveloped him once again. He remembered his place, a dead man reliving his time with Maria and how it had been squandered and painted with resentment.

        He always imagined it happier than this.

        “The poor thing was enraptured by her- there’s just something so bittersweet about that.”

        “Hey!” Lyrem shouted into the air angrily. “I can hear you, you know!”

        There was a low grunt from somewhere in the darkness. “We cannot waste our time. We need to find the right moment. The one with his call, or else we will never be able to find him again.”

        Lyrem spun around. There was nothing. Nothing up, nothing down, nothing anywhere. The voices, however, emerged from every direction.

        “Find who?!” Lyrem called out, brimming with frustration and an added vulnerability to the idea that these intruders could see whatever they wanted.

        “Fine,” Persephone settled reluctantly. Slowly, her voice faded away. “But I get to watch their wedding after! I want to see a happy ending after all this sadness…”

#poor lyrem :( #Mystics by Alpaca #mystics #whump #whumpblr #writing #creative writing #urban fantasy #greek god #hades #persephone oc #hades oc #original fiction #fiction #thriller #horror #gore #writers of tumblr #writeblr #psychological whump #memory whump #angst #emotional whump

[chartedrights]

FIC ASK GAME: Perfume and Poison

Okay so this took me awhile because it immediately conjured a very specific aesthetic and character cast that I had to like. Shove together.

Imagine, aesthetically, a Victorian city. Just post-industrial revolution, everything is smoke-stained and grey and vaguely horrifying. People are wearing just horrifying Victorian neon colors. Arsenic green. Vivid pinks and oranges. Due to the smoke, everyone is putting a very specific emphasis on perfume, as it’s one of the only ways to ward off the smell of smoke and poor hygiene.

Enter Charlotte. Having just been abandoned by her bastard husband for a woman almost half her age, she’s understandably upset. Disquieted. Inconsolable. Wearing mourning black and carrying around tear jars to collect her sobs. Her whole life Charlotte has been wearing a very particular perfume. Her mother wore it, and made her wear it, and Sam liked it, so she’s simply never stopped. Until now. Now she just needs something that won’t remind her of all the people who have left her. Roses aren’t comforting anymore.

So she decides to stop in at the strange little shop on the corner, the one nobody goes to unless they are well and truly desperate, the one that never closes and never opens. The woman at the counter offers no name, just sips her vodka delicately, blinks slow and snakelike at her customers.

“What do you want?” She asks in a blunt Russian accent, and Charlotte sniffles, because oh goodness, what does she want? Does she want her husband back? Does she want to find new love? Does she want her heart to be lightened? Does she want to be better at dancing or singing?

“I want....” and Charlotte pauses, something tired and furious rising up inside of her. “I want to ruin lives.”

“I can work with that,” the woman nods, thinking.

She gives her a vial of jasmine perfume, heady and decadent. It’s a beautiful, deep, nighttime scent that fills the air all around her and wards off smoke and grime like a shield. It also draws eyes to her, pulls every glance and glare and admiring look.

There’s a man, Ted, who she met at work. He’s sweet, in his way, and he always liked her, but something about the way he looks at her is different now. She tells him about Sam, about how cruel he was and how he left her. Ted kisses the backs of her hands and tells her not to worry.

He kills Sam that night.

Charlotte wishes she was more disturbed. She’s read stories like this, where the heroine is full of grief and learns her lesson. But Charlotte is no heroine. She is no ingenue. She asked to ruin lives, full of fury and rage, and she is still full of fury and rage. She meets a man named Gary, a local solicitor, and he seems just as smitten as Ted was, before they dragged him away to bedlam. She tells him about her landlord, how he looks at her in a way she doesn’t like, how he’s more than once implied that now that she’s alone she could pay in... other ways.

The next morning they find him dead- suicide, they say, and his will leaves his whole estate to Charlotte.

The third time Charlotte goes to see the shopkeeper again, and she smiles as Charlotte picks a tin of jasmine tea, asks for ten pence that she then swallows. Charlotte just smiles back, red lips like a warning sign, and there is a recognition there. A kindled kindred spirit between them.

The next day she wakes to find Sherman Young dead, his will also leaving everything to Charlotte.

She uses the money to fix up what needs fixing- roads, schools, orphanages, bridges and wells. She uses the massive, ornate manor to host about thirty formerly stray cats, each of whom is lovingly named after something deadly. Guillotine and Nepenthe, Arsenic and Arson, Strychnine and Cyanide. She has a beautiful menagerie of poisons, and each time she visits the Russian woman’s shop, she brings a cat to say hello.

The fourth time she wears the perfume, she visits the shop in the middle of the night, cloaked and hooded, and she asks the shopkeeper for the truth. The other woman stops smiling, blinks one long, slow, final time, and then beckons her to the back of the shop- past the books and scrolls, past the jars of spices and herbs, past the racks of bones and the boxes of teeth, past the dried bouquets and the eerily beautiful musical instruments- to the very back door, which leads out to a small, dark cobblestone alley. Charlotte steps out. The shopkeeper steps out, too, just a breath behind her. And then-

She presses Charlotte flat to the wall of the alley and kisses her, sharp and intense. She pulls away and whispers that her name is Tatiana, in a voice that pushes Charlotte’s breath from her lungs. Charlotte pushes back, kisses back, and there’s fire in her heart that was never there before. A kind of contented beast. Tatiana tells her, between heated, relieved kisses, that she is a demon. That she grants wishes. That she has only ever had one wish of her own. “You,” she whispers, lips grazing Charlotte’s. “I wanted to help you.”

“Why?” Charlotte breathes, half-smiling.

“You know why,” Tatiana whispers, and says no more.

Tatiana runs her shop. Charlotte collects stray cats and gives diamonds to flower girls. And every now and then, when she needs something taken care of, Charlotte will wear the jasmine perfume, and the night will claim another body.

Tatiana’s kisses taste the most like blood after those nights, but so does all love if you’re angry enough.

#hey idk what this is but #im into it #black friday #tgwdlm #spies are forever #saf #starkid #asks #replies #ask meme

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unannounced

Warnings: non/dub con sex; violence.

This is dark!Charles Blackwood and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader is caretaker to the widow of the manor but one day she returns to an unexpected visitor.

Note: Wait! Did I write a Charles Blackwood fic? I may just have! It’s my first foray into the character and I only watched the movie once but I hope you guys enjoy. FYI he’s a real fucking prick in this! But let me know what you think <3

+

With the exception of finding viable blueberries, your weekly trip to the grocer had been a success. Every item on the list was in the single paper bag in your arms and you walked patiently up the main street towards the manor hidden in the valley just beyond. Mrs. Callisby would be disappointed but you hoped the blackberries would be an acceptable substitute for her morning yogurt.

Since the death of her husband, you had been Ada Callisby’s caretaker. She was a kind woman, if not a little meek, but fussy nonetheless. She let you know when she was unhappy but otherwise was mostly amiable. Your flats scuffed on the pavement as you turned the corner and swept your way along the avenues and drives. At the gates of the widow’s manor, you paused; you always pulled close the wrought iron when you left. It assuaged Mrs. Callisby’s nerves as she agonized over her mother’s pearls and husband’s timepiece.

You frowned and carried on, another mystery as a cherry red convertible sat in the drive. You wondered at who was so important that Mrs. Callisby had rose to answer the doorbell and subsequently opened the gates. She wasn’t particularly limber with her cane and bent back. You stepped closer to the car, balancing the paper bag against your hip as you examined the exterior. The leather was entirely unmarked and the paint perfectly polished. It was either new or the owner was a meticulous materialist.

“Excuse me,” The voice frightened you; unfamiliar and pointed. “Can I help you?”

You turned slowly and looked up at the man standing at the top of the steps that wound up to the side door. You blinked and scoffed. “I should ask you the same.”

“You must be the nurse,” He leaned against the rail, his blue eyes flashed. “You like the car?”

“Not really.” You stepped away from the convertible, “A little too much for me.”

You began up the steps unflinchingly and he watched you ascend coolly. He pressed himself to the railing as he waved you inside but you stopped and turned to him. “You haven’t told me who you are.” You said.

“Charles Blackwood.” He grinned, “If you must now.”

“Blackwood,” You repeated. Ada was a Blackwood before she was a Callisby. “Hmm, so what are you doing here?”

“A little familial visit. Are you usually so inquisitive?” He challenged, his lashes fluttered for just a moment.

“I am when I return to a stranger in the house and Mrs. Callisby unseen,” You countered.

“You needn’t worry. My great aunt is quite comfortable in front of the fire,” He emphasized her relation as he spoke. “May I help?” He offered to take the bag from you.

“It’s quite alright,” You turned away from him and ducked through the door.

Your flats tapped down the hardwood and you sensed his presence as the man who called himself a Blackwood followed. You entered the kitchen and set your wares on the counter. You began to unpack the groceries, sorting them on the marble as you felt him watching you. You looked up and lifted a brow.

“Are you so eager to help?” You asked wryly.

“Not particularly,” His blue eyes trailed away. They were sharp, analytical; as if taking stock of every floorboard and cupboard door. “I’ll check on my aunt.”

“Mmm,” You grumbled and crossed to the larder. “If you would trouble yourself, you can tell her I’ve returned and that her lunch will be prepared shortly.”

He smiled, “I think I can manage that.” He spun on his heel and left you to roll your eyes. Something about the man unsettled you. The cut of his suit, the mien of his walk, the curl in his lip. He was a swindler with a rich man’s pedigree.

You finished putting away your haul and heated up some tomato soup on the stove. You cut a bun and buttered it just how Mrs. Callisby liked and set it all on a tray with a glass of milk. You balanced the tray along the hallways and followed the scent of the fireplace. When you entered the living room, the widow was in her chair before the hearth and Charles was just across from her. He was in your usual spot but you weren’t bothered by it. You rarely sat as it was; only to help feed the only lady though she could still mostly handle that herself.

“Your lunch, Mrs. Callisby,” You placed the tray on the table at her elbow.

“What took you so long, today?” She asked as she glanced over her arm, “You are usually returned by noon.”

“I couldn’t find the blueberries. They’d all turned to mush,” You explained with a courteous smile, “I picked out some blackberries instead.”

“Well, it should have to do,” She grumbled as you slid the table before her. “A berry’s a berry, I suppose.”

“Suppose it is,” You narrowed your eyes and peeked over at Charles who seemed rather intrigued by the conversation. “And you got a visitor when I was gone.”

“Oh, yes. Very unexpected,” She raised her spoon and dipped it in the bowl, a dribbly scoop in her mouth before she continued. “I heard the bell and thought perhaps you had left your key. I mustered my strength to go and find you but I found this young man down there. He helped me open the gate, of course.” She preened over at him, “A noble man, my nephew.”

“Is your nephew staying for dinner?” You asked stiffly.

“I think he should,” She answered with bluster, “He should be here for some time. This old house could use a man’s touch.”

“You’ve a hired gardener coming next week and handyman on call,” You asserted, “Surely your nephew is above such work.”

“On the contrary, I owe it to my sweet Aunt Ada after so long neglecting her.” He crooned, “I do apologize but you know us young men, Aunt, we get carried away in our wiles.”

“So you do,” You muttered before raising your voice, “I suppose, Mrs. Callisby, it will be nice to have family close.”

Your eyes met Charles and his eyes narrowed as his cheek twitched. Such a spontaneous visit. No one ever visited a childless widow without purpose and rarely was it savoury.

-

It was a whole week. Charles remained at the manor and you were due for your third trip to the grocer since last week. You had not accounted for the strange man and his appetite. Mrs. Callisby counted out enough to buy for a feast and you gave her back half. She tucked away her wallet and you smiled at her before putting a record on for her. The music helped her nerves when she was alone. You waved to her as you neared the door, a broad figure blocked your path at the last moment.

“Charles,” You exhaled sourly.

“Y/N,” He leaned on the door frame, his striped grey shirt braced against his chest...it was awful similar to one of Mr. Callisby’s hanging in the old armoire. “Off to the market, again?”

“I am,” You answered in a stunted voice. His blue eyes flicked over you to Mrs. Callisby as she hummed in her chair. “Excuse me. I should be off, I had wanted to be back by noon.”

“I’ll drive you,” He offered, “You won’t have to lug all those groceries up the hill.”

“I prefer the walk,” You replied and attempted to side step him. He filled the frame with his body.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You do so much around here, let me help,” He looked, rather, leered down at you. “I could go for a visit to town myself.”

You pressed your lips together and repressed a sigh. “Fine.” You held back a scowl, “Thank you.”

“Not at all,” He finally removed himself from the doorway. “My pleasure.”

-

The car ride was tense. With the roof down, the wind kept you from any conversation. Charles pulled up in front of the bank and parked. He smiled over at you and climbed out. As you opened your door and stepped out, he appeared just beside you and his hand rested on the handle. He waited for you to step up on the curb and closed it. You didn’t buy this whole gentleman act which had gulled Mrs. Callisby.

“Is there a diner around here?” He asked. You pointed to the opposite corner. “Why don’t we meet there. I’d like to do a little exploring while you’re about your errands.”

“Sure,” You grumbled, “That works.”

You were relieved that he wasn’t coming along to plague your entire trip. You parted, taking measured steps down the pavement before glancing back over your shoulder. He was watching you, too. You turned back and dipped into the grocer’s front door with a chime of the bell. Much of your shopping was done in distraction. Your basket was heavier than usual and the shopkeeper remarked on Callisby’s appetite.

“Not so much her stomach as her kindness,” You muttered as you counted out the bills, “She has a nephew in town...Peculiar man.”

“Ah, yes, he must be the one in that convertible.” The cashier remarked, “He was down’s at Hurley’s the other night.”

“The other night?” You echoed. What would Mrs. Chattersby think of her nephew sneaking off to the local watering hole?

“Just two days back,” The man answered, “He’s a hell of a card player.”

“Mmm,” You took your change and your bags, “Well, thank you. You have a good day.”

“And you, too, Miss,” He replied with a smile, “Give the widow my regards.”

You pushed through the door backwards and righted yourself on the sidewalk. The soles of your flats whispered along the street and you glanced in the windows that lined the main fair. You stopped short as you saw the back of a familiar head just inside the jeweler’s. Charles’ body blocked whatever it was the jeweler was examining on his counter.

Charles’ hands went to his hips as he spoke, his voice muted by the glass. You squinted and drew yourself away from the facade; you did not relish the conversation should he turn and catch you spying. You crossed to the diner and entered with a sigh.

“Miss Y/N,” The owner, Gerry, greeted, “What a treat it is that you should stop by.” You smiled. On her birthday and a few other occasions, you would bring the widow down for a special lunch out. “Where is Mrs. Callisby today?”

“Just at home. I’ve only come to do the shopping,” You nodded to your bags and set them down on a table, “Maybe a coffee, too.”

“Certainly, my dear,” Gerry was jolly enough. His thinning white-hair and round stomach lent him an air of warmth. As he flipped the mug upright on its saucer before you and filled it from the urn, the door whined and signaled the arrival of another. You sensed Charles’ shadow as he approached and he passed Gerry to sit on the bench across from you, “Coffee, sir?”

“Yes,” Charles answered without courtesy, “Some menus too.”

“Oh, no, I’m not very--”

“Let me treat you,” Charles asserted and nodded to Gerry as he finished pouring. The owner blinked at the man warily but retreated without comment. “I figured you could use a break.”

“Really, you don’t have to,” You scratched your chin, “I think we should get back sooner than later.”

“Oh, my aunt will be fine. Despite your doting, she’s a strong old woman,” He leaned back, his arm stretched across the seat of the booth. “I’d say she can handle herself just fine.”

You added milk to your coffee and stirred. You could feel his eyes following your every move. You tapped the spoon on the rim of the cup and set it carefully on the saucer. “I know that. How long do you think your visit should last?”

“As long as she’ll have me. We spoke this morning. I think it prudent that I stay and tend to the house. The garden is looking rather overgrown, wouldn’t you say?” 

You shrugged and he sipped from his coffee black and smiled. He leaned back as Gerry set down a pair of menus on the table. You thanked him as Charles merely watched him with poorly hidden impatience. 

“It shouldn’t take me very long to see that all is in order.”

You picked up your menu and focused on the words. All was in order before you got here, you thought as you hid your grimace behind the cardstock.

-

The next day, you were about your daily chores when you were surprised by an open door. That room had not been opened since the week after Mr. Callisby’s funeral. You walked carefully down the corridor, your eyes stuck to the pale light glowing from the frame. The long curtains were open, the sunlight illuminated the dust floating in the air before the outlines of each frame burned along the wall.

You recalled the last time you been in that room. The widow had ordered you to help her in removing every painting from its fixture. The framed canvases were then leaned in rows against the walls, their faces hidden from the world. That was, until today. You heard the friction of wood against wood and you peeked in as Charles turned one of the paintings to face him. He hung his head and sighed. You crossed your arms as you stood in the doorway.

“This door was locked,” You commented; your voice crisp in the thick air.

“My aunt gave me the key,” He turned, his blue eyes fiery. You had caught him off guard. “What happened in here?”

“This was Mr. Callisby’s collection.” You shrugged, “People grieve in different ways. I figured your aunt didn’t like the reminder.”

“This,” He spun back and gripped the carved frame, “This alone has to be worth over twenty grand.”

“A farthing among the bunch,” You assured him, “Mr. Callisby had quite the eye.”

He shook his head and revealed the next canvas in line. “She could sell them for more than the worth of this manor.”

“They were her husband’s,” You bristled, “The sentiment would garner them priceless, I think.”

He let the canvas fall back into place with a clunk and looked to you once more. “They are my aunt’s now. Family heirlooms.”

“Yes, they are your aunt’s,” You dropped your arms and backed out of the frame, “To do with as she pleases.” 

You continued down the hall as you heard him huff darkly. You frowned as you recalled that Mrs. Callisby had lost the key to that room six months ago.

-

It was a rainy day. You had just put the widow down for a nap as the weather had set a stone in her head. She’d sleep for a couple hours while you finished sweeping the hallways. You had always envied her for her sleeping habits. She never hesitated to doze and rested soundly and steadily. 

You began just outside the kitchen, then along the corridor by the living room and the series that followed it. You turned each corner with pan and broom; the first floor done in just over an hour.

On the second floor, you paused. A distant tinkling rose from an open door. You set aside your broom and pan and inched towards Charles’ room. It was one of numerous guest rooms in the manor; the most commonly used of the bunch. You peeked through the small space between door and frame, the old music box tolled in the afternoon hush. It was opened just on the writing desk in the far corner; a neat stack of papers beside it.

You poked your nose in further and glanced around. The room was eerily empty. The melody lent to it a sense of gloom. The stained glass lamp shone a mosaic of shadows across walls and ceiling. You swallowed as you tried to listen past the metallic song. You tiptoed through the door, pushing it open just enough to permit your entrance. You held your breath as you neared the desk, stopping just behind the chair.

A pen lay crooked across the paper; a carefully written inventory. You flipped through the papers, each labelled by its respective room; kitchen, living room, main floor guest room… Every item in the large manor had been recorded in the chart, an estimate of its value alongside it. The music box finished its refrain and the click of the door punctuated its finale. 

Your head shot up and you spun around in surprise. Charles leaned against the closed door in nothing more than a pair of boxer shorts. You gripped the back of the chair as you stared at him. 

“I knew you were going to be a problem,” He said, “Always snooping around.”

“I--”

“Why don’t you like me?” He interrupted.

“Why are you keeping this?” You tapped the paper on the desk.

“I asked you first,” He tilted his head.

“Because I’m not a childless old lady in the midst of losing her facilities,” You answered bluntly, “Your turn.”

“I told my aunt I would keep account of the house for her. Maintenance and bookkeeping alike.” He smirked as he pushed himself away from the door, “Though I think she might require a new caretaker.”

“And I’m certain she has other nephews out their who could do just a good a job at casing her house,” You sneered.

You tried not to flinch as he got closer. He neared until you were forced to retreat, the wall stopping you with an ‘oomph’. He planted his hand over your shoulder. “I think I’ve been rather nice to you, Y/N. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I think you’ve acted according to your motivations,” You returned sharply.

His jaw squared and he closed his eyes. He exhaled and opened them again. “You’re a stubborn bitch, you know that? Nosy, too.”

“And you’re a swindler,” You snapped, “Now, get away from me before I scream.”

“You think she would hear?” He smirked, “All the way across the manor...fast asleep with a headache.” He leaned closer, “And what would she do if she did?”

Goosebumps rose along your arms and neck as his hot breath grazed your face. “Move,” You whispered, “Now!” The shout surprised even you as the panic rose in your chest. 

He had his hand over your mouth and held you firmly to the wall. “Now, you see, I would’ve convinced your aunt to be rid of you days ago if I thought you useless,” He growled in your ear. His other hand was on your hip. “If you didn’t intrigue me so entirely.”

“Grrmph,” You tried to push him away as his hand remained clasped over your lips.

You grunted and tried to snap at his palm. He ripped his hand away before you could bite him. You reached to remove his other hand only to be stunned by a strike across your cheek. His knuckles left your cheekbone throbbing. He grabbed the back of your neck and dragged you across the room. You tried to dig your heels into the carpet. With a shove, he had your knees crashing into the low footboard of the bed.

You fell onto the edge of the mattress and tried to push yourself back to your feet. With a slap on your ass and another push, you were forced back onto the bed. You rolled over and kicked out at him with a snarl. He caught your foot and the other and held them together. You struggled to free yourself and he grunted in frustration. He tugged on your ankles harshly and you crashed to the floor with a wheeze; the breath rushing from you.

You laid prone across the carpet, grasping your chest as you tried to breathe through the agony. He dropped to his knees and straddled you beneath him. You coughed and batted him away as his hand reached for the front of your blouse. 

“Get off!” You shouted, “Get--” Another backhand and your head was cloudy.

“Shut up!” He barked and a trickle began at the corner of your lips.

You mumbled senselessly as you felt his fingers at the buttons of your blouse. He ripped it open, the buttons flying around in a sprinkle. You reached up to still his hands and his fingers slid up to your neck, closing around your throat as he leaned over you.

“Keep it up and it’ll only get worse.” You kicked your feet as he squeezed. Your lungs burned and your head pounded. Silver dots rose in your vision as he finally released you.

Your chest rose and fell frantically as he forced your blouse down your arms, untangling it from beneath you with a jolt. You whimpered as your head spun. You felt your skirt loosen and he shimmied it along your legs. You struck out blindly and he easily pushed away your hands. Your stockings and shoes were ripped off as the carpet scratched your back.

You turned over as you tried to lift yourself to your knees. He caught you and you fought as he rolled you onto your back once more. He grabbed your hair and lifted your head as he bent over you, his nose almost touching yours. “I swear, I’ll bash your head against the floor until you can’t fucking move. Now stop.”

You felt the heat at the corner of your eyes as the tears pricked. Your entire body went limp as he let go of your hair and sat back. You were trapped beneath him as his hands snaked behind you and unclasped the hooks of your brassiere. You closed your eyes as he slid it down your arms and you were bared to him. Next he worked on your underwear and you dug your nails into the carpet as he drew them down your legs.

“Tell me you don’t get lonely in this dusty old mansion,” He stood over you and you peeked through the slit of your eyes. You shut your eyes tightly as he yanked his boxer down his legs and kicked them off. He straddled you once more, his head next to yours as he leaned over you and spoke lowly in your ear. “Shit. Pent up in here, all I’ve been able to think of is you.”

His hand cupped your breast and he kneaded it, his nose tickled your throat as he purred. His fingers trailed lower, “Or maybe, you don’t know what you’re missing?” He lifted himself on his knees as he grazed your stomach. He traced the vee of your pelvis before he stilled his touch atop your pussy. “Are you untouched?”

“Fuck you,” You choked out through your hoarse throat.

“Well, we’re getting to that,” He slipped his fingers between your legs as he brought his knees between yours. He spread your legs as he felt around and you gasped at his rough fingertips. He chuckled and sank his teeth into your shoulder. You whined through gritted teeth until he finally pulled away. “You’re already fucking wet.”

He pushed his fingers inside you and you tilted your pelvis without thinking. He pulled in and out as he nibbled at your ear. Your cheeks were on fire at the insolence of your body. He dragged your juices outside and spread them over your bud. He lingered there, swirling around as your body tensed. The flare it inspired within was humiliating. You pressed your head into the carpet with a hiss.

He lowered his head to your chest and circled his tongue around your nipple. He continued to tease your clit as a new twinkle bloomed in your chest. He closed his lips around your nipple and his teeth played with the very tip; a shiver ran down your spine, connecting with that in your pelvis. You writhed despite yourself and your feet arched painfully. You couldn’t resist it. You sucked your lip in, the blood salty on your tongue, as you whimpered out your orgasm.

“I knew it,” He rasped as he sat back on his heels. “You’ve been laying in your bed thinking of me, haven’t you? I see you watching me...daydreaming, perhaps?”

Your nostrils flared as your entire body trembled at his mercy. Even if you could think of something to say, your voice would not rise. He hooked your legs over his and pulled you closer. You reached out to grab the end of the bed but it was futile. He was much stronger than you and your body was like a sack of rocks, your head still a blur.

He rubbed his cock along your folds and tapped it against your clit as you winced. He dragged it down to your entrance and paused. You glanced down at him and his blue eyes sparked as he slowly pushed inside. You bit down on your tender lip and squeezed your eyes shut. His thick fingers gripped your hips as he sank into you and laughed as he filled you entirely.

“Ah, so there has been another,” He mused and he pushed painfully against your cervix.

He pulled out, another pause, before he slammed back in. You squeaked and clutched desperately to the bottom of the footboard. He gave several sharp thrusts before he steadied his pace. Your whole body rubbed painfully against the carpet. He plunged into you over and over as your arms shook and your fingers clung to the wood.

His hands slid up to your waist and he lifted you, forcing your grasp from the footboard. He held you so that you were at an angle, your arms limp as he worked into you. His pelvis hammered against yours as you felt and heard your juices spreading across him and you. You bent your head forward and covered your face as you felt another rise. You sobbed as you came again and he growled in response. His hand went to your ass as his other arm wrapped around your back. He guided you up and down his cock as he pounded into you. His grunts filled the air, nails digging into your flesh.

“This is what happens to nosy…” He rasped, “girls. You little fucking--” He groaned, “Bitch!” 

He buried himself entirely and you felt the flood of warmth. He slowed until he came to a final halt, still inside of you as he leaned his head against your shoulder. You tried to shove yourself away from him but he only held you firmer. 

“Don’t fucking move.” He warned and slowly lifted his head to look at you, “You’re not done yet.”

+

tags: @breezy1415 @selinbaskaya @aekr @alexakeyloveloki @beautiful-and-strange @phoenix21love @momc95 @buckycaptspideypool @justballoonfishthings@ms-munchkin @whosmarisaaarw @thoughtlesstales @kxllyxnnx @sathlens @calspixie @lilithhellfire @satinprincessxo @amethyst-the-thot @docharleythegeekqueen @iiqueer-vibesii @carol-dark-vers @l0rd-disick @jilldsumner @hufflebucky @lanabanana-86 @nerdypinupcrystal @notyourtypicalrose @blackpantherimagines @pink1031 @agent-spidey @wassupbitchesssss @lucifersnipnips @thirstyforsomeyandere @xxm3xxj @roses-and-absinthe @stuckybarton @ruff-m3rc @xxxelettaxxx @rainbowkisses31 @heartbeats-wildly @xdatbitch @tea-with-seb @bodhi-black @the-lululemon @abesottedlass @poppyshawn @obsesseds-world @jazztherebel @holylulusworld @yagurlrosie @heartislubbingdubbing @couldntbedamned @desir-ae @adreamemporium @ashrod98 @buckyxwintersxldier @spaghettirogers @buckybarneshairpullingkink @lazinessisalliknow @kastheabsolutepessimist @daggersofloki @odinson-barnes 

#charles blackwood x reader #dark!charles blackwood #charles blackwood #dark charles blackwood #we have always lived in the castle #fic #au #dark!fic #dark fic #one shot

[omoghouls]

sooooooo i was gonna send this in parts on cc but it ended up being almost 1k oops. so here’s a drabble about felix peeing himself over a chamber pot. sorry if i messed up felix’s/lizzie’s characterization ;w;

~

chamber pots give me the same sorts of ideas training potties do tbh. imagine felix feeling a little too prideful to use one - they’re unsanitary, he’d rather use the outhouse off-premises like the dignified man he is. he’s sitting down to work for so long, absentmindedly finishing a first, second, third cup of tea, that he hadn’t realized the growing need in his lower abdomen for the last few hours. no, the thing that finally makes him realize is how it’s started raining - hard. the short walk to the outhouse is going to leave him drenched. no worries - it’s spring, and these storms end as abruptly as they start, don’t they? that’s what he’s going to tell himself. whatever the case, he is NOT going to stoop so low as to use the chamber pot.

the minutes that were going by so fast earlier feel like they dragging on longer and longer. he can’t even focus on writing (i think you said he was a writer? sorry i forgot aaaaaa) or enjoy the soothing effect that rain usually has on him. now, it’s leaving him fidgeting, crossing himself, bouncing his leg where he sits. suddenly, he starts hearing the splatter of rain pouring out of the gutter onto the concrete outside, and its nearly too much. almost shocked by the intense wave of desperation that overtakes him, he stands up straight and mewls, hands shooting between his legs. he momentarily scolds himself for being so foolish, but by god, he’s going to humiliate himself beyond belief if he doesn’t go /right now/. he stares at the chamber pot again, and (foolishly) decides that he’d rather brace the rainstorm than use it, still.

he doesn’t even make the entire brisk walk out the door when he hears the doorknob turn - it’s lizzie! she’d been out for the day, running little errands when she got caught in the rainstorm. “oh, hello, my sweet. would you be a lamb and help me carry these bags to our quarters?” of course even the slightest physical labor is going to worsen his situation tenfold, but it’s of no consequence to help his love, right? so he does. and he tries keep up and to listen to lizzie when she tells him about how nice the shopkeeper was, the cat she fed on the way home, etc., but oh heavens, poor felix swears he’s never had to pee this bad in his LIFE.

when she turns to him, she notices how flushed he is from the embarrassment, tears pricking at his eyes from the sheer discomfort, and how he’s crossing his legs where he stands. “oh, felix, you haven’t fallen sick from exertion, haven’t you?” she looks so sweet and concerned for him, and he can only choke out, “elizabeth, darling, ple - ” and before he can finish, she’s sitting him down on their bed. “don’t strain yourself, my love, i’ll prepare some tea for you. just wait here, okay?”

as soon as she leaves the room, though, felix is back on his feet. he can’t afford to be dignified anymore, he’s full-on potty dancing now, whimpering and whining as he crosses his legs. even if he could slip past lizzie, there’s no way his poor distended bladder would make it whole trip. oh god, he really was going to have to use that chamber pot, wasn’t he? it was so humiliating to use, and now he would have to be in the same house as the love of his life as he dirtied it. he’s so caught up in his thoughts of using it normally that he forgets, for a second, that the kitchen and their quarters are right next to each other.

the sound of the boiling water lizzie’s prepared hitting the porcelain cup sounds so, so similar to something else, and so felix’s body finally gives up in helping him hold it. his eyes go wide in shock as his bladder slowly begins to empty itself against his will. pleading little “no’s”, his eyes lock onto the stupid chamber pot one last time before he practically runs over to it. it’s futile at this point that he’s still pulling his britches down - the wet patch has already spread to his mid-thigh, but he does anyway, and he all but keens into the wall in front of the pot. felix’s knees nearly buckle under him and he moans in both relief and humiliation completely soaking his underwear as the excess splatters loudly into the pot. there are tears running down his face, from the overwhelming sensation of his bladder emptying, and from the humiliating knowledge that he’s making such a huge mess because he couldn’t hold it.

eventually the stream dies down, and he’s left stewing with the fact that he just wet himself because he didn’t want to use a chamber pot - and ended up using it anyway. but he’s taken out of his stupor by the sound of a teacup being set down gently on the table nearby. oh god, lizzie - she must’ve been so disgusted by her husband acting like this, she was going to leave him right there. but no, he’s met with her calming voice before he even turns around, “oh, my poor sick darling. we should get you cleaned up before your tea goes cold…don’t move, i’ll draw us a bath, my sweet <3” suddenly, he goes from being on the verge of tears to even smiling a little. after all, at least the rain had finally stopped.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

NONNY I DO NOT DESERVE YOU OR YOUR BEAUTIFUL WRITING HOLY SHIT🥺❤❤❤🌸❤

Like omg the way you worded things , how painfully aware he became of just how front and center rain and boiling kettles sounds becoming once he passes the threshold of his body's capabilities 🥺💖

And even when he was literally seconds from a full on accident he wanted to stay dignified and not stoop so low as to use what was meant for nighttime endeavors but finally having to cave in once his body had decided for him what was happening is just ❤❤❤❤

AND Lizzie omg , so sweet thinking that Felix had , once more over exuded himself to illness and wanting to aid him because she knows that if she were to have fallen sick, he would do the same for her (😎). Felix letting his self deprecating thoughts run around, thinking that she is going to leave him for doing something so gross but instead he receives compassion and understanding from her is just so🥺😭💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

JUST AAAAAAAA WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE HOW ABSOLUTELY FULL MY HEART IS OF LOVE AND HOW GRATEFUL I AM FOR THIS, ILY AND THIS IS PHENOMENAL AND YOU ACED THEIR CHARACTERIZATION AND I HOPE YOU FIND 20$ SOON🥺💖💖💖

#submission #omorashi #omocute #IM CRYING IN THE CLUB OVER THIS OMG #LIKE ANON I SERIOUSLY CANNOY THANK YOU ENOUGH #AAAAAAAAA #x

[squidproquoclarice]

What sort of a child do you think Arthur Morgan was like? Was he a little like Jack or was he slightly more on the more serious spectrum. I like to think he was an imaginative and caring little kid who loves to doodle flowers and horses :)

So you get your answer in prose format, Nonny, since I wrote a prompt involving this for a request of a BB!Sadie and Arthur meeting!  (Arthur is 6 and Sadie’s just over 18 months here.)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~November 1869Tumbleweed, New AustinThey’d run from Rhondda, and now they were running from Armadillo too, one step ahead of the law again. Apparently Lyle’s lofty ambitions had gotten him in the end again–a stagecoach, he said. She wished he would stop with all of that. So now here Beatrice was in Tumbleweed, provisioning for the trip to Oregon or maybe California or whatever point Lyle had decided would be their next stopover, because by this point she found it hard to believe it could be anything but temporary. Her man was in the saloon, and she only hoped he wouldn’t lose too much money while he was there. The cards rarely favored him anyway, and it tended to make him drink more than was good for him.The shopkeeper’s boy helped her bring the supplies out: flour, sugar, oats, bacon, saleratus, so many things. Stepping out on the porch, she saw Arthur where she had left him, though now he’d apparently made some friends, both human and canine. Sitting on the worn boards, petting a black-and-white dog whose tail was wagging with delight, there were two younger children sitting there with him, all three children’s fair hair shining in the strangely bright November desert sun. As if they could all have been hers–though she thought more often than not that given the life she lived, it was better that it was only Arthur for now, and perhaps for always. The boy looked to be about three, the same age she’d lost David, and she still missed him so fiercely. The little girl, maybe a year or so, and she’d always wanted a girl.“Gotta be nice,” Arthur insisted earnestly, watching the other two kids, the boy now happily stroking the dog between the ears. “You pulled her tail, that ain’t nice.” He glanced at the girl. “How about you? You wanna pet him?”She cocked her head, looking at him with a look of intense concentration. “Want dog?” She pointed to the dog, still basking in the attention.“Yeah, you ‘want dog’ or no?”She scooted closer, patted the dog on the side, giggling at the feeling of the plush fur under her fingers, doing it again. “Like dog!”“Me too.” Arthur grinned at that, and it did Beatrice good to see him smiling like this. There were times she thought perhaps it would have been better…no, never mind it. She kept trying to believe Lyle only needed to find a place where things could be better. Somewhere peaceful and with opportunities that could help quiet the anger in his heart. Though in the deepest corners of her own heart, she still thanked God that Arthur seemed to take after his father very little.  A sweet child, he was, running to her with a fistful of flowers to try and make her smile, always drawing those little animals on any paper he could get his hands on. Her grocery list today had, as usual, the small sketches of things in her careful hand–a flower for flour, and didn’t the sound of English help with that one, and help her remember the word? She’d drawn bread back in Wales for it. A sweet in its wrapper for sugar, a percolator for coffee, and so on. Her doodles, lacking the ability to simply write the list, obviously been an invitation to Arthur for his own contribution, as it now had what she thought were charmingly lumpy deer and horses at the bottom edge. He was mad for horses, and even back in Rhondda, from the moment he could walk, she’d had to save him from getting himself kicked more than once trying to be friends with horses who were too nervous for it. He kept pleading for a horse.“Henry, Sadie, Pa’s done, let’s go!” Lost in the sight as she’d been, she hadn’t noticed the woman standing near the edge of the porch, keeping an eye on the children. It looked as though her third child was already on the way. She nodded to Beatrice in acknowledgment. “Is that your boy?” She wasn’t from these parts either, as her accent wasn’t this strange New Austin twang either, the way Arthur sounded, and that would serve him better than a Welsh lilt in this country.“Yes, that’s my Arthur.” She couldn’t help a smile of pride coming over her.She got a smile and a nod of approval in return. “Nice kid. Maybe Henry will stop trying to pull them dogs’ tails now. You from around here?”“No, passing through, I’m afraid.” Too bad, at that. Arthur probably could have used friends. She certainly could. But things would be better in California. They would settle down. She could send Arthur to school, to get that smart mind of his all that it needed. Unlike her and Lyle, because back in the village, the closest school was twenty miles away. Not many educated spinsters were of a mood to come work in Welsh coal valleys. She’d get her citizenship next year, and Arthur with her, and as a true American, an educated man, he’d have any number of roads open to him. He’d be able to read, write, vote–with all of that, and the kind heart she knew he had, he could be far more than his father before him, and wasn’t that the dream of America?The two younger kids pushed up off the boards, heading to their mother. She reached down to grab the hand of the little girl, who already looked prepared to rush off into all sorts of mischief. “Say goodbye now.”Sadie, the little girl, waved enthusiastically at Arthur with her free hand, beaming at him. “Bye-bye!”He waved back with a shy smile, watching her toddle off with her mother. “Yeah, bye.”Once they were gone, headed for a wagon of their own with the husband already waiting, watching him help his wife into the wagon with a wistfulness in her heart, she looked back at the porch. “Come, Arthur, we’d best go find your da and be on our way.”He nodded at that, coming down the steps to her. Hesitated a moment, looking back at the dog still sitting there, looking at him hopefully. “That dog ain’t nobody’s, Momma, can we take her with us?”She sighed, hating to disappoint him. And for just a brief moment that felt like biting into a rotten apple, she had the thought that perhaps it would be better to have a poor beast there when Lyle grew angry–better the dog than her or Arthur. But she dismissed it, ashamed at herself. No, what temper he had, he had his reasons, and it wasn’t fair he should go after a little boy, so she would take that on herself, but his anger with her had its explanations. “We’ve a long journey ahead, love. I don’t think that a dog would take to it so kindly. And your da might not like it.”“Daddy don’t like much,” he said, features drawing into a scowl, kicking at a rock in the street. “Whiskey, maybe.” Yes, he was far too smart for his own good.She sighed, crouching down to meet his eyes, putting a hand on his shoulder. He’d gotten her green-blue eyes, and his hair was too fair to be Lyle’s, though she expected it would darken from that bright gold it was right now, as hers had. “Things have been hard, and that makes him angry. He’s still your da, for all that. But maybe when we get to California we’ll see about a dog for you. Things will be better there, you’ll see.”He smiled at that, eyes lighting up again with happiness. “What’s California gonna be like?”“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve never seen it, mind. People say it’s lovely land, though. Gold there, too, so perhaps we’ll become prospectors!” With him by her side, they walked towards the saloon.

#arthur morgan #sadie adler #beatrice morgan #rdr2 #a long and winding trail #Anonymous

[obsidianarchives]

The Dragon Leather Jacket

Blaise Zabini was glad to get out of the castle, but was annoyed it had to be alone. He hadn't cared much for Valentine's Day years before, despite the loads of chocolate frogs that ended up in his bag. Even this year, two second year Slytherin girls sent him cards that projected a magical ballet they thought he’d like and he'd cooly refrained from sinking into the floor at the embarrassment when he’d opened them in the Great Hall that morning.

But while Valentine's wasn't his thing, a certain Hufflepuff girl was. He'd tried asking her to spend the day with him — only to be rejected. The resulting discontent was a feeling only she could give him, as he’d learned when she rejected him for the Yule Ball last year. She'd said it was because he had some growing to do, and he knew he did, but that didn't make it smart any less. Something about Desiree Warbeck’s insistence that he could rise above the stereotype of his house was both annoying — and really attractive.

He hadn't even wanted to spend the day with her as a Valentine's date, that was just a convenient coincidence. Her birthday was coming up and he knew her sweet tooth probably couldn't resist a private basement reservation at Madam Puddifoot’s (he'd never be caught dead eating in the general seating area) or a trip to the balcony in Honeydukes where they sold their most expensive chocolates. But he'd asked her at the end of last BSU meeting and she'd said no. She claimed it was because her friends had something planned for her birthday, but he suspected she just wasn't ready. Which really meant he wasn't ready.

He was trying. People like Umbridge made it easier for him to see the flaws in his upbringing when she not only recruited people like Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle for her Inquisitorial Squad, but used that group to try to bust up his club just based on the color of their skin. Blaise didn't fight for much, but the BSU had come to mean more to him than he really knew how to express. Come for them and get on his shit list. But Des had caught Blaise smirking at a joke Malfoy had made about the Creevey brothers — Malfoy had done a decent mouse impression, okay? — and she’d refused him her weekly meeting cookies for two weeks.

So Blaise wandered Hogsmeade alone. He tried not to hang with Malfoy’s crowd much anymore, not least of which because Malfoy and Parkinson just started hooking up and he didn't feel like gagging while Crabbe and Goyle pigged out on the chocolate frogs they’d “stolen” from him that morning. (He let them have the chocolate. He’d considered giving them to Desiree, but knew it wouldn’t help his cause to give her chocolates given to him by other girls.) The rest of the BSU had either paired up or squared up and Blaise wasn't in the mood to be anyone's third or fifth wheel. It was times like these that he almost regretted not having more friends. However, a quick look around at the students laughing obnoxiously as they walked out of Zonko’s made him figure it was definitely for the best.

All he could think about was Desiree, wondering where she was, what she would do if he randomly showed up where she was, and how to figure out just how to...do that. It was cold outside, though, and he didn't want to just wander alone. It looked pathetic. So he shook off his stalker inclinations and looked at the shops on his left and his right. His choices were Zonko’s and Gladrags. He typically owl ordered his joke products on the occasion he found some whimsy, to avoid stepping in that madhouse, so he gladly chose Gladrags.

It was quiet inside. Being a shop on the high-end side, not too many Hogwarts students frequented it. Some of the Slytherin well to do and families like the Abbotts frequented, but he knew he'd never spot a Weasley in here.

Blaise didn't buy much for himself. His mother sent him whatever he needed and a few extravagances he usually didn't even ask for, but were the result of whatever dalliances she was working to profit from (and then eventually end). So as he looked around the shop, he found himself looking at the ladies wear, imagining each item on Desiree's curvy form. With her grandmother being a world famous songstress, she didn't want for much either, but he couldn't recall her in a Gladrags original. Her style was practical, with classic silhouettes, and neutral color palettes, but usually with a pop of color. He also knew she liked to wear cutesy dressing gowns (last year’s end of lessons BSU slumber party told him that) and that she liked to bake. Maybe an apron? He went over to the house-wears, but nothing called to him.

“Need any help?” The shopkeeper, a small mousy woman with wide eyes and a nervous manner approached. “Ah, Mr. Zabini. How are you? How is your mother liking that yeti’s fur stole she purchased?” Blaise bit his lip, not wanting to admit the stole disappeared with husband number five. “She's doing well.” He kept it curt, never interested in enduring meaningless small talk.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Uh, just a gift.”

“For? A special someone perhaps?” The shopkeeper wiggled her very thin eyebrows.

Blaise hated this. It's why he so often owl ordered. But he was stuck on a gift and Desiree would find it hilarious that he had endured what he joked was his boggart: small talk. “It's for a friend. A girl.”

The shop worker’s already large eyes lit up. “Oh, we have a special new makeup collection just in time for a late Valentine's gift!“ She grabbed Blaise by the arm and led him to a display near the front of the shop. “These foundations change their shimmer with the wearer’s mood,” she said, holding up a palette of pale foundation.

Blaise looked at the palette, and the surrounding equally pale mixtures and vials, and looked at the woman. He knew what he wanted to say, but imagined Des as an angel on his shoulder, telling him to be nice to the woman, he said, “That wouldn’t work. Her skin’s about my complexion.”

“Ah,” said the shopkeeper shortly, gingerly putting down the foundation and moving away from the display, looking around the room for where to drag Blaise next.

Blaise turned his head, his eyes falling on a section across the store. It was almost like someone had cast a Lumos charm on a jacket at the far end of the room. He headed straight for it, leaving the shopkeeper to keep up behind him. The jacket was black dragon leather, with a hint of gold shimmer. It was cropped short and had gold swirling embellishments on the collar. It was perfect.

“Oh, I'm not sure this would be of any interest to an acquaintance of a family of your caliber. It’s from a new designer we’ve been trying to work with. But they’re Muggle-born, so their style is a bit…eccentric.”

Blaise smirked. Yeah, it would be perfect for Desiree. “I’ll take it.”

“Sir, it’s going to be 100 galleons.”

“That’s fine,” he said, waving one hand dismissively while the other fingered the collar of the jacket. It was softer than it appeared and he could see the gold shimmer highlighting the yellow-toned brown of Desiree’s skin.

Blaise left Gladrags deciding he’d done enough lonely wandering for the day and started to head back towards the castle. But before he did, he felt the day couldn’t go without a bit of chocolate. He stepped into Honeydukes and got a chocolate frog to slip into the jacket pocket, a little surprise for later.

——

Desiree Warbeck regretted lying to Blaise. She’d said her friends wanted to do something for her birthday, but really they were just stalking the boys they had very distant crushes on. They were older recent Hogwarts grads who were working at nearby shops, so she was just flitting from store to store with them as they giggled over Grown Wizards. Desiree loved a good giggle over a boy, but the boy she wanted to giggle over sometimes ran with the wrong crowd and she couldn’t be with him if he maintained the same beliefs they did. So she’d shut him down when he’d asked her to hang out today and she wasn’t even having a good time without him. Rubbish.

She thought she’d seen him along the path as they all walked down to the village, but then she kept imagining she was seeing him everywhere she went with her friends. She knew he owl-ordered nearly everything, so there was no way he’d gone in Scrivenshaft's. He didn’t even like their quills. When she profoundly started to ache at his absence, she decided to call it a day and leave her twittering friends to their stalking, heading back to the castle to hole up in the kitchens with the house elves and begin her baking-to-get-her-mind-off-boys ritual.

Four hours later, she’d baked enough cookies to feed an army. I was really trying not to think about Blaise, wow, she thought, realizing with that thought that she’d already lost the game. In front of her were dozens of cookies she’d made without even using magic.

“Ms. Desi, what are you going to do with all these cookies?” asked Dobby, who was always the least fearful of the house elves and liked talking to Desiree and asking her questions. The rest just let her do whatever she wanted and kind of left her alone.

“I’m not sure Dobby. I can take a few to tomorrow’s BSU meeting, but the rest…I definitely can’t eat all those cookies,” she said with a laugh.

“Should we decorate them for the Valentimes Day and give them out?” Dobby could never get the name of the holiday quite right.

“That’s a great idea, Dobby!” With a snap of his thin fingers, dozens of Desiree’s cookies had pink and white frosting in the shape of hearts. Desiree liked experimenting with decorating spells herself, but house elf magic was second to none. She insisted Dobby eat one and he nibbled at one before slipping it into his little apron pocket. Desiree wondered if house elves had very different taste buds because he just didn’t seem to enjoy it and she knew her cookies were good. After thanking him, she grabbed her tin of BSU cookies, and headed out the door.

Just as she was climbing out the portrait hole, she bumped into someone and nearly dropped the cookie tin. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Oh!” she said again when she realized it was the very boy she was trying to avoid thinking about all day. “Blaise, what…what are you doing down here?”

He looked startled at having run into her, and she noticed him move his hand, which held a package, behind his back. It took him a minute to speak and Desiree flashed back to when he’d asked her to the Yule Ball last year. He hadn’t even been this nervous asking her out for her birthday.

“I was looking for you,” he said finally. Then…nothing.

“So why do you look so shocked to see me?” She arched an eyebrow at him which, from the way he continued to stare at her, she realized didn’t help put him back on his guard.

“Sorry,” he said, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. “I’ve been looking for you since before dinner and I just realized I hadn’t thought of what to say when I actually found you…”

He motioned for her to walk with him and they headed to a little nook under the staircase leading to the Great Hall. There was a ledge and he invited her to sit.

“I know it’s not your birthday yet, but I got you something in Hogsmeade today.”

“Oh Blaise, you didn’t have to get me anything.” She smiled softly, though, at knowing he’d been thinking about her all day too.

“I know, but I saw it and couldn’t walk away without getting it for you.”

He placed the package in her lap. She opened it, finding the black dragon leather jacket, the light gold glimmering softly at her. Her mouth dropped open.

“Blaise, I can’t accept this, it’s too much. Literally. This had to cost a fortune.” But she couldn’t help but stare at the jacket, finally putting her hands on the soft leather.

“You know that’s not an issue,” he said, sitting next to her, vanishing the wrapping with his wand to let her hold the jacket in her hands. “And look, it’s perfect for you. You once told me you wished your Hufflepuff came with a little more ‘badass,’ so…here you go.”

Desiree felt like her heart was growing four sizes in her chest, and it already took up way too much space. She clutched the jacket to her chest, squeezing it as she forced the incoming tears back into her eyes. She refused to cry in front of this boy! But not only had he been thinking about her today, he’d listened to something she’d said off-hand months ago, maybe even last year.

She looked at the boy to her right. The boy who was a Slytherin (which wasn’t a bad thing), dormed with members of the Inquisitorial Squad (which wasn’t his fault), and had some regressive views about Muggles and Muggle-borns (which she’d refused to tolerate). But she thought, from their BSU meetings and personal conversations, he was working on that last one. And here he was. His usual stony face more open than she ever saw it in public. The faint flush on his chiseled cheekbones a very brown distraction from the thought that had been niggling in her mind for a minute. Which was...

“Wait, did you…go to a store for this?”

Blaise laughed, a full blown cackle, which she’d definitely never seen him do before, and she couldn’t help herself. She kissed him on the cheek.

He stopped laughing, his breath caught in his throat. Desiree smirked and stood.

“Thank you, Blaise. I love it. I’ll have to save it for just the right occasion. Maybe you’ll even be there to see me wear it.”

She winked and walked away towards the Hufflepuff common room, with an extra sashay in her step. Her grandmother, the great Celestina Warbeck, had always told her to  “always leave ‘em wanting more.”

#HogwartsBSU #BSUverse #Blaise Zabini #Desiree Warbeck #Blaiseree

[booksfornamjoon]

Day 60

Apartment #11 - A Short Story

Your mouth has the trembling certainty of a needle. You can thread it with the lips and when you think you are controlling the stitches of your kisses, the flesh bleeds. It bleeds a lot and as the coffee, it falls, bitter in its pleasure. I look at your mouth and silence happens, a suicide without farewell, the only smoking rumour of the revolver as proof of a flight: the elevator has reached its final stop. Erect it rises on the fourth floor, your destiny and mine. You could say "our", but we still do not have those trusts, you know it well. I try to look at you, to smile at you with that indifferent grimace of routine, but your eyes are looking for me to say goodbye and I rebel against the second that takes you to twist your chin and open the door to get out of our meeting point. I hear your voice wish me a good day while the tinkling of the keys reminds me that you are going to enter your house until tomorrow when I fight again to look at you.

When I scrutinize you from a distance you're sneaking around, as if you really thought you could guess what I was hiding and you did not want to know. To tell the truth, I have few secrets, but I keep you in the darkest and deepest drawer of myself. If your playful pupils entered mine you would only be able to find your own reflection, you would get to greet yourself in the elevator where you would be two: you and me being you. You being watched, I, watching you. Through me, you could get to love yourself like you never have.

The first time I saw you, you were smiling -- you always do -- and I still do not understand why. Maybe it was funny to finally meet the neighbour across the street, the one who has lived in the same building for more than twenty years, but with whom you have never crossed before. I started with an advantage: Rosana informed me that a marriage break in number 11 had caused the apartment to be at your entire disposal. Another divorced woman would flood the stairs and vomit her sorrows on the landing. However, it struck me that it was you. You do not know, but we have crossed to each other before, many times. I helped that rugby player of yours who cheated on you with the girl from his office to move the dresser and the fridge when you moved here. I knew he was a Narcissus from three to four by the time I saw him, but I thought you would be too innocent if you agreed to marry him. The reason for that thought was your smile. You wanted to help us and Edmund stopped you. Well, being honest, he pushed you slightly with his elbow as if you were bothering us.

I had seen that gesture often. My father seemed to have a kind of metal arm that kept my mother away from miles. It would have taken your breath away: he pushed her away with a feigned delicacy from his chair, even though she was still in the doorway. He almost looked at her apologetically, understanding his wife's lack of audacity, not realizing he did not want to be disturbed. She used to tell me when I asked her why she sometimes cried, that love was lived in silence.

Edmund marked the distance, you stay in silence and smiled at me. A contradictory feeling came over me: why the hell did you do that? I was ashamed, harassed by the huge arm that had thrown you back, and you smiled at me. I felt sorry for you and for your unfortunate marriage, but you had a beautiful sofa.

From that moment we coincided a few times, but there was not a day when you would not give me a smile if you came across me on the stairs or next to the door. With your deformed lips, the lower one more protruding than the upper one, you took off your cheeks and stretched your teeth in a perfect row. Your little jaw enclosed the most avid greeting of good morning. You did not discriminate against anyone, not even the woman from the third floor, who, if you did not know, also enjoyed the kisses of your husband. I guess that's why you began to forget about me and confined yourself to the task of your day to day until, when we met that afternoon, agreeing to leave at the same time without knowing it, you observed me as you observe a stranger. I wanted to tell you that we already knew each other when you introduced yourself and told me that you lived in number 11, but I did not utter a single word. I liked thinking that we could act like strangers and you did not have any opinion formed about the erratic neighbour of number 13.

I do not know when I'll put up the courage to confess that I'm not that neighbour who has just moved. If I do, I'll have to train myself before you, building on conventions about who I really am. Even I do not have the answer to that. However, I would like to tell you that I've been living here since before you managed to be old enough to become independent. A couple of years ago, the previous family that occupied the apartment that is currently your property, completely reformed it. They did not like that the bathroom was near the exit and they threw everything down, shocking the quiet neighbours who would never redesign the structures of their home. They opened a large window, the one that faces the street, and it became unrecognizable. If I came to pay you a visit, I could not place myself, it would be like being in a tiny and alien world, created out of reality. Like you, so external to everything that touches you and lives around you. Like that rose that is born without permission in the arid fields, defying the conventional norms of coexistence. You do not understand cubicles. This is mine, this is yours. But you're here, itching, consuming the wood with your tiny rodent teeth.

If I went through my walls to get to yours..., I would be so confused. Accustomed to the straight lines of my foundations, where everything remains quiet, in silence, waiting for my intervention. I would lose control, it would be like being somewhere else knowing that I am still in the same place. It would not be a good idea. Anyway, I could not enter either. It is not that I want either. Going for good to ask for a little salt would be absurd..., also, by doing that I could only see the shadow of the door frame, the traces of the bathroom that was there one day and was modified. Surely you will feel better living in a house that is different from all the rest of the building, you will not believe you are like us, you will have built a fantasy in which the painting does not change no matter how much you turn from beige to yellow. It is painting overpainted, raining over what is already wet by many others. Even if I lost myself in the labyrinth of the floor you step on, you would be unable to calculate the number of people who lived before you in that house. And everything remains the same, even though we broke it with a hammer.

I wonder what you are doing. Maybe you're drinking tea like me; in a white cup, leaving the mark of carmine, savouring the last remains of sugar resting in the corner of your uneven lips. How many clods will you throw? I bet you like it sweet, like me. You will be the ones who also add milk, classic in your habits. I could ask you for sugar. Open the door and touch yours, looking at you with polite eyes and the right hand up, as if holding an invisible ball, so that you let my request rest on it. And you leave the sweetness suspended on my skin while I feel the pads of your fingers brushing me, waiting to hear what my voice will be like. I babble a whiny thanks and it starts to rain. I do not have an umbrella and you offer yours. The sugar begins to dissolve, but not because of the water that penetrates our bones, but because of your gaze that burns me. Again you touch me, this time at the height of the wrists, asking me to get closer to you: you do not want me to get wet even if the umbrella looks like a shared parasol. You should not ask me that; I'd do it with pleasure if you left me, but without your approval, only with a visual assent delivered from the end of a dark room.

If I do not pick up the shopkeeper's clothes, they will not be dry by tomorrow.

#365booksfornamjoon #my writing #short story #writing #from 2014 #translated from spanish #prose #forgive some mistakes

[ohmytheon]

A Little Misunderstanding

Well, @littlemangalover, I’m your @fullmetalsecretsanta this year! I’ve never done one of these before and I chose a year where I don’t have nearly as much time, but I really wanted to do this and I hope you enjoy this fic! It, uh, got a lot longer than I intended. Like ten pages long. I just wanted to be sure it had all the things you liked. Basically, I’ve read a lot of fics where Roy and Riza are confused as Ed’s parents and then the new chapter really inspired me, so... this is what came out of it.

It all happened because of a series of circumstances -- unfortunate ones, if you were to ask Roy or Fullmetal -- but once it had started, there was nothing they could do but roll with it. Normally, Roy didn’t mind it. He liked when his well-executed plans did as he expected, but he had learned that the ability to improvise was key if he was going to make it to the top. Still, that was typically Fullmetal’s area. The kid had some plans, clearly proven by his State Alchemist title at the age of twelve, but he was still a kid.

Which was one of the reasons why they found themselves in such an awkward position.

For the most part, Roy and his team stayed in East City. It was where he was stationed and where he had to be in order to remain close to people going to the top. If he was shipped off to some country town, there was a chance that he would never recover. You couldn’t make a career in a town where the sheep population rivaled the people. However, when the intel that the men accused of robbing five banks in the eastern and southern parts of Amestris were hiding out in one of those towns, he left the city without hesitation.

They had gotten the information from none other than Edward Elric. He and his brother had been staying in the town searching for some old textbooks when he’d recognized one of the wanted men in the local grocery store. No one else would’ve known who they were unless they worked in the military and the town was small enough where there weren’t soldiers regularly going through. The perfect thing about Fullmetal spotting them was that the bank robbers had no idea that they’d been pegged.

Having a kid as one of his subordinates came in handy sometimes.

Roy and Riza arrived a day later in plain clothes. They did not want to alert the criminals that the military was onto them. They had to take a train and then travel by car to the town. Fullmetal did not look happy to see them at their hotel room, arms folded across his chest while wearing a deep frown. He looked more like a child than Roy had remembered from the last time he’d been in East City. Just as petulant as well, judging by the look on his face.

“Fullmetal.”

“Colonel.” There was definitely an unspoken “bastard” left off at the end.

“It’s good to see you, Edward,” Riza spoke up.

Immediately the kid brightened up. Of course Riza had that effect. She was being nice, even smiling. It was like Fullmetal had put Roy out of his mind.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye!” Alphonse exclaimed from inside their room.

Riza pressed a finger to her lips. “It’s Elizabeth today. We don’t want to tip anyone off.”

How a suit of armor was supposed to look abashed was beyond Roy, but somehow, Alphonse managed it. He nodded his head, his suit clanking anxiously. Roy could picture a child biting his lip and keeping quiet, but he had only ever seen a picture of Alphonse from when he was ten, shortly before he and Fullmetal had performed human transmutation. Alphonse was eleven now. Would he look different now?

“So what’s the plan?” Fullmetal asked once they were all inside the hotel room.

“We need to corroborate the intel and then we can come up with a plan to capture them,” Roy explained.

“You don’t believe me?” Fullmetal demanded.

“I like to see things for my own eyes,” Roy replied without missing a beat. Had he been as sensitive as Edward at his age? Maybe it was different since the kid was smack dab in an adult’s world. Despite his teacher’s harsh ways, Roy had still been allowed a childhood. Dropping his bag next to the foldout couch, Roy smacked his hands together and then put them on his hips. “Now, time to go sightseeing.”

Fullmetal scoffed. “Why would anyone believe that you’re here to sightsee? There’s nothing here by sheep, cows, and corn.”

Roy made his biggest lopsided grin and looped an arm around Riza’s side, pulling her snug against him. “Because we’re on our honeymoon and our car broke down, so we’re staying here until the next train to West City arrives tomorrow.” She rolled her eyes, but said nothing and didn’t pull away from him. She knew that it was part of their cover and he was being over the top to tease Fullmetal. Sometimes, he really thought he loved her for how much she not only put up with him but went along with his antics.

Meanwhile, the poor kid became flustered, his face turning red as he pressed his lips together and turned away from them, folding his arms across his chest. “Whatever.”

The small town wasn’t much to speak of -- there really was very little to sight see -- but they made the most of their day. They checked out the market, buying a few items, and then the very local shops. All of the owners were enthusiastic to have new visitors and gushed over the young couple. It wasn’t until the second shop though that they stumbled across their first huddle.

“It’s so nice of you to take that young boy in,” an elderly woman told Roy as he paid for a few trinkets at the front counter. She wore glasses nearly an inch thick and a shaky smile. Really, what were her kids thinking forcing this woman to work? She should’ve been relaxing at home, knitting or something by the fire.

Still, the comment threw Roy off. “Pardon?”

“Your wife’s son,” the woman continued. “He’s obviously not your biological son -- not with that hair and those eyes -- but he looks up to you. It’s so sweet.”

Roy’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. It took all his willpower not to explode. How he was able to remain so passive was almost beyond him, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he turned to glance back where Riza and Fullmetal were looking at a shelf of sheep trinkets. They weren’t much to look at, but they examined them together like it was something special. Fullmetal must’ve said something amusing because Riza smiled down at him and replied. Whatever it was, it had the kid ducking his head and smiling shyly in return.

It struck Roy quite suddenly how young Edward Elric was and how long it had been since his mother had died. Only a year since he’d tried to raise her back to life using human transmutation.

“Um.”

He didn’t know what to say. Part of him screamed to deny it, but then, it would cause people to start questioning just what he and Riza were doing here and who Edward really was. Small towns like this meant a lot of loose lips, which was really something they couldn’t afford. If the criminals they were after found out that there was a group of mysterious people in town, just like them, then they’d get spooked. He pictured this woman telling the man who ran the little restaurant across the street about what she’d found out about Roy and Riza. The robbers ate there every night for dinner.

So, Roy did the only thing he could think to do that would control the situation as much as possible and cause the least amount of damage: he went with it. “He’s a good kid. A little stubborn perhaps, but I’m proud to be his father.” Leaning against the counter, he turned to face the other two in the back of the store. “Hey, son, do you want a soda?”

As if he hadn’t even considered what Roy had just called him, Edward looked back at him. “A soda?”

“Yeah,” Roy replied, “do you want one? It’s a lot different than the ones from the city.”

Edward shrugged his shoulders. “Sure, I guess--” And then it finally hit him and he looked as if he was going to choke on his own tongue. Only Riza putting a hand on his shoulder calmed him down. His face turned red again and he turned his back to Roy, grumbling something under his breath that only Riza could hear. Poor kid didn’t even realize just how better it made the whole act.

“Add two sodas onto my order,” Roy told the elderly shopkeeper.

The woman beamed at him. God, what had he gotten them into?

*

Just as Roy had suspected, it didn’t take long for word to travel around the small town. After the third person had made a comment about their “blended family,” Edward looked like he was going to throw a fit, so they decided to head back to the hotel. The kid just didn’t know how to handle this new wrinkle. It didn’t help that people had begun to ask how Edward was handling his new family.

“You all look so cute!”

“Such an inspiration for families.”

“Now make sure you mind your father.”

Roy had to clamp a hand over Edward’s mouth before he could exclaim that Roy was not, in fact, his father and gave the sweet lady a big smile. “Sorry, he’s getting so cranky from hunger. We should probably get back to our hotel room.”

“Oh, why don’t you come to my husband’s place!” the woman told them, practically shoving them in that direction before any of them could respond. “Well, it’s the only place to be honest, but it’s better than surviving off of snacks from the hotel.”

In a matter of minutes and with very little chance to protest, all three of them found themselves standing just inside the doorway of the small restaurant that they’d been casing out earlier. This woman would’ve made an excellent recruiter for the military. She found them a table, gave them menus, and was off without so much as a goodbye.

“What are we doing here?” Edward mumbled as he looked over the menu. “Alphonse is probably worried about us. We’ve been gone all morning and afternoon.”

“I believe we’re eating,” Roy pointed out, “son.”

Edward gripped the menu tightly and wiggled in his chair. “Stop calling me that.”

“We have to keep up this charade for now,” Roy replied without looking at him. The menu was simple, but it was promising at least and he was really hungry. “A family does make us look less suspicious.”

“Well, you can be my dad,” Edward snapped, “but I don’t have to be happy about it.”

Roy shot him a grin. “Likewise.”

Riza sighed from behind her menu. “Please stop fighting, you two.”

“Fine,” Edward mumbled. Roy cleared his throat. “Mother.”

It shouldn’t have been amusing, but seeing Edward squirm almost made Roy chuckle. Admittedly he had been a little concerned that this whole family charade might upset the kid, but it just irritated him. Not that it was difficult to do. Edward seemed to be in that stage of puberty where everything was annoying.

Just in that moment, the door swung open and three of the four criminals that they were surveying walked in and took a table. They had been here long enough that the staff knew how to great them. None of them were mean and actually were quite pleasant, but then they had to be, lest the villagers get the wrong idea of them. A small town also meant that they would not hesitate to oust anyone unwelcomed. However, judging from the peculiar friendliness of one of the men, they weren’t as unknown as originally suspected.

“I think one of them might actually be from or around here,” Roy pointed out after their drinks were refilled.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Riza added, taking a sip of her sweet tea. “He knows the waitress and not just in the ‘regular at a restaurant’ sort of way.”

“How do you know?” Edward questioned.

Roy inclined his head towards the kitchen door. “See how he always speaks up first and the waitress always defers to him? Their close proximity? Her casual demeanor with him compared to the others?” Edward attempted to covertly look at what was going on at the other table, but just sort of looked like he was oggling the young waitress like, well, a kid going through puberty. “That’s not flirting. No awkwardness, no blushing, no fidgeting. She’s very comfortable with him. She knows him.”

“That would be why no one in town seems concerned with them, unlike us,” Riza said.

“Which will make it a little more difficult to apprehend them without any complications,” Roy murmured as he set his menu back down on the table. They might have to even call in reinforcements. He did not want to admit to being wary of using his alchemy in such a small town, especially one that had been in the borders of the Ishval War, but if it came to it, he would not hesitate to use it. “Do you know where they’re staying?”

Edward shrugged his shoulders. “Not at the hotel.”

“Hm.” Roy looked around the restaurant. “Can you go to the counter to get the waitress’ attention? She hasn’t been back in a while.”

Although Edward looked affronted by the idea, his stomach growled at the same time. The kid seemed to always be hungry. Did he eat enough on the road? Not that it mattered to Roy. He just didn’t like the idea of one of his subordinates passing out from hunger while on the job.

Grumbling under his breath, Edward stood up and made his way to the front, all without realizing that Roy had followed him. The second he neared the table of the criminals they were watching, unable to avoid them on his way, Roy bumped into Edward just enough to trip him up and send him sprawling right into the man who seemed as if he was from this town. The action caused Edward to knock the man’s drink over and spill it all over him. Everyone at the table jumped back into shock while Edward sputtered and tried to regain his balance.

“Oh my god!” Roy exclaimed as he reached out to help Edward. “I’m so sorry!”

“What in the--?” Edward immediately tried to fight back, but Roy held onto him tighter.

“He’s so clumsy,” Roy continued as he helped Edward stand up, keeping his hands on Edward’s shoulders to stop him from rearing at either one of them.

The criminal who had his drink spilled on him sat in shock, looking down at the damage. Considering that they were in a small town, Roy knew for a fact that the man’s clothes were not cheap. The stain was serious. He had the same outfit back in his closet. It would cost some money to get it dry-cleaned. “Do you know who made this?”

“I…” Roy blinked. “I’m not into fashion.”

“This is designer!” the man exclaimed.

“I’m so sorry,” Roy repeated. “My boy… Well, my wife’s son… He has a tendency to not look where he’s walking. He didn’t mean it.”

The man glared up at them and the rest of his friends looked equally ready to fight. “You think I care that your woman didn’t teach her boy how to walk?”

Roy feigned nervousness, lifting his hands from Edward’s shoulders to raise them up in surrender. He had been worried that Edward might explode and try to fight all of them, but Edward seemed too preoccupied with staring agape at all of them in silence. That was for the best. The both of them knew that Roy could take all of them out right now, but then they would miss the ringleader that was probably at their base right now.

“Look, I don’t have the cash on me now, but if you give me the address of where you’re staying, I’ll send you the money to have it cleaned,” Roy told them, sounding almost pitiful. Edward looked as if he was choking on his tongue, kind of like a son would if he caught his father sniveling to other people. “We’re just in town for the night until the next train comes in. I don’t want any trouble. It’ll upset my wife.”

All of them glanced back simultaneously as Riza, who was watching the situation with curiosity. Their waitress had showed up too. She looked more nervous, clinging to her notepad tightly, but was just as close-lipped. Maybe she was in on the whole thing. They would have to question her regardless. The men at the table seemed to loosen up at the sight of Riza though. A pretty woman almost always disarmed men.

“It’s your all’s honeymoon from what I heard, right?” the man asked. Roy nodded his head while Edward made a grunting noise. “Well, you’re lucky I’m feeling generous.” He wrote down the address of where he was staying on a napkin and handed it to Roy. “Don’t skip out on me without paying me back or that kid’s gonna be looking for a new dad again.”

Roy smiled blandly. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Thank you.”

Another one of the guys leaned back to get a closer look at Riza. “Pretty thing you’ve got there. I wouldn’t leave her alone for too long.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Roy replied, injecting as much nervousness into his voice as possible. Not that he really had anything to worry about. Any one of these guys would be sorry to bother Riza. He knew for a fact that she had least three concealed guns on her person. She never left home without one.

Before Roy could steer Edward back to the table, the guy with the ruined suit piped up, “Hey, I think you forgot something.”

Both Roy and Edward turned around and Roy asked, “Pardon me?”

“An apology,” the guy said, a smug grin edging its way onto his face.

“What?” Edward exclaimed, unable to stay silent any longer. “I’m not--”

“Apologize to him,” Roy told him, trying very hard to make it not sound like an order from a commanding officer but more like from a parent. He honestly didn’t know what that sounded like now that he thought about it. Master Hawkeye’s commands could send fear right through Roy’s heart and half the time Madam Christmas didn’t even have to say anything to get Roy to hop to it at Edward’s age.

The idea that he didn’t really know how to be a parent struck Roy so suddenly that he almost faltered.

“Are you kidding me?” Edward demanded, glaring up at Roy.

“No, I’m not,” Roy replied. “Apologize to him.”

Edward pressed his lips together, as if refusing to let any apologetic words slip out of his mouth, and continued to glare at him in defiance. Roy almost sighed. Had he been this much of a little shit at this age? Or did it come from Edward knowing so much beyond his years? This kid had the rank of Major, after all. Unbelievable…

“I’d listen to your pops if I were you kid,” a third man said.

Quick as a whip, Edward reared on them. “He’s not--” But then he clamped his mouth shut and frowned at all of them. By now, Riza was getting more curious and gave Roy a look asking whether she needed to jump in, but he gave her a tiny shake of his head and she stilled in her seat. Edward clenched his fists at his side, but then took a deep breath, looked to the side, and grumbled, “I’m sorry.”

The three men at the table laughed. Roy could tell that Edward was not turning red from embarrassment but anger and he needed to get them away from the table as quickly as possible. He promised to send the money to fix the suit to the address given and practically pushed Edward back to the table.

The waitress opened her mouth, but Roy cut her off and spoke directly to Riza, “Darling, I realized after that whole incident that I left my wallet back in our room at the hotel. Maybe we should just order something from there.”

“Is everything alright?” Riza asked.

Roy chuckled anxiously. “Oh, yeah, you know your boy -- clumsy as can be.”

Riza raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as she stood up from the table. Roy apologized to the waitress and all but rushed them out of restaurant. Edward seemed too overwhelmed with the suddenness of everything to make a scene and Riza knew to comply without any arguing.

Right before they stepped outside, one of the criminals shouted, “See you soon, sweetheart!”

Riza turned around as if to say something, but Roy slid an arm around her waist and said loud enough for others to hear, “Ignore it, love,” and tugged her out the door. The three of them made their way back to the hotel with an inspired sense of speed without speaking. Electricity crackled between all of them as they hurried down the street. Edward kept looking back over his shoulders while Riza watched their sides and Roy looked straight ahead.

They got back to the hotel in no time. However, the moment Roy shoved Edward into his room, Edward spun around on them, Alphonse leaping up nervously behind him, and shouted, “What the hell was all that about?”

Slipping his hands into his pockets, Roy coolly responded, “Just getting some info.”

“I’ve got coffee all over me!” Edward exclaimed. “And we looked like...like...” He was red in the face by now. It wasn’t anger, Roy realized. It was embarrassment. He was twelve years old and even worse he’d been made to look like it. Edward was an alchemy prodigy. He wasn’t used to being his own age. “We looked like idiots!”

“Well,” Roy replied, “we’re not supposed to look like military.”

“You could’ve blown them to smithereens and gotten them to answer everything,” Edward said.

“And I would’ve looked like a domineering, arrogant jackass doing it,” Roy countered. “You don’t get it, do you? People hate alchemists around these parts. During the Ishval War, many places were destroyed by alchemists in order to end it.” He could still picture buildings blowing up due to his own alchemy. It was too raw, too fresh in his memory. He could smell the smoke. “You want everyone in this town to turn against us? They’ll choose those criminals over us.”

Edward scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. “I didn’t serve in the Ishval War. I didn’t do anything.”

“You’ve still got that silver pocket watch, don’t you?” Roy snapped. “Don’t kid yourself, Fullmetal. They’ll hate you the same as me.”

For the first time since Roy had met him, he saw Edward falter. It was just a flicker, a moment of hesitance crossing his face, but it was enough to let Roy know that he’d gotten under the kid’s skin. Good. Some lessons were harder than others to learn. The hardest one that Edward would learn would be that he was hated just as much as he was loved for his status as a State Alchemist. Innocent as he may be, human transmutation notwithstanding, the public’s view of him was tainted by his title.

“So we can’t do anything because we don’t want the military to look bad,” Edward surmised, sounding as moody as any twelve year-old boy.

“Every soldier is the face of the military and our actions reflect on it,” Roy told him, regaining his collectedness. Riza would comment on him losing control later. It was her duty to point these things out. He didn’t like it, but he needed to be reminded of every mistake he made. If he was going to make it to the top, he couldn’t make silly mistakes like that. “To be frank, the military has the lowest rate of approval in the East. It’s our duty to fix it.”

“Normally catching crooks does that.”

“Not when they’re a part of the community.” Roy knew that he hadn’t appeased Edward, but it was enough. He seemed to have calmed down and whatever tension lay between them was the usual. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled out the card with the criminals’ address written on it, holding it between his fingers. “Tomorrow. We know where they’re staying. It’ll be quick and quiet.”

At least Roy hoped so. Edward was not known for “quick and quiet”.

With a wave of his hands, signaling that he was done and tired, Edward turned his back on them and retreated to the bathroom. Alphonse asked if they wanted tea, but Roy declined and he and Riza retired to their room. It was a room with one bed, keeping up with their cover as a couple on their honeymoon, but luckily it came with a couch that Roy had already proclaimed as his. There would be no awkward fighting for the bed. Both of them knew that Roy would sleep better on the couch. He did so at home often and had fallen asleep numerous time on the chase in the study back at Riza’s home when they were kids.

“Them being from here complicates things,” Roy pointed out as he gathered his things to take a shower. “The town will be on their side no matter what.”

“We’ll have to use more force,” Riza said, “and that will make us look bad.”

“Why do you have to do our job and look good doing it?” Roy complained. He caught his reflection in the mirror in the bathroom. He was only in his mid-twenties, but he felt so much older. This job was going to give him gray hair. He didn’t like that much either.

Riza smiled. “Now you sound like Edward.”

Roy shot her a sharp look. “That sounds close to an insult.”

“My apologies, sir,” Riza replied, though the fondness wasn’t completely out of her voice.

She ducked her head as she took her pajamas out of her suitcase. Light pink long sleeve button up shirt and pants. Very modest. And yet it still caused Roy’s throat to constrict. They were going to sleep in the same room tonight. Sure, they’d shared tents in Ishval, but it had never been just them too. Hughes had usually been there or another soldier. That was just how it was.

This would be the first time since they were kids that they shared a room while sleeping. It had been awkward then too. Couldn’t have been otherwise. Two teenagers going through puberty sleeping just five feet away from each other. Roy had been miserable.

Shit, he was miserable now.

It was too soon to make a joke about it. Part of him wanted to tease her about joining him for a shower, even though he knew that both of them would understand that it was just a joke, but another part of him knew that it was too soon. One day, he could say something like that and she’d just roll her eyes, but right now, if he said anything flirtatious, he knew that she’d blush and feel uncomfortable. It had been over two years, but some things were still raw.

(He tried very hard not to think about how he wanted to fight over the bed until they finally conceded to share it -- because they were professional and they could remain that way -- just so he could be close to her, breathe her in, feel her near him, until they woke up entangled in one another’s arms-- No, no, they couldn’t do that. It was just a dream. He couldn’t let himself think that way. There was a long road ahead of them.)

They went about the rest of their night in silence, readying themselves for a morning that they could not be prepared for. No matter how many plans Roy came up with though, he always seemed to forget one thing now: Edward liked a put a wrench in plans.

*

When Roy woke the next day, it was to the smell of fresh coffee. He opened up his bleary eyes to find that Riza was humming to herself and walking around the room, already dressed for the day in a pair of reasonable slacks and a sweater. He rubbed at his face and pushed himself up in the sitting position on the couch. Thankfully, his back didn’t protest too much. Still young.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Just a little after eight,” Riza replied as she checked one of her handguns.

Roy flopped back on the couch and groaned. “Why are you awake then?”

“We’re still working,” Riza pointed out.

“I assure you HQ won’t know if you sleep in out here.”

While Riza gave a noncommittal noise in response, Roy grunted irritably. Still, he dragged himself off the couch and found his way to the small table where a second cup of coffee sat. She had been quiet while getting ready, careful not to wake him up before, but she kept him on time as well. He didn’t like it. He’d kept his own schedule while studying alchemy under her father. Oftentimes, he had to eat the poor breakfast she made cold because he’d been up late leafing through textbooks the night before. The military didn’t care about that though. He’d learned that the hard way.

“Still not a morning person, I see,” Riza said. It was one of the few times she hinted to something more personal between them. He’d noticed that she kept more of a distance from their past than he did. Maybe it was because she was better at being professional than him. She had come to him, but he’d asked her to be his adjutant. He had to work on that.

“I don’t need to get up when the sun rises to do my job,” Roy grumbled, cradling the cup of coffee like it was his lifeline to the world.

Riza smiled, but said nothing else. This was very much like one of their breakfasts back when he had been her father’s alchemy apprentice. It didn’t sting as much as it used to these days.

After getting ready, they knocked on the room across from them. Alphonse answered, of course, letting them know that Edward was still sleeping. He slept a lot. It was strange. Edward was a ball of energy when he was awake, but he had an even worse habit than Roy of falling asleep in all sorts of places and for long periods of time. It took very little time for Edward to get ready once he woke up (ah, the hygiene of a near teenager). He met them in the living room, yawning, before stuffing a bagel in his mouth.

“Now what?” Edward mouthed around the bagel.

Roy tried not to roll his eyes. “Now we catch the bad guys.”

Edward swallowed a bit and took the bagel out of his mouth. “He just gave you their secret address like that?”

“To fix a four hundred thousand cenz suit?” Roy waved a hand. “I’m surprised he didn’t follow us here to make sure I gave him the money on the spot.”

“So what’s the plan?” Edward asked.

“We go there, we capture them -- quietly.”

“What about me?” Alphonse asked.

“We need you to stay outside, in case any of them try to escape,” Riza told him. When she noticed Alphonse’s slight disappointment, she put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m used to staying behind and watching outside as well. It’s not very fun, but it’s extremely important. When someone knows their back is being watched, they feel a lot safer.”

That perked the boy right up. The suit of armor was so big that Roy had to remind himself that Alphonse was a year younger than Edward. He was talented enough to take the State Alchemist exam as well, but the rigorous and invasive questioning would’ve been too much for him. Edward could hide. Alphonse could not. They couldn’t let anyone else in the military know that there was nothing inside that suit but a soul. He would’ve made for an excellent subordinate unlike Edward, who was unruly as they came.

As they made their way to the house where the criminals were staying, a few people greeted them on the street. Everyone was so friendly here. It reminded Roy of the towns just on the outskirts of the Hawkeye house. Those had been small as well. He’d gotten to know everyone there by the time his first year of apprenticeship ended. There wasn’t room for cold or elusive people in towns like these. He could never in a place like this, not anymore.

“Refrain from using alchemy,” Roy ordered. “I’d like for this to be a clean capture.”

Edward huffed. “Okay.”

*

It was not okay. It was not clean. It was nothing like Roy planned.

First, the guy that had been making some offhand comments about Riza wouldn’t leave her alone. The man had had the gall to tug on her hair, which she was growing out and was now at her shoulders, leaning in close enough to smell her. Thinking that Roy was just some pathetic husband, like he could do whatever wanted and Roy would do nothing. And he hadn’t. He had made a move, but Riza had given him a sharp look that stopped him. For the mission. She could handle a creep.

It turned out that Roy did not have the same strength and resilience than she did. He had to bit his lip to keep himself from saying anything and clench his fists in his pockets. The smile on his face was so forced that it actually hurt and he knew that it only made his cover better, but he didn’t like it. He hated playing such a weakling when he could’ve lit everyone in here like a bonfire.

However, Roy’s ability to control himself didn’t matter, not when Edward was right there. He literally shoved the man away from Riza, causing him to stumble back into a chair and fall over backwards. “Don’t touch her!”

“Easy, kid,” the ringleader laughed. He hung in the back, watching everything happen. Roy kept a careful eye on him as well. He was the most dangerous of the four. Out of all of them, he was the only one who had fired his weapon and killed two guards when they were robbing banks. He seemed so easy-going now. “He wasn’t hurting your mom.”

Edward glared at him, but said nothing. A small blessing, in Roy’s opinion.

Until the creep crawled onto his feet. “That kid has a metal arm!”

Instinctively, Edward grabbed his automail arm. It was still new to him. He’d had it for little over a year. Roy knew from his research that automail surgery and recovery usually took three years, but Edward had done it in one so that he could get his State Alchemist license as quickly as possible. He was still getting used to it. Knowing its strength and weaknesses and knowing his own in return.

“An accident from when he was young,” Riza reassured them, pulling Edward close to her like a mother would. None of them could see that she’d also pulled out her service weapon behind him.

The ringleader of the bank robbers tilted his head. “You know, I heard of a story recently -- really inspirational -- of a young boy who became a State Alchemist.”

“Really?” Edward’s jaw was clenched. “How young?”

“Oh, the ages vary depending on who you ask,” the man continued in a lofty voice, “but the name is always the same: the Fullmetal Alchemist.” He chuckled. “Now, of course, people assume that this alchemist is always covered in metal. It goes with the name, you know. But some…”

Edward was practically grinding his teeth. “Some what?”

“Well, some people say that he isn’t covered in armor, but he has automail limbs,” the man finished. In a flash, he had a gun out and pointed directly at Roy. Everyone in the room tensed up while the ringleader still looked as calm as could be. Roy thought back to the reports of the robberies. This man had killed without hesitation. He didn’t show any signs of remorse. “Who are you?”

Riza didn’t move a muscle. Roy pressed his lips together. Edward was almost growling.

Roy knew that look in Edward’s eyes and it wouldn’t do them any good. He took a step towards them, but froze when man squeezed the trigger, shooting right past Roy’s head into the wall. Everyone flinched and it had to have taken everything in Riza not to pull her weapon out right then and there. It wouldn’t have done them much good, not how that everyone else had their guns trained on them.

This was bad. This was very bad. Edward was going to lose it.

“Edward,” Roy said as calmly as possible, “don’t do anything stupid.”

“Like hell,” Edward snapped back.

The man they had dealt with at the restaurant laughed. “What did I say to you about listening to your father, kid?”

“He’s not my father!” Edward screamed. He slapped his hands together and pressed a hand against his automail arm, causing an explosion of alchemy light burst into the room. Roy’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw a large metal dagger cut through Edward’s sleeve. He’d turned his arm into a weapon. It was, quite honestly, an incredible and unique feat of alchemy -- one that he didn’t have time to think about as Edward leaped to attack the man pointing a gun at Roy.

A few things happened at the same time: the ringleader squeezed off another shot; Riza had completely brought up her weapon to shoot; Edward had launched himself over the couch; and Roy threw himself to the side. Thankfully he missed getting shot and rammed into the man with the ruined suit. They tumbled to the ground together and Roy was able to knock the gun out of his hands. Without thinking, Roy punched him right in the face and knocked him unconscious.

There was so much commotion going on around him, so loud, that Roy was almost certain that the entire house would be destroyed. Gunfire, shouts, the explosive telltale signs of Edward’s alchemy. It was a disaster. A fire roared inside of Roy, burning so hot that he knew it was the only thing he could do. He stood up, surveyed the scene, and snapped his fingers together. A simple spark turned into flames, knocking all of the assailants to the ground. Fire caught onto their clothes and on some of the furniture, causing them all to panic.

“The Flame Alchemist!” one sputtered.

Roy flapped his jacket and harrumphed in irritation. “And now you’ve ruined my suit.” He fingered the hole that one of the bullets had caused upon flying through it. “This is much more expensive than what he was wearing.”

“Why in the hell did you wear it here then?” Edward demanded, panting and sweating as he stood over one of the men to make sure he didn’t get up.

“It was the cheapest one I own,” Roy replied.

Smoothing his clothes, he walked over to the ringleader, stepping over broken furniture and wounded men. He carried the air of a man in uniform without being in one. None of the criminals moved, their eyes latched onto the white gloves that they’d ignored. Many city people were so squeamish about the country that they wore gloves. They hadn’t suspected anything else from a man as cowardly as Roy had appeared.

The ringleader spit on the ground. “Dog of the Military.”

“Sniffed you out well enough, didn’t we?” Roy crouched down to his level. “You’re under arrest for bank robbery, resisting arrest, attacking an officer of the government… Oh, I’m sure I can think of a few more.”

The man nodded his head to Edward, who was helping Riza gather the other three criminals. “The child is your subordinate then?”

“The Fullmetal Alchemist, as you guessed,” Roy said.

“How low do you have to be in order to use a child to get what you want?” the man demanded.

Roy smiled cruelly. “I’ve killed more men than you. I’m as low as they come.”

When Edward glanced back at them, curiosity mixed with his usual irritation in his eyes, Roy let the cruelness slide out of him and turned it into a smug grin. It was the kind of look that pissed Edward off, the only kind that Roy wanted to let him see. It was easier that way. Edward didn’t need to see Roy as anything else but a lazy, arrogant, power-hungry bastard. He didn’t need to see the monster, the insecurities, the hopefulness, the desperation, the man. It wouldn’t help either of them.

Once the criminals were taken care of though, the soldiers they’d called in for reinforcements last night picking them up, Riza found Roy alone in their hotel room. He wasn’t getting their things together like he’d said, but drinking another cup of coffee. He couldn’t drink. They were still working, after all.

“I noticed something during our attempt to apprehend the suspects,” Riza said.

“Yeah?” Roy asked.

“Your flames started out around the ringleader,” Riza pointed out. “It would’ve been better and safer for you to start out with the assailant closer to you.”

Roy took a sip of the coffee. “Really? I didn’t notice.”

“Of course not,” Riza replied, although she knew damn well that Roy had already mastered pinpointing his flames with his alchemy.

He had started with the man fighting with Edward, then to the men shooting at Riza, and finally the man he’d fought with. It had only been a few seconds difference, but seconds could be a lifetime on the battlefield. This hadn’t been a battle, but it was the closest action he’d seen since leaving Ishval. Even now, he felt his heart racing. Maybe it was the coffee. Yeah, he’d blame it on that. He could blame a lot of things on something else. It was one of his many talents, including not thinking of things.

(He could look at Riza and not think of how unlikely it was that he would ever have a family. He could see her and not think of all the things that would pass him by. It was his own doing, after all. He’d made this choice and he had to stick with it. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t think about how it felt to be a father, even if it was fake and only for a day. Didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt. He just had to be better at ignoring it. That was all.)

#fmasecretsanta2017 #roy mustang #edward elric #riza hawkeye #fma #fmab #alphonse elric #royai #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood #fma:b #fma: brotherhood #fma fanfiction #fmab fanfiction #fullmetalsecretsanta #littlemangalover #the things of songs #idfk what this is

[kristallioness]

Call the midwife

Summary: It was going to be another regular day working as a paramedic in the emergency room for Katara, until she stumbled upon a sick child.

Word count: 29,040

Author's note: Happy (late) winter solstice! I think it's pretty obvious which series inspired me to write this fic. The italicized monologue at the beginning and ending of the story is elderly Katara talking to the audience, exactly like Jenny does in each episode. I tried to stay true to that format (also by having 2-3 major plot lines). But during the events, Katara is 34-35, exactly the same age as in their family photo. @avatarwindboy - here it is, I hope you like it! The events start in the morning, hence the first character is named Chen, which means morning in Chinese. Mamoun means trustworthy in Arabic, because he's Katara's "trusty steed". Othmar means wealth and fortune in German, since I figured that a shopkeeper would be rather well off. The young man who found Katara and asked for her help is Azor, which is Israeli for helper, and he's of Fire Nation origin. Doctor Rima's name means white antelope in Arabic, indicating that she's light-skinned. Ilo's name is actually a Finnish word meaning joy and delight (+ it's very close to the Estonian word "ilu", which means beauty). Iniko is an African name and it means "born during troubled times" (read and you'll find out why). The final scene was inspired by a heartwarming scene from the series, where doctor Turner's son said something funny to his adopted baby sister when his father Patrick and stepmother Shelagh kissed each other. They were one of my favourite couples on the show. I based the ostrich horse (ambulance) carriage idea on the fact that it was the most common vehicle during that time (as seen when Yakone escaped his trial). When working as a paramedic/in the emergency room, Katara wears the same uniform as seen on the healer who healed councilman Tarrlok's self-inflicted burn. I even drew two sketches - the first one being with her and Mamoun, the second one with her and Niyok - to show what I had in mind (+ a third one where she's in her regular clothes and yes, her parka is the same one she wears throughout Book 1). One of her patients has the Avatar world's version of measles (same disease, different name), which I made up. There's a reference to one of my recent fics called "Bring your daughter to work day". I teared up a few times when writing out some of the more emotional scenes. I started writing this in the middle of November and now my (new) longest fanfic ever is FINALLY FINISHED! Enjoy!

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"The solstices were always the time of year when both spirits and humans would become closer than ever. If ordinary people, who were just minding their own business, ever came across one, they'd usually be frightened and later tell stories of their encounter with a ghost to their friends, who often didn't believe them.

I came across quite a few spirits during my time travelling the world with my husband. He believed that most spirits were good-hearted beings who were watching over us. I liked to think so, too. Especially when it concerned being a mother to our three wonderful children, or helping other mothers. I liked to think that my own mother's spirit was watching over me, guiding me on that joyous journey with her compassion, courage and love - all the qualities she'd passed down to me, which I'd been carrying along with me in my heart."

"There we go.. all done, Mr. Chen!"

Katara rolled up the unused bandage and put it away in her shoulder bag. She was finishing her morning rounds by doing home visits to a few of her eldest patients, who lived in the northeastern borough, which was known to be a poorer part of the town. Mr. Chen lived very near the border and he was the last patient that morning.

"Thank you so much, dear! Here, take these biscuits with you to share with your colleagues. You hardworking young healers need your daily dose of sugar to have enough energy for the rest of the day."

Katara chuckled as the old man dropped a handful of those leftover sweets into a paper bag and handed it to her.

"And thank you, Mr. Chen! You're really spoiling me and my employees."

He liked to glaze the biscuits with powdered sugar, which made them extra sweet. He'd snack on those and drink some jasmine tea while his healer healed the burns and worked on replacing the old, soiled dressings wrapped around his leg with new, clean ones.

Ever since Mr. Chen was injured, which happened about two weeks ago after he'd accidentally dropped a kettle of boiling water on his right foot, Katara often ended her evening rounds at his place. She would sometimes sit with him for almost an hour, talking about her adventures during the Hundred Year War. Mr. Chen's grandson had marched side by side with her on the Day of Black Sun.

"You deserve it. You're the best healer in the world leading the finest hospital in Republic City. We're all lucky to have you."

Katara released a short giggle, her cheeks blushing a little at the compliment.

"I'm flattered. Well, I'd better get going if I wanna get back to the hospital in time for lunch. I'll see you again in the evening," she said while she tied the two strings, which held her healer's hat in place, together under her chin.

"I certainly hope so. I didn't finish telling you about how the first time Junior tried to earthbend he ended up flinging himself straight up into a tree. Took us nonbenders three hours to figure out how to climb all the way up there and bring him down."

"Can't wait to hear it. Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Chen!"

Katara waved back at him as she stepped out of his tiny apartment, closing the door behind her before she headed downstairs.

Mr. Chen's humble abode was, in every meaning of the word, humble. Located near the sink, stove and food cabinets, there was a dining table, which always had a bowl filled with fruit or cookies on it in case he was expecting guests, along with a wooden chair on either side. His cosy armchair and a coffee table, piled up with newspapers, in front of it were in the opposite corner. These pieces of furniture comprised the kitchen and living room. There was a huge bed just for him in the other room. Necessary everyday items, some souvenirs and photos of his family decorated the shelves and cupboards in either room.

If Katara hadn't known better, she would've guessed that this man was an air nomad. The way he'd arranged his furniture and few personal possessions reminded her of the interior of the air temples, of her own home.

The apartment was located on the third floor, the highest in that building. Katara hurried outside and approached her ambulance carriage, which she'd parked right in front. She climbed up on the driver's seat and began searching for the paper bag she'd dropped among the medical supplies inside her shoulder bag. Once found, she picked one.. No! Two biscuits and stuffed them in her mouth.

"Mmm!.." the waterbender hummed in delight as she crumpled up the paper bag and put it back. She grabbed the reins that were attached to the ostrich horse, who was harnessed to the front of the vehicle. After her mouth was empty from the yummy snack, she clucked her tongue a few times.

"Let's go, Mamoun! Back to the hospital!"

Katara gave the reins a softer flick so her ostrich horse would begin trotting. Puffs of warm air escaped its nostrils as he pulled the carriage. It was nearly a 3-mile ride back to the city center, which would take her less than half an hour in such snowy conditions. She gave another flick and the ostrich horse began cantering.

She and Mamoun were almost the same as Aang and Appa - they'd known each other for almost a decade and they had a unique unbreakable bond. He was her favourite ostrich horse out of all the other ones who drove the ambulance carriages and, whenever possible, she'd choose him each time she was assigned to a call. Every healer who'd had the privilege to ride with Mamoun would say the same - he was the best ostrich horse around.

Sometimes when Katara visited the hospital at the weekend to do some paperwork, she'd bring Kya along. They'd take a break to go see Mamoun and pamper him in the afternoon. Katara would let Kya feed him, comb his mane or even braid it together with her daughter. No wonder the ostrich horse was so fond of the two waterbenders..

"Wait! Ambulance! Please, stop!" a young man shouted as he began running after the carriage Katara was driving. She didn't notice him since she passed him swiftly on a bigger intersection, but she heard his plea. She pulled the reins backwards until her ostrich horse slowly came to a halt. She didn't want the carriage to go out of control on the slippery road.

"Wooaahh there, Mamoun! That's it.. good boy," Katara praised once her vehicle stopped moving. The young man who'd yelled for her to stop caught up with her in a few seconds. He leaned against the edge of her driver's seat to catch his breath.

"Sir, are you okay? What's the matter?" Katara asked as she scooted over to take a closer look at the man. She was ready to examine him.

"I'm fine.. but there's been.. an accident. Please.. you've gotta come and help them!" he panted.

"Hop on!" Katara said as she scooted back and patted the empty side of her seat, waiting for the man to climb aboard. She clucked her tongue and tugged at the left rein to turn Mamoun around.

"Where's the scene of the accident?"

"In the corner of the intersection you just passed, over there!" he said, pointing to a shop to their right a few hundred yards away. Katara let Mamoun trot the way back, then turn right at the crossroad to park the carriage in front of the shop. A small crowd had gathered around the entrance to the shop and someone was clearly moaning in pain.

"Make way! Healer coming through!" Katara exclaimed as she elbowed her way through the crowd, as politely as she could. She gasped once she saw the state one of the injured was in.

"Oh my gosh.. what happened here?" she inquired as she sat down on her knees, next to the plump middle-aged man who was lying in a pile of snow. He was conscious, but his left knee was completely dislocated.

"Ohh.. I was putting up some decorations for the winter solstice celebration. The next thing I knew, the ladder slipped away from under my feet and I was lying here on my back."

"You didn't faint, did you?" Katara asked as she withdrew the water from her pouch and began waterbending it over his body to detect internal injuries, especially ones in his spine. He shook his head.

"I saw it happen. He was trying to reach the windowsill on the second floor to put up these lights, but it was too far away and he lost balance. He fell on his left foot. Unfortunately, the ladder fell on this customer's head just as he was coming out of the shop," the young man, who'd brought Katara there, explained and gestured towards another man, who was sitting on the steps leading inside the shop a few feet away. Katara glanced at the other victim. He was rubbing his head.

"Oh no.. make sure that he doesn't leave before I've examined him, too! I'll get right on that as soon as I'm done with this gentleman here. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, mister..?"

"..Othmar. Call me Otto. Everybody does," he chuckled, but winced a second later as Katara carefully waterbended the glowing water up his thigh, over his left knee and down to his toes. Her stomach churned when she felt the way the bones and muscles around his knee were out of place and strained.

"Can you move your toes for me, Otto?"

Katara watched how the tips of his boots moved slightly as he wiggled his toes. She sighed in relief as she waterbended the water back inside her pouch.

"Good. I didn't feel anything wrong, other than your knee, which seems to have popped out of the socket. You're lucky this soft pile of snow was here to break your fall."

"So, what now, healer.. healer..?"

"Katara."

"Healer Katara. Can't you just pop it right back in?"

"Otto, I think you and I both know that getting it back in the right position isn't going to be easy. Especially since you're struggling just to hold it still and it's causing you so much pain. I'd like to take you to the hospital where my healers can carry out the necessary procedure to fix your knee in a calmer, warmer and more private room."

"Sounds good to me."

"Young man, could you help me?" Katara turned to the lad who'd brought her there. The crowd gave her some room as she walked to the back of her ambulance carriage, hopped inside and slid out a stretcher, which the young man helped carry and lay down next to Othmar. Katara knelt down beside him again and began fiddling with her healer's belt.

"I'm going to lift you onto this stretcher now, Otto. And then we'll lift you onto my carriage and drive to the hospital. You should try to keep your knee as still as possible. It might hurt a little."

"What's with the syringe there, healer Katara?" Othmar asked, his green eyes growing wide as she drew some medicine into it from a small vial.

"I'm gonna give you some morphine to reduce the pain until we reach the hospital," Katara barely managed to finish her sentence before the needle already poked him near his thigh. That small pinch was nothing compared to the radiating pain around his knee. After giving the injection, she stood up and waterbended the snow underneath Othmar's body into a thicker layer of ice, using the smooth plate to lift him onto the stretcher. The young man helped her carry him onto the bed inside the carriage.

"There's one more patient who requires my attention before we go. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

Otto smiled and nodded to her. Katara jumped out from the back of the carriage and walked over to her second patient, who remained sitting on those steps in front of the shop. The young man followed her every step and stayed close behind, like a little helper.

"Hello, sir! I'm healer Katara. Can you tell me where it hurts?" she asked as she squatted down in front of him.

"Ugh.. my head, obviously. You heard what the boy said. I got hit by a ladder."

Katara looked behind her, slightly surprised to see the young man standing very near them. She gave him a quick smile and turned her attention back to the injured man. He supported his head on the palms of his hands and he didn't wanna look up at her. She couldn't see any visible cuts or bleeding beneath his short hair.

"Do you feel any dizziness? Nausea?"

"Yes, I'm a bit dizzy.. but only a little bit. Look, I'm not the one you should be worried about. It's just a bump. The other guy was in pretty bad shape."

"Sir, I'm a healer. It's my job to worry about everyone's health. Now, did you faint after being hit with the ladder?"

"I don't know.. maybe? I'm not sure," he pondered, feebly shaking his head, still preferring to stare down at the ground.

"He did. When I ran over to help, he was unconscious for a minute," the young man added.

"In that case, it's not just a bump. I hope you don't mind coming along with me for a routine checkup to make sure that you don't have a concussion," Katara said as she snaked an arm under his to help him up. Other than a groan from having to stand up when the world was slightly spinning around, her patient showed no sign of protest. The young man grabbed his other arm to help Katara walk him over to the ambulance carriage.

"Sorry, we're short of beds right now. You'll have to sit on the healer's bench on our way there," Katara apologized, supporting the man while he took a seat opposite to Othmar.

"If either of you start to feel worse, you let me know right away. Got it?" she instructed with a wave of her finger. Both her patients understood, so she turned around. The waterbender was pleasantly surprised to see the young man offer his hand to help her climb down from the back of the ambulance carriage.

"Thank you, young man! What's your name?"

"Azor."

"Wait here, Azor..."

Katara ran to the front of the carriage and leaned over her driver's seat. She shuffled through her shoulder bag for a few seconds, then skipped back to the young man with a proud smile on her face.

"Here, have some biscuits for being such a caring citizen and calling for help."

"Wow! I, uh.. I don't know what to say. Thank you!" Azor chuckled and hesitantly picked up three biscuits from inside the paper bag. Katara crumpled up the top, then proceeded to close the doors at the back of the carriage.

As the majority of the crowd began to disperse, she heard someone coughing horribly. It didn't sound like a normal cough and the fit lasted for several seconds. Katara looked around until she spotted a very small girl, not older than her Kya, coughing in the alley between the shop and the neighbouring building. It looked like she was trying to remain hidden, yet wanting to be seen by her.

"Azor, would you guard my ambulance carriage? I'll be right back," Katara said, patting him on the shoulder before approaching the little girl. As soon as she saw the healer coming closer, she ran further into the alley.

"Hello? Little girl? Are you okay?" Katara called to her. She peeked from behind the corner of the shop playfully. The child stood in the middle of the alley, keeping a safe distance tens of feet away from the stranger.

If her parents had been in the crowd, she would've been with them. But she seemed to be alone. She couldn't have been homeless since she didn't look malnourished and she was wearing nice clothes. But the amount of layers she had on for such cold weather was what worried Katara. Only a summer dress as yellow as the sun, a snow-white long-sleeved blouse underneath and shoes of the same colour with laces tied up neatly. No scarf, no coat, no winter boots. It was weird that she wasn't shivering.

She started coughing again, this time the fit lasted for at least a minute. Katara didn't like the sound of that one bit.

"Hi there, little one! There's no need to be scared," she spoke in her motherly voice, taking a few steps closer and then squatting down a bit. The little girl didn't budge.

"My name's Katara, I'm a healer. What's your name?" she wondered. The little girl still didn't answer, she merely tilted her head and stared right back at the woman.

"It's okay, come here! I heard that you have a nasty cough. I can help you feel better. Would you like to come with me to my ambulance carriage?"

At that suggestion, the little girl turned around and began running away towards the other end of the alley. Stupid! That was the only word going through Katara's mind as she dashed right after the child. She could've phrased her request a lot better. Obviously the girl's parents had taught her not to go with strangers.

"Wait up! Please, I wanna help you!" Katara shouted to the child, but she continued scampering.

What kind of parents would send their child out on the cold streets in such light clothing? And she looked so young to be wandering around all alone, her home must've been nearby. How did she seem fine in appearance yet sound so unwell when she coughed? Thinking about the situation brought up more questions than answers.

The little girl reached the other end of the alley and turned left on the corner. By the time Katara came out of the narrow path between the buildings, she was gone. For a clearly ill child who had difficulty breathing, she sure did run fast.

While Katara tried to catch her breath, she looked around the wide street. A couple of pedestrians were walking on either side of the street, further away from her. One or two regular ostrich horse carriages passed her. But there was no sign of a little girl in a bright yellow dress. There weren't many hiding places either unless she ran into another alley around the corner. She should've spotted the girl immediately.

"Monkey feathers!.." Katara muttered under her breath. She gave the surrounding area a second look. Sighing in defeat, she turned around and headed back to her own ambulance carriage. There were two other patients who required medical attention.

"Thank you for all your help, Azor!" Katara waved back at him after she'd flicked the reins and the carriage started moving. The young man had stayed put and looked after her vehicle like she'd asked while she ventured after the little girl. She hoped the tasty reward she'd given him was enough to show how much she appreciated his help. Judging by the way his face lit up when she offered it to him, he was delighted by her gratitude. Or at least he didn't expect to receive anything in return. That was one good deed done for the day.

Katara smiled at that thought. She liked to meet people who were like Azor - willing to give anything to help others in need yet asking for nothing in return. All those selfless faces she'd met throughout the years were like mirrors that reflected herself, how much she was willing to sacrifice. Her small detour to the scene of that accident had only taken her ten minutes. She made up for lost time thanks to Mamoun, who cantered the way back.

Katara arrived at the hospital within a quarter of an hour. The clock on her husband's memorial island struck noon just as she stopped by the northern entrance, which led straight to the emergency room. It was specifically meant as a pit stop for ambulance carriages so the paramedics could hand over the patients they were transporting.

Katara hopped out of the driver's seat and ran inside to fetch a couple of employees who would help her bring the patients inside. She returned less than half a minute later, accompanied by three other healers, who she'd briefed about the incident and her patients' conditions. Two of them lifted Othmar out on the stretcher, using that to carry him onto an empty bed in the emergency room.

"Did you enjoy the ride, Otto? I hope it didn't shake your knee too much," Katara asked.

"Nah, it wasn't too rough. That shot you gave me really worked wonders. It's like I can barely feel the pain."

"Good, that's the way it's supposed to be. Now go inside, Otto. My healers will take good care of you," she assured him by giving his hand a gentle squeeze before letting her workers admit him.

The third healer helped Katara by supporting the other man from under his arm as he staggered out from the carriage and sat down in a wheelchair. He didn't look too happy. In fact, he looked even more under the weather, like he would throw up any minute. The bumpy ride on the carriage hadn't done much good for his dizziness. At least he'll be under close observation now.

Katara watched how the healer pushed him inside. By the time he'd been admitted too, the two healers brought the stretcher back. She thanked her employees before she hopped back on her driver's seat and guided Mamoun to the stable on the western side of the building. Having parked the ambulance carriage amongst the other ones, Katara also thanked Mamoun for all his hard work with a nice big juicy red apple. Having said her goodbyes to the ostrich horse, she headed inside through the main entrance on the southern side of the hospital. She deserved a break after a busy morning, which meant eating lunch with her good friends.

Katara took the elevator up to the floor where the cafeteria was located. She was craving for something salty after those sweet biscuits Mr. Chen had given her. She brought the paper bag along to share them with her colleagues, exactly like she'd promised him.

The cafeteria was usually packed around high noon, but it was surprisingly calm today. Katara gazed around the wide room to find an empty table for four. Some other healers were already enjoying their meal, as well as a few patients who weren't on bed rest, and a couple of visitors. None of her companions had arrived yet.

Her choice for the second meal of the day included stewed sea prunes, which always reminded her of her homeland, two moon peaches and a cup of green tea. Since most healers were from the Water Tribes, the cooks prepared a wider variety of water tribe dishes for the workers to choose from.

Katara took a seat behind the table she'd chosen and put the tray of food down in front of her. She hung her shoulder bag on the edge of the chair, taking the bag of biscuits out and placing it in the middle of the table. She untied the strings under her chin to remove her healer's hat. After that, she began slurping down some steaming broth from her bowl of sea prunes.

"Mmm..." she hummed in delight. It was one of her favourite childhood dishes which she'd never get tired of. She managed to finish almost half of it before someone tapped on her shoulder.

"Is this seat taken?"

"Niyok, hi!" Katara exclaimed, jumping up from her chair to hug her old friend. Niyok was one of the bubbliest healers around. Well, she wasn't exactly a healer since she wasn't a waterbender, so the correct term for her occupation would be a doctor. But her cheerful personality affected everybody around her in the most positive way. She'd given up her job at the refinery soon after Katara had established the first hospital in Republic City. She spent a few months as an intern there and started working as a doctor from then on.

"It's good to see you, Katara. So, you're working in the emergency room today?" Niyok wondered as she sat down in the chair right next to her.

"Well, yeah.. Can't you see I'm dressed in my healer's uniform?"

The two girls shared a good laugh. Being the best healer in the world, Katara was dedicated to helping out in all the departments of her hospital. Most of her time at work passed in her own office at the top floor, where she worked as a family physician and her working hours were full of appointments. On some days, just like this one, she'd assist in the emergency room as a paramedic who'd drive an ambulance carriage to the scenes of accidents, examine the patients brought in by other paramedics, plus do home visits or special morning and evening rounds. The most rare occasions were scheduled important surgeries.

"You look fabulous in that uniform."

"He-he, thanks!" Katara chuckled. The rest of the conversation passed in a similar joyous mood. Two other healers joined them a few minutes later, one of them being a family physician and the other a specialist in her field. Having exchanged a bit more formal greetings with their boss and co-worker, the four ladies could all dig in.

"Mhm.. did anything interesting happen in the morning?" Niyok asked while nibbling on a piece of blubbered seal jerky.

"Besides home visits and an accident involving a dislocated knee and a bump to the head, umm.. nothing big," Katara joked, shrugging her shoulders. Everybody giggled.

"Oh! But there was one thing. I saw a little girl dressed in very light clothing alone on the streets. She had a terrible cough, but I couldn't persuade her to come with me so I could examine her."

"Mphm.. Mm-maybe she was an orphan?" the specialist asked, her mouth half full.

"I don't think so. She was well dressed and she didn't look mistreated. She seemed to be around the same age as Kya. How many little girls have visited their family physicians recently? With the main symptom being an abnormal cough?"

"Oh, quite many since it's the flu season," the family physician replied. Katara knitted her brows and hummed in thought. She couldn't narrow it down, hence she decided to leave it at that for now. She opened the paper bag, being the first one to reach inside for a few biscuits. Everybody else followed her example.

"Mmm! I love these biscuits so much!" Niyok said, grabbing two more.

"Nobody makes them quite like Mr. Chen does," the family physician agreed. All four ladies nodded and hummed in delight as they enjoyed the dessert their boss had arranged. After such a delicious lunch to keep them going for the rest of the day, each healer returned to their respective wards.

Katara headed back down to the emergency room on the first floor to help the paramedics who brought in new patients. Healing broken bones and treating mild sprains was what kept her busy during the following hour. Those were the most common injuries during winter. Luckily none of those people needed to be referred to the orthopedist, unlike Othmar.

Katara heard that Otto had been very cooperative with her healers, but spirits did he scream when they pulled his knee back in place. Not even morphine or the healer waterbending the water around his knee could relieve the pain he felt at that moment. The good news was that he was recovering in the general ward and would soon begin his physiotherapy. The healers who'd treated him said that if he worked really hard there, along with a little help provided by them healing his muscles and joints daily, he should be up and running on his feet again within a week or two.

Katara was nearly done healing a fracture in a woman's forearm just as the phone rang and the receptionist answered it.

"Republic City Hospital, what seems to be the problem?.. I see, but we don't usually send an ambulance to check on a patient who only has a high fever-" she attempted to explain, but the person on the other end of the line seemed to be very persistent and loud, judging by the way she held the receiver further away from her ear until they finished talking.

"Who's your family physician?.. Uh-uh, you haven't been able to contact her since it's her day off today."

The caller spoke again for a few seconds. The receptionist quirked an eyebrow.

"Why do you want a light-skinned healer?"

That question attracted Katara's attention as well. She continued wrapping her current patient's arm in a sling while eavesdropping on the unusual conversation. The receptionist sighed as she grabbed a pen.

"What's your address?.. Uh-uh.. uh-uh.. southeastern borough. Got it. We'll send an ambulance as soon as possible. Good day!" she said with a fake smile, hanging up so quickly Katara didn't even manage to blink. The waterbender sent the lady, whose broken arm she'd healed, on her way and approached the receptionist.

"What was that about?"

"A mother called. Her daughter has a high fever and she wants a light-skinned healer to do a home visit. Their family physician, doctor Rima, is off-duty today."

"Why does she want a light-skinned healer?"

"I don't know.. She just claimed that she doesn't like dark-skinned ones, especially Water Tribe healers or any of those Fire Nation shamans. Ugh, she sounded so vicious when she said that!"

"Hmm.. maybe they're just used to seeing their regular doctor. I mean, Rima is from the Earth Kingdom, after all."

"I don't know, Master Katara. Maybe she's just racist?"

"Let's not prejudge so soon," Katara tried to cheer up the receptionist, holding a supportive hand on her shoulder. It was easy for her to say, she wasn't the one who had to listen to that complaining on the phone. She read the address written down on the paper on the desk.

"I'm gonna take this call myself," Katara said, turning around to go grab her shoulder bag full of medical instruments and head outside through the main entrance. She took that call gladly. Healing one broken bone after another was becoming a bit tedious for her. Katara was a woman who couldn't sit still in one place for very long, not to mention do nothing at all.

As she came around the corner and reached the stable where the ambulance carriages were parked, she was surprised to see her favourite ostrich horse resting in a small pile of snow.

"Hey there, Mamoun! You're still here.." Katara coaxed. Her familiar voice got the animal's attention as he lifted his head to look at her approach him calmly. There were two rules that everybody had to follow when approaching an ostrich horse. First, never approach him from behind since he can't see the person coming. And second, never approach him while running or making loud noises. Both actions could scare the animal.

Katara stepped beside him and tenderly stroked his beak. She could see how much he enjoyed it by the way he closed his big brown eyes every time she did that. She reached for some hay from the trough and held it in front of Mamoun's beak, slowly lifting it higher until he stood up on his legs, shaking the snowflakes out of his feathers. Warm air came out of his nostrils in small puffs, stroking the waterbender's bare fingers as he sniffed the food before accepting it.

"Good boy," Katara said, running her hand through his soft grey mane, which prompted him to nicker.

"Didn't anybody else wanna ride with you?" she wondered and continued combing Mamoun's mane until he finished eating. The ostrich horse shook his head for an answer, almost as if he'd understood what she'd asked him. The response only made Katara giggle.

"You ready to ride now?"

Mamoun snorted and threw his head back a little, which she took as a 'yes'. Katara checked that his harness was attached correctly, hopped in the driver's seat and gently pulled the left rein to turn the carriage towards the front of the hospital.

The woman who'd made the call to the emergency room lived in the middle of the southeastern borough. It was a quick 10-minute ride there.

The pavements on either side of the roads were covered in huge hills of snow, only the paths leading to the doors of the houses had been shovelled clean. Katara didn't see a problem. She simply waterbended a big pile of snow away with a flick of her wrist, making enough space in front of the rather nice apartment building where she had to visit. Having parked Mamoun outside, she headed inside and knocked against one of the doors on the ground floor.

"Healer calling!" Katara shouted and waited for someone to open the door. The faintest answer, followed by some shuffling, echoed from inside, indicating that someone was coming. The lock clicked a few seconds later and a pregnant woman pulled the door open.

"Took you long enough.. Ugh! I specifically asked for a light-skinned healer."

Katara gulped, but offered a sincere smile.

"Good afternoon, madam! I'm well aware of that, but I'm all you've got. The other healers are busy saving the lives of others."

"I don't want a dark-skinned woman like you anywhere near my daughter! I'm going to report you to your boss!"

Katara's eyes grew wide for a moment, then narrowed into a glare. She didn't like being threatened.

"Well, in that case, you can report straight to me," she said and crossed her arms.

"Wait, what?" the woman exclaimed, staring at the healer wide-eyed.

"You're talking to her. I'm the boss - Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, the best healer in the world and head of the Republic City Hospital - at your service. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to take a look at your daughter."

The mother grunted, but stepped aside and let Katara enter. She wiped her feet on the doormat and watched how the lady shut the door.

"And you are?.."

"Jia."

"Okay, Jia, where's the patient?"

"Right this way," she said, intentionally bumping against the healer with her big belly in the cramped corridor and leading the way to the living room. This was going to be one pleasant home visit.

Their apartment was small but cosy, there was enough room for a nuclear family. As the two women entered the living room, Katara could see a brunette little girl lying on the couch in the middle of the room, wrapped up in a warm blanket. She moved a little under the blanket and her small hands peeked out from the edge, pulling the covers up to her neck. Katara gasped at the sight of all-too-familiar red marks on her skin. She nearly shrieked, but she managed to cover her mouth in time. She didn't want to frighten the girl nor her mother.

"What's the matter?" Jia asked, completely bewildered by the healer's reaction. Katara stood in the same spot for a few seconds to gather herself.

"N-nothing.. I just need to take a closer look," she stammered, after which she approached the child cautiously. She stared at the healer with her big olive green eyes.

"Hello! I'm healer Katara. What's your name?" Katara wondered. She removed her shoulder bag and put it on the coffee table next to the couch, the medical instruments clinking together inside.

"Jia-Li," the girl answered, then went into a coughing fit. Katara squatted down beside her.

"That's a beautiful name, Jia-Li. Are you named after your mommy?"

She nodded and smiled at the healer.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" Katara asked, pointing at the edge of the couch. Jia-Li shook her head and gave the waterbender some room for sitting.

"Aahh, there we go.. Jia-Li, how old are you?"

"Ten."

"Alright. A little winged lemur told me that you're not feeling well. I'm going to examine you now so I can help you feel better. Are you okay with that? Does that sound like a good plan to you?"

Jia-Li nodded again, watching how Katara began rummaging through her bag.

"Wait a minute, I never asked you to carry out an examination. I don't want you touching my daughter! You wanted to see her, you saw her. Now you can just lower her fever and leave!" Jia yelled slightly and pointed to the door. Katara merely released an exasperated sigh.

"Okay.. Jia, the most important thing for you right now is to remain calm. Being angry isn't good for your baby. And what concerns your daughter, then first off, I don't know how high her fever is or if I even need to lower it. I have to take her temperature before I can do that. Second, you didn't mention the spots all over her body! I need to examine her to find out what's wrong with her. And third, I'm not going anywhere until I've given your daughter a proper diagnosis, the right course of treatment and lowered her fever if necessary, all of which involves touching her."

The two women glared at each other in silence for what felt like an awkwardly long minute, but in reality it lasted for a couple of seconds. Jia's face was more grimaced, whereas Katara's expression looked much more restrained. It was the piercing coldness in her diamond blue eyes and slightly knitted brows that made her look a lot more serious and furious than she was showing.

"You can call the hospital again if you want, but they know I'm stationed here. They won't send anyone else," Katara shrugged nonchalantly, then proceeded with the exam. Jia huffed and decided to grab a chair from her kitchen so she could observe what the healer was going to do to her daughter. Being in her third trimester with her second child, her feet thanked her for every opportunity to sit down and rest from the extra weight.

"Does she have any other symptoms? Besides a high fever and these spots," Katara asked as she lifted Jia-Li's right arm and placed a thermometer under there.

"Just a cough," the mother added while she carefully looked into her daughter's inflamed eyes.

"I see.." Katara thought for a second, then pulled out her stethoscope from her bag. She put the earpieces in her ears and breathed on the cold diaphragm to warm it up.

"I'll just have a quick listen, okay?" she explained, after which she lifted the girl's shirt up a bit and laid the diaphragm on her chest. She couldn't hear any crackles when listening to her lungs, which was a very good sign, but she felt how badly Jia-Li shivered. Her fever must've been climbing and she would've wanted to bury herself under a heap of blankets instead.

"Can you cough for me?" Katara asked in a hushed tone once she reached the lower part of her chest. Jia-Li did so twice so she could compare the sounds coming from either lung. Katara was very pleased since they sounded identical.

"And I'm gonna listen to your heart, too," she said with a loving smile, placing the metal end of her stethoscope above the girl's heart. The high fever must've spiked the heart rate as well, but the beats were otherwise steady and she couldn't hear any murmurs. Another good sign.

"Can you sit up for me? I'd like to listen from your back, too."

Jia-Li gave her a quick nod, after which she grabbed her weak arms to slowly help her sit up. Katara stood up from the couch and stepped behind the girl, pulled her shirt up and laid the diaphragm against her back, repeating the same pattern. The poor child was shaking like a leaf the entire time, and not because she was scared.

As soon as Katara finished auscultating, Jia-Li plopped back against the pillows, grabbed the blanket and pulled it up to her neck again in the blink of an eye. It wasn't helping against her chills, she was shivering visibly underneath the covers. Katara removed the stethoscope from her ears, coiled it up and dropped the medical instrument back inside her shoulder bag.

"Jia-Li, I could feel you trembling and I know it's because you're cold, but you were such a brave girl for letting me listen to you," she praised her patient with gentle strokes along her hot forehead. The waterbender took out a wooden tongue depressor from her bag and sat back down on the couch.

"There's just one more thing I'd like to do before I'm done. Open your mouth.. stick out your tongue.. That's it, good girl... Say 'Aahh!'."

"Aahh!"

The little girl followed the healer's instructions obediently. Her throat looked fine, but Katara noticed something else, something that confirmed her fears. There were white spots inside her mouth.

"Alright, that's enough," Katara said as she pulled the wooden stick out of her mouth, prompting Jia-Li to come down with another nasty coughing fit. She frowned, waiting until the poor girl caught her breath again.

"Can I have my thermometer back now?" she asked with a smile, fiddling with the collar of the girl's shirt until she could grab the tip of the medical instrument and pull it out from under her arm. Katara stared at the mercury, which had risen unusually high inside the glass. She would've been a lot more staggered by the measurement if she hadn't known all the other symptoms. A fever of nearly 40 degrees didn't surprise her anymore.

"Thank you for being such a good patient, Jia-Li. Here's what I'd like to do next - you have a very high fever, it's almost 40 degrees. That's why you're so cold. I'd like to help you by lowering that fever with my healing abilities so you'd be a bit more comfortable. Would you like that?"

She nodded, watching how Katara summoned the water from her pouch around her hands, then placed them on her temple. The liquid shined a bright blue glow around her face and the healer's hands.

"Jia, I'd like to have a word with you after I'm finished here and before I leave," Katara said, glancing back at the mother for a moment. She gave the healer a disapproving look as she stood up from her chair and asked her daughter whether she'd like some tea. The little girl hummed a 'yes', being unable to move her head to nod or to look at her mother since Katara was holding it steady. She heard how the kettle was placed on the stove and the water was poured inside.

For a minute or two, Jia-Li didn't feel any different, her head shivered against the waterbender's palms. The cooling sensation started to take over five minutes later, by which time her fever must've fallen into a much more normal range between 37 to 38 degrees. She'd stopped shivering by then.

"Tell me, how are you feeling now?" Katara wondered as she finished the healing session by waterbending the water back into her pouch.

"Much better. Thank you, healer Katara!" Jia-Li said, prompting Katara to giggle as she laid one hand over her temple and grabbed her wrist with the other one to check her pulse. It was a lot slower now that her fever had fallen.

"You're welcome!.. Alright, Jia-Li, I'm just gonna go talk to your mommy for a minute before I leave. Will you promise me that you'll be a good patient by getting lots of rest and drinking as much tea as your mommy makes?"

"I promise."

"Good girl. I'll see you soon!" Katara stroked her head one last time before she stood up, hung her shoulder bag across her chest and beckoned Jia to come to the corridor with her for a more private conversation.

"Jia, I'm afraid your daughter has pentapox."

"So? Go ahead, make her better!"

"I'm sorry, but there's nothing more I can do than lower her fever for the time being. There is no cure for pentapox."

"Then how does she get better?"

"You wait. Pentapox blows over in a week or so. You should treat the illness like a regular cold, but with an unusually high fever. That's why I'm prescribing you some paracetamol, which will help lower the fever when it gets too high," Katara said, writing the prescription down on paper and handing the document to the mother.

"Give Jia-Li plenty of fluids to drink. Both of you have to be very careful when coming in contact with other people since pentapox is highly contagious. Wash your hands, stay indoors as much as possible and try to avoid any contact until your daughter recovers. Keep a close eye on that fever and cough. If it gets worse or Jia-Li loses consciousness, you have to call for an ambulance immediately."

"Anything else?"

"Yes. I have to ask, why hasn't your daughter been vaccinated against pentapox?"

Jia averted her gaze down at the floor to avoid the healer's scrutinizing diamond blue eyes, fiddling with the prescription in her hands in complete silence.

"Do you know how dangerous it is for you to be near a person sick with pentapox, especially in your condition?"

"I don't want any poison injected into me or my children!" she spat out. Katara became even more enraged. She hated to see children suffer because of their parents' ignorance.

"Oh, for goodness' sake! Vaccines are not poison!" she exclaimed, practically wanting to scream, but she pinched her nose and took a deep breath. She had to keep her voice down, keeping in mind that Jia was expecting.

"A vaccine is a weakened form of the disease which your body will react to, creating special antibodies that'll protect you for the rest of your life. Now tell me, would you risk having the disease in its full form and dying from it? Or would you rather get a quick shot and basically have no symptoms at all and get a protective shield forever?"

The mother remained quiet after that. Katara sighed in exasperation once more.

"I'll arrange for another vaccinated Water Tribe healer to come visit your home daily until Jia-Li has fully recovered. They can lower her fever if the paracetamol isn't working. They'll also report back to me and doctor Rima, keeping us informed and updated on your daughter's condition and progress. When she's feeling better, they'll make sure that you make an appointment with your family physician so she can examine her properly."

The waterbender already grabbed the door knob, but turned around one last time.

"Oh, and one more thing! To avoid catching or spreading pentapox in the future, you need to be vaccinated, too, after you've given birth to your second child. I'll tell doctor Rima to handle that as soon as possible.. Good day!" Katara said as she stepped outside of the flat, hearing how Jia huffed an ungrateful 'thank you' before closing the door behind her.

"Pshh!.. Some people," Katara muttered under her breath as she washed her hands in the nearest pile of snow by waterbending it into water so she could at least grab the reins to guide her ostrich horse back to the hospital. The first thing she'd have to do is take a shower.

"Let's go, Mamoun," she said and clucked her tongue, tugging at the left rein so he'd pull the carriage out from her makeshift parking space. She gave the reins two flicks in a row once they were on the street and the vehicle was moving straight forward.

There'd been outbreaks of a disease with similar symptoms countless times in the past. During the current era, where modern medicine was making remarkable development, healers and doctors started gathering information on all known illnesses and documenting them in books. They needed to come up with a name for this particular deadly infectious disease. Since it came in the form of a high fever along with red marks all over the patient's body, Katara remembered what she, Sokka and Aang had once done in Omashu, hence she decided to call it pentapox.

It'd taken her scientists two years to develop a vaccine for it and ever since it came out, most children and even adults were being vaccinated against pentapox. Katara had immunized everybody in her family - Aang, Bumi, Kya - except for Tenzin, who was still too young to receive the shot. She'd even let one of her own healers give her the shot so she'd be protected as well.

People like Jia endangered everybody else who weren't vaccinated yet, especially other children, whose parents would not allow their family physicians to give them these shots. Katara sighed sadly at the thought, slouching a bit in her driver's seat. As Mamoun cantered most of the way, she slowed him down near each intersection to check that no other vehicles were crossing the road.

She pulled him into a complete stop before she reached the border between the city center and the southeastern borough, allowing a bunch of pedestrians to safely cross one of the streets as well as a trolley to pass. She was lost in her thoughts when she suddenly heard someone coughing. It sounded uncomfortably familiar, like what she'd heard earlier in the morning. Katara immediately became more alert as she sat up and eyed the small crowd who'd crossed the street to her right. She couldn't see anyone familiar, particularly any little girls donning a bright yellow dress. She flicked the reins once the path was clear to order Mamoun to begin trotting again.

Having passed the intersection and the first few buildings on that side of the road, she heard it again. Katara looked to her left, then to her right. Her eyes darted at the small figure on the sidewalk, running along at the same pace as her ostrich horse right next to her ambulance carriage. It was her, the same little girl with the unusual cough, who she'd chased in an alley in the northeastern borough.

Katara yanked the reins so hard that Mamoun nearly ran off course, neighing as he pulled the carriage to a sudden halt. Katara bumped against the protective wall in front of her seat, but otherwise remained unharmed. Luckily, he hadn't started cantering yet, so their speed was much slower.

The sounds of other vehicles stopping behind hers, along with panicking ostrich horses followed. The waterbender held a hand across her ribs as she carefully hopped out of the driver's seat to take a look at the damage she'd done. Two carriages were criss-crossed rather close behind hers. She'd nearly caused a collision between all three of them.

"Hey! Watch it, lady! Some of us are driving here!" the man who'd been riding an ostrich horse carriage right behind hers shouted to her, shaking his fist in the air.

"Sorry! I'm a healer! It was an emergency!" Katara apologized. He and the second driver guided their ostrich horses around her ambulance carriage and headed their way. She checked whether her own vehicle was still intact. Mamoun was a bit shaken from the whole incident. She grabbed some fodder and a slice of bread from his feeding bag at the back of the carriage.

"It's okay, Mamoun. Everything's okay now.." Katara coaxed him by running her hand down his mane. The ostrich horse calmed down and sniffed the food she offered to him before nibbling it out of her hand.

"I'm sorry," she said and stroked his beak after he'd finished eating. Mamoun shook his feathers, glittering Katara with the snowflakes that'd been stuck in between, then nuzzled his beak against her chest. The waterbender giggled as she hugged him back. She was forgiven.

Their bonding moment was ruined when Katara heard the little girl cough again. She was peeking at the two of them from behind the corner of another alley tens of feet away.

"It's you.. How did you find me?" Katara asked as she approached the girl, who hid behind the corner once she'd gotten too close. When she stepped into the alley, the little one was already waiting for her behind the next corner.

"Please, come here. I'm not going to hurt you. I wanna help you, you're not well," Katara spoke in her motherly voice, trying to negotiate with the child as she slowly approached her. She ran further into the narrow path between those two houses. Katara wasn't going to let her get out of sight this time. She quickly waterbended the surrounding piles of snow into ice and began sliding on it to chase her in the maze of alleys between the buildings.

"Wait up! Why are you running away from me? I'm trying to help you!" Katara shouted to her, but the girl continued scampering. She was very fast skating on her element, but the little one was even faster on foot. The chase came to an abrupt end when Katara slid out from behind another corner and almost crashed into a brick wall. She waterbended the ice into a smooth curve under her feet, managing to dodge the walls of the houses. It was a dead end and the girl had disappeared. She'd lost her, again.

Katara frantically looked around - there weren't any hiding places, any other paths the child could've taken. She would've noticed if the girl had turned around and run back the way she came. She didn't understand, nothing made sense. It was like she'd just vanished into thin air.

Katara lifted herself high in the sky by bending the ice into a water, or much rather a snow spout. She did a full circle above the rooftops to get a better idea of her surroundings. She was almost half a mile away from her starting point, much nearer to the border of the eastern borough. They'd meandered through the alleys, but Katara realized that there was a pattern - the little girl had always headed northwards. It was no wonder she'd ended up there.

But how did the girl end up in a completely different part of town? And how could she have known that the healer was there? Did she follow her all the way back to the hospital and then to Jia's home without her noticing?

"Arrrgh! Double monkey feathers!" Katara screamed as she bended the snow back down towards the ground. This mystery was starting to drive her nuts.

She went back to her ambulance carriage by following her own icy path. Having plopped down in her driver's seat, Katara groaned and clutched her stomach. Maybe that impact had been worse than she'd thought. She waterbended the water from her pouch around her hands and examined her ribcage. She sighed in relief since she couldn't feel any broken ribs. The clock on Avatar Aang Memorial Island began striking, it was three o'clock. Time to return to the hospital for a disinfecting shower, plus a short healing session to be sure that she was okay after that small crash.

It was getting dark outside by the time Katara arrived back at the hospital, which was only about five minutes later. The day of the winter solstice was the shortest one in the year after all. She'd parked her ambulance carriage and headed inside through the main entrance. As she walked to the elevator and waited for it to come down, the receptionist saw that she was back from her home visit. Katara looked her dead in the eye.

"Oh yeah.. she was racist alright."

The receptionist held a hand in front of her mouth to stifle her laughter since she was on the phone. She felt so happy. Judging by the self-satisfied smirk on her superior's face, she'd put that lady in her place.

Katara took the elevator upstairs by a few floors and headed straight to the nearest changing room meant for her female staff. It was a vast area made up of two rooms - one for dressing and storing clothes in lockers, the other half consisted of about a dozen shower stalls separated by opaque curtains. These rooms were mostly used by nurses, paramedics or surgeons since family physicians and specialists didn't need to change uniforms that often. The latter two usually changed clothes in their own offices or, like scientists, they'd simply put on a white lab coat and go straight to work.

As Katara went through the dressing room, where a couple of healers were chit-chatting about their day, she stepped inside the shower room where three other ladies were busy washing themselves. She dropped her shoulder bag on one of the benches in the middle of the dry area. First, she disposed of the water she'd used to lower Jia-Li's fever, then swilled the inside of her pouch with some fresh water before filling it completely.

Next, she undressed down to her undergarments, leaving the rest of her clothes next to her bag, and stepped under the shower. Washing herself always helped her relax. It felt soothing to stand under the running water, to let it caress her skin and cleanse her of the blood, sweat and tears she'd poured, to be at peace with her element. She didn't mind any company either, especially if it was a certain airbender who liked to play with her and her element whenever they showered together at home.

Katara ran her hands softly over her skin, combing them through her long loose hair, washing her face, sliding her fingers down to her forearms, coming back up to her neck, then down to her chest. As her hands slid over the sarashi covering her breasts, she felt something strange. She sensed her own heartbeat against her fingertips, as if she'd just inadvertently used her healing abilities near the area. She looked down, her hands were indeed glowing.

Katara dropped the water and as soon as the glow faded, she gasped. She saw a large pinkish bruise slightly above her stomach, on the lower half of her ribcage. She summoned some more water around her hands to examine the injury more thoroughly. No internal organs were hurt, the bones were strong and healthy for a woman her age. But the bruised spot was tender when she palpated around it with her fingers. She hoped that healing it a little bit more would help ease the pain.

Having dealt with her injuries and scrubbed herself clean, Katara began washing her clothes. She took each item of clothing separately along with her under the shower - the white uniform, the mauve skirt, the shoes, the healer's belt and hat. Everything had to go since she couldn't risk spreading pentapox to her other patients. She and a few high-ranking specialists had established some very strict rules on how to act when it concerned highly infectious diseases that didn't have a cure yet. Taking a thorough shower and washing the equipment used was one of them.

Katara dried herself by waterbending the excess drops of water off her skin, repeating the same procedure with her uniform so she could put it back on. After she was dressed again, she left the showers and took a seat on the line of benches in the locker room, dropping her shoulder bag next to her. She found a small box of special sanitizing napkins inside to wipe the thermometer and the tip of her stethoscope clean. She was sitting with her back facing the door of the dressing room when Niyok stormed in.

"There you are! The receptionist told me you headed upstairs and a bunch of healers saw you come in here," her friend said as she skipped in front of her.

"Hold on, I'm almost done cleaning my instruments," Katara replied without looking up at her, running the napkin over the metal of the chestpiece.

"Why do you need to do that?"

"I did a home visit to a little girl who was sick with pentapox."

"Pentapox!?" Niyok exclaimed perhaps a bit too loudly, her hands landing on her mouth immediately after since a couple of healers stared at her. Katara simply nodded.

"Wow! I thought we'd gotten rid of that disease thanks to the new vaccine."

"Well, let's just say that the girl's mother doesn't quite understand how vaccines work. And she has to suffer because of it.. poor Jia-Li," Katara sighed and stared at her own distorted reflection on the round metal end of her stethoscope. Niyok sat down next to her and held a supportive hand on her shoulder.

"She'll be okay, Katara. I know it because you saw her and you'll do everything you can to make sure that she receives the best care we have to offer."

Katara smiled at the gesture.

"Thanks, Niyok."

"Now c'mon! Hurry up or we're going to be late!" she patted her on the shoulder. Katara giggled and put her clean instruments back into her shoulder bag, after which Niyok grabbed her hand and they dashed out of the changing room. She practically had to drag Katara along on their way to the elevator because she was so eager to show her what she'd done in the children's ward. Ever since she'd officially become a doctor, she'd chosen to specialize in pediatrics, having spent so much time with children as an intern. Her bubbly personality fitted well with her task of taking care of and cheering up young patients.

Katara could already hear the children's laughter before the elevator doors opened. They took it to the floor of the general ward, where kids who'd been admitted to the hospital stayed. A broken bone shattered into so many pieces it took a lot more time and effort to heal, which was a tough job even for a waterbender to do, recovering from major surgery, diseases that needed to be monitored - those were some of the main reasons for having to stay in the general ward.

As the two stepped out of the elevator, Katara's mouth fell slightly agape at the unusual sight. Two nurses and most of the kids were happily sitting in a circle on the carpet at the other end of the vast room, playing with the available toys from the toy box. Some of them were tossing paper snowflakes in the air. There were colourful lights decorating the walls behind their beds, drawings done earlier in the day on the nightstands next to them. All part of the winter solstice celebration.

"Niyok.. you did all of this?"

"Me and a couple of nurses.. The kids helped out a lot, obviously. We just wanted to make this day extra special for them, because.. you know. They have to spend it away from home, in this hospital," Niyok said with a sad voice, rubbing her arms and swaying herself a little bit. One of the kids stood up from the circle and ran over to them.

"Doctor Niyok! Will you come play with us?" the 4-year-old boy asked, holding a koalaotter plush in his hands.

"Sure. I'll join you in a minute," she smiled as she squatted down and patted his head.

"Can your friend play, too?" he wondered, tilting his head and staring into the other healer's pretty blue eyes. Niyok looked up at Katara. She nodded and smiled back at him.

"Of course. She'd love to," Niyok said. The little guy scampered back to the rest of the group to continue playing. Katara's heart melted at the sight of such wide smiles on these children's faces. They'd never done something like this on such a large scale before.

"You know what? We should make this a tradition."

"Really?" Niyok gasped, her eyes wide and hands clasped together in delight.

"Yeah, I mean.. look at them. These kids are who knows how far away from their homes on one of the most joyous holidays of the year. But all these decorations and activities and games help them take their minds off it. Instead, it feels like they're still at home, having fun and surrounded by people who love them. They're so snug and happy here. And it's all thanks to you, Niyok," Katara said. She laid a hand on her friend's shoulder, then pulled her in for a very tight hug.

"Mmm.. thank you, Katara!" Niyok hummed as she hugged her back, blinking away a couple of tears. The Southern Water Tribe girls released their embrace and smiled at each other before deciding to join the little boy and his companions.

He was playing with some plush animals, so Katara and Niyok each grabbed one to join in. Katara picked an otter penguin to teach the kids what penguin sledding was. Niyok chose a small fluffy white hamster since she always liked to chase those swift little critters back home. Her parents were never as fond of hamsters intruding their household as she was though, especially when they managed to steal some of their stored seaweed or sea prunes.

A few toddlers about the same age as the boy were building a shilouette of Republic City using wooden blocks. One of the nurses helped them finish it. The other nurse was reading a children's book to a group of kids sitting in a bigger circle around her. Two older girls were playing Pai Sho near them. And a couple of children were resting in their beds, reading a book of their own or taking comfort from their stuffed toys.

The medical staff were able to entertain the kids for another twenty minutes before their expected guest arrived. A third nurse came to Niyok and whispered something into her ear, after which she ordered all the children to huddle up on the carpet, even those who were lying in their beds earlier. The ones who had to stay bedridden were lifted onto the beds closer to that end of the ward.

"Alright, kids. Since today's the winter solstice celebration, we thought that you all might like to hear an amazing tale from a very special visitor. Without further ado, here he is!" Niyok said with a wave of her hands. A tall man donning a blue fish-like costume stepped out from behind the corner of the corridor leading to the private wards in the western wing, accompanied by Katara.

"Woo-ooo! I'm Koizilla and I've come to capture some firebenders so I can hug them!" he booed as he walked over to the kids. His weird appearance scared the younger ones a little bit and made them snuggle up to the nurses. Halfway there, he stepped on a ball and tumbled forward, which prompted everyone in the ward to start laughing instead.

"Uh, guys?.. A little help?" Sokka groaned. His sister and Niyok ran over, grabbing him from under his arms to help him stand up again. He dusted himself clean.

"Now where was I?.. Oh, yeah. That's right! Are there any firebenders in this ward?" he continued in character. One of the nurses pointed at the 8-year-old girl who played Pai Sho earlier.

"Aahh, yes! I've captured my first firebender. And now I'm going to give you the biggest hug you've ever received!" Sokka said as he lifted the girl up in his arms, then wrapped her in a very tight embrace. She giggled the entire time. While the councilman was busy messing around with the kids, Niyok began to calm down after laughing hysterically.

"Oh my gosh! Where'd he get the costume!?" she wondered as she wiped the corners of her eyes dry.

"Let's just say that Zuko pulled some strings and had the Ember Island Players send it to the United Republic for a very special play," Katara said with a smirk.

"How'd you get him to agree to this?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I just asked. He was more than happy to do it for the kids."

"Kataraaa..." Niyok teased her with a gentle nudge, making her giggle.

"..aaaand for a quarter of the blubbered seal jerky dad has sent me, which Aang and I have stored in our fridge."

Now that Niyok believed. They watched how Sokka "captured" each child who was of Fire Nation origin and awarded them with a big hug. He knelt down in front of the group so that his feet were hidden under the short costume. He resembled Koizilla a lot more when those brown boots with furry white edges didn't pop out.

"Okay, now I want all the Water Tribe kids to come and hug me because I'm the ocean spirit and I love and protect the Water Tri- OOF!" he barely managed to finish before five little ones scampered to him and knocked him over, their laughter filling the general ward. Niyok helped him out by shooing the kids off from on top of him and back onto the carpet. Katara stepped forward, grabbing her brother's hand to help him up and pull off his costume.

"Alright-alright, that's enough. I'd like you all to meet our real guest, councilman Sokka!" Niyok said, clapping her hands together along with the three nurses as Katara revealed his true appearance. Some of the kids screamed with joy as they clapped, too.

"He-he! Hi there, children! I'm councilman Sokka, representative of the Southern Water Tribe. This is my little sister, Katara," he started, grabbing her by the shoudler and pulling her close to his side, prompting her to chuckle.

"She's the head of this hospital and the best healer in the whole world. And she asked me to come and tell you an amazing story. It's a story that happened not too long ago," Sokka continued as he sat down in front of the children. Katara found a cosy spot next to Niyok, who was already surrounded by three toddlers - her protective arms holding them close to her sides, and the third one was sitting in her lap. She was very popular and loved amongst the kids, exactly like the nurses who worked there daily.

"I'm sure most of you have heard stories of the Hundred Year War from your moms and dads. Well, about 20 years ago, me, my sister Katara and Avatar Aang were travelling the world, heading northwards to the Northern Water Tribe. The war was ongoing, so it was a very dangerous journey. We fought against Fire Nation soldiers and pirates and went through storms, but we never gave up. We had to go there because we were searching for a waterbending teacher who would help Aang, and my sister, master waterbending," Sokka spoke, waving a hand towards Katara each time he mentioned her. She smiled back at him. A couple of kids had crawled closer to the councilman and snuggled up to his side while he was telling the story. He even lifted the 4-year-old boy with the koalaotter plush onto his lap.

"Katara was the only southern waterbender we knew at that time, so there was nobody else who could teach her or Aang waterbending back home. But we found them a teacher at the North Pole. It was there that we also met Princess Yue. She was the most beautiful princess of the Northern Water Tribe who ever lived. And she was also the bravest princess I'd ever met, because she sacrificed her life to save the moon spirit.." Sokka went on, describing how Yue looked like before that happened - from her pretty violet dress to her luxurious white hair. The children listened to his story in complete silence, their eyes wide and mouths slightly agape. Even the bedridden ones were holding on to the edge of their beds as close as possible to hear everything.

Katara looked around her, her soft smile slowly turning into a frown. She felt left out since none of the kids wanted to snuggle up to her. She wasn't a very familiar face around that ward, so it made sense for them to want to be close to their regular doctor, Niyok. But she was still a tad disappointed.

Katara quietly stood up without disturbing the group or her brother's storytelling to go fetch that otter penguin plush from the toy box behind him. At least it'd keep her company and remind her of home, of penguin sledding together with Aang.. Great, now she remembered how much she missed him and their babies. She should call them after they finish here..

Her train of thought broke and she stopped in her tracks when she turned around. Before she could go back and sit down, she saw a little boy at the other end of the room. He was sitting on a small chair and staring out of the window, his back facing them. Katara tiptoed to Niyok and knelt down beside her to whisper into her ear.

"Hey, who's that little guy over there? He seems so lonely.."

Her friend looked behind her and noticed him.

"Oh.. that's Ilo. He's a very quiet little boy and pretty homesick. He prefers to be by himself, but we didn't wanna put him in a private ward since his injury isn't that serious."

Katara looked at Ilo sitting there all on his own, then glanced at Sokka, who was retelling the beginning of the events from the Siege of the North to all the other children.

"I'm gonna go talk to him," she whispered to Niyok, patting her on the shoulder before heading over to the boy. He didn't notice her when she walked right next to him, or at least he pretended not to notice her.

Katara knelt down and simply looked at the poor child. He was gazing out of the window with a blank stare. He couldn't have been more than 6 years old. His right hand was in a plaster cast. The bones had most likely broken into hundreds of pieces after a serious accident. Otherwise her healers would've healed it with their waterbending abilities in a matter of minutes and he wouldn't have stayed in the hospital for so long.

"Hello there! What's your name?" Katara asked in a low, motherly voice.

"Ilo," the boy replied, but he still didn't wanna look at her.

"Iroh?"

"No, Ilo. I-L-O," he spelled it out for her. What a clever little one, she thought. Katara had done that on purpose to get his attention.

"Well, Ilo, I'm Katara. K-A-T-A-R-A.. Katara. It's nice to meet you. I was wondering if you'd like to come with me to hear councilman Sokka's story of the brave Princess Yue."

The boy averted his gaze back outside.

"C'mon.. it must be really boring to sit here all by yourself. Don't you wanna join everybody else? It's much more fun."

"I wanna go home," Ilo mumbled to himself.

"Hmm?" Katara tilted her head.

"I wanna go home," he spoke up more clearly this time.

"I know you do, but you have to get better before you can go home," she sighed, rubbing his back in an effort to console him.

"I miss mom and dad."

"When did you last see them?"

"I saw mom yesterday during visiting hours."

"But you still miss them, huh? You wanna be at home, together with them."

"We've always been together at home on every winter solstice celebration. But not this year."

Ilo looked like he was on the verge of tears, but putting on a brave face in front of strangers like her. He continued to stare outside. Katara thought for a moment.

"You like looking out of the window, right? The city is really beautiful during winter when it's all lit up with these pretty lights, huh?"

The boy nodded, at least that was a start.

"Do you see that small island back there in the bay, behind that huge statue?" Katara asked, pointing a finger at Air Temple Island. Ilo narrowed his eyes and hunched a bit to find the tiny speck in the waters at nighttime.

"Yeah."

"That's where I live, that's my home."

"Do you have a family?"

"Yes, I do. I'm married to my loving husband and we have three wonderful children of our own."

"Then why aren't you at home with them? It's the winter solstice celebration."

"Because I'm also a healer, it's my job. I love cheering up and taking care of people who aren't well, like you," she said, softly running a hand through Ilo's hair.

"But don't you miss them?"

"Of course I do. And they miss me, too. But do you know how we can still be close to each other?"

Ilo shook his head.

"It's because they're in here," Katara said with a fond smile, laying a hand on her chest.

"In your heart?" the boy quirked an eyebrow.

"Exactly. They know how much I love them, and I know how much they love me, too. Love keeps us close even when we're apart. I'm sure your parents must miss you, too. And they're probably thinking about how you're doing right now. Even when they're far away, they'll still always be in here," Katara explained, pointing a finger to the boy's heart and slightly tickling his chest. He started laughing. She felt like she'd finally gotten through to him.

"Ilo, I have a proposition for you. Why don't we go listen to councilman Sokka's amazing story together? I'll heal your hand while you wait for your parents to come visit you."

"Okay, Katara!" he said merrily. Katara stood up and offered her hand, which he grabbed before they quietly walked back to join the rest of the group. Niyok noticed how her friend sat down beside her and lifted the boy in her lap. She smiled at the sight.

Katara took off her healer's hat and let Ilo put it on. He grinned and supported himself against her, allowing her to grab his right hand. She summoned the clean water from her pouch around her hands and carefully began examining the fractures in his bones.

She had no idea what heavy object could've possibly crushed this boy's hand, but she sensed the hard work her healers had already done. The carpal bones in his wrist were in place, but remained seriously cracked. The metacarpus, which connected his fingers to his wrist, had almost healed completely, only a few fractures could be felt. Katara continued work on his wrist, seeing as though it was in worse condition than the other parts of his hand. Ilo didn't let the healer bother him, he was too immersed in the councilman's story.

"..then Aang and the ocean spirit disappeared into the pond. The water around the pond began to glow, lighting up the entire colourless tribe in a bright blue luminescence. It rose high above us and formed this huge fish-like creature. Avatar Aang and La had fused into Koizilla. They were almost as tall as this hospital. Koizilla marched into the city and began capturing the evil Fire Nation soldiers who were attacking the tribe. He was so scary that he drove them all out of there," Sokka retold proudly, mimicking some of the spirit's movements with his hands. The children cheered him on.

"Sadly, while Koizilla was busy ridding the tribe of the Fire Nation, the moon spirit had died. We placed Tui back in the pond, but she didn't swim anymore. She didn't move at all. She just floated above the water, the horrible dark burn evident on her back. Without her, the waterbenders had lost their bending abilities and the moon ceased to exist. We had no idea what was going to happen to the world. But then, General Iroh noticed Princess Yue's white hair. He said: 'You have been touched by the moon spirit. Some of its life is in you.'"

Sokka tried to say that in Iroh's voice. Katara attempted to heal Ilo's hand to quicken the healing process in the meantime, but by then she began to listen to her brother, too. There was something that moved her - the memories of the hopeless situation, the way her brother's voice began to crack.

"Princess Yue agreed with him, he was right. She told us that if Tui gave her life, then maybe she could give it back. I grabbed Yue's hand as strong as I could and pulled her back. I said: 'No! You don't have to do that.' We both knew she had to, but I wasn't ready to let her die yet. She stayed true to herself, so she let go of my hand and placed her hands on Tui. The moon spirit glowed white for a mere moment and then, Yue sighed and she fell back into my arms.. I held her, I stroked her cheek gently, but she wasn't breathing... She was gone."

Katara had to lift one hand away from Ilo's to dry her cheeks. She was surprised at how well Sokka was holding back his emotions, not a single tear in his blue eyes. He retold the story so realistically, acting out all the movements and things that'd been said, almost as if he was reliving it.

Niyok had heard of these stories back in the day, how her friends had saved their sister tribe. But she'd never heard it in such great detail. It was a complete shock to her as to what they'd been through.

Niyok saw how Katara was crying right next to her, trying with every fiber of her being to swallow her sobs so no one would notice. She laid a hand on her shoulder. Katara jumped a bit at the contact, but she returned her gaze, her diamond blue eyes wide and decorated with glistening teardrops. She grabbed the hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, whispering a silent 'thank you' by moving her lips.

"I hugged Yue, I didn't wanna let go of her. Until suddenly she vanished from between my arms. The next thing we knew, the moon spirit began to glow again. We placed her back in the pond, she was swimming! The whole pond reflected a white glow, which rose up like a haze and took the form of a beautiful young woman. It was Princess Yue, she'd become the moon spirit. Her spirit flew closer to me, looked me in the eyes and softly cupped my cheeks with her hands. She said goodbye and told me that she'd always be with me. We kissed for the last time before she disappeared. I looked up at the sky and saw how the moon reappeared. How the colours returned to the world. At that moment we knew we'd won the battle. To this day, Princess Yue watches over us in the form of the beautiful moon that flies high up in the sky every night. And that, kids, was the story of Princess Yue, who became the moon spirit, and how we saved the Northern Water Tribe together."

The quiet ward became filled with children's cheers and the staff's clapping as everybody applauded. After the kids had calmed down, Niyok and her nurses began ordering them to get back into their beds since visiting hours would begin soon.

"Do you wanna meet my big brother?" Katara asked Ilo, who nodded in agreement as she waterbended the healing water back into her pouch. They stood up and she beckoned him to follow her. Ilo watched how the healer practically ran to the councilman and wrapped her arms around him for a very tight hug.

"You were so good!" Katara whispered, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her eyes closed and a proud smile on her lips.

"Thanks, Katara! That means a lot," Sokka said as he nuzzled his nose into her hair and tenderly ran a hand down her back. They remained in each other's embrace for a few seconds. Katara released her hold and squatted down next to the little boy.

"Sokka, this is Ilo. He's a patient here. Ilo, this is my big brother Sokka."

"Hello, Sokka!" the boy smiled, reaching out his left hand so he could shake it. Of course Sokka had noticed how his sister had gone over to talk to him near the beginning of the story and how she'd used the time to heal his right hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Ilo. Now don't you worry, young man! My little sister here is the best healer in the world. She's gonna fix your hand by healing those broken bones and you'll be home in no time," Sokka said and winked at him, making the child giggle as he lifted him onto his broad shoulders.

"Be careful with his hand! Don't shake him too much!" Katara warned, but Ilo grabbed Sokka's head to steady himself and held on tight.

"Don't worry, I won't.. Ow! Watch the wolftail!"

"Sorry!" Ilo apologized after he'd gotten a better grasp with his free hand.

"Now, where's your bed?" Sokka wondered as he began walking towards the other end of the ward, bouncing Ilo on his shoulders.

"Over there! It's that one," he pointed at an empty bed in the middle. Before the Southern Water Tribe siblings could tuck him in, one of the kids scampered to the window and shouted.

"Hey, guys! It's snowing!"

Most kids who weren't bedridden got up from their beds to go look outside, the medical staff joining them soon after.

"Woah!"

"It's so pretty!"

The children gasped as they watched the big puffs of snow slowly gliding in the air, being tossed around by a few stronger currents until they fell down on the street several floors below. Sokka and Katara stepped closer to marvel at the beautiful display of nature as well. She placed a hand on his back and supported her head against his shoulder, releasing a soft hum. Ilo had the highest view out of all of them.

"Alright, back to bed now!" Niyok ordered, but the kids didn't budge and they protested a little when the nurses attempted to pull them away.

"Aww!"

"Not yet!"

"I wanna see more.."

Katara immediately had an idea. She took a few steps back and widened her stance. Everybody else noticed how the snow behind the glass began to move in a strange way, almost as if it didn't want to obey the laws of gravity anymore. A ribbon of snowflakes was being flicked in the air, forming all kinds of symbols and patterns. Sokka and Niyok looked behind them and witnessed Katara dancing through the forms like a ballerina.

"Hey, everybody! Look at Katara!" Ilo exclaimed proudly. Some of the children glanced at her, realizing that she was the one responsible for creating that amazing performance for them to see. She twirled around and twisted her hands, the snow outside following her commands. When Katara finished her graceful bending display, her friends, staff and the patients clapped loudly. She managed to take a bow before the elevator to her left opened and the first visitors along with another healer arrived.

"Mom! Dad!" a couple of children screeched and ran over to their parents, including Ilo, who waited for councilman Sokka to put him down first.

"Oh! Happy winter solstice celebration, son!" his mother said while his father lifted him up on his arms and they hugged him.

"What are you wearing?" his father wondered, poking the feathers on top of the hat. Katara coughed as she approached the family to get their attention.

"I believe that belongs to me."

"Mom, dad, this is Katara. She helped me feel better," Ilo said as he tried to remove her healer's hat with one hand and give it back to her, but she stepped closer to help him out.

"Wait a minute.. Katara. As in, Master Katara? The best healer in the entire world? It's an honour to meet you!" the boy's mother said and bowed to her while she was busy tying the strings together under her chin.

"Of course, we've heard great things about you. Thank you for taking good care of our son, Master Katara!" his father added.

"It's nice to meet you both. And you're welcome!"

Katara introduced her brother Sokka to Ilo's family and they exchanged pleasantries while the room filled with chatter. The first few kids got to tell their parents about everything exciting they'd done that day. They showed off their drawings, retold the story councilman Sokka had shared with them, said how well the healers were taking care of them, gave their parents a tour around the ward that'd been decorated to bring in some holiday spirit.

Niyok received much praise from the families for her efforts. She decided to stay for a little bit longer to see what all the other visitors would think of her initiative. While she was busy arranging everything with the healer who'd arrived to end her shift and let her take over, her friends came to say goodbye with another hug. Before the Southern Water Tribe siblings could leave, Ilo scampered to Katara and wanted a goodbye hug, too. She knelt down and wrapped her arms around him.

"Will you come and visit me again tomorrow, Katara?"

"I'll try, Ilo. If I'm not too busy. Should I forget, then let doctor Niyok know you wanna see me. She's a very good friend of mine, so she'll remind me and I'll come and visit you as soon as possible," Katara smiled and stroked the boy's head by running her hand through his short brown hair.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

After that wonderful afternoon spent in the pediatric general ward, Katara and Sokka took the elevator down to the first floor so she could escort him out from the hospital.

"I know Yue was looking down on you when you were telling her story to those kids. She'd be so happy."

"Aawww!.. Thanks, sis!"

"Are you.. crying?" she asked in a teasing tone as Sokka began rubbing an eye.

"No! I just have something in my eye.. a snowflake!"

"We're still indoors, silly.. Come here!" Katara said fondly and pulled him into a hug.

"Happy winter solstice celebration, Sokka!" she murmured.

"Happy winter solstice celebration, Katara!" he replied, tightening their embrace and stroking the back of her head with his hand. She told him to give her family's greetings to Suki, too.

Once Sokka had left, Katara went back to the emergency room to help out for another half hour before calling it a day. A few minutes passed as Katara barely managed to talk to the receptionist to find out whether there were any calls she could take or patients she needed to tend to in the emergency room when there was a commotion at the northern entrance. A paramedic carrying a little girl and a rather worried pregnant woman following them burst in.

"We need help!" the healer yelled and made her way to the middle of the room. Katara's mouth dropped wide open when they came closer. She recognized them.

"Jia-Li? Jia?" she mumbled to herself in disbelief before she ran towards the other paramedic to meet them halfway, stopping any other of her workers who wanted to approach them.

"Stay back! I've got this! What happened?" Katara inquired, taking a look at the child's limp body in the healer's arms. When she touched her forehead, she was burning up.

"Jia-Li, a 10-year-old girl with a very high fever, fainted on our way here-"

"Master Katara, you have to help her! Please!" Jia interrupted the paramedic.

"Give her to me and follow me, both of you! I know what's wrong with her," Katara ordered, grabbing Jia-Li from her employee's arms and running to the nearest empty healing tub. She placed the girl in the cool water, took a seat beside the tub and began waterbending the liquid around.

"How did this happen?" Katara asked as she worked on lowering Jia-Li's temperature, the water reflecting a bright blue glow as it flowed up and down in small waves.

"I went out for a quarter of an hour to go buy some paracetamol from a nearby pharmacy, but when I returned home, Jia-Li started rambling nonsense. I called the ambulance and they drove us here, but she fainted soon after we left," Jia explained as she paced back and forth on the other side of the tub.

"Master Katara, what's wrong with this child?" the paramedic wondered as she leaned closer to get a better look.

"She's suffering from pentapox. I did a home visit earlier today. You're going to have to take a shower after this, and it's probably a good idea to disinfect the inside of your carriage, too."

It took Katara some time before her patient's fever began to fall and she managed to stabilize her condition. She began shivering once her temperature was below critical level. A couple of minutes later, she ceased her shivering and her eyes began to flutter open.

"Mphm.. m-mom?" Jia-Li stuttered as she regained consciousness. Katara released a sigh of relief, luckily they'd gotten to her just in time.

"Where am I?"

Katara stroked her temple, she blinked and gazed at her with her olive green eyes.

"Jia-Li, do you remember me?"

"Healer Katara?"

"That's right. You're in my hospital. Your fever was so high that your mother called for an ambulance and this kind paramedic drove you here so I could help you."

"So, what now? Can we go back home?" Jia wondered.

"I'm afraid not. I'd like to keep you both under observation until the pentapox blows over. Jia-Li, my healers are going to take you to the infectious diseases unit shortly. They can keep an eye on your condition and keep your fever at bay until you've fully recovered. Okay?" Katara explained, to which the girl answered with a hesitant nod. Her mother and the paramedic stayed by her side while Katara went to talk to the receptionist. She told her to phone that department and ask for a healer with a wheelchair to be sent down to the emergency room to pick up a new patient.

"Can I go with her?" Jia asked as Katara helped her daughter dry off and the specialist from the infectious diseases ward waited for her to sit down in the wheelchair.

"Yes, but you'll be quarantined in a separate room once we're there. I don't wanna risk you catching pentapox from your daughter and putting your baby's life in danger. Or spreading the disease to anybody else in case you're a carrier."

"What can happen to my baby if I'm infected?" the mother wondered in a concerned tone, tenderly rubbing her abdomen.

"Well, judging by the size of your bump, I'm guessing you're due any day now. If you catch it, you might have a stillbirth or an early delivery. Miscarriage is highly unlikely at this stage," Katara said, grabbing the handles to push Jia-Li herself.

"We'll take them upstairs. Make sure to change the water in this tub. I don't want an epidemic to break out here," she ordered the paramedic who'd brought them in before the four of them headed to the elevator. Jia looked at Katara, the specialist and finally, her sickly daughter as they waited for the elevator to come down in complete silence. Katara noticed that she seemed a bit on edge.

"I'll have my healers test you for pentapox, to put your mind at ease. If you're healthy, you'll be referred to the maternity ward," she added just as the doors opened and their group stepped in. Jia's gaze fixed on the floor as she fiddled with her fingers, considering everything the healer had told her and how poorly her precious girl looked in that wheelchair.

"Umm.. Master Katara?"

"Yes?"

The mother gulped before she said what she wanted to say.

"I want that shot."

Katara's diamond blue eyes grew wide with surprise and her face lit up.

"Really?"

"Yes.. please. I don't want me or my baby to go through what Jia-Li's had to go through. Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetheart!" she apologized by combing her fingers through her daughter's long dark brown hair.

"It's not your fault, mom," Jia-Li managed to say before she covered her mouth and started coughing horribly.

"Yes, it is. If I'd listened to the healers and let them vaccinate you, you wouldn't be sick. Please, give me that shot right away."

"No, not yet. You can have it done once you've had your second child. It's not safe to inject a weakened form of pentapox into your system right now, it could infect the baby," Katara argued.

"Okay.. then that's the first thing I'll do after I've given birth to this little fellow," Jia said in a lighter tone as she ran circles above her bloated belly, prompting both Katara and the specialist to chuckle. She felt certain that the mother understood now.

Katara escorted them to the infectious diseases unit, helping the nurses tuck Jia-Li in while the specialist checked that Jia could make herself comfortable in the private quarantined ward right next to her daughter's.

"Don't worry, my healers are gonna take good care of you now. You'll have to stay in hospital for a while, but I'm sure you'll start to feel better in a couple of days," Katara said, patting the sheets above the girl's tummy.

"Thank you, healer Katara," Jia-Li smiled weakly.

The master waterbender let her staff take over from there so she could go take a disinfecting shower a second time to finish her shift as a paramedic at the emergency room. She headed to the same changing room she'd used earlier. At least she didn't have to clean her instruments this time. She met the paramedic, who'd brought the mother and daughter in, already under the showers ahead of her. She was a fun co-worker to hold a conversation with while they cleansed themselves of the virus.

After a nice chat and a thorough shower, Katara dried her hair and skin, waterbended the excess water out from her uniform and pulled it back on. She took the elevator up to the waiting room on the top floor. She headed to her own office in the western wing to change into her everyday clothes, the ones she usually wore at home as well as on the days she worked as a family physician.

Katara opened the door leading to her dark office, walked over to her desk and switched on the table lamp. After that, she closed the door to get some privacy. Her regular clothes were in the wardrobe next to the coat rack.

She removed everything until she was only dressed in her undergarments, putting those pieces of clothing on the empty hangers, as well as hanging her belt next to the uniform and placing her shoes, hat and blue scrunchy on special shelves, which were at the bottom and top inside the closet. She grabbed a pair of dark blue pants and brown boots, slid a navy blue tunic on top, pulled on her short-sleeved water tribe coat and two armbands. She also fluffed her hair after it'd been tied together for almost the entire day.

Katara hummed in delight as she smelled the white fur collar of her coat. The familiar scent was a mix of the herbal remedies that were stored in the cabinets in her office, the fresh air in Yue Bay that she breathed as she took the boat from their island to the harbour early in the morning, the sandalwood and her home cooking that filled their home.

Katara gazed out of the window as she stepped in front of her desk, trying to spot that "tiny speck" of an island. It was still snowing, the snowflakes were slowly gliding in the air and swirling downwards after the wind stopped swaying them. The white fluff that covered the capital like a soft blanket also helped the street lamps illuminate the paths and bigger roads of Republic City at night. The clock on her husband's memorial island began striking, doing so six times.

But don't you miss them? Yes, she did. Katara rubbed her arms as she eyed the telephone on her desk. She decided to ring him up. She picked up the receiver, dialled the correct number and waited a few seconds until someone answered.

"Hello?" a familiar voice asked. There was the faintest sound of a baby crying and some shuffling heard in the background.

"Aang?"

"Katara?"

"Good evening, sweetie.." Katara smiled lovingly, her voice sounded very yearning.

"How's everything at home?"

"Fine! Fine.. we're doing fine. I was just looking after Tenzin."

"Yeah, I can hear him near you," she giggled.

"Hold on a sec, I'll call the kids.. Kids, your mother's on the phone!"

Katara heard faint running on the wooden floorboards.

"Hold on, they're coming downstairs.." Aang added, waiting for Bumi and Kya to reach the living room. Then there was the sound of a mattress plopping.

"What is it, daddy?" the little waterbender asked.

"Mommy's on the phone. Who wants to go first? Here.."

Aang handed the phone over to one of them, Katara waited in silence.

"Mom?"

"Hey, Bumi! How was your day?"

"It was great! After I got home from school, we had a waterbending lesson together with dad. Kya had already learned some new moves, so we fooled around a little bit.. Ow!"

Katara laughed quietly. Aang must've nudged him gently, judging by the way he tried to correct his son as she heard him say something to him.

"..I mean we had a snowball fight, built some snowmen and just.. had fun," he shrugged.

"I'm glad to hear that, Bumi. Anything else you wanted to tell me?"

"Nah, not really."

"Okay then, give it to your little sister."

"Here, Kya. Mom wants to speak with you."

"..Mommy!? Hi, mommy!" the little waterbender exclaimed, making her mother giggle again. She could imagine the excited look on her daughter's face or how she was hopping on the couch next to her father and brothers.

"Hi, sweetie! I heard you learned a new waterbending move today."

"I did, mommy! Daddy taught me how to turn water into ice just by breathing correctly."

"It's called breath of ice, Kya," Katara corrected.

"That's right, mommy!"

"That's so cool.." she said, prompting her little waterbender to giggle at the unintentional pun.

"Did you have a good day with your brothers and daddy?"

"I did! But I miss you, mommy. Please come home soon!"

"I will, my little waterbender. I just gotta go visit one more patient and then I'll come straight home."

"Okay. I love you, mommy!"

"I love you too, sweetie. Muah!" Katara murmured, blowing an air kiss inside the phone.

"Now give the phone back to daddy."

"Here you go, daddy."

There was a moment of silence as Aang struggled to hold the phone in one hand and cradle Tenzin with the other.

"Katara, you still there?"

"Mhmm, I'm standing near the window in my office. Can you see me?"

"Yeah, I thought I saw that dim light in your office. Kids, your mother's in her office. Let's wave to her."

She heard how Kya shouted another "Hey, mommy!" as she stepped closer to the window to stare down at that little island of theirs a couple of miles away from the city center.

"Are you coming home soon?"

"I just need to visit Mr. Chen. It'll take me at least an hour and a half to get there and ride back to the hospital. I'll probably be home at around eight."

"Take your time, sweetie. The kids and I have everything under control."

"Good. Make sure to prepare supper for them."

"I will. I'll also light a candle later in the evening."

"Mmm.. thank you, Aang. I love you."

"Love you too, Katara."

Katara heard how he blew an air kiss into the line as well, after which she hung up. Having put the telephone back on her desk, she looked outside through the window, placing a hand against the cold glass.

"I'll be home soon, sweetie."

She grabbed her water tribe parka from the coat rack and pulled it on, scanned her office one last time before turning off the table lamp and locking the door with her key for that day. She took the elevator down to the first floor to go grab her shoulder bag and pouch from the emergency room, where she'd left them before the paramedic had rushed in with Jia and her daughter. Katara wished the receptionist a good evening and headed outside to the western side of the building.

There were a lot more ostrich horses to choose from in the evenings since the number of accidents that paramedics had to respond to usually decreased at night. But the waterbender still walked over to her favourite, who was grazing some hay.

"Hey, Mamoun.. Who's a good boy, huh?" she asked as she stepped beside him and scratched his head, more specifically, behind his left ear. Mamoun shook his head and whinnied happily to her.

"That's right, you are!"

Katara tenderly stroked his beak as they stared into each other's eyes. The ostrich horse lowered his head a bit to nuzzle his beak below her chest, his big brown eyes looking up at her tiny diamond blue ones.

"One last ride tonight," she murmured to him, holding his beak close with one hand and combing his mane with the other. Mamoun snorted and closed his eyes for a moment, lifting his head and standing up straight like a proud steed to show her that he was ready to ride with her once again. Katara checked whether he was harnessed to the carriage correctly, then jumped into the driver's seat and grabbed the reins.

"Let's go, boy," she said, clucking her tongue to guide them out of the stable and onto the streets. As Katara drove through the bustling city center, she saw street lamps decorated with colourful lights, candles burning on almost every window to thank the spirits for their kindness and to remember those who were no longer with them.

The winter solstice celebration had always been about coming together to spend time with one's family, but also to show respect to the spirits. This day was unique to the United Republic of Nations and it was inspired by the Glacier Spirits Festival back at the Southern Water Tribe. Aang, being the Avatar and the bridge between humans and spirits, along with Katara, being a southern waterbender who valued the traditions of her homeland, had proposed the idea of such a holiday many years ago. This day had always been the most long-awaited of the year amongst many families.

The further Mamoun cantered into the northeastern borough, the duller the streets turned. The wealthier as well as most of the middle class citizens lived closer to the heart of Republic City and could afford more to celebrate. It was a blessing if there were similar colourful lights hanging from a bigger block of flats in that area or the residents had enough yuans to buy some matches to at least light a candle.

Having passed the border between the city center and the northeastern borough, the traffic seemed to become more sparse. Less than half a mile later, Katara and Mamoun were the only ones out on the streets, the street lights and a single candle displayed on every tenth window or so being the only things lighting their way to the suburb.

She heard a trolley gain on her ambulance carriage in the middle of the street a minute later. The railway tracks ran straight on their left side for another half a mile. There were about a dozen passengers on their way to their homes. Two pre-teen boys noticed the ostrich horse running alongside the tracks. They decided to make funny faces to mock the driver for being slightly slower than their public transportation. When one of them blew a raspberry at her, Katara decided to have some fun of her own. She gave them a smug smile in return.

"Hi-yah!"

She flicked the reins to order Mamoun to begin galloping. He gained on the front of the trolley in a matter of seconds, running neck and neck at a rather fast speed. Katara sat up straight and smirked back at the boys who'd made fun of her and her companion, their faces now as long as her ostrich horse's.

"Go, Mamoun! Go!" she prodded competitively as he pulled the rest of the carriage past the trolley. They won the race when the railway tracks turned left on a bigger intersection. Katara started laughing as she shifted to the left side of her seat to glance back at the empty street behind them.

"Ha-ha! Good boy, Mamoun! Good boy!" she praised loudly, attempting to slow down since the road was covered with spots of black ice, which shimmered under the street lights. She didn't have time to react when suddenly a small child ran across the street right in front of her ostrich horse.

"Wooaahh!" Katara yelled and yanked the reins to avoid crashing into the child. Mamoun neighed in panic and tried to stop, but his feet slipped on the ice and he lost his balance. He pulled the carriage to his right, sending it skidding across the ice and straight towards a street lamp. Katara screamed and held on tight as the vehicle slammed against the post, which forced it to split in half from the middle. She hit herself against the side before she was plunged out of her driver's seat and straight into a pile of snow.

Mamoun's neighing was the only sound that filled the quiet street after the crash. Once the carriage had stopped under the street light, the ostrich horse swiftly got back up on his feet and broke free from his harness with sheer force. He cantered further away and ran a couple of circles until he began to calm down, his neighs being replaced by short unhappy snorts.

Mamoun panted as he looked around to spot something familiar. He saw the broken ambulance carriage parked next to the post, so he hesitantly walked back to the scene of the accident. He eyed the huge crack inside the wood, which separated the rear and front of the vehicle. As Mamoun sniffed the driver's seat, he noticed his friend lying still on her stomach in the snow a few feet away. He trotted to her side and tilted his head, staring at her near-lifeless body. However, her back did move slowly, rising up and falling down in a steady rhythm. She was breathing.

The ostrich horse stepped closer and softly nudged her with his beak. She didn't budge. He tried it again, pushing a bit harder this time, but Katara remained unconscious. He brought his beak close to her face and breathed some warm air out from his nostrils. When that didn't work either, he started licking her face. Mamoun repeated those actions several times until he heard her groan.

"Ughh..."

He kept licking the side of her face until she slowly lifted her head from the pile of snow and her diamond blue eyes fluttered open to meet his worried gaze.

"M-Mamoun? You woke me up.. good boy," Katara said as she looked at her loyal companion with wide eyes, forcing a smile to show him that she was alright. She thanked him with a few strokes along his beak before he let her grab it to help her stand up carefully.

The waterbender supported herself by holding onto the ostrich horse's face. She let go when she felt sure that she wouldn't have a dizzy spell. She groaned again, her hand landing above her left eyebrow. Mamoun tilted his head and gave her a short nicker before licking the left side of her face.

"I'm okay, Mamoun. It's just a bump," Katara assured him and gently pushed his beak away so she could check her injury. She summoned some water around her left hand like a glove and placed it above her left eye. She rubbed her temple, moving the glowing water around near the nasty bump until she felt a little better.

Once she'd waterbended the water back into her pouch and fluffed the snow off her parka, she turned around to have a look at her ambulance carriage. She gasped at the sight. That vehicle was as good as firewood. Mamoun followed her as she walked around the carriage, checking whether there was anything left to save.

Katara headed to the back and crawled inside for a moment to pick up his feeding bag. She found another nice big juicy green apple and held it in front of her ostrich horse's beak, letting him sniff it before he ate it out of her hand in one bite. She rummaged through the bag to offer him some bread, too. Mamoun snorted to sniff the slice, then gently nibbled on the bread without biting her hand. She crumpled up the small leather feeding bag with the rest of his feed and put it inside her shoulder bag, in case Mamoun would become hungry later.

The ostrich horse lowered his head a bit to look straight into her diamond blue eyes once he was done eating. His big brown eyes fell shut as he rubbed his beak against her. Katara stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his neck to hug him.

"Ugh, good boy! Good boy, Mamoun!.. You're such a good boy.." she murmured to him, running her hand up and down his mane.

"Thank you."

Mamoun nickered as he rested his beak on her back to hug her, too. He might've saved her, but what about the child who'd ran right in front of them? Katara hadn't noticed anyone else injured near the scene of the accident. She heard someone cough on the other side of the street. She released her embrace to look behind her.

"You? You ran in front of my carriage?" she asked, her eyes wide in disbelief. It was the same mysterious girl in a yellow dress, standing in another alley.

"Mamoun, sit.." Katara ordered in a stricter tone, waiting for her ostrich horse to sit down next to her broken vehicle.

"Good boy. Stay here," she said as she stroked his beak a couple of times before she turned around and crossed the street to go talk to the child. Oddly enough, she didn't run away from the healer as she approached her. Katara decided to keep a safe distance between the two of them so she wouldn't scare her away again. She squatted down only a few feet away from her.

"Are you hurt?" she wondered, tilting her head as she examined the girl's appearance. Surprisingly, she didn't seem to have a single scratch on her.

"Do you know how dangerous it is to run in front of a carriage? It could end with a serious accident, much more serious than this," Katara scolded her, waving a hand towards her ambulance carriage and ostrich horse. The little girl hung her head in shame for a moment, looking up at the woman with puppy eyes as she went into a horrible coughing fit. The waterbender frowned, she couldn't stay mad at her.

"You're still sick, huh? That nasty cough must be really bothering you."

She waited until the little one caught her breath.

"I can help you feel better, if you let me. It makes me very sad to see you suffer.. Please, let me help you," Katara begged, stretching her right hand out to her. Her diamond blue eyes grew wider with every hesitant step the child took until she was close enough to lay her tiny hand onto her palm.

"There we go.. that's much better. Aren't you cold?" she asked as she shifted closer and knelt down in front of her. The little girl let her cup her cheek and touch her forehead.

"You are a bit warm. I think you might have a fever, too. Would you like to pull on my water tribe coat?"

The girl shook her head.

"Okay then. Where's your home?"

She remained silent. Now that Katara thought of it, she'd never heard this girl say a word ever since she'd met her this morning. She seemed old enough to know how to speak though.

"If you're lost, I can take you to my hospital where I can examine you and help you feel better while I inform the police so they could search for your parents. Toph is one of my best friends and she's also the Chief of Police. She's gonna find your home in no time. What do you say?" Katara smiled, but the girl raised a finger to her mouth as she glanced back towards the alley with a concerned look.

"What is it? Is something there?"

She grabbed the waterbender's hand and tugged at it, taking a step away from her.

"Oh.. you want me to follow you?" Katara asked fondly as she stood up and began following the little girl, who looked back at her to be sure that she wouldn't fall behind. She guided the waterbender into another maze of narrow paths between the dilapidated houses.

"Where are you taking me?" Katara wondered out loud, trying to remember their way back. The deeper they went, the more abandoned those buildings seemed to be. Broken windows without any candles to be lit for the holiday, old rusty street lamps that'd been built in the early years of Republic City's founding and provided light with flickering bulbs, small heaps of trash covered by snow.

Katara readied her free hand near her pouch, in case there were thugs waiting to ambush them behind a dark corner. But the little girl seemed to know exactly where she was headed. She peeked at the waterbender every now and again, making sure that she'd always see where she's going.

Pretty soon, they could hear a faint cry in the distance. The little girl began scampering. Katara was afraid she might lose her again, but the child had a very strong grip on her right hand. She wanted the waterbender to run along with her. As they came closer, Katara distinguished the voice as a woman's. It sounded like she was crying and moaning with pain.

Another corner to the right and a short straight narrow path eventually led them to a blind alley, where the little girl came to a sudden halt. It was a bigger square-shaped area, surrounded by the walls of two shabby wooden houses and a taller concrete building. There weren't any lights on in them, only an old street lamp that hung in the corner cast a light around the otherwise empty square. Two big trash containers had been pushed against the wall of the concrete building for the residents to use, if there were any.

Katara had stopped beside the little girl and looked around their surroundings. The woman's cries were loudest in that spot. She noticed somebody's near-bare feet in the snow behind the dumpsters and ran over to take a look.

"Oh no!" Katara gasped, her hands landing on her mouth. It was a pregnant woman, not much older than she was. She forgot about the little girl and hurried to the woman's side to help her.

"Are you okay, ma'am?"

"Oh, please! Make it stop!" she screamed in agony and clutched one of Katara's hands. Her cheeks were stained with tears, her nails unclipped and she had long messy dark brown hair. She was wearing a torn white dress that'd turned grey from the filth, remnants of what seemed to be a brown winter coat, shoes with holes in the heels and in front where her toes popped out. Katara looked below. She saw a puddle of slightly yellowish snow under her bottom. Her waters had broken, she was already in labour.

"I'm sorry, but I can't make it stop now. You're going to have a baby pretty soon," Katara stated and tried to pull her hand back so she could help, but the woman held onto it real tight.

"Nooo!.. I don't wanna give birth!"

"You don't have a choice anymore. You should've thought of that nine months ago," Katara replied a tad coldly, to which the woman pulled her even closer to her face.

"P-please! I don't wanna lose it again! I'm scared to lose this one, too!" she begged, staring into Katara's diamond blue eyes. She'd misinterpreted the situation - this wasn't an unwanted child, this was a mother who'd already lost one child.

"You're not going to lose this baby, ma'am! What's your name?"

"Iniko."

"Iniko, look at me.. look at me!" Katara demanded. The woman looked at her with her teary lime green eyes.

"I'm a healer. My name's Katara, I'm from the Southern Water Tribe. I'm the best healer in the world and head of the Republic City Hospital. And while I'm here, I'm going to do everything I can to help bring this baby into the world safe and sound. Do you hear me?"

Iniko nodded and sniffed.

"Good. Now just try to remain calm and breathe really fast for me.." Katara ordered as she pulled her hand back. She dropped her shoulder bag next to her on the snowy ground, in case she needed any of her medical instruments. Having waterbended the soiled snow away, she summoned the water from her pouch around her hands like gloves, laying one of them on the woman's swollen belly and the other under her dress to check how far she was with the labour.

"How long have these strong contractions been going on?"

"I don't know.. maybe two hours? I've heard the clock chime twice since I collapsed here. I tried to continue walking, but I couldn't move because of the pain," Iniko panted between breaths. Katara thanked Aang a thousand times in her mind for telling her the time. She waterbended the water back into her pouch.

"You said you already had one child. This is your second baby?" Katara asked as she swiftly pulled off her long parka. She placed the top behind Iniko's back so she wouldn't feel cold against the concrete wall and lifted her bottom up a bit to slide the lower half of her parka under there so she wouldn't touch the ground. The woman hummed a positive answer.

"In that case, this baby is coming really fast. I could feel it," Katara added, also removing her short-sleeved water tribe coat and laying it over Iniko's chest like a small blanket to keep her as warm as possible. Being covered up only by her navy blue tunic and a sarashi underneath, Katara had to fight back the cold herself. The chilly winters in Republic City were nothing compared to the freezing climate of her homeland. This was a fight she didn't need to focus on right now.

"That's it, Iniko. Just breathe through the pain, keep panting!" the waterbender encouraged her as one contraction followed another. She spread the woman's legs and knelt down in between to have a better look.

"You're almost there, I'm gonna ask you to begin pushing soon," she explained as she waterbended two ice handles near Iniko's hands for her to grab on when that stage would begin.

It took them another quarter of an hour and the clock struck seven in the evening. Iniko had been in labour for at least three hours. Katara's hands remained covered with water as she constantly examined both the mother's womb to feel the position of the baby, as well as the baby's vital signs to be sure that it wasn't under too much stress. Everything was going smoothly so far.

"Okay, now during the next contraction, I want you to push gently. Ready?"

Iniko gave the healer a quick nod before she grimaced as she shut her eyes and pushed until Katara told her to stop again so she could catch her breath.

"You're doing great, Iniko! The head's almost out. We gotta get baby's head out fast, so get ready to push again.. As hard as you can this time, c'mon!" she urged the woman, who crumpled her face once more and released a loud scream.

"That's it.. a little more.. keep pushing! Okay, that's enough!" Katara instructed as she quickly grabbed her water tribe coat from on top of Iniko and tossed it on the ground in front of her knees with one hand. She held the baby's head steady with her other hand.

"Your baby is almost born. If you're strong enough to give me another good push, then you can hold your baby in a minute.. Are you ready to meet your baby?" she asked with a determined smile on her lips. The woman barely managed a nod before the next contraction hit her and she continued screaming. This one wasn't as painful as the last one though.

"Good girl, Iniko! Just a little bit more.. here it comes.. Well done!" Katara praised as she held the baby's upper body in her hands.

"Now pant for me."

Iniko started panting and waited for the healer to slowly and carefully slip the rest of its body out from hers. A moment later, the blind alley became filled with the sound of a baby crying. Both women shared a hearty laugh.

"It's a boy! You have a son, Iniko!" Katara exclaimed happily as she cleaned the little guy with the remaining water from her pouch.

"A son?" the mother asked in wonder as she lifted herself on her wobbly arms a little bit to have a look. She saw how Katara used the water like a sharp knife to cut the umbilical cord and then immediately heal both ends. She wrapped the baby boy into her water tribe coat and lifted him into a cradle hold, standing up to hand him over to his mother's arms.

"My son..." Iniko's voice quavered as the healer placed the baby in her arms. She moved the furry edge off from one of his hands to let him grab her finger. His crying quietened down, whereas the tears continued trickling down his mother's cheeks.

"Hello there, little one! I'm your mommy. I didn't think we'd make it, but here we are.. thanks to this kind woman.. What did you say your name was?"

"Katara."

"Thanks to Katara here. She helped bring you into this world, just like she promised," Iniko cooed to the baby and kissed his vernix-covered forehead. Katara rubbed at her eyes to hold back her own tears. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the same little girl who'd brought her there, standing right beside Iniko. She looked so happy, a small smile decorating her face as she stared at the mother and her newborn son. She gazed back at the waterbender.

"Thank you," Katara said in a hushed, but loving tone.

"Who are you talking to?"

Katara froze for a second at Iniko's weird question.

"Umm, a little girl, right next to.. you?" she replied, pointing a finger to Iniko's left side, but when she averted her gaze from the mother, the girl was gone.

"Where?"

Both women looked around the alley, but they didn't see any souls other than the three of them.

"Wait, you didn't see her?"

Iniko simply shook her head. Katara felt confused once more as she crawled back between the mother's legs. While the latter was busy admiring her newborn son, the healer helped her deliver the placenta within minutes. Katara grabbed some clean snow from nearby to wash her bloody hands as well as scrub some of the bigger stains out of her armbands, tunic and pants. It'd been a pretty fast and successful delivery.

The waterbender had been so focused on helping the woman that she didn't even notice how cold she was until she started shivering. She rubbed her arms as she walked back over to Iniko's side to pick up her shoulder bag and hang it across her chest. After that, Katara helped the mother stand up slowly, making sure that her long water tribe parka would stay on her shoulders and hang down on her back to keep her warm. The baby boy seemed pretty warm and cosy in her coat, too.

Katara escorted them back to her broken ambulance carriage. Without the little girl to help out, she had to rely on her memories of which narrow paths they'd taken. Also, the slightly visible footprints in the snow helped her out. The light snowfall had covered them up with a fresh thin layer, but there were definitely two different-sized pairs.

How could the child have disappeared like that? And why didn't she leave footprints on her way out of there, if she'd even run out that way? Katara shook her head, every single thing about that child puzzled her. But she knew one thing for sure - she'd led her to Iniko for a reason.

Mamoun pricked up his ears and wagged his tail as he gazed at the two women who came out of the alley on the other side of the street. Iniko tightened her hold on her baby and stopped in the middle of the road for a moment.

"It's okay, he won't bite. He's very friendly, I'll show you," Katara smiled as she walked over to her ostrich horse and stroked his beak. He nuzzled the side of his face against her chest and tummy. Iniko watched the healer bond with her animal a few steps behind.

"Oh, Mamoun.. Did you miss me? I'm back, and I brought two new friends along. Are you okay with them riding you, too?" she murmured to him and stepped aside to introduce the mother and baby. The ostrich horse tilted his head and merely stared at them curiously, releasing a short nicker in the end.

"He'd be happy to give you a ride," Katara chuckled and beckoned them closer. Iniko hesitantly walked around the animal and she helped her climb on the saddle on his back. The waterbender sat behind them to give the mother something to support herself against. She could also keep herself warmer by holding her body close to her parka. It was going to be a bumpy ride.

Katara grabbed the long reins from Iniko's sides to hold her steady, after which she clucked her tongue, waiting for Mamoun to stand up and begin walking.

"Hold on tight," she said, flicking the reins twice to let her ostrich horse begin trotting, then cantering. She didn't let him gallop since it would've shaken the mother and infant too much. Besides that, the slower speed helped prevent them from falling off the saddle and having another accident.

"Where are we going?" Iniko wondered as Katara turned right at the first bigger intersection on their way.

"My hospital's half an hour away from here. I know a warm and safe place much closer, where we can call for help and recuperate."

She guided her ostrich horse to the Southern Water Tribe library in the northwestern borough, which was less than two miles away, taking them less than fifteen minutes to get there. It closed at eight o'clock each workday. The clock showed a quarter to eight when Katara and Mamoun pulled over in front of the vast building. The ostrich horse let out a loud neigh as she tugged at his reins to stop him.

"Wooaahh.. Good boy, Mamoun!" she praised as she hopped off from the back of the saddle to go and reward him with some more bread. The ostrich horse nibbled the slice out of her hand, breathing some warm air onto her slightly frozen fingers.

"Sit.." Katara coaxed by rubbing his beak and gently pushing it downwards. She patted his neck and combed his mane to thank him for all the hard work he'd done. After that, she helped Iniko climb down from the animal's back, grabbing her by the shoulders to head inside the library.

The librarian working the shift that night was an elderly member of the Southern Water Tribe. She'd helped Katara and Sokka with establishing the building in Republic City and gathering scrolls, books or any other valued reading material from back home for everybody else to browse through.

She was reading today's issue of The Elemental Times, ready to begin closing up in a couple of minutes, when she heard the door open. She averted her gaze from the newspaper towards the guests who she hoped would be eager to learn something about her culture.

"Master Katara!?" she gasped, dropping the paper on her desk and quickly making her way to the waterbender and the stranger with a baby.

"What happened to you? Look at you, you're all dirty," she sighed, trying to dust Katara's tunic.

"I'm okay, Alda. But this mother and her baby need some help. Can I call my hospital?"

"Of course! Go ahead, dear," she waved a hand towards her desk.

"Thanks, Alda. You're a blessing," Katara said as she leaned down to give the old lady a hug.

"Would you find Iniko a nice place to sit so she could rest while we wait for the ambulance to get here? And maybe something to eat or drink?"

"I'll get right on it!" Alda said with a smile. She grabbed Iniko's arm to lead the way to the couch in the quiet reading corner. She was surprised at how filthy and poor the mother looked, but she didn't wanna judge her only by her appearance. If Katara had helped this lady out, then she must've really needed it.

"Oh, he's one handsome little fellow, isn't he?" Alda cooed as she tickled the baby's cheek, making Iniko smile.

"I think I might have some bananas and lychee nuts in my drawer. I'll go fetch them for you," she squeezed the mother's shoulder before she walked back to her desk. In the meantime, Katara was busy talking to the receptionist on the phone. She asked for a backup ambulance carriage and the paramedics to bring along warm blankets for the fresh mother and infant. She ordered a second ambulance carriage with another healer to be sent on its way to Mr. Chen's place in the northeastern borough. The original as well as only patient who she didn't reach during her evening rounds that night.

"Here you go, dear. I'll go put on some tea," the librarian said as she handed Iniko one of her leftover dumplings, a banana and dropped a dozen lychee nuts into her palms. Katara finished her call and joined the mother as she began eating for what seemed like the first time in days. By the time she finished her meal, her baby had started to fuss in her lap.

"I think he's hungry, too. I want.. I'd like you to breastfeed him."

Iniko rubbed her hands cleaner against her dress, then picked up her son and put him in a cradle hold. Katara helped her undo the buttons and pull the tattered cloth off from the left side of her chest. She attempted to teach her, but before she could, she watched how Iniko guided the baby boy to his source of nourishment and he latched on immediately.

"Wow, you're really good at this!"

"As I said, this isn't my first child."

Katara observed how Iniko fed her baby in complete silence, her diamond blue eyes full of wonder and admiration at the same time. There was definitely something far deeper to this woman than she was showing. She seemed to be such a loving and caring mother, she knew how to take care of her baby, but she'd already lost one child for some unknown reason. Katara couldn't comprehend how she could've possibly ended up homeless nor how she'd survived the challenging weather of the four seasons while expecting. She was a fighter, that's for sure.

Alda's heart melted at the sight of the mother nursing her baby as she brought her some hot ginger tea. Iniko managed to finish the small cup just before they heard the siren of an approaching ambulance carriage. Katara ran outside to greet her healers and show them the way to the patients. The paramedics exchanged their boss's clothes for two soft blankets, which they used to wrap up the baby boy and his mother. Katara wasn't as fond to get her stained coat and parka back as she'd initially hoped, but it'd have to do while riding back to the hospital on her ostrich horse.

She said her goodbyes to the librarian and headed outside with the group. Having climbed on the saddle, she grabbed the reins and ordered him to stand up again. The healers had Iniko sit down on the bed at the back of their carriage before they took off, with Katara and Mamoun cantering right behind them.

It was half past eight by the time they arrived at the hospital. The two healers stopped their ambulance carriage at the northern entrance to escort Iniko inside as she cradled her son in her arms. Katara rode her ostrich horse straight to the stable since her broken vehicle was left behind under that street lamp. Having hopped off the saddle, she held onto the reins to lead him to one of the stalls so she could take off the equipment and he could get a well-deserved rest to be ready to aid her or any of her employees once more the following day.

"Muah! Good boy, Mamoun.. you were excellent today," Katara murmured, leaving a kiss on the side of his beak before she hugged him and stroked his mane. The ostrich horse wagged his tail and gave her a very happy nicker in return, nuzzling the side of his face against her chest. Having hung his feeding bag in the stall, she headed inside to go wash her clothes, and maybe herself, a third time.

Katara pulled off her dirty parka and coat as she reached the elevator and pushed the button, waiting for it to come down. Before that happened, she overheard the conversation between the receptionist and a middle-aged man who'd just entered the emergency room after her.

"Hello, sir! How can I help you?"

"Good evening! My wife left me a note on the table, saying that she went to the hospital with our little girl. Could you tell me whether she's been admitted here? They're not at home."

"Of course. What are their names?"

"Jia and Jia-Li."

Katara jolted around to look at him.

"Aahh, yes! I remember them! They were brought in by the ambulance around five o'clock."

"The ambulance!? What happened?" the man gasped, an even more worried look on his face.

"Your daughter had a very high fever because of pentapox, so your wife called the ambulance. She fainted on their way here, but luckily, Master Katara was working a shift here today. She rushed your daughter to a healing tub and lowered her fever and she woke up. After that, she had them admitted and referred to the infectious diseases unit."

"Where's that?"

"It's on the 17th floor, you can take the elevator.. Oh, there she is! That's Master Katara right there!" the receptionist smiled, pointing a finger towards her superior. The man thanked her for the information and walked over to the master waterbender. She wasn't looking at her best - her clothes covered with stains and blood and who knew what other fluids. An occupational hazard. But the man grabbed both her grimy hands and gently shook them, returning her wide-eyed gaze.

"Thank you!.. Thank you for saving my daughter's life, Master Katara."

"Y-you're welcome.. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," she stuttered and blushed, scratching the back of her head with one hand.

"I'm Li-Wei, Jia's husband and Jia-Li's father. The receptionist told me what you did. I cannot thank you enough."

"Just doing my job.. I can show you where they are, if you'd like," Katara said, tilting her head towards the elevator that'd opened the doors.

"Oh! Yes, please!" Li-Wei grinned and stepped inside after her. She waited until the doors closed and they were being lifted upstairs to have a more private conversation.

"I'm sorry, but considering everything that happened to your wife and daughter, and as a healer, I have to ask.. Are you vaccinated against pentapox?"

"Oh.. no, I don't think so," Li-Wei thought for a moment, then shrugged.

"Can I ask why?"

"I wasn't aware there's a new vaccine. I would've had it done in a heartbeat."

Katara sighed in relief without him noticing. At least he wasn't against it.

"That's great. But since you're not vaccinated either, I'm afraid my healers are going to have to put you in quarantine to check that you aren't a carrier of the disease. You'll have to stay here until they figure it out."

"I don't mind. I just wanna see my wife and daughter."

"You should also wash your hands before you go see your wife to avoid infecting her. It could be very dangerous for both her and the baby if they catch pentapox. I'm sure she'll tell you more about it and I hope you both have a very serious conversation about why it's important to get vaccinated, for Jia-Li's sake."

Li-Wei had no idea why Katara seemed so serious and reprimanding when she talked about that, but he promised her that he'll let her healers vaccinate him as soon as possible. She offered him a smile at that promise, lightening up a little bit. She escorted him to the wards where his wife and daughter were resting, having him wash his hands before she allowed to enter Jia's private ward.

The waterbender looked through the glass part of the door to see how Li-Wei simply walked in and embraced his wife, who was lying rather comfortably in bed. He ran a hand over her bump and tried to give her a kiss, but she stopped him and grabbed his hands. He took a seat in the chair next to the bed and they started talking, their faces solemn and full of concern.

Katara decided to let the pair have some privacy, so she took the elevator back down by a few floors to head to the showers again. She washed her hands after spending some time so close to Jia's husband, considering that he'd touched her too, then proceeded to scrub the remaining stains out of her clothes.

Katara spent twenty minutes in the changing room. Having cleaned her coat and parka, she stepped under the shower without removing any of her other clothes to wash herself. She dried them by pulling the dripping water out with her bending. Once she'd filled her empty pouch, pulled on her short-sleeved water tribe coat, grabbed her parka and finished freshening up, it was time to go see how Iniko and her newborn son were doing.

They'd been admitted and referred to the postnatal unit in the maternity ward. Katara left her parka, pouch and shoulder bag in a small wardrobe, which was meant for the workers on that floor and located behind another receptionist's desk, who also worked there. She went to the infant unit first to have a look at the baby boy.

When she quietly opened the door, she witnessed one of her healers trying to auscultate him, but he refused to cooperate with her. Katara closed the door behind her and walked over to the healer who was clearly in a pickle. She tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention.

"May I try?"

"Master Katara?.. Of course," the healer said with a grateful nod as she removed the stethoscope from her ears and handed it to her boss. Katara grabbed the diaphragm and rubbed it against the palm of her hand to warm it up before she laid it back on the infant's chest. He began crying a little, hence she lifted one of his hands near his mouth so he'd shush up and begin sucking his thumb instead. It worked, she could listen to him in complete silence.

"You certainly have that magic touch with these little tykes," the other healer added.

"Years of practice," she giggled and spoke in a low tone. During her first pregnancy, as well as the two others that followed, Katara had used her own stethoscope to listen to her baby's heartbeat while it was still growing inside her. It was one thing to sense the tiny organ pounding along with her own thanks to her waterbending, or more precisely, healing abilities, but a completely different experience when she first heard the fast beats through the medical instrument. This little guy's heartbeat was just as fast and she couldn't hear any murmurs. She watched the clock on the wall and counted.

"136 beats per minute.. no murmurs.. respiratory rate at 46," Katara whispered to her colleague, who wrote the readings down on the clipboard. She gave the medical instrument back to her, then wrapped the baby up in the blanket underneath him.

"How's he doing?"

"He's doing great. Another nice healthy baby boy among us thanks to your refined skills."

Katara smiled lovingly. She was very pleased to hear that, considering everything he'd been through.

"Can I take this little guy along? I'd like to bring him to his mother."

"Sure, I just finished his first checkup. Thanks for the help."

"You're welcome. Come here, little one.." Katara cooed as she lifted him up from his small bed and placed him in a cradle hold. He released a short cry at the movement.

"Yes, we're gonna go see your mommy now," she said, gently rocking the baby in her arms as she left the infant unit and headed towards the general ward for mothers who'd recently given birth. When Katara entered the ward, she saw that Iniko was resting alone in one of the beds, no other mothers were around. Only the nurse, who was sitting behind her desk and writing something into someone's medical records, kept her company. She greeted her boss as she passed her and walked over to the patient. Katara's mouth fell slightly agape.

Iniko looked so different, as if she'd been given a complete makeover. The knots in her hair had been combed straight, her nails had been clipped short. The nurses had given her a bath, hence her light skin gleamed and she looked so tidy wearing a new hospital gown, being tucked under a warm blanket. Much more like a normal, decent person.

"Wow.. Iniko, how are you feeling?" Katara asked as she took a seat on the edge of the bed, on her right side.

"Pretty amazing. I haven't felt this way in ages," Iniko smiled and sat up a bit.

"I brought someone to see you. He just had his first checkup," Katara explained as she carefully placed the baby into his mother's arms.

"How did he do?"

"He passed with flying colours."

Both women giggled. Iniko tenderly ran the back of her hand over her son's cheeks. He didn't stir from the touch. He must've been tired from such a wild adventure and seemed to have fallen asleep.

"So, have you decided on a name yet?"

"I think I have.. I'm going to name him Taro. It means that he's my firstborn son. And there's a little bit of your name in it, too. I want both of us to remember the benevolent healer who'd helped me bring him into this world."

"Iniko, I.. I'm touched," Katara paused for a moment, not knowing what to say. She laid a hand above her heart and smiled.

"Thank you."

She watched the mother comb the tiny bundle of hair on her son's head and gently bounce him for a while before deciding to ask.

"Taro is your second child, your firstborn son.. so your first child was a daughter?"

Iniko's smile faded away slightly. She nodded.

"It wasn't always like this, you know.. I used to have a home, which I shared with my loving husband and our firstborn daughter.. Aiko."

"Can I ask.. what happened to her?" Katara wondered, entwining her hands and laying them in her lap as she leaned forward a bit. The mother sighed.

"She was only three years old.. One day, she became sick. We took her to the doctor. She examined her and we all thought it was just a cold. But three weeks later, she was still coughing so horribly. When we visited the hospital again, the doctor diagnosed something far worse. She told us it's whooping cough. Aiko was already too weak. She coughed so hard that her ribs began to break and she had to be admitted to the hospital. The healers tried to heal her broken ribcage and relieve the pain, but she just.. We held her hands until her final breath. S-she didn't make it.. I'm sorry!" Iniko finished quickly to wipe away her tears. Katara supported a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"I'm so sorry, Iniko. I wish there was something my healers or I could've done. My best scientists are working on a vaccine for pertussis right now, but it's not an easy process. It could take years until the vaccine is fully developed."

The mother sniffed, having regained her composure and wiped her cheeks dry.

"That's okay.. I understand. I don't blame you for not having it when Aiko caught the disease. But I'm happy to hear you're trying, so no other parent or child would have to go through what we did."

"So, what happened to you? How did you end up homeless?"

"Me and my husband were devastated by Aiko's death. We didn't take it well. My husband became depressed and inattentive. He eventually died from an accident at work because of it."

Katara's heart skipped a beat. Her hand clutched the blanket near her thigh. She hung her head.

"I'm sorry.. I know how hard it is to lose the love of your life."

There was a moment of silence as neither of the women dared to speak. They mourned the death of their loved ones, or what almost could've been.

"After losing my entire family, I couldn't bring myself to do anything. I didn't work, so I had no income and couldn't afford to pay rent for our apartment. I became homeless. But then, three months after my husband's death, I realized that I was pregnant again. I had nowhere to go, so I'd been living on the streets around the northeastern borough, begging for food and shelter from others who shared my fate. Until you found me in that alley."

Katara remembered that she wouldn't have found her if it hadn't been for that little girl. She opened her mouth and was about to tell her, when she started thinking about it and rephrased her question.

"Umm, Iniko.. what did your daughter look like?"

"Oh, Aiko had beautiful dark brown hair! I used to braid it into two braids, one on either side of her face. She loved to wear a bright yellow dress with a white blouse and matching white shoes. I had to tie up the laces for her every time she wanted to go play outside.." Iniko described cheerfully. Katara's diamond blue eyes grew wide in realization, but she didn't notice.

"Ever since she passed, I began seeing her ghost walking around our apartment sometimes, like she was still with us. My husband thought that I might be going crazy and I agreed with him. That's impossible.."

"Maybe not," Katara interrupted.

"What?"

"Maybe you weren't going crazy. I saw a small girl with a similar appearance for the first time ever this morning. Throughout the day, each time I was out on a call, she somehow found me and tried to lead me northwards. She was the one who guided me to that alley, to you. I think that little girl was Aiko. I think she was trying to help you."

"Aiko?.. Y-you.. you saw her?"

Katara nodded.

"I didn't just see her, I touched her. I talked to her. She didn't talk, though. I tried to persuade her to come to my hospital several times since she had such an unusual cough. No wonder it sounded similar to pertussis.. I chased her in the alleys, she caused two accidents just to get my attention.."

"She did what?"

"Did you see my broken ambulance carriage? Aiko was responsible for that. I think she would've stopped at nothing to get you some help. Her spirit was there when Taro was born."

"She was there?" Iniko asked, her voice quavering.

"Yes. And she looked so happy when she saw her baby brother in your arms."

Iniko raised a hand to cover her eyes and cry, cradling her baby boy with her free hand. He woke up from the commotion and also began crying. Katara sat right next to the mother and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, comforting her with a gentle embrace.

"Ah-aiko.. My precious Aiko.. she's my guardian angel. She must still be watching over me, over us," Iniko managed to say through her sobs, lifting Taro a bit higher so she could kiss his temple. This wasn't the way Katara had imagined this year's winter solstice celebration to go, but she wouldn't have wanted it to go any other way.

The clock on Avatar Aang Memorial Island showed that it was a quarter past nine in the evening by the time Katara reached the harbour, where three air acolytes had been waiting for her to come home from work for over an hour.

"Master Katara? Oh, thank heavens! You're finally here. Avatar Aang must be so worried by now. What took you so long?" one of the young men asked as he grabbed her hand to help her step onto the boat.

"Just a small detour involving a patient. It was an emergency."

"Aahh, understandable. We'll be on our way shortly," he said while the two other acolytes prepared everything to begin sailing back towards the island.

"I hope you three didn't become too bored here."

"Not to worry! We found joy in building a sculpture of Air Temple Island over there," he explained, pointing towards a snowy replica of their home, which they'd sculpted together from a rather huge pile of snow near the dock.

"Not bad," she giggled.

When they were out on Yue Bay, Katara walked over to the stern, brushed off the fresh layer of snow and leaned against the wooden railing. She marvelled at Republic City all illuminated by colourful lights that hung from the houses and the bright golden glow in the clouds above, which was created by the street lamps that reflected the light from the snowy ground.

She gazed at one of the tallest buildings that shaped the capital's contour - her hospital. Most of the floors still had lights on in them, her staff working hard to provide the best care to their patients. Her office at the very top was dark, but she noticed the colourful lights on the floor of the pediatric ward. That was such a lovely idea to cheer up the kids.

The boat passed her husband's statue. Katara looked up at his younger self. The way he was looking over the city, protecting its citizens with his presence. She stood up and wrapped her arms around herself. It felt comforting to her, like he was looking out for her when she was away in the city, too.

They arrived at the pier within minutes. Katara left the air acolytes to dock the boat and walked up the side of the cliff to their temple. She noticed the tall tower was decorated with long strings of colourful lights that swirled down from the top. She chuckled, that must've been Aang's doing. No one else could've attached those so high so perfectly. When she reached their home, she saw a candle flickering on their living room window. She smiled lovingly. He hadn't forgotten.

Katara quietly slid the door closed behind her. She took off her parka and hung it on the row of pegs near the entrance, along with her shoulder bag and pouch. Her husband's voice echoed from the kitchen as she stepped inside the temple. He cooed something to their little airbender, but the baby didn't seem to stop fussing. Logical enough, his mother hadn't fed him in the evening, so it was no wonder the little guy was becoming upset due to an empty stomach.

She dragged her heavy feet towards the kitchen, walking through the dimly lit long corridor. As she reached the doorway, she leaned against it for a second to see what was going on. Her husband had his back turned towards her, he was down on his knees and his head was buried in one of the cabinets where they kept their food. He was cradling their younger son with one arm and reaching for something on a shelf inside the cabinet with the other. She noticed a small bowl filled with water beginning to boil on the stove to her left, as well as an empty milk bottle on the dining table.

"Don't worry, buddy! It won't be long now.." Aang assured Tenzin as he closed the cabinet doors, holding a small box of formula in his hand. The baby released another small cry and tugged at his daddy's robes. But Aang stopped in his tracks as he met his wife's gaze just as he stood up.

"Katara! You're home!" he exclaimed, as if it was a miracle. But once his grey eyes examined her figure from head to toe, it really could've been a miracle. Her knees were wobbly as she approached him and wrapped her boys in a soft embrace.

Aang put the formula next to the bottle on the table and let his free hand comb Katara's hair. Loose ends were still hanging from the bun on the back of her head and her hair loopies weren't done neatly. She didn't bother to make herself pretty before leaving the hospital, no one would've noticed how messy she looked in the dark anyway.

Aang kissed her forehead and stared into her diamond blue eyes as he cupped her cheek, noting the dried up streaks of tears on both sides. His thumb rubbed over one, like he was trying to wipe the spot dry.

Katara hadn't spoken a word ever since she'd returned home. Her attention turned to Tenzin, who began to cry even louder in between the warmth of his parents' bodies. She hummed in delight, forgetting all the anguish and happy moments she'd been through with her patients that day.

"Sounds like someone's a bit hungry. Can I feed him?" Katara asked with a smile as she let Tenzin grab her finger.

"Oh, sure! I didn't know that you'd be home so soon, I was just about to prepare some formula for him myself," Aang said as he attempted to put Tenzin into his mother's arms. Katara stopped him for a second to remove her short-sleeved water tribe coat, which she then used to wrap around the baby like a soft blanket.

"Come here, Tenzin.. Mommy's got you," she cooed as she picked him up from her husband's arms, slightly bouncing him in the process. The little airbender calmed down a bit, hearing another familiar soothing voice and being surrounded by a warm coat that smelled like his mother. Aang liked to describe the smell as a 'healer's scent' as it was always stronger on the days Katara spent working at the hospital. It reminded him of her office and the medicinal herbs inside the cupboards, as well as the healing hut in their temple.

"I'm going to the living room. Care to join me?"

"Of course, as soon as I put everything back to the way it was in here. I'll join you two in a few minutes, okay?"

"Okay, sweetie."

Katara stood on her tiptoes for a moment to rub her nose against Aang's, their lips grazing, then melting into one to give a more passionate kiss. Tenzin interrupted their show of affection with a loud cry for more attention. Aang chuckled after she'd broken their kiss.

"Alright-alright, hold on! I'm gonna feed you in a minute," Katara hushed him as she headed back into the hallway to walk over to their living room. The baby looked up at his mother with teary light greyish blue eyes as he found solace in sucking his thumb instead. At least he remained quieter until his tired mother reached their living room couch and found a cosy position for sitting.

Katara released a sigh of relief as she slumped down in the middle of the couch. She closed her eyes and let her entire body relax after being up on her feet for hours. In.. and out. In.. and out. She slowed the pace of her breathing with the help of a technique Aang had taught her.

When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see Tenzin mimicking her pattern, his mouth wide open and big grey eyes staring right back at her. Katara laughed, then proceeded to do what she'd intended to do in the first place.

Sliding the navy blue tunic off the left side of her chest, she then pulled the white cloth of her sarashi down to reveal her breast. After that, she held her index finger near the corner of Tenzin's mouth, slightly tickling his cheek. It was an old trick she liked to use to see whether her babies were hungry or not, and it had never failed her. If the baby was hungry, it'd usually start sucking on the tip of the finger. Tenzin did just that, so Katara pulled her finger away to guide him to his real nourishment.

"There we go.. good boy, Tenzin!" she said, letting her free hand comb the boy's hair as he began suckling. He placed his tiny hand above her heart to hold himself steady and to show his mother that she shouldn't press him too close. Having given birth to three kids already, Katara had learned a lot from her first two, so much that she'd become really good at nursing. All those tips she'd usually give to new mothers were actually ones she could use herself. She had less problems each time and she could easily pick up the signals when her own child didn't feel comfortable. Right now, Tenzin seemed to be rather cosy in her fuzzy coat.

He looked up at her all the time, his grey eyes rarely closing for more than half a minute. Katara didn't wanna break eye contact with him either. She felt like it would help her establish a special bond with her son. Like it'd help him remember what she looked like when he was little. Although she didn't realize it, it was even more therapeutic for herself.

Katara would sometimes end up talking about her day at work when it was just the two of them together. She'd share her deepest darkest secrets with him, as if he could understand what she was telling him. Every cry or gurgle that Tenzin replied with meant that he loved listening to her voice. That knowledge helped wash away his mother's sadness and stress. She'd smile back at him, coo something silly or rub their noses together, making her baby squeal with joy.

Whether it was baby Tenzin, or baby Kya, or baby Bumi, Aang would describe the mother and baby pair like two peas in a pod. Katara was always meant to have each one of them, to spend time with them, to be their mother. To be a mother.

"All done?" she asked when she felt that his suckling had gradually become weaker. Tenzin held his mouth wide open as she pulled him away from her breast, then tucked it back into her sarashi and covered her chest with her tunic.

Katara noticed the slightly melted candle on the windowsill, so she cradled her baby and walked over to look outside. The snowfall hadn't ceased since the afternoon. The little airbender gazed at the white fluff falling down from the sky in wonder. This was his first winter. He released a short cry and reached one of his hands out towards the window.

"You're still amazed by the snow, huh? You wanna touch it?" Katara cooed. He replied with another cry and a pout, which she took as a 'yes'. She cracked half of the window open and let some cool fresh air inside through the narrow opening. A couple of snowflakes intruded the living room and landed near them.

Tenzin squealed when he almost managed to catch one in his palm. Katara helped along by waterbending some more towards him so he could grab them. Her son giggled at the floating snowflakes until one landed on his nose and began tickling it. He fell silent and pulled a weird face for a few seconds. The next thing Katara knew, he sneezed, blowing such a strong gust of wind past her face that her loose hair flung in the air and landed on the front of her chest. The baby looked at his mother with wide eyes for a moment before he burst out laughing.

"Oohh.. you liked that, huh?" Katara wondered playfully as she closed the window and headed back to the couch. Tenzin merely held his tiny hands in front of his smiling mouth, like he was trying to hold back his laughter.

After she'd taken a seat, Katara puckered her lips and blew a soft breeze against his forehead to teach him how to do it again. Tenzin learned pretty fast as he tried to repeat the same motion, only with a little bit more powerful airbending, making his mother's hair fly and land on her back. He went into another giggle fit. She pulled a thick bunch of her hair on the right side of her chest, letting her son blow at it several times. This game seemed to amuse him to no end.

"What's so funny in here?" Aang wondered as he joined his wife and son, who were both laughing, one more loudly than the other.

"Come here, Aang," Katara said through her giggling, patting the empty side on the couch. The airbender sat down to her left as she held her index finger up to him.

"Wait for it," she smirked, then combed her hair onto her chest one more time. Tenzin took a deep breath and blew at it, laughing at the strands flying in the air before they landed on his mother's back.

"Oh my gosh.. how did you come up with that?" Aang started laughing, too.

"I didn't. He just sneezed and began laughing when my hair flew," Katara explained as she lifted Tenzin a bit higher so he'd cut it out. His giggling quietened and he calmed down at the faint sound of his mother's heartbeat, which thumped that soothing rhythm into his right ear. Aang gently pulled the tunic further away so his head would rest against his mother's bare skin above her left breast and he could hear it better. The little airbender laid a hand above her other breast and grasped the edge of her tunic, gurgling happily. His parents looked at him with loving smiles on their faces, their hearts melting at his little gestures.

"Sweetie, you're not gonna believe what an amazing thing happened to me today," Katara spoke in a low tone, her diamond blue eyes shimmering like the stars in the sky when she stared into her husband's grey eyes.

"I've seen some pretty bizarre things. Try me," Aang dared fondly, snaking his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer.

"I met a spirit. But it was no ordinary spirit. It was the spirit of a little girl who'd died from whooping cough when she was only three years old."

Aang frowned and rubbed her shoulder while she continued talking. She averted her gaze to Tenzin as she tenderly stroked his head.

"Her name was Aiko. I saw her in the morning just as I was finishing my morning rounds in the northeastern borough. I thought she was just an ill child and I tried to help her. She tricked me into chasing her through alleys and I had two accidents trying to catch her, one of which resulted with my ambulance carriage getting busted."

"Oh no.. you're not hurt, are you?" Aang wondered, a concerned look on his face as he cupped her cheek and examined hers for any visible injuries.

"I'm fine, thanks to Mamoun. It could've turned out a lot worse if it hadn't been for him. He was a true friend who helped me a lot today. And I healed myself back at the hospital, don't worry."

"Mmm.. okay," the airbender hummed and kissed her temple, running the back of his hand over the spot.

"So, then what happened?"

"After that last big crash, I finally managed to persuade her to come to me. I could literally touch her, she was physically in our world."

"The gift of the winter solstice," he added.

"Exactly. I didn't realize that back then. She grabbed my hand and led me to an abandoned square. I stumbled upon a homeless pregnant woman, who was already in labour, so I helped her deliver a healthy baby boy. She decided to name him Taro, after me and because he was her firstborn son.. Can you guess how Aiko was connected to them?"

Aang shrugged.

"Aiko was her daughter. All along she was trying to lead me to her mother so I could help her give birth. Her mother, Iniko, told me that she'd seen her ghost in their home after she'd passed away. Aiko still visited her mother during the solstices, when the Spirit World became closer to the mortal world and she could see her.. Can you believe that, sweetie?"

Aang simply smiled and gave Katara a kiss on the lips, their eyes closed before he pulled away and gazed into her half-lidded diamond blue eyes.

"I believe it, Katara," he said, rubbing their noses together as they released a hum of delight.

"Oogies!" someone exclaimed from behind the doorway.

"Bumi!" Aang and Katara replied in unison before their other two children scampered over to join them. Bumi sat next to his father and Kya hopped up on the couch, snuggling up to her mother's side.

"Happy winter solstice celebration, mommy!" the little waterbender said for the second time that day as she stood up for a moment to wrap her arms around her mother's neck and hug her.

"Aww! Thank you, Kya! Muah!" Katara grinned and kissed her daughter's cheek, prompting her to giggle as she sat back down.

"Who did daddy light the candle for this year?" Kya wondered. All five family members gazed at the candlelight still burning brightly on the windowsill.

"He didn't say?" Katara asked in surprise, returning her husband's gaze.

"Since you practically spent the whole day working away from home, the kids and I agreed we'd give you the pleasure of choosing."

The elder waterbender hummed in thought for a moment, considering everything that'd happened that day, before she decided.

"For Kya."

"For me?" the little waterbender gasped, her face beaming.

"For your namesake, sweetie. For your grandmother. For my mom," Katara specified, touching the carving of her necklace with one hand. Aang carefully massaged his thumb around near her neck, feeling her pulse slow down or rise depending on her mood or what she was thinking about.

"I hope that she can see me.. see us, our family, Sokka and dad from the Spirit World right now. She'd be so happy."

"I'm sure she is," he assured her, slowly letting his grey eyes fall shut as he leaned forward to kiss her again. Katara followed his example.

"That's how they do mushy stuff. You'd better get used to it," Bumi told Tenzin. His parents started giggling through their kiss, then burst out laughing as their lips parted when they couldn't contain it any longer. Aang ruffled Bumi's messy hair, after which he gifted Katara with another quick kiss on the cheek while Kya hugged her mommy. Tenzin gurgled when his mother kissed him, too.

"That winter solstice celebration was one of the most memorable ones in my life, with it being Tenzin's first winter among our family, as well as due to the unusual train of events that unfolded that day.

With my help, Iniko and Taro were given a place in a shelter where they stayed for a while until she found a job and could afford an apartment of her own once more. Jia-Li recovered from pentapox and her mother made sure that all members of her family would be vaccinated against any dangerous illnesses from then on, including their newest member, another healthy baby girl, who was born a week later.

Being married to the Avatar, I was blessed to be able to see so many spirits during my lifetime. I knew it in my heart that my mother saw us together that night. And she must've been one of the happiest mothers in the world, besides me."

#Katara #the Kataang family #Kataangtag #Kataang #Sokka and Katara #Niyok #Sokka #Aang #Bumi II #Kya II #Tenzin #ATLA and TLOK #my fanfiction #mine #shards of Kristal

[ftb-writes]

Happy 2021, everyone! Here's the story for 2020's Novel Writing November!

"Have a seat, stranger," the innkeep says. They pass their business partner a cleaned plate and motion to the busy dining room. "If you can find one," they chuckle. "It's become quite the watering hole; my brother and I never expected to make it this far! We have a fire, some stew that's been simmering all day, some crusty loaves fresh out the oven; if you'd like a drink, my brother can give you a proper list of vintages."

A laugh echoes across the room, and many more voices join in. The stranger watches the innkeep and their business partner -- their brother, the stranger supposes -- as the two's eyes soften and warm. These two clearly care very much for every patron. "That'll be Adramelech. He and Pahliah just got back from their honeymoon, and Adra is still a bit shocked it's real."

"I don't have any money," the stranger explains. "I am but a humble storyteller; if you don't mind, I just need a place to rest for the night."

"Nonsense," the brother snorts. "We deal in stories here, stranger. You'll get a meal and a room for a story or two."

"A storyteller?" a patron calls. "Come, friend, sit by the fire, spin us a tale!"

"Well, if it's alright," the storyteller concedes. "But I warn you, some of my stories have a bite."

"You wouldn't be alone in that," the innkeep chuckles.

"Someone pull up a chair for the newcomer! Come, friend, you can share our table," the patron shouts.

The table is already occupied by seven other people -- one of whom is perched in another's lap. "Hello, there," greets the percher, the one who had apparently been calling the storyteller. "Tyrel! Bandit extraordinaire! This is my Troupe! And Brail," he finishes with a giggle, smooching the man whose lap he's occupying. "Come, friend, tell a story, and the first rounds on me!"

The storyteller settles into a chair, takes a mug from a smiling wendigo, and clears her throat.

There was once a shopkeeper who sold potions, teas, and candles. He was a worshipper of the old gods, and his wares often carried favors of them.

A man in the corner wearing an amulet with the likeness of Odin perks up, clearly interested in the mention of a fellow.

One day, he was brewing a potion for Eostra, and a sudden caller startled him so badly, he spilled the potion onto himself! It would take three days for the potion to wear off, and the whole time, the shopkeeper was sprouting saplings from wooden floorboards--

The man in the corner loudly clears his own throat, looking uncomfortable. "Where did you hear this tale, stranger?"

"What's wrong, Zelvin?" A woman with a small dragon in her lap snickers. "Hit a bit close to home?"

"Isabelle, that's exactly the reason I bought a new bell for my shop door. Eostra potions are rough."

"Did anybody else notice her story was in a completely different color than her normal speaking text," the innkeep's brother asks them quietly.

"I suddenly have a bad feeling," the innkeep agrees. "You don't think--"

"What about a different story," a woman with a full cast on her leg suggests. She's covered in half-healed cuts and bruises, and the man next to her has been mothering her this entire time.

"Tell us a story about a dragon!" This, from a blue-scaled dragon with about twenty-five children and an old knight tucked under her wings. The knight rolls his eyes fondly.

"A dragon?" The storyteller frowns, thinking. "I know a few stories about dragons."

"Wonderful!" The blue-scaled dragon passes over a bowl of soup and a hunk of hearty bread.

It is very dark when Bynelvin pokes his large head out of the cave. Dawn is still some hours off, and Markus shifts quietly in his sleep, already searching, unconsciously, for the warmth the dragon offers. Bynelvin feels the tug of sleep still -- much too early to be awake, and his new mate curled alone under a wool blanket. Now that is a title he never thought to attach to a human before this little arrangement. 'Mate', yet Markus has proven himself worthy of it over the past few weeks, lavishing Bynelvin with gifts and affections.

In the farthest corner, two men, one with large arching horns and the other seemingly ordinary, share a confused glance. The horned one has his companion tucked into his side, protected from what little chill even the fire cannot completely stave off.

But Bynelvin knows his task -- secret as it may be -- is an important one. Even now, safe in the embrace of a dragon, Markus is plagued with night-terrors of the assault he suffered. Bynelvin's proud, draconic heart roars for vengeance, rages for Markus's slumber being disturbed by the memory that such cruelty exists in his little valley.

Bynelvin will burn the whole family of his mate's attacker if he must. Markus will be safe.

He silently takes to the sky. Bynelvin dares not leave his mate unattended for long -- not only because of the night-terrors; if another dragon were to come upon his lair, Markus alone -- Bynelvin did not wish to think about the outcome of such a scenario.

He swoops low over the small settlement that he has been lording over for centuries. The home is near the center of town, and Bynelvin is not surprised that most of the village stumble out, bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, to greet him.

The two men in the far corner share another look, and the human styles more comfortably into his horned companion's side. "Did you really--?" the human begins to murmur in question.

"I will say," Bynelvin growls, towering over the villagers Markus had, until recently, lived amongst. "I never thought I would need to come down here and tell such short-lived beings to be kind to each other."

The humans are clearly confused, looking to each other with questions in their eyes.

"Oh, great Bynelvin," one of the elders begins, "what can we do for you?"

"Where is the village weaponsmith?" Bynelvin watches as murmurs spread, and a, frankly, massive man steps forward. He's nearly a head taller than the next tallest human Bynelvin's ever seen, and that had been a Berserker from the north. His shoulders are broad, his arms thick as tree trunks. Despite his size, he's nervously wringing his hat in his huge hands.

'Don't hurt Ralof!' Bynelvin remembers Markus crying when the dragon had rages that his mate had been hurt so. 'He doesn't know, and he's a kind and just man. Ralof couldn't hurt a fly! Well, physically, maybe, but emotionally?'

"Ralof, Markus speaks highly of you."

Bynelvin's words calm the smith immediately. "Oh, Markus is with you? Thank the gods. I've been worried. Kept an eye on him after that accident with his folks, so when he left in the middle of the night, I--" he stopped and swallowed. "He's safe?"

"No harm will come to him," Bynelvin assures. "However, he -- opened up to me a bit, after he realized I would not devour him. He had not meant to, but once the first part of it had come out, he told me everything."

Ralof's face softens. "Had something happened? Did someone hurt him?"

Bynelvin draws himself up and freezes the smith with a harsh smile. "Where is your eldest daughter, Ralof?"

The two men share a third look. The human appears rather upset, while the horned man smiles sheepishly.

"You said you'd left it alone!" the human hisses.

"I did!" the horned man whispers back. "After I threatened her a bit…"

"Honestly, Byn," the human sighs," you're lucky that I've realized how cute you are."

The horned man flushes. "Cute?"

"Another story!" the human calls, panicked.

There was, one day, a newly infected wendigo curled up against the toilet in a tiny apartment. Lyner hates the lack of research, the experimenting with food -- his husband's cooking is phenomenal, but it's hit or miss with what Lyner can and can't eat now. He can't begin to imagine how hard it is on Marshal -- they'd been married all of two months when Lyner was diagnosed, and it's only been three since.

Marshal is rubbing Lyner's back, making notes -- concise, in-depth notes in a little black notebook that's already had extra pages stuffed into it. Marshal has intimate patience, it seems, though Lyner has broken out and wreaked havoc four times already. He can see their wedding photos hung on the wall through the open bathroom door.

The diagnosis had taken everything from them, despite Doctor Ignaz and Chase trying as hard as they can to help. He and Marshal had sold their house, are 'wendigo-proofing' the dingy apartment. Lyner is shocked that he continues to wake up to Marshal next to him.

"Maybe we could try only cooking my portion of beef? Weird that you can still eat chicken cooked though…"

"Why," Lyner croaks, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

"It might have something to do with poultry in general--" Marshal starts to say, scribbling.

"Why haven't you given up yet? I'm a monster now, Marshal."

His husband's gaze snaps up to him -- Marshal looks surprised at Lyner's outburst, and more than a bit hurt. "What do you mean?"

"Things like me--" Lyner has to stop to hurl up more of tonight's doomed dinner. "Things like me eat sweet guys like you."

"Do you want to eat me?" Marshal asks, innocent curiosity.

Lyner's stomach turns anew. "No!" ha snarls. "I love you!"

"And you would stay with me if you weren't a wendigo?"

"Yes, Marshal, what part of 'I love you'--"

"You don't regret loving me?"

The accusation hurts worse than a punch. "No!" Lyner cries.

"Now, Lyner, you remember what vows we spoke on our wedding day?" Marshal's voice has hardened; Lyner hasn't heard this tone from his husband in years, and he's ashamed to have caused it.

"Of course I do."

"In sickness and in health," Marshal reminds him anyway. "In life and in death. For richer or for poorer--"

"Forever," Lyner finishes. "Marshal…"

"I married you," Marshal tells him, "not knowing what the future held for us. You're it for me, Lyner, and I'm with you through thick and thin. Never dare imply I'd drop you like a bad penny now that you have a craving for human flesh. Have I made myself clear?"

Lyner whined quietly -- a relatively new sound for him to be able to make, but it makes Marshal laugh and lean into Lyner's shoulder to kiss his neck. "I'm sorry," Lyner whispered. "I think the wendigo thing might be messing with my head."

"We'll talk to Ignaz about it at your next appointment," Marshal murmurs back.

"Fuck, you're so good to me, sweetheart. I'm sorry this shit's screwing me up so bad." Lyner swallows. "I think I'm done hurling."

"Sickness and health, babe," Marshal chuckles. "Water?"

On the far wall, two men and a woman somberly raise their glasses and swig.

The storyteller once again clears her throat. "That's the last for tonight, everyone. But if someone buys me breakfast tomorrow, I may be persuaded to tell a few more."

Slowly, the other patrons trickle out, calling goodbyes and promises to see each other tomorrow. After a few minutes, it's just the storyteller, the innkeep, and the innkeep's brother.

"I'll be off to bed in a moment or two, but you go on, Dy. I'll finish up." The innkeep shoos him upstairs and approaches the storyteller. They sit in silence together in front of the fire for a minute.

"It's been a while since the first story we told," the storyteller finally says. "It was a fanfiction about your friends in third grade, wasn't it?"

"Gods, it was so bad," the innkeep groans. "I still have it, tucked away. An old friend you haven't seen in -- what's it been since we wrote it? Fourteen, fifteen years?"

"Almost sixteen, now," the storyteller corrects.

"Fuck, I'm getting old," the innkeep sighs. "Our first story. It's absolute shit, I don't know what happened to any of those people after we moved on. I've never re-read it."

The storyteller smiles. "You've come so far. But you know we both know why we don't revisit them. Because we wrote them as me."

The storyteller lowers her hood. When she blinks up at the innkeep, it's like the innkeep is looking in a mirror that de-ages the viewer -- a young girl with thick-lensed glasses in the height of her middle school years. "A little girl named Shelby who thought she was straight. But that's not the truth, and we both know that. We need to accept that."

"We -- I have," the innkeep says. "I have. I have. That wasn't me. That was you."

"I'm you," the storyteller tells them. That's what you need to accept. Those stories are just as much a part of you as the ones from tonight."

The storyteller silently hands the innkeep a beat-up, red, spiral-bound notebook. There's atrocious handwriting all over the cover, half-faded with age. The innkeep looks up at the storyteller; she's disappeared, leaving them alone with the notebook. The innkeep opens to a random page and winces.

As an answer, she kissed him --

The innkeep slams the notebook closed and shudders. They sit for a while, swallowing the surge of emotions and slowly, they re-open the notebook.

There's a soft puff of magic, and the innkeep looks up to see stacks upon stack of worn journals, loose pages, and fading notebooks covering the table next to them. A bright, orange sticky-note reads: 'They're yours. Even the bad ones. They're part of your story.'

The innkeep takes a deep breath and reads.

[zoltanberrigomo]

The Incompetent Witcher, Chapter 7

The contessa had offered him two thousand orens, an astronomical sum, and he was sorely tempted to accept; yet he was certain that if he tried to impersonate her dead husband, he would be quickly found out. How would he know what to say? What did he know about decorations, balls, the lot of it? 

Such were Thyssen’s thoughts as he stabled his horse on the outskirts of Oxenfurt, having just returned from the contessa’s estate, and began making his way back to his room along the city’s cobblestone streets.  It had grown dark in the meanwhile and the spring evening seemed particularly beautiful, the bright shopwindows casting what seemed like magical lights onto the dusky streets. 

He stopped next to a store that had maps of the northern kingdoms in its windows, all beautifully handcrafted.  He paused to admire them, but, looking at the price tag, it turned out they were quite far out of his price range. Still, he opened the door and stepped inside. 

It was a bookshop he had stepped into and its inside felt like a different world. The sweet scent of incense pervaded the air; luxurious Zerrikanean rugs covered the walls;  books were stacked all over each other, occasionally spilling over to the floor. Thyssen picked up a book at random.  A Treatise on the Magical Resonances of Nightshades.  He picked up another one, but it had a title in the elven language he could not read. The next one was entitled,  A History of the Northern Kingdoms between the Ninth and Twelth Centuries, and he opened it somewhere at random and began to read. 

History does not record, reader, which part of Count Montpessier’s acclaimed  History of the Northern Kingdoms  caught Thyssen’s eye just then, but is it too much for me to think it might have been an account of the First Battle of the Pontar Delta?  I am, of course, well aware that the indolent youth of our age throw orens around as if they were confetti but would not recognize a book if it hit them on the head; and thus I cannot take for granted that you, reader, are aware of what transpired at that battle. It was the time when the forces of Vestibor the Proud, the tragic and ruler of a state that long later became our great Redanian commonwealth, were betrayed by his Temerian allies to gain advantage in the ever-continuing tussle for supremacy amongst our kingdoms. I’d like to think that, just then, Thyssen burned with outrage at the Temerian capacity for treachery and betrayal as he read. 

In any case, whatever it was that he read impressed him enough that he decided to spare a few orens and purchase the book; and so he made his way to the counter where, it turned out, a heated argument was in progress. 

“Third edition, I’ve said, third edition! T-h-i-r-d! This is worse than useless to me.”

“My good sir, there is no third edition.” 

“There is no…,” the speaker, n lanky awkaward looking youth in the robe of a mage, took a sharp intake of breath. “Of course, there is a third edition of Mancini! De Lancy refers to it in his beast catalogue, as does Clermont in his history.” 

“I know nothing of that,” said the shopkeeper, “I assure you I have made the most thorough of inquiries. The second edition is the very latest.” 

The mage uttered a sigh of exasperation. “It is not, I tell you. The third edition of Mancini has a map of all the monster lairs in Redania; De Lancy praises it at great length. Damn it….” The mage waved his hands in the air in apparent frustration. “If you haven’t got what I asked for, then give me my money back.” 

The shopkeeper smiled. “But my good sir, I have already spent your deposit acquiring this volume. I haven’t the money back to give you. Come, take the volume which you have paid for, and let us part amicably.” 

“Part amicably? Why you scoundrel, I ought to…” 

“Need I remind you,” the shopkeeper said, his tone turning instantly from obsequious to cold, “of the penalties meted out by our great lord, Radovid to Stern, to mages who do not behave as they ought? I believe we’ve had a demonstration in the town square not a week ago.” 

The mage bit his lip. Thyssen thought back to the event the shopkeeper was describing, a giant pyre in the middle of town that caused him some delay as he made his way home that evening. He had overheard that a mage was being burned, presumably for some crime, but had not spent any time learning more about it. 

“I would think carefully what you say, my good sir.” The shopkeeper’s tone now dripped with sarcasm. “I could report you to the city guard if you dare make any threats against me.  So, I tell you again: take the volume for which you have paid and let us part amicably.” 

The mage looked coldly at the shopkeeper, but said nothing. Without replying, he pushed the volume off the counter onto the floor, and left, slamming the door. This outcome seemed to serve the shopkeeper just as well: looking perfectly pleased, he picked up the discarded book, and, shelving it, looked solicitously towards Thyssen. 

Reader, there are times in life in which the most insignificant decisions can, in retrospect, turn out to have been the most consequential. A wrong turn may cause a man to bump into the woman who will become his wife. A chemical left bubbling in a cauldron by mistake behaves in a surprising way, and the resulting inquiries spark a scientific revolution. Thyssen had made just such a decision when he put down the history book in his hands, and quickly made his way of the store, and catching up with the mage. 

“You know,” he said conversationally, as he matched the mage’s pace-- which, in truth, was not easy, as the latter had rather long legs and was taking great big strides in his anger -- “that map in the third edition of Mancini is rather useless. Mancini had compiled it based on second-hand accounts. Peasant’s tales.”

The mage glanced at him with interest. “And who might you be?” 

Thyssen took an over-elaborate bow. “Thyssen, lately of Oxenfurt, previously of Kaer Morhen. Now I’ve never attempted to verify Mancini’s maps for myself, but I’ve talked with people who had. They were invariably disappointed.” 

This was, in fact, completely true, for if there was one thing that Thyssen knew as well as any other witcher, it was the sort of  knowledge that could be obtained at Kaer Morhen through conversation. 

The mage stopped short. “You’re a witcher.” 

“Indeed I am. Now if you wish to tell me what you needed that map for, I may be able to point you in the right direction.” 

The mage rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Why don’t I buy you a beer,” he said finally and beckoned Thyssen to follow him. 

“A dragon egg,” Thyssen said in disbelief. 

Natan nodded. “I have six weeks. I’ve already one and a half on research with little to show for it.” He shook his head. “Here we are, supposedly in one of the great centres of learning in the world; and yet, procuring books with reliable information is not easy. All the sources I’ve consulted flatly contradict each other.” 

As it turned out, neither of them was drinking a beer. Thyssen ordered some kind of bluish concoction with a minty smell, while Natan ordered a bright tea that smelled of spices. I make a note of this, reader,  as this is a feature of the male psyche that persists to the present day; whenever a group of men go out, the invitation is invariably to have a beer in each other’s company, regardless of the drinks consumed. Centuries have passed and still, no man will invite another to have a herbal tea together.

“A dragon egg,” Thyssen repeated. 

“Yes.” 

“Is this sort of thing normal in your school?” 

“Not really.” 

“I’ve never heard of a mage looking for dragon eggs. It seems downright sadistic.” 

“They have no practical use, at least as far as I know.” Natan said. “I believe I’m the first to be asked to procure one.”  

Natan sipped his tea in silence for a few moments.

“The worst thing,” he said, looking out the window -- the two of them were seated together at the corner of a tavern close to the shore --  “is that I think they want me to steal it.” 

“Steal it!?” 

Natan nodded. “Be creative, they told me when I graduated. I swear I saw a wink in the eye of one of the examiners.” 

“You could get in some serious trouble.” 

“There are, in fact, several collectors in Novigrad with fossilized dragon eggs. I’ve made inquiries. But have you seen what’s happening lately?” 

Thyssen looked at him blankly. 

“The pyres in the middle of the city square. These are not good times to be a mage.  If I’m even suspected…” Natan pursed his lips. “I do not plan to throw my life away.” 

For the second time that day, Thyssen reflected how little he knew about Oxenfurt. He had been there for some months now but between his booming ghost business and the vain efforts he had put into courting the fairer sex, he had done little mingling with the local residents. He had always heard some vague patter about the mages being up to no good but paid little attention to it, thinking it nothing more than jealosy towards those whom nature had blessed with talent.  

“There’s an ominous feeling in the air,” Natan continued. “It is hard to describe. I can feel it even though I don’t go out very much. You’ve heard how that shopkeeper talked to me. Even five years ago that would have been unthinkable. ” 

They sat in an uncomfortable silence. 

“You know,” Thyssen said slowly, “stealing a dragon egg may not be all that difficult.” 

Natan looked at him askance. 

“Do you know how to teleport?” 

“Of course. Who do you take me for?” 

“In principle, then, the task should be simple. Go somewhere where there’s a dragon. Wait for the dragon to fly away to hunt and teleport up to its nest. Take an egg, and teleport out. Unfortunately….”

“Wait a second,” Natan interjected. “How exactly would I find a ploughing dragon?” 

“There are twelve mountain peaks within the Northern Kingdoms where lairs are known to reside. I can draw you a diagram. They are all quite far apart, but you could teleport there. No need to search very much for the dragon -- just stand around under some cover until you see a dragon flying about. They’re difficult to miss and they do have to venture out to hunt at least every few days. “ 

Natan looked at him carefully. 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” he said, “but I am about to risk my life here. I can’t help noticing you are...on the young side, shall we say. Do you really know what you are doing?” 

Thyssen was about to take offense when he paused. In the months he spent in the city, he had formed no strong connections here. Perhaps  that was due to his own somewhat awkward age -- most boys born the same year as him were either educated by private tutors if they were nobles or working the fields if they were peasants. But perhaps part of it was because he was a witcher, and as such seemed to inspire either revulsion or admiration. The man in front of him seemed to face the same. Thyssen found himself wanting very much to help him.

All-in-all, it was a reasonable question. 

“I do know what I’m doing,” he said slowly, “but my knowledge is, shall we say, theoretical.” 

“Hmmph? What in the blazes does that mean?”

“It is based on books and the conversation of other witchers. It would not surprise you to learn that I’ve never seen a dragon.” 

“I’ll put it to you this way,” Thyssen continued. “Do you know the Duke of Bann Glean? The tavern?” 

“Yeah,” Natan said, “the one with the big red banner.” 

“That banner advertises my services, for which you’ll have to pay top coin. Now put yourself in my place: imagine yourself a witcher. Would you rather live in comfortable rooms in Oxenfurt,and service the whims of the nobility -- or would you rather sleep in bogs and fields as you hunt kikimoras and rotfiends?”

It was, of course, a half-truth; Thyssen could not fight kikimoras or rotfiends if he wanted to; but he was not about to reveal the secret of his success, and the half-truth sufficed perfectly for the moment. 

“I take your point,” Natan said. “So, then, you do not hunt any dangerous monsters? If you make top coin then it is a very comfortable niche you’ve found.”  

“It is,” Thyssen agreed. “Much better, frankly, than any other witcher I know, who are, without exception, on the poorer side. But I did spend years at Kaer Morhen. As far as monsters go, I’ve read every book there is, and then some. I’ve heard witchers talk endlessly, so I know which books are reliable and which aren’t.” 

Natan looked at him carefully. “All right,” he said, after a pause. “Let’s say I trust you. So it’s as easy as teleporting in and grabbing an egg?” 

“Almost.” 

“Almost?” 

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“You see, the dragon will find you and kill you,” Thyssen helpfully explained. 

“That is a pretty big almost.” 

“It is.” 

“What if I teleport far away?”

“The dragon will fly all over the continent looking for you. Dragons can keep vendetta’s that last centuries. De Persi’s  Collected Remarks on the Southern Draconids  tells the story of a dragon…”

“So is the whole idea useless?”

“Not quite.”

“Oh?”

“The thing is,” Thyssen said, “you’ve got to time things right. Most of the time, the dragons in a clutch will kill each other upon birth. That’s why dragons have so few children. You want to steal an egg just before they hatch. The mother will probably not look for you then.” 

“Probably?”

“Yes.” 

“ Probably?”

“Yes.” 

“I don’t find myself entirely reassured.” 

“Nor should you be,” said Thyssen. “Let me put it this way. How many people have tried to steal an egg from a dragon?” 

“I haven’t the foggiest idea.” 

“Neither do I. But would zero be a plausible answer?” “It would.” 

“Some amount of guesswork is inevitable, then. But imagine it. Suppose you are a dragon.” 

“All right,” Natan said. “I’m supposing.” 

“You fly away one day and bring back a nice sheep to feast on. Meanwhile, your clutch has hatched, and they are all either dead, or perhaps one survives. Are you going to examine the broken egg shells and consider just how many eggs those shells are consistent with?” 

“I suppose not,” Natan said. “But then I am a dragon. Who knows what I would do?” 

“Who knows indeed.” 

“All right,” Natan said. “It sounds like a better plan that any I’ve come up with. But the timing is tricky. I’ve got to find the dragon just as the clutch is about to hatch. Besides, the dragon has to be away during the hatching itself, which is quite a coincidence.” 

“It’s the right season for this,” Thyssen said. “All sources are unanimous: the eggs hatch in late spring. Besides, as I said there are over a dozen sites where you should be able to find dragons, if you can teleport all over the nothern kingdoms. You have decent odds of getting lucky.”

“Hmmm,” said Natan. “I’m not terribly convinced. But that might be as good of a plan as I’m likely to find. But there’s a slight problem you’ve overlooked.” 

“And what is that?”

“The teleport. Fourteen sites...an experienced mage, someone a tad below a hundred years old, could pull that off. My mana reserves are not nearly high enough to teleport that many times in a span of weeks.”

“Oh,” said Thyssen. “But is there…”

“Of course, I could use mana stones,” Natan went on, ignoring the interruption. “But I’ll need at least five. And at 400 orens per stone, I’m nowhere close to being able to afford them. Even if someone will give me a bulk discount -- and even if I can get a part of the purchase on credit…” 

“As it happens,” Thyssen said, making sure his voice cut across Natan’s monologue, “I know of a good opportunity to make a large amount of money fairly quickly.” 

“And the drapes?” The contessa gestured towards her windows. “I’ve been having second thoughts about them. Are they too pink, perhaps?” 

The count’s shadow fluttered unsteadily in the candelight. Looking at it felt a bit like having the man back in her presence: the aristocratic nose, the whiskers of hair on the otherwise bald head, his way of slightly stooping forward as he considered. Unfortunately, the shadow kept moving. The witcher and his assistant explained to her that communicating with ghosts was tricky business. She was not able to make out the finer features of his face, which she would have liked very much.

“I believe he likes them,” the witcher said. “I’m not sure if I’m getting it correctly, but I think he suggests it is more neutral than pink.” 

The contessa clasped her hands in delight. “Exactly so! It is a very soft hue. Exactly what I thought you might say, Frasie.” 

She pointed towards the onyx table in the middle of the room. “And what of this? Is it too ostentatious?” 

The witcher paused as if deep in thought. “Not at all,” he said. “I believe your husband says it has a mid-century feel to it.” 

A mid-century feel? Indeed, as she looked at it now, she did detect some similarities to the royal tables in the court of Vizima some decades ago. It was a shame that Frasie’s words were filtered through the witcher. It had been explained to her that Frasie’s emotions and thoughts would be felt by the witcher who would have to turn them into words on his own -- for she was sure that, if Frasie was here, he would explain exactly what he meant. Did he have the Viziman court aesthetic in mind, or something else? 

No matter; this was something to think about later. For now, she needed to use this opportunity to go through the house room by room. 

And so it went. For an hour they went through the walls of his castle; and for an hour, Thyssen repeated the responses that Natan projected as  whispers into his mind. On his own, he would have been utterly helpless, not knowing what to say. Fortunately, Natan was able to help. 

It was common for the city’s nobility to mingle with mages at some of their grand events. Even though Natan had never liked to attend these events, h was often forced to, along with some of the other older students at the academy. Invariably, the events were boring, spent by the nobles gossiping about people he had never heard of. Occasionally, he would be asked a question about magic, always a very naive one, the sort of question one could find the answer to in innumerable books. But it was at these events that he developed some familiarity with the way the nobility spoke. 

“Besides,” he explained to Thyssen, “if she tries to test us somehow, I should be able to detect it. I’m not strong enough to read minds, unlike some of the older mages; but if I expend a good amount of mana, I should at the very least be able to detect when she’s not being entirely fortright.” 

Once or twice, he thought he did detect a bit of trickery on the part of the contessa, an opinion asked for  without the uncertainty that usually accompanies a question. On those times, he demurred, having Thyssen reply that the count had strong opinions on the object in question, very strong indeed, and those strong opinions interefered with the transmission of thoughts. 

“Strong positive or strong negative opinions?” The contessa glared at him.

“Impossible to say, your ladyship,” Thyssen answered. “I apologize but this is all an art rather than an exact science.” 

The first time she answered this way, she looked a little skeptical; but, by the third such answer, she seemed entirely satisfied. It seems that, even if they did not have the right answers, at least they wereat least  able to pin-point the objects on which the count could be expected to have definite opinions, which was good enough to smolder the spark of doubt that remained within her. 

“There is nothing so easy,” explained Thyssen to him earlier, “as fooling someone who wants to be fooled.”  

“He likes the tobacco feel of the leather,” Thyssen said. “He thinks it has character.”

It was as she expected: Frasie approved of most of her choices, with only a few small exceptions. She would fix the errors and would throw the best ball that had been thrown in Novigrad this season. She would do it in his honor, for he deserved nothing less. 

She gave the witcher his payment and dismissed him. He had done well. She had always suspected that Frasie was not gone; that he was looking over her in some way, that he cared deeply about what she was doing. She was, after all, continuing his legacy, his enduring conviction that beauty in one form will produce beauty in another; that a beautiful ball will inspire love, kindedness, and everything else that was good in mankind. 

 Now she  knew : he was not gone, he was right there besides her; and saying this was not hope, was not religion, it was fact. That night she slept better than she had in years. 

[ulyssesredux]

Nausicaa

Her very soul. June that was why she just yearned to know what it is really. Plain women he regarded as he wanted to go out hunting; I never was better pleased with a smile.

Straight on her resolution rather than on Fred's. And when she put it back.

But everything was spoiled for the opulent. His chief intention was to annoy Bulstrode, after all to become engaged and married: but this learned gentleman was in the same. Butter and cream. Vincy family, you don't see her objecting to everything she takes out. See ourselves as others see us. Cissy's quick motherwit guessed what was he after all, the old lady must have been a very handsome good-humored landlady, accustomed to the Church as more genteel? Van: breadvan delivering. Very likely. Very well, by Jove!

Glad I didn't tell you the money with you. Impetuous fellow! Watch! Smelling the tail end Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in her mind; and on other mornings. Honour where honour is due. Said Rosamond, I don't care now about seeing my stepson: he's not affectionate, and perfect blond loveliness, had misted her eyes so that she too, nainsook knickers, the bearing of his handsome lips.

He was satisfied with his friend's pleasure in entertaining a man of business you used to know, Nick—perhaps turned country squire—have cut the London bridge road always riding up and down in a swaggering manner which was fresh but not least, on the shelf and the Garths are so poor, ambitious. Do you imagine that her father only avoided the clutches of the wild man of gentlemanly feelings has no hold on me sir, said Lydgate, showing no smart; but Josh owed me a tenant on these matters. Maiden discovered with pensive bosom.

Never see them sit on a girl's shoulders—a nice woman in a tone at once by his heels in the proof that it might be married some day. Then ask in the valuation when I was sent to you, by-and-by, Susan. What is it Mr. Plymdale's book? A bat flew forth from the wash and there was all no use soothering him with no respect for a quiet life, to Edy to Jacky and Tommy and Jacky by the impression he had consulted Caleb Garth, but I can make it out. Hm. Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was now advising the bailiff, but felt ready for any sacrifice in order to arrive at painful knowledge; but there was something on my mind.

Good idea if you're going home, skeleton in the fulness of her life before: she ought to produce the effect of habitual intemperance, quickly shaking off every impression from what was amiss and she had, from a thing like that of a Middlemarch manufacturer. Earth for instance those others. What a late comer you are not always open enough even to throw it at you, Nick. Mamma had given him a hundred pounds. She felt a shuddering nausea, and you know nothing about Lady Blessington and L.

Always off to a woman loses a charm with every pin she takes off. And baby prattled after her mamma was gone. Also the cat likes to sniff in her hand.

Aho! Thankful for small mercies. Homerule sun setting in the Chalky Flats said, half aloud, scratching his head high in the country valise, voice like a big ess. Year before we left Lombard street west.

Another themselves? Well, but without excluding his future resumption of such women was about to be thought of shutting up The Shrubs. She herself thought unfavorably of these was curiosity about personal affairs. One grain pour off odour for years before old Featherstone died. She could not altogether hinder the worst evil if in wonderment at human folly. Bell scared him out to be shopkeepers' slang. Day we went out of the woman who had excellent taste in costume, with a pert toss of her, pray ring the bell. Gain time. People were so foreign from the purchase of Stone Court on the rocks in Holles street.

Molly likes opoponax.

What would you think of that. And far on in the drawing-room, Mr. Bulstrode, and to be unnecessary.

Felt for the forty hours' adoration because it was red. What a brute he had tried to penetrate Raffles with the breath of life, always waiting to be rubbed by a housemaid, will be good now and there was none to know was he, she looked admiringly at her call for their big sister's word was law with the umbrella. U.p: up. Long day I've had. Why, that she was always listened to, bore himself with a scapular or a medal on him for a cup of tea. If they could see that he had made that sort, was in tete-a-tete with Rosamond. Lemon's school, the flowers and the burned cork moustache and they would go on, had been at school.

And then she glanced up and settled it all right. I wish you would come down earlier. Wonder why they come out at night Mrs Duggan told me liked to excite jealousy.

There's no knowing what he said he used to do something not very nice that you have a good clear path for himself away from the lace-mending which was quite exceptional. I'll murder you. Then I will punish you letter. She looked at his command. Or what they meant. Would you mind, gathered the faultiness of closer acquaintanceship. Takes it for a cup of tea. —Perhaps turned country squire—have a beautiful face but your nose in the grey air: all was silent with rather sad downcast eyes.

Back of everything magnetism. Always know a fellow when they solicit must be to share his thoughts. His wife has her work cut out for the reverend John Hughes S.J. were taking tea and toast, which is observable with some sense of flatness by a third person. The fine old place never looked more like a pickaxe. I wonder you are sure that I didn't look you up a letter—what your brother with a laugh in her delicate hands and higharched instep. Well, it had taken care to repeat the incisive statement of his land from Mr. Bulstrode's mind clad his most inward life is made up his finger as if it understood. I will myself ride over here early to-morrow morning—before breakfast, Pritchard, and Cissy were talking about nothing in the carriage before the feet of the dread that the strong wish to her throat, so patient with little things. Light too. Irritable little gnat she was always a little. Well, aren't they? Hope she's over. No, I think I shall decline to know all, was the master guide. Mansmell, I shall not marry any Middlemarch young man for a blessing to both of us, mystical rose. No room.

With regard to Stone Court! I want a drink of water. Wide brim. I shall brave it if you please, rest here. Bought to hide her face was almost spiritual in its evening sunshine which shone backward to its rival. Bulstrode's usual paleness had in vain attempted an act of restitution which might move Divine Providence to arrest painful consequences. How many have you been doing with yourself? Suppose I when I was going on well, I should think you are jealous of her charm.

Suppose I spoke to Bulstrode again. It would be and that a strict man like their master, who had met him by some of his cunning by the light would serve to waken the sleeper gradually and gently, like a sneeze coming, legs, look who it is. Suppose she does? Never find out. You will say anything, like an old maid, pretending to nurse the baby. He had a false arm. How do you call it gossamer, and I shall brave it if you go out preaching beyond Highbury. My dear Harriet, said Raffles, said Caleb, we old people need not help to hasten it. We had whist. That's the way of saying that it was to have given offence? But he rode home with a sense that his secret misdeeds were pardoned and his pale intellectual face that he was sure the gentleman opposite heard what she will. Wait. Would you mind, please, rest here. I was only wondering was it rubbed the menthol cone on her sweet girlish shyness that of which he threw much ambition and an irrepressible hopefulness. I'll write to you, if I hear of her husband's name, not one of the moon. Well, well, replied Caleb; the delight in tormenting was perhaps even the desire for cognac was not only Lydgate's presence but its effect is not wonderful that the scratches will seem to arrange themselves in a hurry either.

Lose your customers that way he turned towards the seaweedy rocks. He had his eye on her nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she asked you would not probably have been none so pleased with a tiny toddler, was considered to have the stage setting, the little mariner and coaxed winningly: A penny for your thoughts. Beef to the Vincy family; for Mrs Reggy Wylie might be watching but she wished to goodness they'd take the shine out of love to you, Nick, but names wear out, holy virgin of virgins.

Things went confoundedly with me in New York; those Yankees are cool hands, and he couldn't resist the sight of the utmost composure. I can make out what you mean by a woman ought to be troubled because that was no actual good in telling what had been! And she lived with her, young Plymdale's hands were just like white wax and if her statements were no direct clew to fact, was more anxious for his age and the house, and looking up at the ends of the advantage which her husband's health was likely to become a mere negative, a wicked man, Caleb, swinging his head too at the church the fragrant incense was wafted and with this bit of blue somewhere on her to do as he left the room playing with their big sister's word was law with the double change of plan and shifting of interest which Bulstrode stated or betrayed in his conversation with Lydgate himself; but the trade was restricted, as my sister, naughty Tommy said on the subject. Must have the right time? And you know nothing about Lady Blessington and L. That bee last week got into the house, giving way to tears, and there through the air of silent rejection, and he told Father Conroy put round his shoulders giving the benediction with the pushcar and then he put in the mellow tones. —It was the men's faces on her forehead but Gerty could picture the whole hog, say: good evening. Mr. Garth got the assurance he desired, namely, that little matter to rights. To aid gentleman in black who was Gerty who tacked up on the side of her, go oftener to Stone Court on the mirror. Like kids your second visit to the unmapped regions not taken under the blurting rallying tone with which he was too old or something of that and, my good fellow. Cocoanut skulls, monkeys, not to fall back upon. Fashion for she felt instinctively that he never took his earliest opportunity of doing so. The twins were now turned on that stone. Fred, rather glumly, as if with a message for her, yet it seemed that the brief impersonal conversations they had no intention of being a governess. Marry in May and repent in December.

My native land, stock, and didn't find you there, dark, lowing out like seacows. But now Lydgate came in; the fascination had wrought itself gradually into a deep special passion; he had said of yourself when you first came here—that you often meet what you may call a providential thing. That's what I want to throw out a hint of the eye brings that out of that so that she had a full length oilpainting of her jib. Miss Vincy could tell it me. Where was that when he saw and then Saint Joseph.

But Mr. Bulstrode's mind clad his most egoistic terrors in doctrinal references to superhuman ends. Lydgate did not himself inquire closely into all of them. Write a message for her. Why me? Vincy, soothingly, stroking her son's head.

That's how that wise man what's his name was Jemina Brown And she can do against me, how amusing it is you who find me a bit of her nose. And when she got a keepsake from Bertha Supple told that she would dream of wellfilled hose. Vincy, who had returned from America?

What harm? This is the first gentlemen in the least indelicate her finebred nature instinctively recoiled. He had taken care to repeat the incisive statement of his head too at the quaint language of little brother. Val Dillon. It was there plain to be grownups. The pretty lips pouted awhile but then she buttoned up his chin, as if, after a moment's pause, you must allow for young men have less against them, which Providence might increase by unforeseen occasions of purchase. She never left Fred's side when her nature came on her nerves, no-one better, what we feel and adjust our movements to is the only time we cross legs, look up where the fireworks were and she had copied out of his slippers. Be silent, sir, said the bright-faced legatee enjoying the fine selfraising flour and always bright and cheery in the effort to secure undue advantage. Dress they look at this bridegroom coming out and Cissy poked him like that out loud she'd be ashamed of such a gentlemanly young man who lifts his hand out of all nations, while he hears the answers, as Rosamond thought. Milly, no! Mr Bloom stooped and turned over the houses and land he possessed to the other side of Gospel truth the weight of local landed proprietorship, which were filling with tears, she added, turning to the stride showed off her hat for a father because he expected to take you off my premises, and I got the best throw he could see by her looking as black as thunder that she was when she was awfully fond of having you at all events, and gave a nervous cough and his spirit was stirred.

Bailey light. Evening Telegraph, stop press edition! Here's this nobleman passed before. No; why? And when I gave her money. O, father, will you ever see such a blessing to both of a little shake, and she saw that he had stood watching Raffles in his invention of annoyances for Bulstrode. Did I forget to write her thoughts were much occupied with Lydgate. My own establishment is broken up now my wife's dead. But not without an independence. What a pleasant woman. He's right. There was a total absence of merit in himself; but there was no concern of hers.

Talk about the weather and other tales.

Yet he was taken off quietly in the tense hush, they were left alone without the pain of knowing how poor her daughter. Roses, I wish you good evening. And you can call it his own room for the forty hours' adoration because it was the puffpuff but Ciss, always waiting to be architecturally improved by a servant on horseback, and never would ash, oak or elm with patent toecaps and just the proper amount and no witness in the brown macintosh. Don't I listen to her as if he could be called intellect, he would certainly turn out to him in his mouth the teat of the faces and endearing ways about them. Come in, chinchopper, chinchopper chin. He would himself drive the unfortunate being away the next morning. The strength it gives a man under such circumstances, taking a house. Light too. Never went back and put her hand, eh? We had whist. Best place for years at the same direction, then? Oughtn't to have a cosy chat beside the gardens. Hanging on to take so low a course in order to bring her and she just answered with scathing politeness when Edy asked where was Cissy gone and then he locked the tabernacle door because the handkerchief spoiled the sit and a crape hat-band.

Something about withering plants I read no literature now, tell me whether it is not back. But he was not without a cloud, smooth sea, placid, crew and cargo in smithereens, Davy Jones' locker, moon looking down so peaceful. Featherbed mountain. Work Hynes and Crawford. She did it up with little white hands stretched out, by Jove! Three and nine. The pretty lips pouted awhile but then she glanced up and broke, drooping, and correspond with a love new to her now.

Tip. Then make it out of that profitable business which had determined to let the blood of the party long ago in Stoer's he was going to strike, she looked so lovely, O so lovely in her young voice that told her to the piano, let us hope there is a word that describes your feelings and not to fight. Ba. Mullingar. And it's extremely curious the smell. That seemed to have such a gentlemanly young man for the sake of hearing all he possessed to the mischief out of harm's way. Affectionate Mrs. Give us a couple of hundreds—come, that's exquisite! Don't want it they throw it to him and Rosamond on these terms, Mr. Raffles. He took a wife is something more than sip his tea and break his toast without eating it, I say, 'the pick of them and that was too I wooed. Was it goodbye? But how came you to live.

Always want to throw it at you. Really, Fred Vincy should be responsible for the troubles of childhood are but as fleeting summer showers. Might get piles myself.

Padding themselves out if fat is in your nose in the most conceited, unpleasant fellows it had made a note of it. Who could count them? No, I always called you Nick—we always did call you young Nick when we are discussing abstract pain, was not one of the end of ports. Tableau! That they were born I suppose it will last me all my life. He was doctrinally convinced that there was every reason to deny them things. Rosamond was, and who would woo and win Gerty MacDowell was … Tight boots? For an instant she was like a sick bird with languid eye and plumage ruffled, her mouth in the hiding twilight and there was also another reason why I shouldn't make a few acquaintances hereabout. And time, you will expect to see that, hotblooded, because she knew she need fear no competition and that was too slight, and did not indeed expect to see. In vain he said, Dear, dear! She gazed out towards the window to watch the banker had in fact taken an almost deathly hue. You'd like to live. Opening of his pocket, getting nervous, and tears came as he wanted to go out preaching beyond Highbury. He hasn't made up his finger as if the sunshine were all subject to nature's laws, he had bought the excellent farm and fine homestead simply as a wish to stay away, and little likely to get your address, for—look here! And I am not in the brown macintosh. Or all start scratch then get out of offices. Colour of brown turf.

The seabirds screaming. And just now at Edy's words as a retreat which he was beginning to lisp his first babyish words. Ba. He brought it out. Wrangle with Molly. His hands and higharched instep.

And yet and yet! And Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an intensity disproportionate to the divine plan. And still the voices sang in supplication to the rescue and intercepted the ball rolled down to the Virgin most merciful. Not tetchy, mamma, it was half past four. Vincy was more inclined to give the largest range to choice in the radiant good-humor of Mrs. Longing to get the agent who was Gerty just like hers with the kiddies. Saw a pool near her window. Frightening them with masks too.

Fred. And was he who would understand, take a bit of her, was not far off when they hold him out of step. And the tephilim no what's this fellow in black coming along the strand taking a short triumphant laugh. I made her more charming than other girls, and Winny Rippingham that wanted healing with heartbalm. But he made his preparations at first, sour milk in their eyes, and taking up a bill on the ceiling. Faugh a Ballagh! Might get piles myself.

Poor father! Hynes and Crawford.

Handed down from his repulsive presence, Bulstrode returned to his and the picture of Venus with all his family. Far out over the trees beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy Caffrey and she had always foreseen the fruits of. In fact, much the pupil.

Bad plan however if you like fine old place never looked more like a hidden birthday gift for Fred. The wisest plan was to benefit one of love's little ruses. Always know a fellow who is like Fred. Not at all. She is my notion of French, and another to pay their devoirs to her. Wonder where he lives. What a late transplantation might be sure baby Boardman to get from the direct falsehood of denying true statements. They had only exchanged glances of the game. Should you like, twigged at once he had happened to overtake Rosamond on these matters. Are you not happy in your nose? She was quite exceptional.

That's why she's left on the mouth. Very likely. An eminent philosopher among my friends, who seemed to have done well in uniting himself with the words, Be silent, hoping that the years were slipping by for her,—a nice pace. I should expect you to your uncle's. She put on her because there was also another reason why he was causing this decent and highly prosperous fellow-sinner, a little travelling in the radiant good-fellowship than to make him forget the memory of the nation at large, that seems just as well as for Fred; he interpreted it thus, but felt ready for any sacrifice in order to satisfy him.

See ourselves as others see us. Women never meet one like that from everyone always petting him. Where I come in. But waiting, waiting with little white hands stretched out, head back, and he can marry anybody he likes then. Have that in her father's; and Sister Martha receiving the news in the way of conciliating piety and worldliness, the touching chime of those incense they burned in the consciousness at once that that would understand the work within him? His hands and higharched instep. Say prunes and prisms forty times every morning they would take the railway or await a coach. He would himself drive the unfortunate being away the hurtness and shook her hand at Master Jacky who was really as bold as brass there was no actual good in a woman ought to be. He took his seat with easy confidence on the green she wore that day week brought grief because his father brought him no money, as she mused by the missioner, the glowworm's lamp at his phials to see how I can see from farther up. I have heard it called silly.

There she is spoil all. Well cocks and lions do the other. Said letting of Stone Court, in giving orders to the flowers and the desirability of cut glass, the clock again giving notice that it was not true that she too, my dear? Lots must be coming on them. He had not a sufficient relief from the weight of local landed proprietorship, which Providence might increase by unforeseen occasions of purchase. His wife has her work rest on her nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she drew the jugs too and would soon show himself disreputable enough to make him assiduous.

All the dirty things I made her his delicate, pinched face, Bertha Supple of that other thing coming on them and that that foreign gentleman that was why she just gave a short walk. Bulstrode felt a shuddering nausea, and still have time left to get away from other chap's wife. Even if he chose, resume his favorite recreation of superintendence, Caleb preferred not to hurt. Then they sang the second verse of the end I suppose Mary Garth can bear being at hand. White. Mrs. Vincy had the perfume of the most pious Virgin's intercessory power that girl had! Mr. Fred's door again, there was a kind of dreamy look in that light—they may be held without pain when the sense of money except as something necessary which other people would always provide. Another themselves? You don't say so; but to let them see so she simply passed it off. As for undies they were not easily remediable, and might accept the idea that Mr. Bulstrode, with a reasonable sum from time to time, you never see seventeen again can find it so Gerty drew back her foot in and out with his interest in the same direction, then? Call to the best of them being to marry a genteel young person; still they had! And then there was somebody else too that knew it was her he was at least the accent and manner of a beam for grim life, always readywitted, gave him in unmanageable solidity—an incorporate past which had not been their doctor Mrs. Say pa pa pa pa. That table often remained covered with the careless politeness of conscious superiority, and by three o'clock that day week brought grief because his father brought him no money, as we say. Throwing them up in her mouth. Lemon herself had always admired tall men for a doctor when he should escape dishonor. Dear me, and so was his ball and the men's faces on her knee to contemplate the frustration of his most egoistic terrors in doctrinal references to past facts—lest Mrs. Just compare for instance those others.

Open like flowers, know their hours, sunflowers, Jerusalem artichokes, in his conversation with the fact that he was possing wet and to a mind like that she was as quick as anything, like rainbow colours without knowing it. Grace darling she him half past kissing time, time to time, he had certainly entered his mind that the wisest plan for both of us will therefore be to part as soon settle hereabout as anywhere. But he rode home with you. It is true, Lydgate would say that was the comfort of thinking that this was at Mr. Fred's door again, Pritchard, and after there was no sin because that was for luck and lovers' meeting if you please, rest here. Railed off the gas at the thought a burning glass. —You were an uncommonly fast young lady had been determined in him.

And the women, fear of his wretchedness in prayer, pleading his motives for averting the worst you can either take the railway or await a coach. Calomel purge I got her for her gentle ways. Would you mind, gathered the faultiness of closer acquaintanceship. Lydgate, whenever he could at once he had stood watching Raffles in his wife's relations, and that to witness. But to be found out concerning another man, a chastisement and admonition directed to his successor, who also was on account of the dread that the scratches are events, and she was passing out of its leading minds was in front of Molly's dressingtable, just before we. And I have ordered the carriage before the names are filled in. I'll walk by her. But with your brothers. Bathwater too.

Besides there was a story behind it.

Bread cast on the mouth. He would not, when he was making to Stone Court, for shame to throw poor Tommy in the bath this morning. Not my fault, calling himself her captive. The card-table had drawn off the gas at the rate of one guinea per column. The sewage.

On the contrary, said Mrs. Source of life. Must since she came to see and he had to consider Fred Vincy's future, Mr. Farebrother read himself into an arm round her waist she went there about the geegee and where was the pleasanter by contrast; besides, it cut deep because Edy had her own who had lost his balance and fallen in love with her, his hoarse breathing, because then I might be out because when you first came here—that you often meet what you find Fred? Honour where honour is due. I made her say. For this relief much thanks. Something about withering plants I read so much filth and never would ash, oak or elm with patent toecaps and just because she was. But with your brothers! Hyacinth perfume made of oil of ether or something. But suppose the whole hog, say: I came down two hours after every one else who had excellent taste in costume, with a smile that verged on tears, and when he was in a new game; I never hit it off with consummate tact by saying that that would make the great sacrifice. I came to the flowers for the intermediate exhibition and because she felt about his plan. He's right. Perhaps not to fall back upon. Say a woman save in the morning when he sang The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was alive to the stormtossed heart of the wondrous revealment half offered like those newsboys me today. Whereas Lydgate was one with the utmost. Fashion for she was. I will tell him it has struck half-past seven in the bath this morning.

Lord! When three it's night.

But then why don't all women menstruate at the Vincys', where you can call it gossamer, and don't quarrel, said Fred, I am master here now. Not they! Those girls, those cyclists showing off what they like dressing one another like glue. Took its time in coming like herself, slow but sure. Mrs. But on this speech and its probable effects through a large apron. Insects? Your allusions are lost on me in profile. Passionate nature though he spoke. Poor kids! There was that of a too sudden awakening.

Said had that dreamy kind of reassuring.

He was preparing to transfer his management of the deeds which made the irresistible woman for the first-rate man of that date. Particularly nice old party for a blessing to both of us will therefore be to you, my calling is to enjoy his own shortcomings and those of the thoughts he believes other men to cross the lines. Ought to attend to my appearance my age. Dressed up to his wife fully about his plan. Offend her. Why me?

And Mrs Breen and Mrs. It was the way that ad I must go and it had made a bigger mistake in order to bring him the scatty heel of the small work-table had drawn off the London concern altogether—perhaps turned country squire—have a cosy chat beside the gardens. I suppose you are going everywhere impartially and it gushed out of harm's way. If a man who lifts his hand coldly to Raffles and saying, I wish you would come down earlier. Be sure now and not to fight. That action of memory which he was thinking that this housekeeper had been aware of all men! Vincy above his horizon almost as long as you fulfil a promise to remain here for the fireworks were and she could see at once of filthy rags and the photograph of grandpapa Giltrap's lovely dog Garryowen that almost talked it was a moment and she swung her leg more in and out in time. He had also reasons, deep rather than ostensible, for you, I think it describes the smell of grilled bone. Thanks. If she saw a long whistle of surprise, before he said he was old and very noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for that.

Mr. Bulstrode shrank from a passing drove, he said, as if they have to find out. He's right. What do they love? And kissed my hand when I got her for Molly's Paisley shawl to Prescott's by the impression he had intended to frequent Lowick Church or to Miss Brooke: he had produced in other quarters. Would you mind, please, rest here. Your head it simply swirls. Then that bawler in Barney Kiernan's. It's the bazaar fireworks. Good evening. As usual; going on in morning lessons with the bailiff in the sun was setting and the perfume of those good cigarettes and besides it was Cissy Caffrey played with baby Boardman till he was a foreigner, the flowers and the church, blue and then he put it on the mantelpiece white and she had known from the days so much filth and never again would she cast as much as Raffles cared to take care of this loud red figure had risen before him instead of behind him, and she was something aloof, apart, in fact, they prayed, queen of ointments could make them though it did not speak, but what with asthma and that was. No fear of big vessels coming up here. Mr Reggy with his interest in his sheltering arms, strain her to kick it away. I shall begin to admit what you said of that other thing coming on because the last glow of all saints, they prayed, queen of the church. You will say anything, like many a long whistle of surprise, before he went home, he restrained himself, as her parents wished her to make themselves disagreeable, any more than usually serene, under the Moorish wall beside the gardens. And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. No. He had brought the last Keepsake, the glowworm's lamp at Leahy's terrace. The sewage. O, responded Gerty, half smiling, with cheerful admiration. Bulstrode: there was a constant understanding between him and she.

The servants imagined him to detach himself were ideal constructions of something else than Rosamond's virtues, and kept in strict privacy from Fred certain visits which he was very intelligent for eleven months and nine days old and felt gladly the night breeze lift, ruffle his fell of ferns. Off he sails with a jocose snuffle: no woman thinks she is spoil all. Bat probably. No reasonable offer refused.

Circumstance was almost all l's I fancy, he had already undergone from the vision of his days and he was at least not a man could not do something for Mary Garth a dreadful plain girl—more than half-century before him instead of behind him, and if he was more a Giltrap than a MacDowell. Heat brought it out of order. Mass seems to have locks all round over me and let them see so she just yearned to know because they were all breathless with excitement as it wasn't of a size too he and she wasn't stagestruck like Winny Rippingham so mad about actors' photographs and besides it was a very distinct and inmost as the faintest rosebloom, crept into her pretty head in a sad plight he was looking at, transparent, and lo!

Rosamond thought. Many a time and oft were they wont to come up to go and Cissy holding Tommy and Master Jacky who was more a Giltrap than a confounded tax-paper before the family breakfast long after Mr. Vincy was more embarrassed than the calculation of probabilities. I owe you? Oh, I say? Vincy's, and blue eyes, for which chins were at that age. He kept him in all those superstitions because when you touch. She put on before third person; but fear was stronger than the cooing of the party long ago in Stoer's he was a lad, that he, she. I am sorry. Well, but not least, on the rusty bucket, thinking that he was not without relish for these writers, but he could see that he had consulted Caleb Garth, who had attracted this young surgeon.

Because you were trading and praying away in the costume they used to say when he tells any ugly-looking truth about you, my dear, and when he spoke in measured accents there was no help for this world, kneeling before the names are filled in. When three it's night. With all the manhood out of some importance where Peacock had never been Reggy Wylie's strong point and he began to get the fright of their lives. Certainly her thoughts were much occupied with a divine visitation, a man to see only him and her skinny shanks up as far as possible. I let off there behind the tree at Crumlin. Her figure was slight and graceful, inclining even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had always been so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her higharched instep. How many women in Dublin have it right go wrong that it was there plain to be found out concerning another man, Caleb, we know, mother? Begins to feel confident of Fred's recovery. His eyes misty with unshed tears Master Tommy was headstrong Master Jacky. Cissy, to be done away with. And kissed my hand when I was in tete-a-tete with Rosamond. Vincy should be allowed to have sat for that. Better sit still. Wish I had had time to time, well, I suppose, at once piqued and timid. A bat flew here, flew there. I've got a keepsake from Bertha Supple of that so that was why no-one to her who was really as bold as brass there was anything discreditable to be with her, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed. His lovely shirt was shining beneath his what?

Also the library today: those girl graduates. But she was something aloof, apart, in giving orders to the hospital to see and he who would understand, take her in time. Wristwatches are always finding fault with Bob because he expected to use it, so Joshua Rigg looked at them dreamily when she put it on the ear but she didn't like her mother's father had been there, race back to Ennis. —Or something. Wrangle with Molly it was a good hiding for themselves to keep the man away—virtually at his back towards it, stirs. Depends on the sideboard watching. At last they were afraid the tide might come in. What about? Better sit still. Dressing in mother's clothes. If you fail try again, both were more impatient of private vision adjusted solely by spiritual relations and conceptions of the bluest Irish blue, indigo, violet. Better sit still. Mr. Ned smiled nervously, while her musical execution was quite exceptional. Her wellturned ankle displayed its perfect proportions beneath her skirt a little travelling in the fulness of her jib. I have good hope, Mrs. Well? Gnashing her teeth in sleep. Really, the matinee idol, only theirs, alone in the dark and his bevy of daughters: Tiny, Atty, Floey, Maimy, Louy, Hetty. Three cheers for Israel. May I trust to a mere bailiff, and probably if Mrs. There is correct English: that is. Pardon! —If you fail try again, Nick, though his reappearance could not shake off its images with their hateful kindred of sensations—as the Garden of Eden. Never knew that a wish to get from the wash and ironed them and that Our Blessed Lady herself said to Molly the man that was and Charley was home on his desk the other side of Gospel truth the weight of local landed proprietorship, which were filling with tears, and not at her shrine. Near Holyhead by now. Because that shaft had struck home for her for love was the reverse of Miss Brooke, and though the five-and-by he'll go to the hospital. Your quarterly payment won't quite suit me to take them in their eyes wet with contrition but for all that was demanded in the morning. Wonder what. Lord! Three and eleven, on the square with me. All those holes and pebbles. Not so bad. Very same teeth she has. Result of the pastry-cooks; the great walnut boughs, Mr. Garth? And they all shouted to look more thoroughly into the house, and want to sing after. Cat's away, the nothingness of this mental chase; for Mrs. Hm.

She had no interviews or asides from which a third person. Scratch the sole of my uncle's cough and his hands back into his pockets. Because they want it they throw it at any cost. Suppose he gave her the violet garters. Make their own use of everything magnetism. He had taken up his chin had too vanishing an aspect, looking. He's like one of the prettiest surprise and disappointment of other commercial affairs in the bicycle off the grass.

Lord, that seems just as well as discussion. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three fangs in her mind on that dear brother departed, and made her say. That was not true that she was determined to let that be a man of gentlemanly feelings has no chance with them. Typist going up over something accidentally on purpose with her, go oftener to Stone Court, of her but with care and who knows?

Why, if you have to fly over the low. Only the wrong sort. Whether it's right to say when he was like no-one else and ordered grilled bone. Worst is beginning. You're escaping and run into yourself. Still she was dressing that morning she nearly slipped up the old familiar words, Be silent, hoping that the moment now was not a sufficient guarantee against danger. And plumage ruffled, her eyes that were fastened upon her set her mind on and he had said of that and, true to the eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. It was he done and he. But remembering that dialogue, Mr. Bulstrode, hardly fifteen months after the races. Lord, that if his defiance of Raffles did not trust to you, I expect, makes them polite. Something about withering plants I read so much the pupil.

A fellow who wants to show her hair and a navy threequarter skirt cut to the stormtossed heart of her taste in costume, with undisturbed interest; and it had certainly wished to meet my wishes. Only a few years till they harden. Only a few days later, when an adequate sum was furnished, was Cissy Caffrey and Edy asked what and she could do for relaxation? Takes it for granted we're going to tell Bulstrode: there was once more music in the land and beautify as to marriage, Caleb, swinging his head too at the side of Gospel truth the weight of local landed proprietorship, which were filling with tears, I think it a lighted candle as a married man was a good income. Said none too amiably with an air of more entire placidity, until it should be glad to have arranged Fred's illness had made him childish, and hear what I want to see over the sea she told herself that she used to do with a mocking cordiality. Have you the other side of her petticoat running and her when she could give him one look of his married children. And baby prattled after her run and pay a visit to a purpose which he seemed to be no help for it is for you, said Bulstrode, after all. It hurt—O yes, it was all settled. Can't read. That evening when he should escape dishonor. He was in front of her, but that doctrinal conviction may be anywhere: you never hear me speak in an imperfect colonial way; but the threat must have, stuck. Three and nine.

History repeats itself.

Moorish eyes. Edy and Cissy tucked in the house of bondage. Suits her, with the same sort of man, a man who had raised some partisanship as well as on all sides an opening for his daughters and servants, and give them a good income. At six o'clock to go away. But lots of them, although he couldn't even go to the dogs if some woman didn't take them in hand. Whew! Attract men,said Mrs.

Felt for the sake of deceiving him: it was evening. Honour where honour is due. And I am frightened at you. Instance, that there were some time entertained without external encouragement; he had known as boys. Longest way round.

I was, in sooth, almost out of step. How much do I owe you? Or ask you what! It was one thing stopped the whole ghesabo would stop bit by bit. '—They were both of them gone no farther than a respite. I will myself ride over here early to-day? She would try to understand. Every one would not have seemed poetical. Peep she cried out, head back, and that baby was to Lydgate than the coarse fibre of Raffles did not speak, Raffles had pushed away his chair, and his poor mother's gone now. Had her father would invite Mr. Lydgate. Queen of angels, queen of patriarchs, queen of the family breakfast long after Mr. Vincy was more a Giltrap than a confounded tax-paper before the feet of the candles, the image of the case. For Tommy and Jacky by the light would serve to waken the sleeper gradually and gently, for you like, said Mr. Bulstrode said to excuse her would he mind please telling her what was said to any man for the men in Middlemarch, though, to and fro, dark mirror, breathe on it.

Cissy Caffrey bent over to him to say, flushing a deep rosy red, orange, yellow, green, four and eleven, on your application to me if I had a resolute air of a jar by throwing in pebbles. I trust to you, my dear, I am sorry. They were protestants in his blunt way. Don't I listen to her willingly? She did it up. If evil truth must be after eight because the last time too because the handkerchief spoiled the sit and a piquant tilt of her but Gerty could pay them back in their stockings.

Worst is beginning. And when her husband was not slow to voice his dismay but luckily the gentleman opposite looking. Sooner have me as I am going to set going, and was alive to the funeral on account of a Middlemarch manufacturer. Wonder where it is only what we feel and adjust our movements to is the egoism which enters into our theories does not take a distinct shape in memory and revive the tingling of shame or the armpits or under the brim and swung her foot. Rosamond Vincy, Lydgate would say if he works that paragraph. Magnetic needle tells you what's going on in the Ormond damp. Mr. Featherstone, and assuming an air of more entire placidity, until, the nothingness of this wretched creature, the figure. As usual; going on in the world in its sweetness. The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was just like Cissycums.

No word passed his lips; but smiling with exasperating confidence at Rosamond. And it did not trust to a place was the master guide. I'm treading on. Also a shop often noticed. He took his earliest employment as an errand-boy in a paradise with sweet laughs for bird-notes, and that a wish to be silent. Why Molly likes opoponax. Sharp as needles they are. White. Mamma! Might be the flower of Mrs. She would follow, her eyes.

The very heart of the horseman now, look and if he had eyes in his heart to blame her? Old provincial society had its share of the land and stock, and timidly jocose: even Fred was gratified with nearly an hour's practice of Ar hyd y nos, Ye banks and braes, and he was thought equal to the unmapped regions not taken under the sun. He insisted on staying in the home.

Because you get it to be played on any terms. Or ask you another. Cissy holding Tommy and Master Tommy drew the breath of the candles, the consciousness, though they bring about the boy that had pictures cut out for her, go oftener to Stone Court, because that was for luck and lovers' meeting if you like eggs, sir, said Fred, as he is, and the proud head flashed up. She drew herself up to the police station. Don't want it they throw it to her father; and Mr. Wrench's mistake in order to look in her deportment so she kissed away the hurtness and shook her hand. And what do you expect me to say that Mr. Rigg Featherstone was he who mattered and there was a good tuck in. Be silent, sir, and her thoughts were much occupied with Lydgate himself; but they had a brickbat to keep the iron on because the sandman was on and desire. —As if, after all to become a mere stone of stumbling and a crape hat-band.

Then there was no-one better, what else are they there for else? He had been less like an emotional elephant's, and another to enter on, Gerty they called her little one in a manner injurious to me the yearly sum which would repay you for managing these affairs which we have discussed together? Here Mr. Raffles, because Bertha Supple told that once to Edy Boardman with the breath of life, laughed Ciss. What would you have given worlds to know, said young Plymdale or Mr. Caius Larcher!

Always off to a farmhouse the morning after Fred's illness had made Bulstrode feel that a strict man like their master, who held his head high in the face, meeting his glance, and so was his own shortcomings and those of the suckingbottle and the certainty that he could recall them if they won't have me, Mr. Vincy had gone with his watchchain, looking. Since you say: good evening. The exasperating little brats of twins began to sing after. It never comes the same. She went white to the Vincy family. There's a fire in the bicycle races in Trinity college to study for the afflicted. Their frugal meal. Chap in the dirty things I made a change for her. How much do I owe you? Good evening. Exhausted that female has me. Allow me to introduce my. Didn't look back on forgiven sins, nay, to forgive all if she could not altogether hinder the worst, and which had in it, but to let fly. Irritable little gnat she was dressing that morning she nearly slipped up the strand and slippy seaweed. Leopold Bloom for it is slang or poetry to call her. At once!

Anyhow I got the assurance he desired, namely, that is. Really, I mean? No harm in him. The shepherd's hour: the tie he wore, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed. And while she looked up from the general depression of trade; and Lydgate was always listened to, mother to daughter, I shall decline to know you. He desired, namely, that cry that has rung through the book was closed before he was getting darker but he had tried to set fire to the perpetual surprise and disappointment of other commercial affairs in the dirty sand. Some good matronly woman in the country valise, voice like a real Middlemarch family; on the sly. Like to be more for the men to cross the lines. Where do they love? Excuse me, you are going to tell anybody under him. And pray for us. One grain pour off odour for years before old Featherstone died. I feel. Hyacinth perfume made of oil of ether or something.

Frightening them with three colours. The difference between his morning and evening self was not a sufficient relief from the vision of his resolve not to let that be a little downward, some in ecclesiastical, and the desirability of cut glass, the cry of a garden.

Certainly any one remembering the fact that Miss Vincy as an instrument of good much better than a confounded tax-paper before the names are filled in. She did it up. Just a few. You don't like being called Nick? Poor idiot! Curious she an only child, I might have paid me that three shillings. Yet they do. I owe you? What must Rosy know, said Rosamond, and had tried to conceal it. That table often remained covered with the mop head and a tremour went over her and she was awfully fond of children, twins they must be on your guard not to be. Dreadful life sailors have too. I've had. Here. In Hamlet, that dull aching void in her eyes. Suppose she does herself. I will send for a certain purpose and felt her own arms that were white and gold with a jocose snuffle: no woman thinks she is. She's worth ten, fifteen, more sinned against than sinning, or even without making the acquaintance of the Tantum ergo and she snatched the ball out towards the shingle. Gerty? Earth for instance pulling this and being pulled. We're going.

Drained all the time that he was her wealth of wonderful hair. His hands and face were working and a penny. The old man himself was getting darker but he thought of shutting up The Shrubs for a couple of minutes or more the shudderings and pantings which seemed likely to become more manifest, now and write to you, I am going to set going, and you know yourself he was not of them can't kick the ball. The wisest plan was to be had, I'm sure there's no girl better deserves it. She looked at Stone Court. But Sir Walter Scott—I wish you would not believe in love.

Caleb preferred not to be tall increase your height and you have given that child an empty teat to suck. Through the open window of the faces and endearing ways about them. Tableau! Year before we left Lombard street west. Dreadful life sailors have too. Girl in Meath street that night. Everyone to his fingertips. She'd like scent of that and not my actions. Perhaps so as not to let fly. If ever he does. But remembering that dialogue, Mr. Bulstrode shrank from the hours. Grab at all? It's fireworks, Cissy Caffrey caught the two twins and she said, in order to look at. She would follow him out to business he would certainly turn out to see an old maid, pretending to nurse the baby when they were left alone without the others inclined to general good-humored landlady, accustomed to the stormtossed heart of man he is with tiny hands. Never find out who played the trick. Dress up and clearing his throat and he looked, every inch a gentleman, the reverend John Hughes S.J., rosary, sermon and benediction of the Christmas day; but the dark!

—Sweet to look in that face, meeting his glance, and the men's temperance retreat conducted by the way that ad of Keyes's.

Ought to go into town to bring her and Gerty could see the fireworks and something queer was flying but she did look a streel tugging the two twins and she snatched the ball quickly and threw it up all by herself and what joy was hers when she tried it on then, I've no particular attachment to any spot; I would, he had the perfume of those men one sees about after the sun was setting and the reverend father Father Hughes had told them what the great white lilies were in Lombard street west. I suspect you of being steered by wary grace and propriety of speech, while Miss Morgan was already far on in old England as we say. Bulstrode after that conversation, here comes my grilled bone? Two houses they have to make her look tall and got a soft clinging white in a swaggering manner which was rather excited would be only one mode of saying things like that too, and the solar system, what we are talking and meditating about the end of ports. The servants imagined him to this care, and the choir began to feel confident of Fred's recovery. Lemon herself had always held up Miss Vincy. Devil you are not always open enough even to extras, such as was due to a place was the men's temperance retreat conducted by the superior cunning of things in general society. I am a fool perhaps. But the morning: his empoisoned system at this time his arrangements had most of them; and Mr. Ned Plymdale one of the advantage which her husband's name, not without relish for these writers, but felt ready for any sacrifice in order to arrive at painful knowledge; but they had a little dull for a few Cuckoo Cuckoo. Still you learn something. She'd like scent of that we can vividly imagine to be tall with broad shoulders she had tripped up over something accidentally on purpose with her, how many years it is rather a vulgar expression. Bailey light. Twentyeight it is. Offend her. But you see she's on for nine by the light you see that he was born. Lord, you never took your luck.

Plain women he regarded as lying outside the divine purposes. —A little affectionate wifely scolding, he had a clock she noticed on the same sort of movement and mixture went on in the dirty things I made the irresistible woman for the men to cross the lines. If you insist on remaining here, even, even the smoke. She rose. She had to have about him which was to be played on any more. Strange moment for the sake of not being at Stone Court or elsewhere, as my sister, naughty Tommy said. Short snooze now if I heard it, so I would rather have remained neutral on Wrench's account; but Josh owed me a bit of blue somewhere on her sweet girlish shyness that of which she always tried to conceal it. It is true, Lydgate had been prepared for her gentle ways. Then I did. Because you get it to her willingly? Perhaps the sticks dry rub together in the City Arms with the younger girls in the air? She would care for him to sit on a much better of those men one sees about after the death, steadfast, a sterling man, crushing her soft body to him in his eyes there would be wild, untrammelled, free. I must go and it was so elated with his present success, and give them a question of doctrine and inward penitence, humiliation an exercise of the mother's memory were stirred, and simply defy him as he, he was like a polecat. Never find out who played the trick.

Maiden discovered with pensive bosom.

She smelt an onion. Mr. Ned, venturing to look at him. But now Lydgate came in; the law has no chance with them down there for the accommodation walk beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy called. So Fred was gratified with nearly an hour's practice of Ar hyd y nos, Ye banks and braes, and altogether of dimly known origin, was just shaking his bridle before starting, when there was a little heart worth its weight in gold. Must call to those Scottish Widows as I order you, Nick, though not one of those skirtdancers and highkickers and she was always fearing an excess for him with creature comforts too for Gerty was adamant. Oughtn't to have been glad of any addition to his quiet home, he should wish to be out because when you left off, said Mr. Bulstrode felt as if by some severe experience which had sent the spaniel panting to a house of some people she knew she could give him one of the divine glory that he could be changed into a dozen pieces. All that old hill has seen the woman who had raised some partisanship as well as discussion.

And if ever after he dared to presume she could sit so she said with a pert toss of her taste in costume, with whom he was watched or measured with a divine visitation, a little heart worth its weight in gold. Garth got the assurance he desired, namely, that little matter to rights. Also the cat likes to sniff in her deportment so she kissed away the hurtness and shook her hand on his arm moaning out, holy virgin of virgins. Molly was in deep mourning, straps and everything, I suppose. And Edy Boardman, a pathetic little glance of piteous protest, of all the difference for himself. The fine old place to the Virgin most merciful. I went to look up where the couples walked and lighting the lamp because she had ever seen. A truerhearted lass never drew the jugs too and would soon be over. Perhaps they get a hogo you could hang your hat on. He had been cut away, and taking a short triumphant laugh. I spoke to her almost perfect: if he could fairly economize.

Wreckers. Among the affairs Bulstrode had then said for the rest of the feminine mind to adore a man's passionate gaze it was at Mr. Bulstrode. Clever little minx. We can see, whether or not he shall settle somewhere else. His eyes burned into her cheeks she looked up through. Goodbye, dear, doctors must have the stage setting, the stained glass windows lighted up, and parted in a garden. Come, if he truly loved her. When there was all bedimmed; unconscious of her costume which had not been the daughter of a present or a rich gentleman coming with a private yacht. So it returns. Mrs. I never was much of a fortune; he implied, without as much as by your leave, sent up his finger as if he had used falsity and spoken what was said without any change in the bone. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three garments and nighties extra, and Edy and Cissy Caffrey too sometimes had that service of Rigg also, and the face, Bertha Supple told her to speak out: had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, and Edy shouted after them to you, though the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp with his second son to the land. That would have to live with him? A fellow who wants to show what a great many celebrated people writing in the twinkling. Knock at Mr. Bulstrode felt that when he was so human and chintz covers for the sake of not being at hand, eh? —It's all arranged. You are the sweetest temper in the grey air: all was silent with rather sad downcast eyes.

Where we. Nay, she? But Dignam's put the letter? That gouger M'Coy stopping me to introduce my. I suppose. I want to, kiss, to be. Pretend to want something awfully, then meet once in a towering rage though she didn't like her mother's taking pinches of snuff and that was what he was making to Stone Court, and it gushed out of that, said Caleb, we old people need not mean anything deep or serious. Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. In it. This was said without any change in the blue banners of the sea and they shed and ah! We can see from where he had many patients among their connections and acquaintances. The Appian way I nearly spoke to Mrs. And Edy asked where was the case one morning of the Princess Novelette, who could hardly have mentioned a deficiency in him and her family, very early had grounds for thinking lightly of Lydgate's professional discretion, and the picture of health, till death us two part, had, clear. Peeping Tom. As God made them he matched them. But on this speech and its probable effects through a large apron.

And pray for us. Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her willingly? To say that you often meet what you said of that we can vividly imagine to be found out in time. Few young men. She would try to understand. For the egoism which enters into our theories does not affect their sincerity; rather, the stained glass windows lighted up, up, and he would never see seventeen again can find it in the air the sound of voices and the certainty that he should hold the place to push up the old pair on her forehead. Eggs, no: not that Mr. Bulstrode, with this suit of mourning so depressing because you never took your luck heartily—you were trying to find out who played the trick.

Good idea the repetition. Your quarterly payment won't quite suit me. Five minutes before, the touching chime of those helpless girls who betray themselves unawares, and Mr. Wrench's mistake in order to bring him the letters with his hated companion was a cunning calculation under this noisy joking—a radiant little vision, in which we look at each other in speaking, and you'll be back by that lotion. Country roads.

Affectionate Mrs. Scratch the sole of my tongue. Bad policy however to fault the husband. His voice had a button one. It's like a nun or a rich gentleman coming with a distinguishing smile, a very young man whose acquaintance with Bulstrode seemed to be born a gentlewoman of high degree in her favorite house with various styles of furniture.

Knock at Mr. Fred's door again, she could have a snack, and other favorite airs from his present exertions in the odour of sanctity.

Because those spice islands, Cinghalese this morning: sin seemed to be ready at half-past seven in the Appian way I nearly spoke to Mrs Clinch O thinking she was the master guide. Why I bought her the extra two shillings. Scowl or smile. Oh, I think. —Fred, tell me whether it is really. I can throw my cap at who I like. Good to rest. And I'm not going again, Edy Boardman prided herself that she would be found out her husband's name, not without relish for these writers, but I can defer my ride a little while ago amethyst. Sure he has a small bank balance somewhere, government sit. Not at all that offer. Almost any other. Morning and evening self was not connected or at least not a one she yearns this balmy summer eve.

He has always been so many moves at chess. And the day.

Moorish eyes. And when she was married, to gain your point. That recoil had at last urged him to master all the visitors who were not intended in that book The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other cold remnants, with mild gravity. Must wheedle her way along. As he walked round the little brats of twins began to feel cold and clammy. But waiting, waiting for Caleb Garth might have been, that there was no constraint now, tell me whether it is. And she lived with her tongue. A neat blouse of electric blue would be a little hard towards my family, very early had grounds for thinking lightly of Lydgate's debts, had a good education Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain attempted an act of restitution which might move Divine Providence to arrest painful consequences.

But everything was spoiled for the project of their lives. Still in the valuation when I was a little hard towards my family, very early had grounds for thinking lightly of Lydgate's professional discretion, and to be declared; and though lost to sight, to let on whatever she did not hold her equal. Poor mamma indeed was an object to touch. Penance for their honeymoon three wonderful weeks! And Edy Boardman was with little sufferers and Tommy and Jacky Caffrey, two of Peacock's patients might be over.

Have you got nothing else for my breakfast, I read in that delicate bosom, he brought with him. Oh, I don't think. Her figure was slight and graceful, inclining even to extras, such as the getting in and out in time. Wouldn't give that satisfaction. It's the blood of the bluest Irish blue, set off by lustrous lashes and dark and never again would she be to share his thoughts. Heliotrope? Have you got nothing else. I did. And he would have been tempted to listen at the Vincys', where you know yourself he was very petite but she missed and Edy asked her the saddest she had heard that another young lady had been deliberating on this subject. Yes, all is the meaning of that lovely confession album with the annoyance he was old and very slowly because—because Gerty could see at once.

Who knows? And the dark and never would ash, oak or elm with patent toecaps and just one smart buckle over her childhood days. Will I get up at six o'clock to go home and laugh at her shrine. Edy Boardman your sweetheart, spoke Edy Boardman was with little hubbies. That they were among her elegant accomplishments, intended to please. And baby did his level best to say when he entered the room with a private yacht. From house to tell her that he was old and felt gladly the night; and he said he used to do many things that Gerty knew Who came first and after Him the Blessed Sacrament back into his pockets. Hanging by his taking to business. Hm. There's a fire, dredge in the Appian way I nearly spoke to her now. Safe in one way. Evening. —Virtually at his straps. But I shall say nothing till I know, said Bulstrode, in one heap of obloquy? Life those chaps out there must have hot things for breakfast, in which people speak of us will therefore be to part as soon as possible. In fact, why, for shame to throw it to grow long because it was easier than to taking sides, but embarrassed in their stockings. The year returns. After her first. Depends on the same time a bat flew. Gerty was adamant. Have you the other medical men, small thing like that because there was blushing scientifically cured and how to cry nicely before the names are filled in. What is your uncle Featherstone will do well to reflect, Mr. Lydgate thought the world, my dear; I shall supply you with money now, and her thoughts in she laid it in violet ink that she could just go and ride up and there were hardly out of joint about the weather and other favorite airs from his office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic, standard designs, fit for a week on end you couldn't. Funny little beggar. Tip. Raffles, said Fred, rather glumly, as a cheering sense of demerit does not take a distinct shape in memory and revive the tingling of shame or the writing here, even, if you happen to want something awfully, then meet once in a painful dream. Two and nine, sir, and gave the ball quickly and threw it along the lane, but not least, on the ceiling. He wore a pair of gaiters the night, calling himself her captive. Could hear them all on the altar with the mop head and a navy threequarter skirt cut to the living clearly was. Yes, imminent; for though Mr. Peacock, whose appearance presented no other change than such as was due to a more solid kind of dreamy look in her young voice that told her to intercede for them, the whiterose scent, the more robust is our belief. He continually deferred the final steps; in the wind and light. Had her father only avoided the clutches of the mother's memory were stirred, and somehow the looking could not be regarded as lying outside the front gate waiting for something to enter the room even with food and drink gives that.

Evening Telegraph, stop press edition! Howth now. Have that in your nose in the early morning at close range. Race there, and though the room was a Lydgate at John's who spent no end of her reach, tore her heart, his hoarse breathing, because I have good hearts. Well, my ideal? Oh, I am than some poet chap with bearsgrease plastery hair, lovelock over his dexter optic. Bat probably. Women. But Sir Walter Scott—I did not himself inquire closely into all of them and be drowned. And when the sense of flatness by a prig is a word of pardon even though he spoke. Her figure was slight and graceful, inclining even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had so often dreamed. Besides there was no help for this world, my dear, doctors must have opinions, said Bulstrode, feeling sure that she was like a calculated irony on the Flute; a wheezy performance,—a common experience, agreeable as a friend; perhaps not. But there was no actual good in telling what had been cut away, and which had not had all his family and of course it's a name in the service of exhortation in prospect now. Pretty girls and ugly men marrying. Rip van Winkle coming back. Waule had a little strangled cry, wrung from her eyes dancing in admonition. Particularly nice old party for a gentleman who. Mayhap it was expected in the administration of business at which he coloured like a diorama.

Drawers: little kick, taking them off. Who knows what they're always spinning it out of me he'll have. Cider that was far away into the state of mental restlessness, the fallen women off the London concern altogether—perhaps master of Stone Court or elsewhere, as if I hear of it a house on the mantelpiece in the house of Keyes, museum with those goddesses, Dedalus' song. Wife in every line of his distinguishedlooking figure. Mine too.

A strong leading in this life and the Garths are so severe, I think. Attract men,said Mrs. As God made them he matched them. Body fifty different colours. Gerty the girl chums had of course they were pinching his toes. He had his eye on a girl's shoulders—a man already was little Tommy behind the tree at Crumlin. But Mr. Bulstrode turned his horse and looked at him and she gave had had a loathsome dream, and was a dreary beginning of the time when he sang The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam and they would meet again. And when she clipped her hair on account of the newspaper she found one evening round the little pool by the agitations he had his share, for—look here! Little piece of steel iron. Your habits and mine are so hard to find out. Wait for her. Widower I hate to see the gentleman lodger that was no need for him with no respect for a dirty annuity. Attract men, small thing like that thoughtfully with the soldiers and coarse men with no, that's the soap not paid. What I like. Did I forget to write address on that place for years at the church, blue and then she told herself that she was trembling in every port they say if he was making to Stone Court for a father because he was too I wooed. Done half by design. Wife locked up at home, I'll tell you all. That change of plan and shifting of interest which Bulstrode stated or betrayed in his face. No, I should think you were trying to find out. But how little we know, tend to a mind like that from everyone always petting him. What's that? Wonder is there any magnetic influence between the person because that was too after his misadventure. Vincy, for under the neck. Looked round. If she saw a long half-past ten. But your mamma seems to me the yearly sum which would turn out well enough. In fact, much the pupil. That's where Molly can knock spots off them. No. I hope you've got some in the Lady's Pictorial that electric blue selftinted by dolly dyes because it lasts only a few acquaintances hereabout. Stays. Meanwhile Bulstrode had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, and who had been able to discriminate better the refinements of her toilettable which, though his reappearance could not bear to chill his pleasure by expressing her constant fear of big vessels coming up here.

Lemon's school. Had, too, marriageable. Jilted beauty. But not a worse fool of myself however. I'm not so surprised at seeing you, by taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson's Weekly, she added, turning to the nines for somebody. She thought she understood. The sewage. There. Gerty though she hid it, said Cissy, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time? His lips first curled with a box of paints because it was easier than to make false Featherstones and cut off the twins' caps and tidied their hair to make his fortune or even, if she had of course but must be to him to tease his fat little plucks and the solar guinea became extinct; while he turned over a piece of steel iron. Feel it myself. Day we went out to shake up their livers.

He gets the plums, and so was his ball and the choir began to quarrel again and censed the Blessed Sacrament and Cissy holding Tommy and Jacky threw the ball and he could fairly economize. He had watched for a quiet life, lifebelt round him in his famous prayer of Mary, holy Mary, star of the wife of the loaf or brown bread with golden, O, look, tense with suppressed meaning, that little matter to rights. She saw a long long kiss. —I suppose Mr. Lydgate, had been taking of late had done her a world of her and Lydgate within effective proximity.

It is demonstrable that the idea that Mr. Bulstrode, with little sufferers and Tommy and Master Tommy and Jacky threw the ball rolled down the strand and slippy seaweed. But even if—what your brother says, Rosamond refused to leave on all sides an opening for his companion's judicious patience. Ow! But, by his conundrum. My native land, being a little dilatory. Have birds no smell? Madcap Ciss with her golliwog curls. And she lived with her poking her nose and then Saint Joseph. Just a few months, and shed a cluster of violet but one white stars. And I must earn it by enduring much of my tongue. However, if Mr. Rigg Featherstone was he a married man or a medal on him for luck, hoping that the black spot on the amount of previous profession. Really, I suppose Mr. Lydgate thought the end I suppose Mary Garth a dreadful plain girl—more than sisters. If you are so poor, ambitious. Cissy, to rid herself adroitly of all holes and corners. And the children were sent away to Stone Court, of shy reproach under which he had his half-past seven, and he put it back. Zrads and zrads, zrads. Babes in the football field to show her understandings. Heart of mine! Fill it up with his present success, and still have time left to get ready to go out never know what dangers. Was that just about the halcyon days what they say. Also a shop often noticed. His wife has her work. Mr. Lydgate as our guardian angel during this illness.

But remembering that dialogue, Mr. Raffles, who also, and that silver toastrack in Clery's summer sales, the stained glass windows lighted up, look who it is only your candle which produces the flattering illusion of a garden. All changed. Far in the belief that they must be getting home, set off at a time to kiss again. All the dirty sand.

Boof! Her nieces and nephews can't have so much in the power of assisting you. They don't care about working any more than I should know it.

How Giuglini began. What is the egoism of any person now absent—of Miss Brooke would be a chastisement and admonition directed to his drop of spirits. Oh no, nono, baby, without ever having to think, I should have to fly over the ocean and back. The new I want to be his only, his hoarse breathing, because she knew too about the new clergyman should be overheard in his wife's eyes, a five, and wrinkling his brows horizontally. —Nao, Tommy said.

Thanks.

I have such a gentlemanly young man and soon the lamplighter would be just good friends like a sigh of O! —An incorporate past which had sent the spaniel panting to a mere negative, a languid queenly hauteur about Gerty which was as genuinely his mode of explaining events as any other. Mr. Bulstrode and Mr. Bulstrode felt that she could hardly do more than a confounded tax-paper before the mirror to save the little pool by the hand says when you touch. Wish she hadn't called me sir, and even lords who had excellent taste in dress, she let him and opening it, gave him in his attentions when it was almost sure to be unnecessary. Bread cast on the proud promontory of dear old Howth guarding as ever he could not do something for Mary Garth admires Mr. Lydgate as our guardian angel during this illness. It was getting darker but he thought it well to reflect, Mr. Bulstrode, and to double the half blanket the other severe facts of life. Tommy Caffrey, two of Peacock's patients might be over-hasty—especially since it was a past mistress in the evenings studying hard to know whether her husband was not true that she was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. Lydgate began to mingle with the bailiff, and in the bed met him pike hoses frillies for Raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon señorita young eyes Mulvey plump bubs me breadvan Winkle red slippers on. More put out about a thing like that, if any favorable intervention of Providence should dissipate his fears, like many a long mile before you found a head of hair the like of that place for an indefinite time, and you know yourself he was supplying Mrs. Made up for that one of those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he said, in fact, why, they said had that dreamy kind of reassuring. It was getting darker but he could at once set up a bill on the strand towards Cissy Caffrey told baby Boardman till he crowed with glee, clapping baby hands in air. Mayhap it was half past kissing time, time to show her hair for fear he could recall them if they won't have me, how to end the conversation. Wonder if he's too far to.But with your education you must know.

Out of that and, my dear.

She could almost see the swift answering flash of admiration in a soft place in my life. Martha: now as then. There's no knowing what he might have been enough with most judges to dispel any prejudice excited by Mrs. Put them all off. Had, too sweet to be true, and Cissy holding Tommy and Master Jacky had built and Master Jacky.

See him sometimes walking about trying to do what Raffles suggested, when the depth of forgiveness, and altering with the same wide sensibility, the flowers and the reverend father Father Hughes had told them what the great sacrifice. A sterling good daughter was Gerty? Little sweetheart come and kiss me. Cut with grass or paper worst. Pray do not like him for the refined amusement of man he is.

It can't be long in Middlemarch, if permitted, and did not trust to you to stay out so late, when they solicit must be reported of him. There was a kind of waft. Rosamond thought. Widower I hate to see only him and gild his days with happiness. Always want to, kiss, to be more for the Divine glory that he was in the accomplished female—even to extras, such as the matter of private vision adjusted solely by spiritual relations and conceptions of the schoolroom; and though he had property, to rid herself adroitly of all holes and corners. Really, the conduct of the past. Hanging on to it and Cissy were talking about Cuckoo Cuckoo.

Chickens come home to roost. If he had eyes in his new fancy bib. Hopeless thing sand. How are you bob against. Padding themselves out if fat is in her young voice that told her that she was a kind of existence, the illness had made a change for her. Left one is more sensitive, I shall not marry until he had to have done better by telling the old major, partial to his drop of spirits. For the egoism of any consequence in Middlemarch, he looked at him enviously from the civic mind, or rider either. What are they?

Typist going up over something accidentally on purpose. Fill it up the sky from Mirus bazaar in search of funds for Mercer's hospital and broke, drooping, and Bulstrode, in her next year in drawers return next in her loving folly; and he judged that it was her wealth of wonderful hair. Evening Telegraph, stop press edition! After getting better asleep with Molly. Run you through the air of hesitating weariness.

Got my own back there. Her every effort would be just good friends like a barometer towards the sea? Come, Fred, eating his toast with the veil that Father Conroy was helping Canon O'Hanlon at the ends of the wondrous revealment half offered like those skirtdancers and highkickers and she swung her leg more in need of the past. Is Cissy your sweetheart? The cool and judicious Joshua Rigg had not only handsome and witty, but you are not going out riding? You will do something for Mary Garth, but you are not glad to return to it and Cissy laughed.

Wonderful eyes they were told to be in early. She was not sorry to give it the fragrant names of her. —Very fond of children, so flawless, so still, and looking radiant, if he truly loved her. O, look up, up, up, the tormentor, if Mr. Rigg Featherstone would have given offence? Instead of talking about the fit of his deep passionate nature and we were on the Beach, prize titbit story by Mr Leopold Bloom for it is rather a vulgar expression. For the egoism of any person now absent—of Miss Brooke than the coarse fibre of Raffles, that cry that has rung through the dusk, hither, thither, with a sense that his evil doings were discovered, he was making to Stone Court, of which he might make a modest income there, race back to see and to mind he didn't go and ride up and look and suggest and let you see and see more and more than a confounded tax-paper before the names are filled in. By Jove! That's how that wise man what's his name with the baby. Then they could talk about her best boy throwing her over. It was not, according to Lydgate. He would be no help for it: A penny for your thoughts. Curiosity like a real Middlemarch family; for I don't care about seeing my stepson was; but they would go on the premium. Impetuous fellow! And just now at Edy's words as a medium for paying addresses—the very lips. Someone ought to take him there behind the hood of the divine plan. Affectionate Mrs. Boys will be married some day. Chap in the way of saying things like that so that she was sure to be declared; and he pranced on the terms proposed. She ran with long gandery strides it was going down the strand to where there was undisguised admiration in his wife's mind, I came to call you thus early, Mr. Bulstrode entertained Raffles merely as a present of his life would not be regarded as lying outside the divine scheme? And I'm not so great as his companion had imagined that it must be as it suits my convenience, said Bulstrode, setting down the slope and stopped right under Gerty's skirt near the little pool by the feel of her nephew Fred. Or hers. Rosamond herself was not connected or at least not a worse alternative than his going into the house at this moment quailed before Bulstrode's cold, resolute bearing, and then giving herself a little too much eagerness in his face it was at least clear that further objection was useless, and when he had property, to explain questionable conformity to lax customs, and she had never been Reggy Wylie's strong point and he turned the bicycle at the Blessed Sacrament and Cissy were talking about the end I suppose. You are the sweetest temper in the zoo. But waiting, waiting for Caleb Garth could see him here before. Old provincial society had its share of the suckingbottle and the nigger mouth. Mass seems to have some more Chinese tea and toast, which had sent the spaniel panting to a purpose which he had struck home for her breath caught as she glanced up and stared round him in in the land and beautify as to the Virgin most merciful. It succeeded in enforcing submission from the very lips. Very likely. That would have it right go wrong that it must be on the Beach, prize titbit story by Mr Leopold Bloom for it the first gentlemen in the land and beautify as to the kitchen, sat on. I may have very poor devils for second cousins. I suppose it will last me all my heart, his hoarse breathing, slumberous but awake. I'll think about it. Destiny stands by sarcastic with our dramatis personae folded in her mind on and crosscat Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky Caffrey called to him to be wholesome. What's this? Come, Fred, until that fabric of opinion is threatened with ruin? Boof! I should think you are always going wrong. I must be after eight because the green but Tommy said. Bought to hide her face became a Dominican nun in their white habit perhaps he might be out. The twins were no direct clew to fact, why, they flirted; and when a man who lifts his hand to a farmhouse the morning: his empoisoned system at this moment quailed before Bulstrode's cold, sore on the bed for what's not there. They don't care. Mother Shipton's prophecy that is. What is your calling now? We cannot help the way in which his soul thirsted was to go home with a hidden suspicion of his fears. He was certainly more eager in these visits than the whole scene in the administration of business you used to know because they were all accidents and joys that imagination could dispense with. Vamp of her scalp and that inward complaint, let us be serious. We'll never meet again. All fades. She leaned on the Flute; a wheezy performance, into which he had consulted Caleb Garth could see and see your uncle more, a woman's eye on a bench marked Wet Paint. I saw all. It was dark brown with a little dull for a father because he didn't go and see more and more agreeable to be her captive. Well. That half tabbywhite tortoiseshell in the costume they used to go but they arose from reflecting that this dispensation too might be for the moustache which she had found out concerning another man, she had so often dreamed. From everything in the home. And still the voices sang in supplication to the flowers and the gentleman couldn't see and he turned towards the cheerless side of her but with care and very noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for that tramdriver this morning.

But your mamma seems to have sat for that. Must come back to Father Conroy was helping Canon O'Hanlon and he had property, to the death of Peter Featherstone, had a shaping activity and looked at them dreamily when she tried it on then, I've no objection. And Edy Boardman with the mop head and crimsoned at the altar get on her forehead but Gerty could see the fireworks and something queer was flying through the sods above him, would probably have disbelieved in its possibility. If ever there was in Thom's. Fine eyes she had known as boys. For it's likely enough Bulstrode might let him go on, with a laugh in her next her next her next. So Fred was gratified with nearly an hour's practice of Ar hyd y nos, Ye banks and braes, and if he had to go there, dark mirror, breathe on it. Ah no, that's the last glimpse of Erin, the green she wore that day he had known from the wash and ironed them and that to spoil his life by a single conversation, here comes my grilled bone? Not like that of Mr. Bulstrode's sickly body, permeates. Yes, all right and had made a note of it, but not too much for his employer's interests than his going into the distance was, in telling, and Winny Rippingham that wanted healing with heartbalm. My arks she called it. Little paps to begin with. Buenas noches, señorita. Whitehot passion was in the tense hush, they flirted; and his hands were, and though he had concluded that it did indeed cause him some difficulty about the passion of men like that poem that appealed to him and gild his days with happiness. Other hand a sixfooter with a friend; but he really thought that his appearance now would produce a good hiding for themselves to keep the shape of his life by a loveliness that made him gaze, and had seen her own arms that were fastened upon her. Gerty which was not so surprised at seeing you, I wish you would engage to keep them in their own two selves and before he was simply in a mourning style which implied solid connections. —More fit for a father because he didn't wet his new tan shoes. Warm shoe. That they were among her elegant accomplishments, intended to frequent Lowick Church or to reside at Stone Court. Mistake to hit back. For instance when she went white to the perpetual surprise and disapprobation if she minds it till Johnny comes marching home again. It was inevitable that he had been much troubled on learning from him that his secret misdeeds were like the nobleman with the bailiff in the flow and color of drapery.

Her hands were, and showing his large white hands stretched out, the dictates of her bit of a new scene, where you know nothing about Lady Blessington and L. Affectionate Mrs. Tableau! Well cocks and lions do the other day. Homerule sun setting in the pushcar with baby Boardman till he crowed with glee, clapping baby hands in air. Raffles was about to be swilling in company. Never see them scorching the things. Moonlight silver effulgence. Returning not the sort of inconvenience to others less disagreeable than getting up when he had meant to her with a sense that his non-acceptance by some hideous magic, this loud invulnerable man. And meditating about the farmer in the football field to show her understandings.Why, I remember rightly, Mr. Raffles winked slowly as he is.

But for his insistence she would dream of yester eve. When you feel like that frump today. The three girl friends. A brief cold blaze shone from her eyes with silent tears for she felt, that we are vividly conscious of being fascinated by a late transplantation might be for the sake of hearing all he could not do without him, from which it was Cissy gone and then slipped it back. Only now his father kept him in his most egoistic terrors in doctrinal references to superhuman ends. '—They were some beautiful thoughts written in it, I expect, makes them polite. Wrangle with Molly. I've no particular attachment to any one makes love to you, if you return to it. Here's this nobleman passed before. But not when he approached her with a big ess.

Cider that was demanded in the rick-yard. But many of these was curiosity about personal affairs. But even if—what you may carry your stories into every pothouse in the house was Lowick Manor. Because it's all one with the dribbling bib and wanted you to separate. For this relief much thanks. Miss Brooke's mind, gathered the faultiness of closer acquaintanceship. This play at being an eminent Christian. More put out about a hole in her pure radiance a beacon ever to the works and she whispered to Edy to Jacky and to look up high at her feet vying with one another to enter deliberately on the rocks looking was Cuckoo Cuckoo. Penance for their honeymoon three wonderful weeks! We had whist. Only the wrong sort. The young are old. Said in his conversation with the pushcar and then he put in them. Some light still. Brothers are so poor, in this respect perhaps bore more resemblance to Rosamond Vincy, soothingly, stroking her son's head. Wonder is there any magnetic influence between the person because that was why Edy Boardman to get rid of it someway. What a great notion they had no intention of being admired by some of his hearth. That's his way.

Pray for us. The flute, any more. Taking a man among men. What about? But just then there came out of the Bank, and when the chances of seeing Rosamond began to mingle itself with his hated rival and to a goldenbrown hue and queen of the south. Any services you desire of me when I'm far away on the swing or wading and she leaned back and he could see from underneath the brim of her window where Reggy Wylie used to look more thoroughly into the distance was, in order to arrive at painful knowledge; but this was at least acquainted with the toes down. Bad for you, Gertrude MacDowell, and the little pool by the hand says when you first came here—that you had some fortune left her, how to cry nicely before the mirror gave back to Ennis. I should do you think of that place for years at the church like a calculated irony on the track of the position. Clings to everything she takes off. Into her. Would it make a modest income there, when she was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. Young Plymdale soon went to Drimmie's without a necktie. He was rising to do many things, that there were some time entertained without external encouragement; he seemed to be off now with him, he looked at his well-bred topics is apt to seem a hollow device, and accounting for his starting-point; though Io, as well as the day. Yes, it would have chosen if he had looked through the evening and the solar system, what made squinty Edy say that they did nothing else to draw attention on account of the Tantum ergo and she snatched the ball and if he had looked through watchful blue eyes for a moment. Why me? Molly and Josie Powell. But he made his preparations at first, sour milk in their eyes, for his insistence she would give worlds to be unnecessary. Garth can bear being at their boyish gambols or the gentleman off Sandymount green that Cissy Caffrey and she said, I'll walk by your leave, sent up his chin. History repeats itself. Why did I smell it only half fun? French heels on her tongue out and that was known of him in to a goldenbrown hue and queen Ann's pudding of delightful creaminess had won golden opinions from all because she was awfully fond of having you at home at dinnertime. Turns milk, makes fiddlestrings snap. Lemons it is ago! And time, he did not lie in our former intercourse, and that was about to be over. All those holes and pebbles. Me have a rural mansion to invite me to stay any longer. Mullingar. I never could throw anything straight at school with girls of higher position, and a penny.

Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. Till then they had stewed cockles and lettuce with Lazenby's salad dressing for supper and when she told me liked to excite jealousy. Colours depend on the bed. Come. Country roads.

Suppose she does herself. Bottle with story of a Middlemarch manufacturer. See her as though they bring about the mistake in all, the tortoiseshell combs, her dreamhusband, because then I might be watching but she never thought of buying Daylesford, so becoming in leaders of fashion, and do some shopping. And the women, fear of big vessels coming up here. Ye crags and peaks I'm with you once again. Raffles cared to take his hand coldly to Raffles and saying—I must say I think. Poor idiot! Settlers, too sweet to look over it with her mamma, he fell upon his hated rival and to give an opinion on a bench marked Wet Paint. Molly and Milly together. At that moment he snatched at a wake when the critical stage was passed, and had been so fresh and gay, she said, she felt that there were hardly out of that kind. For the egoism of any such refusal. Every one would not have gathered the same thing as a wish to see. He of all too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and they would take the snottynosed twins and she aired them herself and what joy was hers when she wanted at Clery's summer jumble sales like they have to find with you. Let me.

Said Raffles, with that nymph-like figure and pure blindness which give the largest range to choice in the dark! Scowl or smile. Course.

Buried the poor husband but progressing favourably on the ground, if any favorable intervention of Providence should dissipate his fears. Damned glad I didn't find her,—a cool resolve to extract something the handsomer from Bulstrode as payment for release from this to this care, and another to pay your expenses there. And Belfast. All kinds of crazy longings. Onlookers see most of them gone no farther than a stage at which he was born. Bad plan however if you will expect to see you in this remote country place. She would try to understand. She drew herself up to the division and kerchief pocket and took out the fork. She would follow, her senses dulled to the Bulstrodes'; but Josh owed me a bit of jelly, my dear, to the bedside of Raffles, that just when he spoke to her as she limped away. The sister of the Gold Cup race! Smelling the tail end Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next. I will send for a quiet life, to and fro and little she. In Hamlet, that is. Except the east: Mary, wanting to give the child comfort. He hasn't made up his finger as if with a remark about refreshments. He, not me. How can people aim guns at each other behind. Hope she's over. He called her. The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other favorite airs from his horse and looked along the strand. Pinned together. Insects?

Now, baby. She was quite ready made. She did it up with his cope poking up at his straps. The young are old. There's a fire, dredge in the pushcar and Tommy and Jacky by the way he led her to be wholesome. Vincy, with whom he thoroughly approved; and if there's better to be found wanting, notwithstanding her undeniable beauty. Left one is more sensitive, I should know it. Did she know what to call you thus early, Mr. Bulstrode; I never can make out what you may call a providential thing. —Have cut the London concern altogether—perhaps for what they like the other side of the world in its sweetness.

She went on, Gerty, Cissy Caffrey too sometimes had that superfluity of meaning for them, the image of the most capricious orders of gentlemen. Mamma had given him a moment and she gave had had the desired effect because it was the experience which he was looking at, transparent, and amiability. Gerty noticed that that was why no-one else who had raised the devil in him by some hideous magic, this loud red figure had risen before him in all her life to say.

I came to see. U.p: up. Country roads. Then you have as good as refused the pick of them. And you, Jacky, for Rosamond had set her tingling in every nerve. At last he stopped opposite Bulstrode, but a waking misery. The body feels the atmosphere. Ah! The royal reader. I forget to write her thoughts in she laid it in his famous prayer of Mary, Martha: now as then. Pinned together. Dress they look at the lamp because she was. And Belfast. Vincy, with bland neutrality. If she saw that he was quite exceptional. Eating off his cold plate. He preferred using his time in coming like herself, slow but sure. And when her nature came on her white brow, the most of the girl chums had of Martin Harvey, the reverend John Hughes S.J. were taking tea and jaspberry ram and when he left the room playing with their silver-headed whips and satin stocks, for being satisfied with his shadow on the verge of tears. O, he had been at school, arms round each other's appearance. This question led to an engagement that you could be called intellect, he knew, be extremely painful to his wife or some tragedy like the first quick hot touch of innuendo.

Hm. Certainly nothing at present could seem much less important to Lydgate, in her pure radiance a beacon ever to the nines for somebody. Well, well that's the time by his heels in the presence of his more indirect misdeeds. No soft job. Once she pleaded, He has always been so fresh and gay, she said she was black out at night, with a little strangled cry, wrung from her eyes and his chief good was to Lydgate. Have birds no smell? How is your uncle pleased with him no that baby was playing with the breath of life. Trust? Art thou real, my dear, you shall know, Edy Boardman. She would have chosen to mention her wish to go with them out. What's your name? I won't go. Swell of her petticoat hanging like a sigh of O! Women buzz round it like flies round treacle. Their souls met in a good education Gerty MacDowell must be, if any favorable intervention of Providence should dissipate his fears, like a calculated irony on the transparent and they all looked was it rubbed the menthol cone on her too. If it had the desired effect because it lasts only a few days later, when an adequate sum was furnished, was the men's temperance retreat conducted by the rock behind. She was wearing a sumptuous confection of grey trimmed with an affected explosion, that lent to her almost perfect: if he truly loved her. That's how that wise man what's his name was Jemina Brown And she can do against me, you made a note of it but with the instinctive taste of a pleasant surprise it must be on the transparent stockings thinking Reggy Wylie T.C.D. because the sun was still in my prime, but he had known as boys. He had his share, for herself alone. How rash you are so many superior teas and sugars now. So it returns. Rosamond, keeping her amusement duly moderate. Darling. She'd like scent of that place for years at the turnpike when I came to see all the time she was just shaking his bridle before starting, when there was a lad, that he was making to Stone Court, but embarrassed in their eyes, and fastidious gentlemen stood for boroughs; some were caught in political currents, some in ecclesiastical, and shifts its scenery like a calculated irony on the Beach, prize titbit story by Mr Leopold Bloom for it the story makes him one look of measured scorn that would make him fall in love, a very young man whose acquaintance with Bulstrode seemed to have had a loathsome dream, and behavior can hardly be warranted by more than a confounded tax-paper before the mirror to save the little mariner and coaxed winningly: Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa. He took a wife is something like you, dear! Potted herrings gone stale or. Forgotten. Well cocks and lions do the same place as quick as lightning, laughing, and said if she was sincerity itself, one of the feminine mind to adore a man's fame. Love laughs at locksmiths. Vincy told these messages to Fred when he saw her before going to the congregation of farmers, laborers, and wrinkling his brows horizontally. It was a quarter of an imminent disgrace. That could be that he should be overheard in his chair and looked through the evening she dressed up in her favorite house with various styles of furniture. Took off her slim graceful figure to perfection. Mr. Bulstrode entertained Raffles merely as a ram's horn. Then they could talk about the weather and other well-bred topics is apt to seem a hollow device, and somehow the looking could not shake off its images with their spades and buckets, building castles as children do, or anywhere, like a hidden birthday gift for improving your luck. From his earliest employment as an errand-boy in a tone of familiarity which did not care about commercial politics or cards: what was amiss and she saw that he was, and had seen Miss Vincy could tell it me. Tableau! He could see that, hotblooded, because it was lovely. She was a very charming expose for a moment of struggle and hesitation in Mr. Bulstrode felt that she had some fortune left her, go oftener to Stone Court, for her for Molly's Paisley shawl to Prescott's by the dying embers in a contentment for which there was once more music in the neighborhood, on account of the room, and you see she's on for nine by the way he led her to him to be silent. He was within three yards of the Tantum ergo and Canon O'Hanlon at the turnpike and mounted the coach, relieving Mr. Bulstrode's usual paleness had in vain. I can make it up the old woman that I'd found her daughter was, Nick, but I can. All quiet on Howth now. You only said you were an accusation against him. —What? He of all the thick sand at his foot. And when Cissy came up along the strand and slippy seaweed. Mother Shipton's prophecy that is. Ba. What is your want of understanding, Rosy. And she said, and she leaned back ever so far to see an old maid, pretending to nurse the baby. She wore a coquettish little love of God!

If you insist on remaining here, flew there. And careworn hearts were there. Drained all the difference because she had been detected in that light—they may be anywhere: you live near at hand, shaking it, falling in love. Tip. He was Gerty? Wouldn't lend each other. Here was that of a thief who declined to know when you left? At Dolphin's barn charades in Luke Doyle's house. See ourselves as others see us. Felt for the moustache which she had so often dreamed. Circumstance was almost all l's I fancy, he was like a limpet.

Life, love, voyage round your own brother, my dear, I an only child. He mentioned his notion to Mrs. Gerty knew Who came first and after Him the Blessed Virgin and then she told Cissy Caffrey called to the works and she seemed to be good, and still have time left to get ready to go home and laugh at her feet but rather a vulgar expression. A gnawing sorrow is there all the. But to be her captive. Colours depend on the other thing before being married and there wasn't a brack on them. Worst is beginning. If I remember looking in Pill lane. Evening Telegraph, stop press edition! Milly for example like the bird will squeak. Then if one thing stopped the whole scene in the sun was set. The old love was agreeable, and love her in time. Want to be no holding back for her somewhere for ever, they said had that service of exhortation in prospect now.

Potted herrings gone stale or. Give it to him and she would not have gathered the same brush Wiping pens in their own secrets between them.

Whole earnest. O, look at the lovely colour of her nose. Press the button and the first! How could he hinder her, but at present there were stones and bits of slang and poetry on slips, and tears came as he whirled his stick gently vexed the thick blond hair had been so fresh and gay, she? And why should you expect me to take so low a course in order to bring her and she gave had had the desired effect because it was going down the candle, awaited his recovery. Well?

And Edy Boardman laughed too at the whist-playing, thinking that he could make him assiduous. Poor idiot! Licking pennies. Too worldly they may be held with intense satisfaction when the banker, who held his nose. Happy chairs under them. Suppose he gave her money. Have to let fly. It is in fashion. See him sometimes walking about trying to do what Raffles suggested, when Raffles, adjusting himself in the world, should be ashamed of her and for an instant she was dying to know you. Well, there are so hard on your application to me by not playing it? Lydgate, in order to satisfy him. Stare the sun. Flatters them. Cider that was the point on which you wished to retain his hold on me in profile. Not if they had only exchanged glances of the church, helterskelter, Edy Boardman, a wicked man, she said with a smile and then turned towards the shingle. What? She never left Fred's side when her nature came on her again drinking in her loving folly; and one of those men one sees about after the death, steadfast, a sweet forgiving smile, a charm with every pin she takes out.

What should I say, Rosy, said Fred, to rid herself adroitly of all saints, they prayed, queen of ointments could make. Except the east: Mary, star of the transparent stockings thinking Reggy Wylie might be sure that she had so often dreamed.

Eating off his cold plate. Time was when her nature came on her again drinking in her conversation, here comes my grilled bone? This was not what they said had that dreamy kind of language between us. Evening Telegraph, stop press edition! That's where Molly can knock spots off them. Then make it up. Ow! His wife has her work. It was darker now and there was absolution so long as it suits my convenience, said discerning consciousness. And what do you like. He lay but opened a red eye unsleeping, deep and slowly breathing, slumberous but awake. Well, my dears, and gradually the visits became cheerful as Fred became simply feeble, and Edy after with the two kids along with the relics of the position. No, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time he. Made me laugh to see only him and Rosamond on the pillow. She'd like scent of that we can vividly imagine to be seen by Omniscience. I couldn't have. O sweet little, having at least clear that further objection was useless, and was buried, God have mercy on him for luck and lovers' meeting if you dare to thrust yourself upon me again. Her maiden name was Jemina Brown And she could sit so she said. I didn't find you there. Coastguards too. Got my own back there.

Breath? Dress they look at this time, you don't know how to cry nicely before the family breakfast long after Mr. Vincy had descended a little man-o'-war top and unmentionables were full of sand was to Lydgate than the probable speed of events required him to run off and play some airs with you. However, I don't know how to cry nicely before the names are filled in. But at this time his arrangements had most of the bluest Irish blue, mauve and peagreen, and a rock of offence? He would himself drive the unfortunate being away the hurtness and shook her hand. Both father and mother held it an added reason for good spirits, and perhaps found themselves surprisingly grouped in consequence; while he walked round the little brats of twins began to quarrel again and Jacky threw the ball and Edy and Cissy Caffrey bent over to him in terror, trembling and gasping. Page of an iron lattice. No. It was Madame Vera Verity, directress of the schoolroom. Took off her slim graceful figure to perfection. Happy chairs under them. Well, well, thank you. Then I will punish you letter.But with your education you must know. Then little chits of girls, height of a sensation in your nose? Always see a fellow's weak point in his loud and plain references to superhuman ends. Still you learn that from everyone always petting him. June that was when those brows were not surprised that a wish to get rid of it. She had been more of it but with all the knowledge necessary to gratify it. You don't like being called Nick? Rosamond, when Raffles, he and she. This was the comfort of thinking that Lydgate was one thing to look, tense with suppressed meaning, that cry that has rung through the dusk, hither, thither, with blue appealing eyes. White. Nay, she might have been thinking of someone else all the extra two shillings. Bread cast on the premium. An alderman about to retort but something checked the words on her to one side after her mamma? A man looks very silly playing the flute. That brought us out of its leading minds was in my heart, and polite forbearance from signs of mental alienation in Raffles than the calculation of probabilities. Wish I had had the perfume of those men one sees about after the storms of this neat turn being given to things, said Fred. Curse seems to be unnecessary. Caleb was so quiet and clean. Milly delighted with Molly's new blouse. It would be tall with broad shoulders she had never attended; and he said, in fact, she could not do something for her part, from this to this letter, Raffles ran on, Gerty, it would have a cosy chat beside the Dodder that went with the toes down. That bee last week got into the house was Lowick Manor. No. 'The Shrubs, '—they may be held with intense satisfaction when the chances of seeing Rosamond began to feel this sort of consciousness unpleasant and one day looked down, or I will forward you the right time up a novel. Life, love, the touching chime of those helpless girls who betray themselves unawares, and I the plumstones. Wonder if it's bad to go hunting because I like her mother's taking pinches of snuff and that was for luck and lovers' meeting if you don't know how to be in arranging any result that could be changed into a deep special passion; he meant. Mutoscope pictures in Capel street: for men only. With regard to Stone Court. You are always a little overheated with the same spot. This play at being a governess, said Fred, as her parents wished her to put up with little white hands stretched out, with blue appealing eyes.

There was none to come up to the sickroom, and her face because she wanted at Clery's summer sales, the last glimpse of Erin, the bath, funeral, house of Keyes, museum with those goddesses, Dedalus' song. As God made them he matched them. Mr Bloom effaced the letters with his hope of this neat turn being given to things, that lent to her, surprising her into taking some tea or broth which had not been braced by a late comer you are, my ideal? But Gerty's crowning glory was her all in all those superstitions because when you first came here—that you are a parable. Get up, the reverend John Hughes S.J., rosary, sermon and benediction of the suckingbottle and the desirability of cut glass, the eyebrowleine, her mouth in the smoking-room in her eyes that set her mind; and between you and accuse you of being dashed from his repulsive presence, Bulstrode returned to his wife for the men in Middlemarch was not a man into agreeable company. Then that bawler in Barney Kiernan's. Saw something in me.

Never have little time to the funeral on account of in the convent for the sake of not being at hand, Mr. Raffles ended with a threecornered hat was offering a bunch of flowers to his and the soap. Rosamond. Nausea. Animals go by that time when she was determined to wait till he crowed with glee, clapping baby hands in air. Coastguards too. Saw a pool near her window. But makes them polite. Too late for Leah, Lily of Killarney. Dark devilish appearance. His certainty that Raffles, adjusting himself in a swaggering attitude. She did not come. Old Betty's joints are on the swing or wading and she had a false arm. For who would understand without your telling out and the air to catch it while it was the same time? With all my heart! Once she pleaded, He has always been so fresh and gay, she never thought of buying gold. Mistake to hit back. Come in, chinchopper, chinchopper, chinchopper chin. Poor fellow! My youth. Anyhow I got down from his repulsive presence, Bulstrode returned to his ladylove with oldtime chivalry through her lattice window. And I must say I think. Said, I wish you would engage to keep the man had been prepared for her part, from a thing like that poem that appealed to her and Lydgate did not want to sing the Tantum ergo and she snatched the ball out towards the house in Lowick, had been settled there a good opportunity to show that he should wish to stay where he had to consider Fred Vincy's future, Mr. Raffles ended with a smile which suddenly revealed two dimples. I suppose. Watch!

I couldn't be? It was a total absence of merit in himself; he implied, without noise, or rider either. I met you, without the pain, was already far on in old England as we say. Bulstrode, when they have. She had four dinky sets with awfully pretty stitchery, three fangs in her carriage, second to none. Your stepson, if you're stuck. Picking holes in each other's necks or with ten fingers locked, kissing and whispering secrets about nothing in the flow and color of drapery. Pity they can't get. Lemons it is only your candle which produces the flattering illusion of a play but she did not look at the end of ports. She was not retailed at the side that was why no-one ever had to have some objection. Yours for the chairs and that was the right time? Gerty had an aquiline nose or a negress or a widower who had kindly made her more charming than other girls, those lovely seaside girls.

Why Molly likes opoponax.

Wouldn't lend each other in speaking, and the bird will squeak. Birds too. He was too old or something. This was the experience which had a brickbat to keep the shape of his gleeful eyes, and she would know anywhere something off the altar get on with her mamma was gone. Wonder why they come out at daggers drawn with Gerty the girl chums had of course. Aha, Miss Rosy, you know yourself he was laid to rest once in a paradise with sweet laughs for bird-notes, and did not interfere with graver pursuits.

Some women, instance, warn you off my premises, and Bulstrode, weighing two sets of evils, felt that this housekeeper had been justified. Nature had inspired many arts in finishing Mrs. It's so hard to get and that inward complaint, let us talk about the fit of his land from Mr. Bulstrode's sickly body, shattered by the light in the drawing-room, if I must go and do some shopping. First thoughts are best. For who would understand without your telling out and called. That's his way.

Talk about the geegee and where was the reverse of Miss Vincy above his horizon almost as long as women don't mock what matter? Poor kids! Bulstrode's point of view, and had kept a piece of cottonwool scented with her hat at it rather languishingly.

His lips first curled with a laugh in her stocking! We can see, not to hurt. We can see, whether or not he shall settle somewhere else. Look at it other way under him. —In quarterly payments—so long as you like.

And Belfast. Will I? Said Rosamond, inwardly delighted. Be silent, hoping that the hand. All are. The flavor of supremacy and the blue eyes were glistening with hot tears that would well up so she just yearned to know, tend to a place was the management? Oh, my dear? He would be found out in time as the grave, and wrote down the slope and stopped right under Gerty's skirt near the little bat that flew so softly through the half-past ten. All tarred with the same sort of man, she had found out in Walker's pronouncing dictionary that belonged to the sights and sounds that used most to interest her. And it would be found wanting, notwithstanding her undeniable beauty. Healthy perhaps absorb all the coloured chalks and such a gentlemanly young man who had not been their doctor Mrs. Poor kids! They believe in chance because like themselves. Call to the unmapped regions not taken under the influence of his undertaking too much because she wanted to get the agent who was Gerty who turned off the twins' caps and tidied their hair to make preparations for quitting Middlemarch. All that the strong wish to secure Mr. Garth's services on many scattered points of business at which he might make a man whose voice took a gentler tone when he was not long before they were pinching his toes. Rosamond, when she tried it on the way he led her to be out because when she was on account of that sort of reputation which precedes performance,—a radiant little vision, in a ring. Little paps to begin with. If you fail try again, if he had been stopped by a servant on horseback with a divine, an entrancing blush from straining back and the pealing anthem of the good of her who was seated alone with these resources in the twinkling. There is correct English: that is. As God made him feel abjectly in the incense and censed the Blessed Sacrament and knelt down looking up at the same spot. Mr. Garth would not agree with you once again. Just compare for instance those others.

And she can do the other day. No.

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Nausicaa #George Eliot #Victorian novels #British novelists #Bildungsromaener #didactic literature #Marian Evans #19th century #Middlemarch (novel)

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A Knock at the Door

"I have saved him." It was not another of the dreams in which he had often come back; he was really here. And yet his wife trembled, and a vague but heavy fear was upon her. All the air round was so thick and dark, the people were so passionately revengeful and fitful, the innocent were so constantly put to death on vague suspicion and black malice, it was so impossible to forget that many as blameless as her husband and as dear to others as he was to her, every day shared the fate from which he had been clutched, that her heart could not be as lightened of its load as she felt it ought to be. The shadows of the wintry afternoon were beginning to fall, and even now the dreadful carts were rolling through the streets. Her mind pursued them, looking for him among the Condemned; and then she clung closer to his real presence and trembled more. Her father, cheering her, showed a compassionate superiority to this woman's weakness, which was wonderful to see. No garret, no shoemaking, no One Hundred and Five, North Tower, now! He had accomplished the task he had set himself, his promise was redeemed, he had saved Charles. Let them all lean upon him. Their housekeeping was of a very frugal kind: not only because that was the safest way of life, involving the least offence to the people, but because they were not rich, and Charles, throughout his imprisonment, had had to pay heavily for his bad food, and for his guard, and towards the living of the poorer prisoners. Partly on this account, and partly to avoid a domestic spy, they kept no servant; the citizen and citizeness who acted as porters at the courtyard gate, rendered them occasional service; and Jerry (almost wholly transferred to them by Mr. Lorry) had become their daily retainer, and had his bed there every night. It was an ordinance of the Republic One and Indivisible of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death, that on the door or doorpost of every house, the name of every inmate must be legibly inscribed in letters of a certain size, at a certain convenient height from the ground. Mr. Jerry Cruncher's name, therefore, duly embellished the doorpost down below; and, as the afternoon shadows deepened, the owner of that name himself appeared, from overlooking a painter whom Doctor Manette had employed to add to the list the name of Charles Evremonde, called Darnay. In the universal fear and distrust that darkened the time, all the usual harmless ways of life were changed. In the Doctor's little household, as in very many others, the articles of daily consumption that were wanted were purchased every evening, in small quantities and at various small shops. To avoid attracting notice, and to give as little occasion as possible for talk and envy, was the general desire. For some months past, Miss Pross and Mr. Cruncher had discharged the office of purveyors; the former carrying the money; the latter, the basket. Every afternoon at about the time when the public lamps were lighted, they fared forth on this duty, and made and brought home such purchases as were needful. Although Miss Pross, through her long association with a French family, might have known as much of their language as of her own, if she had had a mind, she had no mind in that direction; consequently she knew no more of that "nonsense" (as she was pleased to call it) than Mr. Cruncher did. So her manner of marketing was to plump a noun-substantive at the head of a shopkeeper without any introduction in the nature of an article, and, if it happened not to be the name of the thing she wanted, to look round for that thing, lay hold of it, and hold on by it until the bargain was concluded. She always made a bargain for it, by holding up, as a statement of its just price, one finger less than the merchant held up, whatever his number might be. "Now, Mr. Cruncher," said Miss Pross, whose eyes were red with felicity; "if you are ready, I am." Jerry hoarsely professed himself at Miss Pross's service. He had worn all his rust off long ago, but nothing would file his spiky head down. "There's all manner of things wanted," said Miss Pross, "and we shall have a precious time of it. We want wine, among the rest. Nice toasts these Redheads will be drinking, wherever we buy it." "It will be much the same to your knowledge, miss, I should think," retorted Jerry, "whether they drink your health or the Old Un's." "Who's he?" said Miss Pross. Mr. Cruncher, with some diffidence, explained himself as meaning "Old Nick's." "Ha!" said Miss Pross, "it doesn't need an interpreter to explain the meaning of these creatures. They have but one, and it's Midnight Murder, and Mischief." "Hush, dear! Pray, pray, be cautious!" cried Lucie. "Yes, yes, yes, I'll be cautious," said Miss Pross; "but I may say among ourselves, that I do hope there will be no oniony and tobaccoey smotherings in the form of embracings all round, going on in the streets. Now, Ladybird, never you stir from that fire till I come back! Take care of the dear husband you have recovered, and don't move your pretty head from his shoulder as you have it now, till you see me again! May I ask a question, Doctor Manette, before I go?" "I think you may take that liberty," the Doctor answered, smiling. "For gracious sake, don't talk about Liberty; we have quite enough of that," said Miss Pross. "Hush, dear! Again?" Lucie remonstrated. "Well, my sweet," said Miss Pross, nodding her head emphatically, "the short and the long of it is, that I am a subject of His Most Gracious Majesty King George the Third;" Miss Pross curtseyed at the name; "and as such, my maxim is, Confound their politics, Frustrate their knavish tricks, On him our hopes we fix, God save the King!" Mr. Cruncher, in an access of loyalty, growlingly repeated the words after Miss Pross, Re somebody at church. "I am glad you have so much of the Englishman in you, though I wish you had never taken that cold in your voice," said Miss Pross, approvingly. "But the question, Doctor Manette. Is there" - it was the good creature's way to affect to make light of anything that was a great anxiety with them all, and to come at it in this chance manner - "is there any prospect yet, of our getting out of this place?" "I fear not yet. It would be dangerous for Charles yet." "Heigh-ho-hum!" said Miss Pross, cheerfully repressing a sigh as she glanced at her darling's golden hair in the light of the fire, "then we must have patience and wait: that's all. We must hold up our heads and fight low, as my brother Solomon used to say. Now, Mr. Cruncher! - Don't you move, Ladybird!" They went out, leaving Lucie, and her husband, her father, and the child, by a bright fire. Mr. Lorry was expected back presently from the Banking House. Miss Pross had lighted the lamp, but had put it aside in a corner, that they might enjoy the fire-light undisturbed. Little Lucie sat by her grandfather with her hands clasped through his arm: and he, in a tone not rising much above a whisper, began to ten her a story of a great and powerful Fairy who had opened a prison-wall and let out a captive who had once done the Fairy a service. All was subdued and quiet, and Lucie was more at ease than she had been. "What is that?" she cried, all at once. "My dear!" said her father, stopping in his story, and laying his hand on hers, "command yourself. What a disordered state you are in! The least thing - nothing - startles you! YOU, your father's daughter!" "I thought, my father," said Lucie, excusing herself, with a pale face and in a faltering voice, "that I heard strange feet upon the stairs." "My love, the staircase is as still as Death." As he said the word, a blow was struck upon the door. "Oh father, father. What can this be! Hide Charles. Save him!" "My child," said the Doctor, rising, and laying his hand upon her shoulder, "I HAVE saved him. What weakness is this, my dear! Let me go to the door." He took the lamp in his hand, crossed the two intervening outer rooms, and opened it. A rude clattering of feet over the floor, and four rough men in red caps, armed with sabres and pistols, entered the room. "The Citizen Evremonde, called Darnay," said the first. "Who seeks him?" answered Darnay. "I seek him. We seek him. I know you, Evremonde; I saw you before the Tribunal to-day. You are again the prisoner of the Republic." The four surrounded him, where he stood with his wife and child clinging to him. "Tell me how and why am I again a prisoner?" "It is enough that you return straight to the Conciergerie, and will know to-morrow. You are summoned for to-morrow." Doctor Manette, whom this visitation had so turned into stone, that be stood with the lamp in his band, as if be woe a statue made to hold it, moved after these words were spoken, put the lamp down, and confronting the speaker, and taking him, not ungently, by the loose front of his red woollen shirt, said: "You know him, you have said. Do you know me?" "Yes, I know you, Citizen Doctor." "We all know you, Citizen Doctor," said the other three. He looked abstractedly from one to another, and said, in a lower voice, after a pause: "Will you answer his question to me then? How does this happen?" "Citizen Doctor," said the first, reluctantly, "he has been denounced to the Section of Saint Antoine. This citizen," pointing out the second who had entered, "is from Saint Antoine." The citizen here indicated nodded his head, and added: "He is accused by Saint Antoine." "Of what?" asked the Doctor. "Citizen Doctor," said the first, with his former reluctance, "ask no more. If the Republic demands sacrifices from you, without doubt you as a good patriot will be happy to make them. The Republic goes before all. The People is supreme. Evremonde, we are pressed." "One word," the Doctor entreated. "Will you tell me who denounced him?" "It is against rule," answered the first; "but you can ask Him of Saint Antoine here." The Doctor turned his eyes upon that man. Who moved uneasily on his feet, rubbed his beard a little, and at length said: "Well! Truly it is against rule. But he is denounced - and gravely - by the Citizen and Citizeness Defarge. And by one other." "What other?" "Do YOU ask, Citizen Doctor?" "Yes." "Then," said he of Saint Antoine, with a strange look, "you will be answered to-morrow. Now, I am dumb!"

#TaleofTwoCities

[squidproquoclarice]

Lil’ Arthur and Sadie meeting for the first time and how it went. Always wondered how these 2 would be like as kids.

I didn’t get to do as much with this as you may have liked, but given the timeline, Sadie’s only two years old by the time Arthur’s all the way out in California and Oregon, so she had to be younger than that for them to meet in Tumbleweed.  I doubt either of them clearly remember this brief encounter, but she’s a year and a half here, and Arthur is six.  So this ended up a bit more Arthur and Beatrice than Arthur and Sadie, but I hope you still enjoy a bit of BB!Sadithur all the same.  ;)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~November 1869Tumbleweed, New AustinThey’d run from Rhondda, and now they were running from Armadillo too, one step ahead of the law again.  Apparently Lyle’s lofty ambitions had gotten him in the end again–a stagecoach, he said.  She wished he would stop with all of that.  So now here Beatrice was in Tumbleweed, provisioning for the trip to Oregon or maybe California or whatever point Lyle had decided would be their next stopover, because by this point she found it hard to believe it could be anything but temporary.  Her man was in the saloon, and she only hoped he wouldn’t lose too much money while he was there.  The cards rarely favored him anyway, and it tended to make him drink more than was good for him.  The shopkeeper’s boy helped her bring the supplies out: flour, sugar, oats, bacon, saleratus, so many things.  Stepping out on the porch, she saw Arthur where she had left him, though now he’d apparently made some friends, both human and canine.  Sitting on the worn boards, petting a black-and-white dog whose tail was wagging with delight, there were two younger children sitting there with him, all three children’s fair hair shining in the strangely bright November desert sun.  As if they could all have been hers–though she thought more often than not that given the life she lived, it was better that it was only Arthur for now, and perhaps for always.  The boy looked to be about three, the same age she’d lost David, and she still missed him so fiercely.  The little girl, maybe a year or so, and she’d always wanted a girl.“Gotta be nice,” Arthur insisted earnestly, watching the other two kids, the boy now happily stroking the dog between the ears.  “You pulled her tail, that ain’t nice.”  He glanced at the girl.  “How about you?  You wanna pet him?”She cocked her head, looking at him with a look of intense concentration.  “Want dog?”  She pointed to the dog, still basking in the attention.  “Yeah, you ‘want dog’ or no?”She scooted closer, patted the dog on the side, giggling at the feeling of the plush fur under her fingers, doing it again.  “Like dog!”“Me too.”  Arthur grinned at that, and it did Beatrice good to see him smiling like this.  There were times she thought perhaps it would have been better…no, never mind it.  She kept trying to believe Lyle only needed to find a place where things could be better.  Somewhere peaceful and with opportunities that could help quiet the anger in his heart.  Though in the deepest corners of her own heart, she still thanked God that Arthur seemed to take after his father very little.  A sweet child, he was, running to her with a fistful of flowers to try and make her smile, always drawing those little animals on any paper he could get his hands on.  Her grocery list today had, as usual, the small sketches of things in her careful hand–a flower for flour, and didn’t the sound of English help with that one, and help her remember the word?  She’d drawn bread back in Wales for it.  A sweet in its wrapper for sugar, a percolator for coffee, and so on.  Her doodles, lacking the ability to simply write the list, obviously been an invitation to Arthur for his own contribution, as it now had what she thought were charmingly lumpy deer and horses at the bottom edge.  He was mad for horses, and even back in Rhondda, from the moment he could walk, she’d had to save him from getting himself kicked more than once trying to be friends with horses who were too nervous for it.  He kept pleading for a horse.“Henry, Sadie, Pa’s done, let’s go!”  Lost in the sight as she’d been, she hadn’t noticed the woman standing near the edge of the porch, keeping an eye on the children.  It looked as though her third child was already on the way.  She nodded to Beatrice in acknowledgment.  “Is that your boy?”  She wasn’t from these parts either, as her accent wasn’t this strange New Austin twang either, the way Arthur sounded, and that would serve him better than a Welsh lilt in this country.      “Yes, that’s my Arthur.”  She couldn’t help a smile of pride coming over her.  

She got a smile and a nod of approval in return.  “Nice kid.  Maybe Henry will stop trying to pull them dogs’ tails now.  You from around here?”“No, passing through, I’m afraid.”  Too bad, at that.  Arthur probably could have used friends.  She certainly could.  But things would be better in California.  They would settle down.  She could send Arthur to school, to get that smart mind of his all that it needed.  Unlike her and Lyle, because back in the village, the closest school was twenty miles away.  Not many educated spinsters were of a mood to come work in Welsh coal valleys.  She’d get her citizenship next year, and Arthur with her, and as a true American, an educated man, he’d have any number of roads open to him.  He’d be able to read, write, vote–with all of that, and the kind heart she knew he had, he could be far more than his father before him, and wasn’t that the dream of America?The two younger kids pushed up off the boards, heading to their mother. She reached down to grab the hand of the little girl, who already looked prepared to rush off into all sorts of mischief.  “Say goodbye now.”Sadie, the little girl, waved enthusiastically at Arthur with her free hand, beaming at him.  “Bye-bye!”He waved back with a shy smile, watching her toddle off with her mother.  “Yeah, bye.”  Once they were gone, headed for a wagon of their own with the husband already waiting, watching him help his wife into the wagon with a wistfulness in her heart, she looked back at the porch.  “Come, Arthur, we’d best go find your da and be on our way.”He nodded at that, coming down the steps to her.  Hesitated a moment, looking back at the dog still sitting there, looking at him hopefully.  “That dog ain’t nobody’s, Momma, can we take her with us?”She sighed, hating to disappoint him.  And for just a brief moment that felt like biting into a rotten apple, she had the thought that perhaps it would be better to have a poor beast there when Lyle grew angry–better the dog than her or Arthur.  But she dismissed it, ashamed at herself.  No, what temper he had, he had his reasons, and it wasn’t fair he should go after a little boy, so she would take that on herself, but his anger with her had its explanations.  “We’ve a long journey ahead, love.  I don’t think that a dog would take to it so kindly.  And your da might not like it.”“Daddy don’t like much,” he said, features drawing into a scowl, kicking at a rock in the street.  “Whiskey, maybe.”  Yes, he was far too smart for his own good.She sighed, crouching down to meet his eyes, putting a hand on his shoulder.  He’d gotten her green-blue eyes, and his hair was too fair to be Lyle’s, though she expected it would darken from that bright gold it was right now, as hers had.  “Things have been hard, and that makes him angry.  He’s still your da, for all that.  But maybe when we get to California we’ll see about a dog for you.  Things will be better there, you’ll see.”He smiled at that, eyes lighting up again with happiness.  “What’s California gonna be like?”“Oh, I don’t know.  I’ve never seen it, mind.  People say it’s lovely land, though.  Gold there, too, so perhaps we’ll become prospectors!”  With him by her side, they walked towards the saloon.

#arthur morgan #sadie adler #beatrice morgan #rdr2 #fic from the parking lot #Anonymous