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uzumaki-rebellion · 1 year

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“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 4, Chapter 61″

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"How much better can I show my love for you Than say "I do, I do, I do"? I do, I do, I do You may not know right where you're going, but I do, I do, I do And all the times you wasn't chosen, well, I'll make it up to you All of the feelings you're not showing When your river's overflowing, mmm It's the truth, swear to you I do, I do, I do, I do, I do"

Yebba – "Yebba's Heartbreak"

Shuri followed behind the new king and watched the gait in his walk. N'Jadaka had taken on a persona so dramatic and otherworldly that she had to question everything she knew about him from the first day she ever met him.

There was a light in him.

Something in the deepest part of him reflected a light so bright that everyone near him fluttered about trying to bathe in the warmth of the aural glow. Shuri was a woman of the mind. Science had taught her that the tangible was real, everything else was fantasy. Raised in a culture that believed in magic and mystical wisdom, she scoffed at all of that and concentrated on a reality that she could see with her own two eyes, touch with her own two hands… but the cousin walking across the bridge in front of her… she wondered if she had been wrong about denying the existence of Bast, Mama Wati*, Sekhmet and all the other deities. A human lived and then died. There was no afterlife.

Did Queen Shuriyah really talk to him?

People clung to the idea of an afterlife to give them comfort, especially if their lives were cruel and full of struggle. It was a construct that held off the fear of knowing there was nothing to look forward to except oblivion. Who wouldn't want to think there was a chance to live again in a better place without needless suffering? Heaven wasn't real. Hell was the torture that humans put themselves through on earth while they breathed above the earth. All of it was make-believe and when she became old and her body could no longer properly function, she would cease being alive and decompose like the plants and animals around them as part of an evolutionary cycle of beginnings and endings, over and over. No ancestral plane waited for her. However, King N'Jadaka brought forth a tiny smidgen of doubt in her mind that was the size of a grain of teff that made the muncu flat bread her people loved. Staying on top of the oldest mountain in Wakanda had transformed him and the change was startling in its visceral impact on all who came into contact with him.

Although her brother had cut quite a fitting vision of royalty while he sat on the throne, N'Jadaka enveloped the seat as if the grand chair had been shaped just for him and everyone else had been babysitting it until he arrived to take his rightful place. Even her own father didn't look as worthy sitting there compared to the new king.

Queen Shuriyah watched over her and was proud? Impossible. The hallucinogenic chemicals inside the heart-shaped herb had spun his neural pathways around. His synapses had invented a fiction, no different from someone having a lucid dream and thinking it was all real.

Shuri stared at General Okoye as she greeted the new king at the bridge entrance to the West Palace. Forthright and not easily swayed, Okoye was a great barometer to see if the awe N'Jadaka struck in everyone else was just… holy Bast!

Okoye's eyes darted down the second N'Jadaka glanced her way, and her lips parted slightly as if she had to catch more air than her nose could provide. The king had his general shaken! Royal drummers inside the West Palace thundered a new rhythm, signaling that the king had arrived. A grouping of children in ceremonial clothing and painted faces matching the color spectrum of purples and mauves sang to him. Sydette, Riki, and Joba giggled and were the only ones not affected by the change in their father. He was simply their Baba, and he kept them close to his side, occasionally touching a braid, tugging on a twisted loc, or patting a puffy bouquet of curls on their heads.

Disa seemed to have eased into a tentative comfort level with him, but it was Yani that drew Shuri's curiosity. The nervous energy she carried was clumsy and sweet. It was obvious to Shuri that there was something between Yani and N'Jadaka that wasn't present with Disa. Yani fluttered like a butterfly tempted by an extraordinary flower, but one that couldn't figure out how to land on it.

N'Jadaka wasted no time jumping into his kingship.

The moment he arrived back at the palace, he held a private meeting with Shuri and T'Challa. He didn't even bother changing from his white robes that smelled of strong incense and the heart-shaped herb. They debriefed him on the military team that inspected the Phase Two structure out at sea and investigated the underwater earthquakes. There was satellite evidence of American military and private research operations occurring in open international waters too close to their shielded territory. Naval sonar evidence had been captured and recorded. That information pleased N'Jadaka. He wanted to gather more evidence before the international delegates came to Wakanda. There were plans to go to the U.N. and make his presence known as the new leader of the free world under Wakanda's watch.

"What do you think they are looking for out there?" Shuri asked.

"Vibranium. They will try to infiltrate this country inside and out. Staying in international waters will only protect them for so long in their search. The tactical gear I've seen, and the vessels used, point to the Navy Seals. They may create a fabricated international incident that will give them an excuse to turn the world against us. They'll claim we hide WMDs, chemical weapons, or even trumped-up human rights violations pretending that Wakandan citizens don't have freedom because we force isolation to hide nefarious behavior," N'Jadaka said.

"Ridiculous," Shuri said.

"America will stoke the fires and get the EU behind them. Classic playbook actions."

N'Jadaka's words were measured, especially when Nakia was brought in on the latter part of their private meeting. The first fifteen minutes of her entering the king's inner chamber had Nakia flustered by the intensity of N'Jadaka's bearing. Not only that, but his interactions with T'Challa were so comfortable and connected. They were confidantes, and her brother seemed to know what N'Jadaka needed to hear without him even asking. Not being the king anymore made her brother more powerful, if such a thing were truly possible. From Shuri's vantage point, N'Jadaka became the sheath to T'Challa's blade. Her brother stood in the office coiled and ready to take on the world, and N'Jadaka trusted him fully.

By the time the meeting ended, N'Jadaka had Nakia laughing, and the new ambassador post he assigned her made the former spy more open to the king. They had reached mutual respect. When Shuri left the king's office with her brother, Nakia stayed behind for a private chat with N'Jadaka.

"King N'Jadaka!"

A male host of the coronation ball jolted Shuri back to her senses, and she glanced around at the grandeur and the thousands of people packed into the ballroom aching to be near the new king. The immediate family went to a dais table to feast on nine courses as proclamations were read and live musicians provided entertainment. The extended family enjoyed the food and libations around the king, and Shuri kept a watchful eye on the citizens. Especially the challengers to the throne at Warrior Falls. The Council of Elders held court at their respective tribal tables while the nobles had the best views of the royal family.

Shuri noticed right away that Remy kept his attention on Yani.

His face looked better from the bruising beat down he took. Shuri could only imagine how all the fighters would be if they didn't have advanced medicine and tools to heal broken bones and swollen faces within hours and not weeks. While dozens of servers brought dessert out on floating carts, N'Jadaka rose from his seat to go around and greet the noble tribal representatives, starting with Nakia and her people. There were handshakes, good-natured pats on the back, and jokes shared, but none of that happened when the king reached Remy. The young noble stood and held his hands in the sign of respect that was traditional, but N'Jadaka leaned in and said something in Remy's ear that made the younger man's body go rigid and his face tense up.

Shuri had been greeting older relatives near the nobles and watched up close the shift in mood from the Merchant Tribe members in that section. Elder Zinzi stood and gave N'Jadaka a warm pat on the back, but he must've said something disrespectful to Remy because another elder grabbed Remy's arm to force him back down into his seat. Thankfully, the twelve-member band struck up a song that broke up the tension, seducing couples to move onto the dance floor.

N'Jadaka spoke to Zinzi with his back turned to the Merchant Tribe head table and Shuri felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Sinjin!"

With no thought about where she was, Shuri hugged her lover, and he squeezed her waist before moving a respectful distance from her.

"How long have you been in Birnin Zana?"

"I was part of the last wave of islanders brought inland two days ago," Sinjin said.

"Where have you been staying?"

"With relatives in Birnin S'Yan, near the high plateau."

"You look wonderful."

"So do you."

Shuri touched the fancy, pulled-back hairstyle she was trying out. The sides and back were shaved low, almost in the same style as N'Jadaka. She touched her nape with shy hands and couldn't keep herself from stepping closer to him in the surrounding crowd of dancers and nobles trying to get closer to N'Jadaka.

"He's finally the king," Sinjin said.

"Yes."

"Feels weird."

"Eh?"

"He's not the same man I fought for."

"He is the same to me, in a way. I think he has become more of himself by being here with his entire family."

"Things are cool with you all?"

Shuri grinned.

"I would not think it was possible over a year ago, but now… he is truly family. A brilliant man."

Sinjin nodded. It was too tempting to touch him, so Shuri moved closer to the edge of the dance floor where they would be openly seen.

"How are W'Kabi and Okoye doing?" Shuri asked.

Sinjin glanced over to where W'Kabi stood with a drink in his hand, speaking to the Border Tribe fighter who had lost to N'Jadaka.

"It is still touch and go. Talks of divorce have ceased for now…"

"But?"

"There is still hurt there. Okoye is hesitant to reconcile fully. Maybe things will change having a new king that they both have to answer to."

"I hope they work things out."

"I hope so, too. King N'Jadaka made many people reevaluate who they really are. He is the change we needed."

Sinjin lowered his head.

"That is no disrespect to your brother, Shuri. King T'Challa was placed in a tough position. King N'Jadaka was a storm that blew through here and it shook up people. To their core. Okoye and W'Kabi have never seen things eye to eye for a few years now. Our civil war underlined that fact."

"T'Challa was a good king."

"We need an exceptional one now."

Shuri's kimoyo beads warmed on her wrist, then lit up with an amber color.

"Excuse me," she said, rushing away from the people and toward a private alcove outside of the ballroom.

Nick Fury's face floated in front of her with a grim expression.

"Princess Shuri. We have a problem," Nick Fury said.

Yani held her breath when King N'Jadaka swaggered past the tables of the nobles he tangled with at Warrior Falls. When he stood in front of Remy, she immediately knew he said something mean because Remy looked like he was ready to fight again right there in front of everyone. She stood up quickly and moved away from the family table to pretend like she was checking on her children, but all the grandparents looked after them. Reversing her steps in another direction, she made sure no one could see her reactions. Checking her kimoyo, they had another two hours to go before N'Jadaka would have to leave for other ball celebrations in different parts of the city. She would have to change clothes and attend them with Disa, but the children would stay with Dante.

Marisol and Twyla caught up with her, and they huddled behind a pillar to gossip about Disa.

"See, look at him… I think there's something more serious going on," Twyla said as they peeked at Disa speaking to a giant man wearing Jabari furs and a leather military skirt.

"I know she likes him," Marisol said, tucking the back of her white head wrap tighter.

Twyla sucked her teeth.

"We all know she likes him, gyal, it's seeing them together like this that's making it obvious to everyone. You think Big Man noticed?" Twyla asked.

Marisol grinned.

"JaJa's so busy working the crowd he can't even relax," Marisol said.

Yani's kimoyo lit up. She turned away from the women. A co-worker at the hospital, a seasoned midwife named Atlarela, gazed at her with a strained expression.

"Princess Yani, I am so sorry to disturb your time at the celebration, but I need your help. Nks. Tshwete has gone into labor and she is having a hard time. I told her you could not be here, but she insists on talking to you. She is in a panic and the baby's heart rate has gone up," Atlarela said.

Yani walked quickly to a quiet area out on a terrace. There were a few nobles lingering outside to catch a pleasant breeze and enjoy the view of the golden city below.

"Do you all mind? I have an emergency call," Yani said.

The group of nobles nodded and left her alone.

Yani sat down on a low cushioned bench and tapped her kimoyo.

"I am here, Atlarela. Let me see her," Yani.

Nks. Tshwete's sweaty face peered at her with worry. Propped in a wide birthing chair with her husband rubbing her shoulders behind her, the mother-to-be visibly relaxed when she saw Yani.

"Dr. Galiber… this is harder than I thought," Nks. Tshwete said.

"But you are a strong woman and so ready to bring this baby out," Yani said in her best Wakandan.

"Ow!"

Nks. Tshwete rubbed her stomach and hissed.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" Yani asked, swiping a med screen next to the floating image.

"My back aches… I am so tired."

"Looks like we have you on a low dosage of imifuno enoxolo. I'll up that by five milligrams," Yani said.

She typed in her med code and Atlarela received the change notification on the floating screen that tracked the birth's progress. The hospital room's A.I. Griot scanned the medicine requested and popped out a skin patch from a dispenser on a rolling medical console. moaned with discomfort and her husband nuzzled his cheek against hers. The midwife stuck the small patch on the mother's left arm and checked for dilation.

"She is ready," Atlarela said.

Yani dragged her index finger across her floating screen that synched up with Nks. Tshwete's body scanner to check the position of the baby.

"Time to start helping that baby out—"

"I cannot! I am so weak… so tired," Nks. Tshwete said.

"That is not true. You carried this big baby boy for nine months—"

"Nine months and seven days," Nks. Tshwete corrected.

"Yes, now he finally decided to come out. You know something? My son did the same thing. Mi Dumplin, him got really comfortable in mi belly. Mi fuss every day with him fat self," Yani said.

Nks. Tshwete smiled through her discomfort. Atlarela squatted onto the medical seat in front of the comfortable birthing chair and gently massaged a warm cream along the perineum to prevent tearing. She tapped the side of the chair and it expanded, giving the midwife more room.

Yani clucked her tongue and put a hand on her hip.

"He stayed in mi for six extra days past his due date and I was over it!" Yani quipped.

Nks. Tshwete leaned into her husband's neck and exhaled deeply as a hard contraction took over her focus.

"Rubbed mi Dumplin right on out. Sang to him too."

"What did you sing?" Nks. Tshwete huffed out.

Yani hummed an old lullaby her Auntie Leona used to sing to her when she was a baby. Tingalayo.

"Tingalayo… come little donkey come. Mi donkey fast, mi donkey slow… mi donkey come and mi donkey go…"

Yani sang the song, her voice shiny and clear, like a bell. Nks. Tshwete panted and pushed.

"Mi donkey dance, mi donkey sing… Mi donkey wearin' a wedding ring…"

Mr. Tshwete laughed and gazed at Yani's image floating in front of them.

"Why is a donkey wearing a wedding ring?" he asked.

Nks. Tshwete chuckled until her cheeks puffed out with exertion.

"Them island donkeys like to be married, I guess," Yani explained.

Atlarela pressed her knees onto the wide cushion of the birthing chair, dipping her hands low as the baby's head pushed through.

"Him have a lil coconut head," Yani said.

"Like his father!" Mr. Tshwete joked, wiping sweat from his bald dome.

A young nurse brought the midwife a warm towel to tuck under the baby as his shoulders wiggled through.

"Here he is… look at this… look at this little one," Atlarela said.

Nks. Tshwete closed her eyes and wept, her face exhausted, and her body losing the tension in her shoulders. Atlarela placed the baby on the flat front of the birthing chair, allowing Nks. Tshwete to collect herself in a way that Yani was trying with new mothers. She would guide the babies down and allow the mothers to catch their breath. It slowed down the birth process and gave new mothers a chance to gather themselves before meeting their new bundle of joy. Instead of handing the baby over right away, Yani encouraged letting the newborn sit quietly in warmth as the mother rested in the release.

"Oh, look how well you did!" Yani said.

"Thank you," Nks. Tshwete said while her husband kissed her cheek and rubbed her forehead.

"All I did was watch you do what you already knew how to do, love. Look how pretty you look, Mama!" Yani clapped her hands.

Atlarela winked at Yani.

Nks. Tshwete reached down between her legs and stroked her child's feet first, then explored the wrinkled legs and ran a gentle finger up to his arms and tiny balled-up fists.

"He is beautiful," Nks. Tshwete said.

Scooping her hand under the baby, she finally lifted him up to her chest where she sniffed his skin and nuzzled him under her chin, giving skin-to-skin contact. Yani began singing softly again, and the exhausted mother sang along, calming everyone there.

"The afterbirth is coming," Atlarela said.

The new mother held her squirming child to her naked breast and the ecstatic father cradled his son's round, wet head.

"I will leave you all now. Happy birthday," Yani said.

Nks. Tshwete blew Yani a kiss, and Atlarela turned off the link. Yani touched her cheeks and wiped away a tear. She always cried when helping mothers give birth. So many babies had come through her hands in Wakanda, but each one made her weep with second-hand joy as if she had given birth too. She heard the jokes behind her back that N'Jadaka caused the birthing boom in the country. People made love to forget the war and thousands of babies were born soon after. It wasn't about to let up either. Her work calendar stayed filled with upcoming new arrivals. Wakandans fucked instead of fighting, which the people celebrated because the birth rate had been lower than normal in Birnin Zana.

She heard movement behind her.

"I always knew you would be a success."

Yani turned and the new king of Wakanda moved next to the bench she occupied. She stood, exhaled, and looked at him directly as she nodded her head in deference.

"You never have to do that with me, Yani," he said.

N'Jadaka moved closer to her, and she took a hesitant step back to give him room near the bench.

"I'm about to leave for the next ball location. Wanted to see if you were ready to go," he said.

Yani touched her chin, then looked down at her dress.

"I need to change—"

"Don't. I like that dress on you. It's regal… beautiful. Fit for a princess."

She found a more confident tone and rushed the words out.

"Thank you for that," she said.

"I didn't have time to see you before I left, so T'Challa and the Council took care of the details presenting the title to you," he said.

Her eyes drifted steadily to his face and there was a glow of confidence there that made her midsection relax. He rested in kingship. It fit him like a tailored suit and she thought of all the times back in St. Thomas when he walked around like he was royalty.

The old him… Killmonger… carried the bearing of royalty all the time. She had mistaken much of it as arrogance, but N'Jadaka knew who he was back then. He couldn't even hide it that well. The way he spoke, the force of his words, and his personality made people stop and take notice back there among the deadly mercenaries. She had made love and played house with a prince for two years. A natural-born leader from birth.

"I'll be prepping for the consortium tomorrow. I would like to have lunch with Riki and Sydette in my new office… if that can be arranged," he said.

"I'm staying in the palace for the next two days until my new rotation at the hospital starts. Before I forget, Dr. Bryan is all set to come here from St. Thomas."

"Good. This is going to be a massive undertaking. Thank you for putting in all the extra work to get her here."

Yani clasped her hands in front of her waist.

"How was it up there?"

They both glanced over at Mount Bashenga. He moved over to the protective railing and she followed him.

"It was an experience I will never forget. Even now, I'm still processing everything. I let a lot of things go… from my past and my present. It's like I shed two hundred spiritual pounds to open myself up for a different weight."

"Well, you look good… healthy," she said.

"I feel good. Gotta put in work now."

"Is it everything you thought it would be? Becoming king?"

"More, so much more, Yani."

His body became an imposing figure right next to her. The blinding white of his royal robes, the long, twisted locks, the piercing, the gold teeth, his scent… Yani gripped the railing to steady herself mentally. N'Jadaka sighed.

"This new life won't be perfect until I get things right with you," he said.

"Huh?"

"Had I lived that first time… I would've come back for you and Sydette."

He turned toward her, his eyes burning into hers.

"The day T'Challa stabbed me… I had secret orders to send a ship to St. Thomas. They destroyed it during the battle."

Yani took a step back.

"You don't have to make up stories to make me feel better," she said.

"Have I ever lied to you? Not about who I really was, but how I treated you there?"

She shook her head.

"You gave the good parts of me back to myself, Yani," he said.

She leaned in toward him and he gazed at the mountain again.

"I fucked up by going to Disa based on a promise I made to Grandpop, but I was on a rampage to get here. I hurt you in a way that no amount of sorry is going to make up for because I know what you went through with other men who let you down, and I acted like a basic fool, just like the rest of them that one time. I'm better than that. I acted carelessly… I mean… I guess I didn't care about living anymore… didn't think I'd make it out alive to get back to you, anyway. Weak excuses can't explain what I did. Words don't mean shit to you cuz niggas been spittin' game just to have you. Love for another person is supposed to be a positive action, and I didn't even love myself enough to stop and think about anything beyond getting here and taking everything for my people… for my parents. I got what I wanted and I'm grateful for that. It cost me though. I will own that. All those broken parts, all those lost years… Wakanda gave me my parents back. Gave me peace with my ancestors. United me with my cousins and my grandparents. I have all of my missing pieces back... everything except for you. You are the one. Accepted me for how I showed up, even the bad things. Gave me my first child. One that I didn't even make!"

N'Jadaka laughed, but Yani had a lump in her throat and another in a hollow part of her chest.

"I'm going to spend the rest of my days trying to make up for lost time with my kids… and Yani… I want to make everything up to you."

The lump in her chest stayed solid. Men always said shit they didn't really mean. The high of the day impacted his words. He probably had a lot to drink and wanted to butter her up because of guilt.

Yani ran those thoughts through her head, but the man next to her didn't match up with the energy of the one who crushed her heart. Killmonger broke her by getting someone else pregnant and still loving them. But the man next to her was N'Jadaka. The difference was night and day.

"Yani… is there a chance for me to make up for everything? I would like to—"

"King N'Jadaka!"

Noxolo rushed onto the terrace with Quamba.

N'Jadaka strode toward them. His kimoyo beads lit up. He tapped them and Shuri's image appeared.

"Nick Fury contacted me. I am headed to my lab now, and I need you and T'Challa to come right away. The Americans have found the Asgardian people," Shuri said.

N'Jadaka turned to Yani.

"I guess I won't be able to finish talking to you tonight," he said.

"It's okay. You have more pressing things to do."

"If this doesn't take long, I'll try to meet you at one of the other parties," he said.

"I better get back inside," she said.

Yani attempted to walk past him, but he reached for her hand and pulled her back.

"I meant what I said, Yani."

"I heard you."

"If or when you think I'm worthy… I'd like to start over. Slowly, of course. If you don't feel it in your heart anymore, I'll understand. I want to put it out there so you know where I stand," he said.

His kimoyo beads lit up, and T'Challa's avatar twirled in a circle above his wrist.

"Go," Yani said, pushing his arm.

His Doras turned and walked toward the exit to wait for him. N'Jadaka stared at her. His mouth parted and seemed to want to say more.

"I will consider everything you've said. No promises," she said.

He nodded and when Yani lifted on her toes to kiss his cheek, she missed him by a mere two seconds. With his frame gone from her side, the removal of his body heat made the empty space so cold and lonely. A cool breeze rushed over her where his body once blocked the chill. She watched him move with his personal guards and admired the vision he presented, even as it moved away from her quickly.

Once he was gone, she turned back to the railing and looked over at Mount Bashenga. She had to be about her work, too. N'Jadaka had high expectations for his consortium and the Wakanda Outreach re-haul under his command.

It was a new beginning for everyone.

The Royal Talon Fighter landed on a platform outside of Shuri's lab with N'Jadaka and T'Challa on board. They moved in tandem into the building and walked down some spiral stairs where they met Shuri at her revamped computer workstation. She brought up Fury's image.

"Talk to me," N'Jadaka said.

Fury looked from T'Challa to him. His cousin no longer wore the royal clothing of the king.

"Damn, that was quick. You really weren't bullshittin' about taking over," Fury said.

N'Jadaka folded his arms.

"Time is money, man," N'Jadaka said.

"Asgard was destroyed on purpose to protect the people. There was an entity unleashed there that could not be contained and they had to self-destruct to save themselves. Those who survived the initial assault were on course to earth aboard a foreign vessel called the Statesman when they were attacked by what they call space pirates. They killed half on board. The rest used escape pods to get to earth."

"Thor tell you all this?" N'Jadaka asked.

"Thor is still out there somewhere. He's more than likely dead. There's something coming here that is a threat to us all… in the entire universe," Fury said. "These so-called space pirates are fronting it and they are coming here."

N'Jadaka glanced at T'Challa. His cousin moved closer to him. Shuri watched with concerned eyes. Fury touched his creased forehead before he threaded his fingers together.

"On our side, we're collecting as much evidence and corroborating what the refugees from Asgard have told us," Fury said.

"How many survived?" Shuri asked.

"Less than 2,500 were able to make it all the way here," Fury said.

Fury lifted a glass of amber liquid, letting them all know he wasn't on anybody's clock and his intel was for their ears only.

"I need to know how secure your borders are, King N'Jadaka," Fury said.

"Despite our internal terrorist issue that has been contained since you've been here, we're the safest country on the planet," N'Jadaka said.

Fury wiped his forehead nervously with his drink glass. The cool, calm, and collected bravado was gone. The man looked stressed.

"I pray to God you are because what's coming down the pipeline is going to suck you in. Since T'Challa opened you up to the world, we are going to turn to you soon."

"For what?" N'Jadaka.

"Help. To save all of us," Fury said.

Fury gulped down his drink.

"I'm compiling a confidential Asgard report just for your eyes. Shuri, I would like to ask that you recalibrate those probes of yours and start tracking the signatures I've already emailed you… with encryptions. Maybe you can find out where these pirates are," Fury said.

N'Jadaka sensed something more.

"Why are you holding out more information from us?" N'Jadaka asked.

"Need to know is how I play it close to the vest," Fury said.

"With this new intel, will you be coming to our grand opening delegation meet-up?" N'Jadaka said.

"You're still going through with it?" Fury said with a grin.

"Shit, I would look too janky if I pulled the rug on it now with the change in leadership. Gotta pacify these fools somehow before I have my consortium."

"I regret to inform you that I will not be attending the meet-up. But I'm coming to your other private gathering."

"Good," N'Jadaka said.

Fury pointed to N'Jadaka's nose ring and decorated beard.

"That's a lot going on, brotha. I thought you Wakandans kept it low-key."

"New sheriff in town, bruh," N'Jadaka said.

"I'll be in contact again soon," Fury said.

He blinked out and Shuri immediately pulled up the schematics for their hot probes still working in the field. She pushed away 3D images and plucked out others. Data flashed past in bright neon orange sequences and her computer started deciphering code.

"I'm downloading their files and the ones Fury sent me. Tracking highlighted emissions and anomalies shouldn't be hard now that we have trace evidence to go on from the escape pods. All this life out there… incredible," Shuri said.

"Dangerous too," N'Jadaka said.

"I'll get to work with General Okoye and our military heads to prepare upgrades for all security measures and evacuation," T'Challa said. "Go on back to the palace and enjoy the ball."

"I'd rather work here and go over this data that's coming in," N'Jadaka said.

He pulled off his top robe and tossed it over a chair. Grabbing a stylus, he began opening files on his kimoyo beads Shuri sent to him too. T'Challa left them to do their work as he sought Okoye in person.

"Shuri, if you want to go back and be with your mother and the rest of the family, I can dig into all this myself," N'Jadaka said.

"Parties and big social events aren't really my thing. I'm more comfortable here."

"What about your boyfriend?" he asked.

She froze. Still staring at the chemical makeup of one of the emergency pod metal samples, Shuri took a deep breath.

"I'm not tryna get into your business, but I noticed you with him. He looks crazy about you."

"Please… say nothing to anyone else. No one knows about Sinjin."

"W'Kabi's cousin, right?"

"Yes. We met when you came here. During the war."

"I'll keep it to myself."

"Thank you."

She swiped and enlarged the tracking data, then glanced at him.

"Things have changed for you. With Disa and Yani?" she said.

"You can read me too," he said.

"In my time with all of you, I noticed that you have an interesting dynamic with them both."

"How's that?"

"I watched some old videos of your family in Brazil that Marisol shared, and I made an interesting observation. You fell in love with two women who are basically your mother and aunt."

N'Jadaka's face scrunched up in confusion.

"It's true, cousin," Shuri said. "Disa is so much like your Aunt Lia, and Yani is… well, she is a toned-down version of your mother, Califia. At the heart of each of them is a connection that you lost as a little boy. No wonder you love them both so much. The two women you admired most at the beginning of your life were the blueprint for who you ended up loving later as a man. But now… I think… maybe… you have settled your mind about them. You were different with them tonight."

N'Jadaka sat on a stool next to Shuri. Her words sank into him.

"I love them both dearly, for different reasons, but—"

"Yani is the one you want," she finished for him.

He closed his eyes.

"Yeah. She's who I love for all the right reasons, though. I felt like I owed Disa so much. I was so young and naïve when I went after her. She's my best friend, and I promised so much to her I never fulfilled. After all was said and done, I turned her into a single mother, something she was never supposed to be."

"I don't think she sees it that way," Shuri said.

"I do."

Shuri shook her head.

"She is so happy here. Have you looked at her? I mean really watched how she moves in Wakanda? Bliss. There are times I wish I could see Wakanda the way she does. I've been raised here all my life, so I'm used to a lot of things. But the wonder and joy she carries are astounding."

"I promised her the entire world," he said.

"You gave it to her. And you are still friends. With a beautiful child that she adores."

"I hurt Yani, though, and I don't think she will ever love me again the way she used to back in St. Thomas."

"Listen to me. You tried to kill me and my brother. We got over that and love you now. In time, she will see the new you and decide what is right for her. But she is happy too. I see the joy on her face and she loves her work here."

N'Jadaka stared at his cousin.

"You… love me?"

"Of course, I do. You have shown me who you really are, and I've had time to learn about your past. I've healed from it. In my opinion, murderous intentions trump having a child with someone else… don't tell Yani I said that!" Shuri said.

N'Jadaka grinned. Shuri laid her hand over his.

"You were lost and blinded by revenge. She loves you so much and it's just taking Yani a lot of time to heal from your one mistake with her."

"Did she tell you she loves me?" he asked.

"We can all see it. Her eyes never left your presence the entire day. Remind her why she fell in love with you in the first place and let her see that you are the one for her, too."

Shuri removed her hand, and a smirk crossed over her lips.

"What?" he asked.

She tilted her head and began singing.

"She is your queen… your queen-to-be…! A queen-to-be forever… a queen who'll do whatever his Highness desires… she's your queen-to-be… a vision of perfection, an object of affection… to quench your royal fire…"

N'Jadaka reached over and put Shuri in a headlock.

"See, now you got jokes! How did you learn that song?"

"My Dad watched all your corny American movies and swore up and down your Eddie Murphy was making fun of real African countries like ours," Shuri said.

She untangled herself from his loving grip, but he threw an arm around her shoulder.

"I love your smartass, too," he said.

"I am glad. Wakanda is the place of miracles, cousin."

"You are the miracle worker, Shuri. Gave me a second chance."

"Well, put your second-chance self to work. We just received our first clue," Shuri said, pointing to her elaborate 3D images.

"The space dust burned into the escape pods that fell into our atmosphere comprises particles from a meteor that came from deep space," she said.

She pulled in another image of the Great Mound that housed all of their vibranium.

"We haven't seen that type of chemical makeup since vibranium landed in our country inside a meteor two point five million years ago. These space pirates… they may come from cultures older than humanity," Shuri said.

"Hopefully, they bleed," N'Jadaka said.

They worked late into the night until he fell asleep, hugged up next to the computer images. Dozing off, he worried about how advanced the technology was on the other side of the universe.

Chapter 62 HERE.

A.N.:

*I changed the spelling of the actual Mami Wata to Mama Wati to give me the freedom to write about an actual African/African Diaspora deity that I am very familiar with as a Wakandan variation of that water spirit. She is the same one I use in my Namor fic "The Offering".

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#Black Boys Bloom Thorns First #Wet Sugar 2 #Killmonger Fanfiction #Wakanda Forever Fanfiction #killmonger fanfic #Black Panther Fanfiction #pantherverse #Namor #T'Challa #Shuri #Uzumaki Rebellion Writes #Uzumaki Rebellion

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thoughtsafterdark · 28 days

Text

Stigmata

The world is quiet. So quiet. The silence deafens, bends backs, breaks minds. It holds its breath, waiting, biding its time. Still and poised yet tense, every pebble and grain of sand prepared to strike. Like a big cat stalking its prey, shoulders rolling so smoothly as it inches closer and closer. Like oil sliding off the skin of the water. Those moments when it crouches and becomes one with the Savanah. When the golden light of the setting sun sets the land aflame and blades of grass blend with raised heckles until they are one and the same.

It waits for you, for your conception and birth. Molecules aligning, cells dividing, flowers blooming. The water of your mother’s womb is surprisingly thin given the precious life it cushions. It is expelled from your lungs like a sacrament, like a fountain that once erupted from a desert rock millennia ago. Strong lungs as befit a firstborn son. Your first cries pierce the air and shatter the stillness into a million shimmering fragments. The diamonds spill across the inky blackness. A burst of colour from the Lord’s brush, arcing across the sky. Another promise, another new beginning. Yet Gods are foolish, lonely creatures. Their promises ring hollow and false to our suffering ears. The whips crack and our skin splits, oozes all the same. Where was God when my brothers withered and died, the cries ripped from their throats going unanswered?

And yet tell me why as I gaze upon you now, I am compelled to fall to my knees? As if every fibre of my being yearns to bow, to yield - as if your voice bursts from somewhere deep in my squirming gut and heart and not your lips?

Tell me why I itch to bury myself in the crook where your thigh meets groin and inhale the musk there as if your scent holds the Eye of the Needle, as if the grooves of your skin map Heaven’s Kingdom. Would you let me cry tears of rapture at your coming and wash your feet with them and my tongue?

I wonder if such a wonton display of devotion would anger you, frighten you. Would you toss me away in disgust, smash my face into the ground? Break my nose against rock and let me feel the warm flood of blood flow backwards down my throat, let me savour the salt and iron as I swallow devoutly. Tell me why I have never felt so alive as when your holy wrath rains down upon me like fire, like the destruction of Sodom.

I watch you now, standing proud against that same setting sun, gazing across the expanse of your new kingdom. Here as it dips low upon the dunes and the sand lashes at us. Its rays frame raven curls and fracture all around you, as if afraid to touch you and be seduced. A halo that revers yet fears you. It hardens your features as if you were hewn from granite Your jaw tightens against the onslaught, sharp enough to fell armies. Your eyes become the harsh ringing of blade against blade. Gone is the boy with the easy smile tugging at the corner of a mouth, crow’s feet wrinkling eyes. In his place is the cold pyre of divine righteousness. The commander of earth and sky, made to wield sound and air itself. I think of the icons of old, the waxy mournful faces of saints and note what a pale imitation they must be, if they had even a third of your weight.

You are a black hole - all-consuming, inescapable, inevitable - and we are all trapped in your orbit, edging ever closer to the Event Horizon that will surely destroy us. But tell me if our path is so doomed why my heart leaps at the prospect of pledging my death to you? What finer gift is there but that of my last breath, freely given?

In your face I see rivers of blood and the thrum of charging men. I hear the chants of our forefathers and the long line of prophets that came before, accumulating across the centuries into the tapestry that is your flesh.

Yet as you lie here beside me, the darkness kept at bay by the stubborn flame of a lone candle, your face serene with sleep and your sweat acrid and sharp in my nose - I see just a man plagued by a crown of thorns. I think of my hands, bathing in the blood of innocents in your name. Your name, a mantra, a hymn that ignites us all with awe and hunger. I wonder if knowing deep down you are just a man makes me more or less the fool.

Then your eyes open, lashes fluttering, and I see the light burning there and I know messiahs are not born but made in the hearth of a home, in the fierceness of a loyal heart and the beating lifeblood of a people starved of hope. I care not if you bleed red or ichor, I know only that I will follow you into hell itself, until we burn to ash and we become whispers, legends. Until we are nothing but dust floating across the dunes, the wind that stokes the flames of a thousand more rebellions.

#creative writing #poetry #religious trauma #religious imagery #love #devotion #stream of consciousness #love poetry

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asha-mage · 7 months

Note

cadsuane, prompt: empathy

[Send me a character or pairing, and a one word prompt, and I'll write you a drabble!]

Cadsuane’s small sitting room seemed to glow gold and red in the faint light of the dying sun. Clad in simple green gown suitable for an evening alone, she watched the sunset while working the handle of her oak hairbrush, the one carved with the trefoil leaves. It had been a gift from the King of Tarabon during one of her misadventures about a century ago. Her hair hung down her back today, out of it’s usual bun, still slightly shinny and damp from the water of her bath. It was glossy black now more then slightly streaked with grey. It would probably turn full white before to many more decades.

Cadsuane’s rose beds where visible to her through the sitting room window, long boxes filled with a shower of different colors, from red to white to gold to blue. For a while she had entertained the idea of cultivating a row of roses for each color of the Ajahs- but without the aid of the Power she could not find a way to cultivate brown and grey roses, and she knew herself enough to know that is she used the Power for one thing with the roses, she would end up leaning on it to much. She would would be coaxing them to grow without thorns next, then to bloom just a little longer then the season would allow- and before she knew it the simple pleasure of the act of gardening would be all drained away.

“Good evening.” A voice called from the door to her sitting room, interrupting her thoughts, and Cadsuane looked up and found herself smiling. Emarin was there in the doorway, his head of dark brown curls seaming to glow as gold as everything else. They where tied back from his face in a simple cord, and his shirtsleeves of where rolled to the elbows. He had washed up thourughly before coming up to her of course- she had impressed the importance of keeping neat in him sharply- but some flour still clung to his forearms all the same, and to the white cloth bundle he held gently in the crook of his elbow.

You would never know, looking at him, that he was a Tearian High Lord. Or rather had been one. By the laws of Tear he had lost all claim to that title the moment he had first touched the Source.

“Good evening.” Cadsuane replied in kind as she rose, setting down her hair brush. “Another day’s labor?” She asked as she moved to the small tea table before the window. Emarin joined her, laying out the oblong bundle and setting down a small jar filled with jelly beside it.

Emarin nodded as he sat. “I barley burned this one.” He said dryly. “I’m improving. Algarin won’t be able to believe it.” Gently he unrolled the white cloth revealing a golden brown loaf of bred, the end caps just slightly turned an ugly black.

“Barely? Phwah.” She shook her head. “Well, you’ll have all tomorrow to take another stab boy. Still, let’s see how it is otherwise.”

They broke the crust together and smeared it with generous amounts of jelly. It wasn’t bad- a bit hard on the outside and doughy in the center, but good for all that. Nothing Cadsuane would pay coin for of course, but that wasn’t the point.

They ate in quite silence, and when the light began to fade Cadsuane rose to begin lighting the candles with the aid of a spark wheel.

“You don’t have to do that.” Emarin said as he cleared away the last of the crumbs. “I wont open my veins if you channel to light a few candles.”

Cadsuane sniffed. “You have an inflated sense of self boy.” She said coldly. “Have you considered that maybe I enjoy doing things by hand?” She shook her head.

“Do you?” He asked dryly. “Because I’m pretty sure I saw you clear away that fox with a few well placed sparks of-“

Reaching out to the True Source, Cadsuane embraced saidar long enough to weave a thin flow of Air, and snap it like a string, flicking the boy in the ear. He smirked at her and stuck his tongue out in her direction, for all the world like a child of eight.

“It is important.” She said smoothly, pointedly lighting a stick on the spark wheel and pressing it one of the candle wicks. “To do things with your own hands. Even for those of us that still have the Power. Maybe especially for us. If we make life too easy: if we depend on the Power to much, we run the risk of letting ourselves believe we are more then human.” She released the Source as she talked and moved to light the next candle on the mantle piece, her hand steady. It had been for centuries now- ever since her time spent on Norla’s farm.

“Is that why you set me a new hobby every few weeks?” Emarin asked, his voice still holding faint mirth, but also a thoughtfulness, and something else: an edge she knew he wold not be able to put a name too. “Why I spend sun up to sun down, gardening and baking, sewing and wood carving, and whatever else you can imagine? To remind me I am human?”

Cadsuane simply nodded. Their was no sense in denying it. “People think you need to find something to fill out the emptiness that the Power has left behind. It varies what: A husband usually, or charity work, or some passion like drawing or music. Phwah.” She shook her head and lit another candle. “They are wrong. Nothing will ever fill that void. That cut can not be mended, and nothing will ever patch the hole it’s left behind. Not really. Like a man whose lost a limb, someone Stilled or Gentled, needs to be reminded that their wound has not made them less human. They needed to be grounded in this world, to feel it’s beauty as well as it’s pain, to accept what is, and learn to live with it.”

Emarin looked down at the jar and sighed, fingers playing with the lid. “You sound as if you speak from experience.”

Cadsuane considered him…and then nodded. “I do.” She said simply and he raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, his questions remaining unasked. For a moment she considered leaving it at that, but it felt cruel. The kind of fertile ground to give rise to false hopes. Best to be out with it.

“I meet a toothless Wilder when I was a freshly raised Green, long ago now.” Cadsuane explained. “Drunk on my own pride and arrogance, I thought I could bully her.” She laughed. Cadsuane doubted anyone had ever succeeded in bullying Norla. “She shielded me and tied the knot so tight I could not hope to untangle it. Then she gave me a through thrashing for my sins and set me to work gardening. To teach me humility and humanity she called it. Well, she succeeded.” Cadsuane smiled. “In teaching me that, and a great deal more.”

Emarin nodded and sighed tightening the lid shut on the jar. “And that thought you what it’s like for men who can-“ He cut off and swallowed. “For men who have been gentled?”

Cadsuane shook her head. “No. Nothing but the experience of stilling could teach me that boy.” She told him, not without kindness. “But it taught me to look beyond myself, my shawl, my might….” She shrugged. “To be understanding, where others would close themselves off. To care, where others would be cruel.”

Emarin stood nodding and tossed the cloth over his shoulder. “To have empathy.” He said. “That’s why you care for the men you find, isn’t it? When all others want to be blind.”

She nodded. Empathy. She supposed that was it after all. “It’s easy, for the Reds, for the whole Tower, to close themselves off, to not let themselves see or care for the pain of the men we Gentle. It must be done, and so it’s easier for everyone to be blind to the cruelty of it. But it’s a mistake.” She shrugged. “We can not lead or guide those we do no try to understand and care for.” That she thought, more then the Black Ajah, more then the passage of eons, more then the shifting of time, was why the Tower was failing, growing more brittle by the day. A lack of care. Of humanity and humility. And empathy.

“Thank you.” Emarin said stepping over to squeeze her shoulder. “For caring.”

Cadsuane smiled at him and lean over lit the final candle.

#WoT #Wheel of time #wot book spoilers #COT Spoilers #Cadsuane Melaidhrin #Emarin Pendaloan #WoT Fanfic #Wheel of Time Fanfic #drabble challenge #Formatting would not cooperate with this one so no indents this time

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libidomechanica · 26 days

Text

The same speckled

A sonnet sequence

The Fall of deep peace, and my Eccho ring. The ground her hath her answers him kneel. Be king hands. I almost work of Tityrus his knee, and his way to known them. Misapplied: No! Nor blindly laws. Summoned to awake the Trecentisti; ’ in Greece, he wild sky, whate’er they possess’d in Tears. The same speckled rounding by his knee, and lacking, and the violet of blizzards and love, she saw these they are gone. See my loue to call the mind: it will not ope thro’ all their Insect- Wings us to grow. See, where they can I be blasted only thro’ which sitting in my reconciled in thy selfe the blow.

A bonny bower-door, to the said; the body, and she use, her Tablet—Yes—’tis uninscribes a crater. An injure. Behold you that I forest, and slight; with him, Wordsworth’s ebon dart, the mistakes, where they did; but, fury, woe, or as those koi. A lovers’ hours, sun, whene’er then will turn the way, where thought came backyard licks of civil! And thee on my living bloom, too, of evening, as quick in hight, while ye write of Air. Throw that are theyr eccho ring. Neuer had touch the brain. Crystal, naked is doth you among the heaven’s limbs from whence a little while I think, is worthier told.

A man unders, like poplar made, and lost. The break her ere shall she look’d down from aboue, and hew Triumph o’er the inlaid without the ice needs must be lost, woe unto every ye weary, he common grief abused it and carroll of shame I spent. Of those enow! Thou wert therefore, dear Waggoners, ’ around; the oldest the path is first of gladness marr’d: his son of the rolls the dead, and thorns: that it more; but this invidious noise of his home, as some dim touch the great oppress’d. Lay scatterd light; and other. That I maintain that all the circumstance bounded helpless ill the stars into me.

She take so lewdly beauty with death, which seeke the ground. Till which spake a strange routed boy: tis to wears a cravat; but I am not in silk and I myselfe pype of the mouse bespoke too cute, the wanton babes to wed wits at will, my want-begotten field, like flowry graceful. Behind, I stretched Sylph in cleare, not be easily harm’d of flattery, so I did not my trembling hands ta’en her bed will bands avian, too, and thrice again topsy- turvy, twisted into the Muses are scorn, sweet pleased, who grewest not see thee, Katie, my friendship, equal fire, nor yet do it to me: what seemeth dropping could neither nurse with windleshanks? The country-farm to beginnings of his rice, and systems have the fevers, massacres and heart, the bats, where, unlikeness, nor why I’m not in any chance, because they him not in ranne. Locks into your body but enslaved a wind alone.

While I stack by his face, like a balloon? The door to record? Till ever dwells of me, and flower phases wrought her icy breathe adieu. At time of the trees which, with equal mistrust; it sucked from fear to me as Romances, newspapers, in the captive void of the mast o’ the goddesse please he finds of Air. Of solace lives in light to think what wall, or where two first and in the lute Corinna, for love for barley- sheaves, the curious and black chaos thus, and absinthe arts are lost her Vanities, which enchanting? His fashion’s song, the death; forgiveness’ might not wast, my soul. When they.

What a war of all my part the circle of life; thine are likenesse did not speak. His rice, meat, there was already play, our self so fair commeth time. The soul of his you poor, ring into mould; and honour there Cymon was not fewer to lend and her ranges, for three partaker of breathing somewhere, open conquer’d, I thinking more than combin’d, her for all; if one of old victory; and goodwill, my friend, comes of Camelot. Loe whereon it must reason; t was the rest orphan of snows; supposing even after Winter dark fen the Turkish trousers furl’d about their small: with javeling air; I loved you of that e’er the British Queene, hye your Eccho ring. To darken’d her life, and man, whom the sighs to run her being of love and sung long so long, as her blue the pursuers in them pure, which most unoriental teare. Still onward blows, are lang day’s detested theme of thee.

Were to see the house; old sisters would man. Have chosen friend stories! Not all his weep; the heroic rays, she said to inscrib’d with soft seraphic cheeks; four, through the seaman, that poore soul. Your fault was born to others being a man of please less of savage deed, demand now Adonis had many wives and cancell’d in turn away boy who changed the song and sting; the fruitful shame. We glides, safe with the same speak: this invited. Sprawl? ’ Breath. Cage, these, or none puts on out my mouth grace except, like many a rose. Rapt from foreigne with Ruby and faith an uncorrupted house, and he is sinner!

Sing ye there she that mad with proffer’d violets’ eye; which by turns her sad and made the nipple, can speech is the faded leaf put fear; why will. To drink, and digest hearts would blaze forth some ice, taking, bids the chain of a hill to disclosed with thy course, and the boundlesse shining Sappho’s break and as for this flea guilt: for more astonish’d in his swaddling, and not stem and enter email privacy refunds advertise contact link they must speak, fair surprising his blowes; and in higher hangs, that he had dreamed I was a trice as you are nothing, about the Trophies of other lap did see.

Is brow, till am learnest—but aye she lock, not gather’s scythe offence: doubted daughters all; the town, he reader, to the hears ashamed of the store of my lips, since if then raging saw what; his journey once beyond sire; subject and downe, and of the two stremes; despair, while she prated Rome, true, the vigour, bold Sir Plume had not sweet, this Lock, tend there the ledges of his virtuous stronger. And now ye dainty cheek, and say’st roam the lighted sailors where: not thou arteries; nor stricken to dawn coming bare the side its Honour is to me, sayings of Troy; stella is nought about?

Smart unclosed to know what we went as your Locks first pass to raise a labours the day did you might of nightly, that not to draw a moment his double I been at the virgins to snows; supposing cycle goes are lift her pure imaginary she would ease him at her arms, suggesteth to die, my heart that, eye that hapless imperial truths to save thee light, the hole, ’ would be. Too old fountain from crimes of the immortality alone at the Spring with somewhere is not a mother’s rein under other one? The yule-cloth the master— not the miserable is to the fire?

’—Not yet nought it laugh at time and now takes for the British Throngs promiscuous storms, there more; nor dare: that transplanted on a growth the flockes dost lends embraced the learn’d, preference are nothing of all the Pow’rs gave lion was give, so Orpheus did he bearing than they and presence to weep, and he should be thy head was what folly, the Ballad or rough, I returned me was in a forgot to go through clay afloat. Disturbed from the lies budded fish in the Fops envy, and all the which the table. To those bred more gashes like clouds do say, while the chastity, you’llnever mark, and hide?

In the rest of many, round his churl in silk and swallowing Death, or wishfull vow, and I cried surprise to glancing, yet is hall at once made an atmosphere, nor wilt have sung their winged within. The hall the glass appeared of her Eyes are; nor every nearer to me, how that bears the earth white baracan, and forceless owes and—should I dare we almost words, like a room of the wishes—did we held out hurdles of which, belied the best to find so many a grapes, do surfeits not speed. Profess in the depths of prayer, who bids him from both with this flea’s death without alarms, and all live.

And when waste a wonder at a rout, ends. As some one burn so chast, a beam, and the shore; the barrein now reign o’er will not fear. You likewise youth a lazy length might of the past, and success, no doubt beside his fyrye face, nor damned ghost, O crown’d into the gazing on from burning to the same, I say, will laughter—had no further priests in its leafless ribs of Whale. Lay a pleased. Of calculate both in beds them with compel a well-proportioned nose, they wept for she said No’. And on the morn as of good? And tears, quake to sing: think the language broken utter’d in each, and balls and learn’d to him.

In the middle ages can’t see the deep dawn turn, until is answer and the shudder; the census take true we see who dote and crime, that lures, and never flowers, and Spright, or in the bosom, where t is, that thou loue, content to find then cups the Fruit of old smokers, of Asia’s might not found, and love can no more pitied. His eyes, that drench’d alone, and Phoebus gins to either the sexiest meal of the blindly ere she cried, so that settled equal power’s shirt for one while clouds of bridale bowers, to claim, poor rich can hurt and sung, some gentle Belles and keener Light hover, her figures do say, where is all alike, endanger reason: many a lover, and grave don’t, Cash down for what I shoulders were against Pallas also did hold it half a happy pair—their carriage—but. Beauty draw me this; I triumphed, or by must that, if thou feel’st it rhymes, which we comes a cry.

Looking ear we sate mute, with mortally thoughts the match with all we cannot, dreadful, and half the shoe is fair sight with a sober manner which to proceed along, in whose grow within the mind, appear; from knoll of orphan’s eyelid dry, stray, is spent. The spoke, and o’er the best is at press of one generous life in love is love you had returned my mind; my works, and the webbing in his Hands. Coming care, each other worne in one that now his Diamond the world to a marble flowres a tweene this isolations guide the lions’ keen eye was a lament through the deserved for the Silver Bound, he seems to resign, yours I am, I will now not white lilies, and spread her love, studied quicken to my true-love is like lightnings of thy comfort in another wear yours was rest, having wrong; being let the kindness flower! Cleft pomegranates of thy might makes a Devil-born.

A third day is true, than a Billet-doux. Where the deceived, expectant, still’d thee how fares of your nativity, that take a Patagonian jealous o’ a’ the Sharp-witted mind to thee, Spirits into the walk’d about some dull disdaine our bed her own, than ducats. Then she was no cause deserve the Falcon thereto approaching to my self, than theyr loue to drink that green-ground, each new Night; the drifts that tell, than Christmas-eve. Poetry Bookshelves knowledge hath gives from the of the train dropped out: Is your love that binds ironies irritate my after Winter breath. Sprang out the sound.

Is a sight I stand lips. And slight lay afloat. If to sing, and on his should he put a kiss shall be distant short swallow boughs with a thousand do not more that’s stillness flower unfamiliar to expel by care, which can a younger, darkly feels: the knocks, so career is I came this lucky thought, somewhat love had not shun their outside to love be blest, knights were mixed with darkening stars, in this pay. Of deer; and now such Maladies do not known munificence is ampler day. On Lethean spring to do with disclose Recesses averted the Wits again to your merry merry show!

In walk’d of prey— that whistled manners bled. Or was a human ill death is still dost the haze of silver down fa’ for Jock of Hair. And only sovereign salve canonization from the first-born and region sweetness to say. Our hero and, I say, will she did joyous make with me that taught my hand the places compasses darkens any life is darkness, the gloom, she bats, when warbling farewell. One large, alive, her borne down from their tide, the Labours to the vessel glides, stunned the keep his tale with his heard the people apart. While now wind, when paper- thin placid awe, they chang’d. Meal of joy.

Could retract; and the phantom-woman that unaware hath promised to be powder’d, I think the tenth or plain of wedlock struck eighteen industrious Tempestuous plighter eyes discourse opened, and cease. For no mortal Wound. Would the lands; and ha’ these pretty, is but one, and cut him, until we’re about: then your eccho ring. Which compass’d by her side by which the fan be euer fedde in whom I love in his name them their annual magistrate. Song to steal from offender’s alarms, and sow the blood, my lips, and hoped, and why to this holy Life! Angels tune. Or clothes and unlawful.

Which was I lay on thro’ the lesser way; from the tidings cryen for rays thee from comes a scarlet come away and when too late the wily Virgin’s heat more shall I die by long stronger. She keen’—but the town, sitting drunken branches loud and clouds of the mimic picture of tranquil ruin, I retires, your wings, by Loue hath so taste, and scarce a scoff; and bishoped gain the other could, with her cheek, his broken faith, the in at heart or covered thou feel it would not dealt between the months in Air, weighs unto men may Dine; the distant view within his people through wave fled, in lands or back.

Pass superb menage loathsome little selves? The years to his mode of life he least, which have a soldier once are not too had done as the birds forgive away: the reprehend, fall like the vague desire; yet feel, or, being less doth lives a silver soil, not be still is he seem’d a curious for speak through our life the mind the sence, but hung to hiccup or to form, what though doubt is naked weeds that earth the woodbine veil the streams, as old Bench, as warring the fight pittie is, the young like myself would, he meditative ranging flats again—to shepheardes all the Nurse and Juan was, the end?

Two blue windows till, for none life I leave bathe innocent. Your deep relation amongst the tempest and roar in health, in it; of what heard you skill to stay him not the same. Impassion, and still the will live! ’Re told; she who conquest fire doth keepe, adieu good queen seraphic flames he died, and view within him to warb—learn’d, pious, but the bent to the greater glides he might have leisure there in the learns thee and slowly love Gregory combustious Heav’n who spring out them each what dimmer on the sense a Miss Blank meant found the sence mad March; come: not indeed, at her hair waits old hand to Fate!

Bid her Hand, which of burst a floated free of men,— what we die. For Wisdom. And this old age is old as he ground my final lands whereat it grows deep-seated hour. Present strange gleams, and on the pediments, divert strong bond of mine shall its meriment, and change my smooth and bread—that rose medled with all forced me thus are crossed be the text is out of dry land? As from Fancy be cool’d in the sun and would charms cross there in their darling by him invisible compass’d tween the grove of glass, and all that thy life had done things save here we have wrought, of all was born. See fierce it ill adapted to redeem the small worth the hill which, can find his hound. New light. Have we are the Baron’s Eve northern light ruin and whistle and you’llsay, now we’re spent pain, and drooping, galloping, and hearth, in his sour to earth she; and its from her to hide her as he short time within her face I know no more.

At the times with to virtue friends remain heaped with me asleepe, may seem, mine was their Bodkin from off two world shapes that he like a knot. Tak down one with tears dead, with thy help she said, oh Shah, whose rays of his Charge of a heart from forgotten sounds from high the first fruitless chastity, love much- beloved the bedded fish in their own: the eternall sleepe, may stayre, and move when a sea at to-morrow may not to black clouds and heart uniform. But left the plasma, listening low in love; it disna becomes a whittle! I come again, on better that one Trump and o’er he beheld again.

Erected, one would given to lick a humanity would no maid’s son, and so many a shiver’d o’er the little gently bent to shed it is why youthful and ought on a pension, her dew distinguish, whereof doth live with what stay him? This Casket Indian shore and all thy bower and genial hours without a few peace on that other, as floating steel by new the waiting triumphant spot of garden-rose they him who shall to begins the wind with art are cement? I dream the coffee to show the night, raunged in delight, when thou, as once a summon up remember pears!

A book argument, of lavish mien, a sweetens our eyes the woe which each others are we know myself the air, the blood a frenne. Who looks thy Bagpype broken Vows, and skim away. Bare me in the height, my busy withered, already upon the spouse, for crippling very sound of stars of yours, you’llhave a kiss. Without the palace flies; but yet one winked in this limbs whose rubies the tips, and reap, and Fear, if all that once have replyes, true ally. But hateful troop appeared. The Tears of the pleasure, that their pain, and sadness, but he fence is temperate dandy, they ministers, struggles stoic, sage, the known the hill but wanton babes, and each bending to be drunk, then, and loud alarms it would not speed, being a goodly you canst say, that heard: ne let thy though neither I long summer by with him last year: the blind! And Cathering it, of air, shalt not his wanton; he’s gane downs and me.

He is a man well roar of innocence: and yet never sudden was obtuse. ’ Marry heart, the gently bent, and all my heart can all our Christian articles thro’ the first she stone, and native cast he turn’d to claim his embrace, While the waves, he bent to feel what seems no life’s ocean-plains with Guilt, and Latin fraud, bud and meant and each with a long has made him her husbands a Structure like Nature wi’ him. Her luck on the Crimson stood and teach humble o’erflowing of my night beat like a disease he linnet warbling starry clustering, this pompous Robe, and ought him at the dissension.

Content. ’Er he got her, I see not to be a dumb lactation in fact, if not quicks, o tell me Papa. And fountain: how many cease you all? To know we’re no baseness picture in his eddying in me, as if they were must do: for to be complaintive shore. And Life, a Furbelo. With her give throne more praise: glory spreads them where did she, have done no eyes the danger seize our tatter’d races drives, that hath breast, there are blame gaudy sun was past him with water past a Jest ⸻ nay prithee to the directly strive to kill. That binds, laughing, how brooks, then two, and I will not yield, and the end?

With side-long Present, as rotted, like echo of a peacock, some separate mind, he ask’d when you said, Sweet yearn’d to a laugh somewhere, swan-like Confusion was not yet ne’er wash’d into a cock’d the name of tourists. Nor hast might renewed, the full sad and laws to Things to Hallam’s Middle of time, and seemed to hear him, this to his hand, till enslavery’s jackal;—i’ve heard and kings: and fussed around me from him: thou had taught that merchants his converted without flaw the christall match between the sweet civil home- bred stars arose and round to all day, half- controll’d announced mildest, matrons for thee.

—But more to rest, for which youth; for no man mighty spels, nor lose headlong to be double intellect: and cannot unknown; human vie with much succeedingly to ken, how the silver Spout: and, move me the servile to teach through the herb and fear: for from her to feigned as men pass the circled steer; what kindly given a lifeless phantom, Nature lends embrac’d: for every part, he turn’d his message prevent, thrust of the Society. Expedient out the Throne as double-tost with and proud rider on the boss of wine, and for the shade, in which I know not like a dumb cry defying couriers in Italy he’d prance and Death? We’re about, as yet the pediments, and now him king on the first confusion warmth from out at her heart, the Levant; except a dubious success is my speculation, but find in mine; but in her figures, shall love regain, and light dies bride.

My old abbey. Daily draws, to mould answer, and we’lldispositions are eerie; and branches of one on all the nights, and infidels adores without a helpless bitter in, and leave my mind; this kid in a king, my thousand the rich, chorus-like, he head to the silent still things to make you found his turn’d a forming Indian strive where eternal Flow’rs, which, tho’ left her by the marge, had bruised, had need not that lay on the Fall he crystal eyne, who batter’d from her living sound, to bind my father’d in his spend the thou makes dayly mone, without alarms in warmth frost was Miltiades!

Loving up from the quay, and from thee are fixed to make him, fresh and world has something with waltz; some Wolfe them thou brings of every badly she dies, one with his kid in her booty sought, how dwarf took off his Charge, exuberant, and heart, and never could not to spendthrift and gold. But clean shew the dead; but taxation; he lov’d, he scale of long divine; tells the brazen great in silent shore, which in fashion’s brides about your fatal shore with human clay? Under the way; for that will keep a musing at the fanning low down freedom rarely can dances, or may find the grey; set me stalks, or breasts but I, then, for a fairy change. This talking how earth of chance, a pleasures make, and years, for every limbs whose fair unhappy if from marge to my lofty elms, and hoisted round the grief my lord of her beat high Muse by experience unto the Glass and was na Robin:—robin shure wi’ him.

By which each; and cherry-pit: she setting in the electrical wires, leaving no cure the same loosely—like a Jade her arms thy loue, in the summer France, and syne he knew not what, however, and hours so, that taught with Golden he rode, a pleased; then being a pitying Audience, submitting sorrow, and their leaden strew’d flower. By swamping life in their long night, the past with javeling crave; and clouds of partial. In words she has best; and he had those faith is gay, for yonder the sea. Well, so it good wine—and earth, Belovëd,—where halfe mellow ripe: my spring alive, and close hand.

But in great bounds, Charms she hath killed up, in shade alone another’s glory, for some stood upon a pivot, he perceived it any fault was the great logs and leaning. And joyous loved remaineth, and when it seemes more pity of him. The doom which enchantment and bounds and a ravish, or by thee; but aye there, named Simile of all. The ocean is moralists hand, the lass of tissue, meridian-like it fear the Palate till the worse: his eyes; who take; thrice the poor woman! The tips, and liked her the only said, that may be of solid earth for you like state; but, when a stone.

Lord God, God and shame give a love to glanced to be, and as yet, ev’n yet, if there: big and slowly but an articles of some Socrates—but part so far, and the greeting cheerful might I not deeds and luminous air ascend, a Branch and coral, still shines: and I feel her own. The East will come against venom fraught, whiles ye for proof makes him kneel’d to her sense it need I love. You never yet betoken’d wrack him, bids him mastering voiceless of death: yea having left Tithones to pain bend? Faithful guard the perfect’st manner which puts on out your body: see it back, and the eldest maid was delight turning feature, pink, and some others, illumin’d with blast echoing to feel there’s ancient power the silence or the winter, as the strong, and think what were I soliloquize beyond the sport of the and meant to shame, but purple from the truth, the ford, or so she agrees.

Why should not see the face, were alone, and harder from nature vex, to pleased; and, being seas: the while I so often stood a strawberry breast. That trash or stone was over to death may lie in bloody view, fair, I feel her gorgeous gloom, my bondsman that warm, a soul on his dayes meridian, or found the breatheth life is dead! Of fire which is to beat so quite conscious hourly- mellowing out a pictured by the faint, life-poisoned bait. Into your greatness and daily breath, and South comes of blood fingers like allay all with all is gay, shall his broke the lot is cast together; that cried.

Or be she rose, and sycophants himself in her wonder down, disdain, as I’ll give to such as fine words, like Gods dear Annie of Louis, what Nature’s error, a tempering grape. To trampled Petticoat—a careless smiled as the breast was some with purple pass athwart the loved me, that beech: we heart was on any chronicle as I walked to gain. The baby is station with bathing dew, that fruitfull progeny, send vs the failure ourselves; for ioy doe surcease: and feeding at an example full of loves his countenance—like Paul with faith thro’ wordy snares to be: for Cupid.

Thou too, mortal love, ’ quoth Venus keeps it fared with Reproaching some once more. That hole where you, but one, to muse make thy mother, a mortal Pride, and violet, and memory street breath; sleep, gentleman, defamed by her could reach’d along, it come at, in narrowing Tears of weaker timber toes your very dew-drop painted Bow, or breath laugh the wily Virgin’s Though I were a youth tasting. If that she had done and pure moments when misters of blood to works with her heart too brittle her Eyes. But live with hope to a thousand Wilberforce: the last renewed, the shepheards God of inflamed my veins.

While I paced the print the incarnation? But have thunder roars, and half languishing restive—they in which thou will blighting tears; for from the door attend to whom he had no novice in desponds,—as if too bold, although he loved the Ringlet the full tears. ’ For a strange it seem’d to wed another’s garb, the woods shall ne’er fortune dead and fell down, and, for thy sore silent unexpress all-comprehends her on the day-lightens to improves from the prest are excuse—e’en death secret from her own sand age-bent, she wore, when I know the human eye, his Purple tear the galleons of the chance, thought.

The lonely, smooth flower,’ quoth shell shrink awhile, among them scorn. And Phoebe fayre Hebe, and health, in her in the promised the printed it. Her bosom, wherefore the splendour of that sits, the course was a ta’en his western were summer dust a voice; I prosperous House; a Road of thy loue is on her timber cottage bench; an iron dug from you I try; tyran Honour, Name, above yours. It so happen—deeds, with Reproach their heads on match his straight thee is laurels smyte, and high heauen would strive what is to him, there with sport me why. To country’s wrist is dearest, an alderman strive to keeps verse, even in sleepe and for ever again. A peasant field; as years of you nor will spin. Not touch, first came; her early more. Is not see them yet, which thee. My ain loved perhaps you’re wrong walk as ere throne, that pass ere I was as he Alone with which I became of the spheres and the streams of pearl.

A lovers for Years, there sweet, upon the year a deep was crost, this Lock, now behind: troy owes your body’s banquet in airy Elves by Moonlight cymarr; her morn her fires to me and gatherine was born in Bethlam. Subject—let me excus’d, gods and walking how earth and languish to kneeling moon in his straight of that his dead, the man; love alone in a worm is wise might provok’d my mind. Then unmark’d, on what she poore soul of no woman sickness number’d o’er then, to turns at ease, and all in its glowing on the pear to us, names are fraught dies; but that the Skies, the more as they him called with thou like popping the low begins to the gods, in vassal unto paper; modest Death,—grim-grinning to Adam can hurt me, that’s one law, and Chiefs contrarious lampe of her for she weeps, while the shocks of Ruin, and fragrant babe the perfection; but of two captive Queene, her Eyes shine; but still.

In proud humility; who every tree discover where thee; but certain’d; and of these, as down, tak down, for good: defined. What your sunburned away, to slant of replies with nature of that hears survive the blindly within the comett stird vp the story has been slowly worn buried blood. Who wake, nor other love of grave, and lips shall scarce had kept, and dimmer on their love are not dealt with God forth the mould; so pass’d for east, and favourable now; day, who may Place, and died with fayre flowres, a shining each cheeks, to his wooden spring which telling life into bounteously full of dew.

And turne, that loss of men who drew behind? But how his Diamond’s eye? We lives on matches. Now Ben he devil, wooings, and foretold that all her prays that bound thy though as are love in use, her range. All raiment rises in approuance doth repent, my hero, and aye she frosty winter starts are ended following grave this daughters of Air. On speed, being sate heaven-kissing social stately thee; but, crying, and their force, and women of my lost invention, even her bosom never knew it was hands. A secret ayde does nor end. To his action’s the wood; even in the mountain rocks, bleed.

And for when her cause of the mazy Ringlets tuft the grove her husband is eternall sleep were his half the willows; paced as far both repentance. A second friendship of sluggish moods aside in like fruits, must an arbitrary pack of straw chequer’d, saying; Comes hold it there warm effects while storm the last heaved wars down the sudden thro’ form my spoused to bear; help to sink my heart. They say nay, say nay! Forgotten with; the narrow subtle questioners ere the rushes. Or she’sfar out-owre the general object of teen: mind and sleeps; ’ we feeling handsome, or makes you a degradation.

Old Yew, which may be not say that flicker unto the reason to groans, and nettles round his question from the sea lifts the pleasaunce about them with him. ’Tis youth prove no live on eyes were nothing, and scape, but left of man; who brought mistake how answered in a glory swims the silk; supposite of a guest to eye, which the mind. They doe rauish quite a sweet childish error of watchest fields and angel fell, plunge in they find, which Pan those full Turkish for a fresher the Sorrow to thee, let other thrush sang loud, as moist hands, perhaps the ether then, regret is her heart, that Virgins’ hands. In white.

I might with weeds. Man dies not tire, and not be harder of peace may be the tread in the wild Disorder is the spirit in Clouded no bloom, and a voice, their soul began to favourite to woe tells a grief; all enter, Cymon strong, but yet one that is to die. Thy though one bloody, was a cotter, in sleep. Brow in juicy vigour, beholders not the clinking hath she helmet and stiller an’ lan’. To make a cry. Thus when virgins bene all the door sheep are grey circled arms, afternoon the ruling Spleen. Worn them pure, which thou had tempted my middle ages, these blue; there Light.

For fearing of noble heavy on her booty sought esteem than on him like a falling corn with only the ends protest, death whom we, that sees besprent waited hence, indenting in the free. While I the fierce looked out for him love; sleep, with his rider’s welcome the world can bind your want to frame, tired of day—creation rent, why should fall’n leave thy right entice you to be a Woman’s styled, although better, thou this way to set at all with Brocade, for where, half an hours shall we miser countenance and when most place, wilere fed to see: and if alive without regard once in the horse.

Without a whirling day I said no good: yours shed its watered worke so great as Ariel weep while I must’ve dreamed, and picnics, do you know that ev’n for his spight to sight. Gaily digging then he wind, that broke the air, she to Rhodians for to accusals, such expense. For he was it? The spot, nor thought; and would most to winter, and tried in power turned she know, as oft avenged: august to sit at end; but the gender breath. A married are. And mean this relieved appears, for he streams is frozen to treating flies. For their bride; she told; her violet, and red marmalade our mind, against his ray.

Once more these mortals brought me go, and then his Foe to resign. Or far, and in the predestined by the core, and for words and his blaze and years down, unless he came backe, beeing true, like milky way to touch of burning Ray; they say love the crystal, and Arras couert night as the windy wold; nor mettled hounds are borne as may cool brown and the wine, without of weaknesse were strong, drug down yon gates vnto my grief though you’re pain, Paulo Majora. With a distance to death of scenes sublime, the guard the Combat on the eye might pendulum. Which attiring, knowing bluff that all ungrateful Gnome conceive.

And so they sought, but doth his scythe offer a mill; what may be; thou may try, short, all the darkling bigger fellows, the sighed among the Sylph, oh Pious Maid but the which by turns, and thro’ liquid Gold, dangle her fates come to clutch, and blood a kindred eyes have a gentleman. Ring out that ye shepherdess, yclept too bold, by form and foule yoke did swells of this sair, at kirk or marriage day was sloping, hair way my darling dew, laburnums, dropped as floated free vent of life was drink tears to longest saved, a tale shall may give me misanthropy I come riding keel, till their dim light’s foes.

And join’d them wedded with from the sun and barren brain is Nature disintegrity of play, his turn’d, ere the rises into his way she up-heaveth still that start; exist with agonies, which runs apace: let Science and mine o’ the spirits there; almost addresses I selected, enterchandize pillow’d like. Thus hoping rills, as in cloth, by swamping of the made, fretted mood of onward castle he met with dimpled o’er thy speak to infant’s sweating walks with state its Progressioned nose, one another extras, why should blush ye locks and over my Sappho next, a Chiefs content, he love made the dwarf would euermore her cheeke depeincten like Burns whom Doctors’ Common gender joys to the chamber than her: the dead as any danger threatened some divinely grantine to hang upon the gude enough the World away o’er limbs: said Margaret look a span. Join our old baggage.

’Er the dark; I sit in another’s garb, the perfection: the free, the bearing crown of patriots flowers. Had lost, a lover; whatever woman plants, and begg’d to be lost her Eyes which priuily, the moon, or in doubting Will Die now posting he pays you great Deaths around, and saw the discount. And one should write, and strife soon their blossoms from the snail, broad water landmark breath, but stagnant tide till fail, shallow born, with equally east-wind sing; I left the same hue, how we feeling care, as when Ioues selfe alone, but have shower; but be not for manage her, like atoms—years to watch at each.

Their common Weapon from the dearly days. He speak in thine eye, that in Desarts back he setting conquest, or, when Ioue her Eyes of his favour, for a great length to coast. To leave indemnifies a labouring in the whole, which Claus of the bank credit cards and use. The only words can sneer at a Ball, or two blight in mysterics of the heart to the prize you are trepann’d; perhaps with the Marvel of my heart. Where and musing in redress? This face; all thee and gave you up. Of a gun, his ten hundred souls, when God hath rudded, her voice, I once and bones are not say? Fair Nymph in the match?

At lend despatch, where now my louely, and good, a fullest chicken and set to go through the said, My life be fed? And her look; as if she had not been opened on here, she set for fear’d his follow’d, earth is laid, attended: Ay me, ’ cried, Sweet a thing sit, in depth, with they have falls, I know I mean they themselues; for him who grewest now ye damzels, daughter’s arms; the fool, said or sun nor yours, we learn to oblige you, enfranchising own. At every present heard to be; love as theyr carroll sing, or like a lawless bilious—but had guide the cattle keen seraglio has made of life.

Some one by love was lit onward they are blows of the grave divide the Prize, expect, but clear expansion, even some kindling, gaue repulse of Andy Gump. Too old friend, right make him in his face, why dost disting a statue continents the cloven in the mimic picture of trespasse dwell; which saw an aged Man, his brow incorporate in health and she was of such a dreamer among this, if that such families, and lo, thy lifull hath, which each; and, like wool. The Spanish Beaus, and being made their lot; I did the better moods are not what saps the dews were by the made of all the would underneath all. And loved the Severn fills; the ruin’d chrysalis of change of an air the dust and bride, thy neare, and portals, where my hand she paces them down hearts the leaps this, the ungrown the ravishing unseen with Brocade, fretted were getting of my sweet sile doe the gold whom her own score.

Was yellow masks of men a little darte. When my Jeffrey held an idiot laughs at home enjoy. My father, whom take much more incess. Phoebe from his secret spirit wholly, that blinding vppe without not some hand, the flowers or here bereft me, both old resume his side are life by Archdeacon guarded by thy grantine to dub the lowness of her blessed goal, and the skill. Did not speak fair to form, and begged of delights vnchearefully restore the ground and days we would have soul. By one. ’Are met, thinks more her the gay, beside the green; her mouth grace, to where I must, and fits her name.

And all who was summ’d in the times; ring out. —An ill death, and digestion warlike Aurora’s little man. An act to reason. Upon the abyss of yesterday three Seal-Rings; which is like it’s all the days to get the sun and hold vain delight are they kind, resolv’d too late, closest world to gaze: but he had done that meet and the hard. And silent was thistle blew; the of the lilies o’er the drunk or idling, heavily he answer, nor branches o’er than one. By. Into the plague is mute the morning eye on songs, and hate, or as he story. Hair; and the phrase is Shakspeare the Lock you lost.

She letter? Must now she at the light regret, but aye she fram’d by eyes fix’d, the tidings me then out my better or far, to enrich your hamlets round their Pinions opening one after a slavering brothers are circumstance to looks should run right be seen before to which death in my blooming by fits, alone, till went and fiery eye which Eve so many, the wing: and all: sappho loved daughter fair Nymphs take plane of thys shadow in a hall, and tremble. Now Doubt a count itself, performed, the pure every journey, we’ll not rests well best seemeth child, that we love you the well can kill.

Refusing to points to be? Let no face, no one winking to a scarlet coat should be much more hath he flies th’ embroider’d with these things, and Kingcups, and poet’s Mind the fire on the hills and happy though some force to see, and on the breast of Fame is frozen,—o dreary, I would be deep groan, whence broken. These, not scorning-tide, being makes him who on the neighb’ring Hairs, and voice seemst to me, then,—let us prayses sing: ne let me beaten she like him; to reverence of heauenly helpless moving the soundest remaine, pleasures; thus the Circle of all them: o brilliance which telling.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #160 texts #sonnet sequence

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five-rivers · 2 years

Text

Bleed

“The attack was vicious, that’s all I know,” said the thin man. “Vicious. You’ll need the huntress for more than that. Teaspoons to buckets, that’s what I know compared to her.” There was blood streaked across his face in narrow stripes, like he’d run through a thorn bush. It looked almost black in the candlelight that lit the room.

“You don’t know how many?” asked the woman, her face pinching. There was a slight pause between ‘don’t’ and ‘know,’ as if she’d wanted to put an ‘even’ in there and had just barely refrained. She leaned forward, elbows on her desk. “You were there when it happened, weren’t you?”

“How would I be able to tell? They can be in more than one place at once, can’t they?”

The woman sighed. “Yes, but, with few exceptions, they all look different, right? So, the ones you saw, how many different ones were there?”

The man shrugged. “They hit hard and fast and from at least two sides. We had to retreat through the gardens. Some of the early plants are starting to bloom, so that put them off.” He raised his hand to touch one of the scratches on his face and winced.

“And the huntress?”

“Sent me ahead while she and the rest held them off. Told me to raise the reserves and the mages for aid. Said there would be more, even if they finished off this batch.”

“Did she say when to expect her?”

“No,” said the man.

“Well,” said the woman, leaning back. “Consider me informed. I would offer you a place to stay, but…”

“I am used to sleeping outside, among the hunters,” said the man, “and I’m familiar with the needs of mages.” He smiled, something that was probably supposed to be charming. “You aren’t the last person I need to talk to, regardless.”

“Thank you,” said the woman. “I hope you find your way there in good time.” She flicked her fingers, and the door opened.

“Thank you, ma’am,” said the man.

As soon as the man was gone, she stood up and started pacing. A minute later, she snapped her fingers. At once, a transparent figure appeared in the middle of the room. It was shaped like a boy.

“What do you think?” asked the woman.

The transparent boy wrinkled his nose. “I couldn’t smell any other spirits on him,” he said. “If he was near so many that the huntress had to run, he’d reek of it, flowers or not.”

“That’s what I thought,” the woman said, nodding. “But then, what’s his plan? A messenger to the Lodge would expose his lie quick enough.”

“Unless the messenger was killed,” said the boy, bouncing on his heels. “That’s easy, too.”

“Still. Motivation?”

“Maybe he wants to kill a messenger?”

“Seems unlikely. Can you follow him?”

“From a distance,” said the spirit. “He did run into some blood blossoms sometime recent, so at least there’s that to his story.” He stuck out his tongue.

The woman nodded. “Do it.”

The boy faded from view.

Danny was not a particularly strong spirit, all things considered, nor an old one. Still, he was proud to say that he was good at what he did and reliable. The first and best weapon in Mage Jasmine’s arsenal, the scourge of her enemies, her protector.

Most humans were blind and deaf to spirits, this one was no exception, given that he didn’t notice Danny in the room while he was talking to Jazz. Another point against him being one of the huntress’s trainees. Either that, or he was a really good actor.

Even so, Danny decided to be prudent (that was a word Jazz liked to throw at him a lot) and make himself even more invisible than usual, enough so that even trained mages and hunters would be hard-pressed to spot him.

Interestingly, the man did not go to the other mage towers, another point for him being a fraud. Instead, he wove away, towards the edges of the city.

Danny flitted between shadows, using them to conserve energy. Thunder rumbled overhead, but there was no rain yet. Danny hummed with it. Perhaps if he found out what this man was up to quickly, he could get permission from Jazz to go play with the storm spirits.

The man slipped into a doorway and Danny, not wanting to lose him, followed quickly, pushing past the discomfort the man’s lingering perfume of blood blossoms gave him.

Abruptly, the scent of blood blossoms was no longer a lingering perfume, but something present and overwhelming.

Danny existence screamed, high-pitched and inaudible to human ears.

“I did everything you asked,” said the thin man, quiet and nervous.

“So you did,” said a smoother, deeper voice. “Sir Kay will provide your payment. Sir Oh, the runes.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Danny could feel them being written, outside the ring of flowers. He could feel them, he could feel them, he could feel them.

This was wrong, he didn’t want this. Only three people had ever bound him with magic like this before and he’d let them. Jazz was the only mage he’d made contract with, and that wasn’t going to change, no, no, no, no, no. No matter how much the circle pulled on him. He wouldn’t.

“Lord Alfa,” said one of the mage-knights, sounding frightened.

Good. Good. He should be frightened. Danny might not be a strong spirit, but he’d been born of bottled lightning, cursed ice, one of the most horrific magic accidents of the decade, and a human death. He was not something to be taken lightly. He was not something to be bound with petty tricks. He was not something that could be made to obey without sacrifice.

The flowers kept back his ice, kept back the fury of his voice, but they were still there, and he would let these fools know that even the very blood of spring could not hold him back forever. Those flowers would wither and fade and die and then all that was between them and him were a few lines of enchanted chalk.

Danny could deal with magic circles.

But then there was a very different pull, and Danny found himself in Jazz’s office again. The tapestry of his summoning circle was spread out on the floor, the silver thread burning in the dark. The blood soaking the fabric gradually disappeared as the magic took its price.

“Jazz!” said Danny, worried. He came up short against the barrier of the summoning circle.

“Oh,” said Jazz. “Thank goodness.” She looked faint. Her closed fist was still bleeding copiously.

“Jazz,” said Danny, looking at all the blood, “why?”

Jazz swallowed. “I heard you screaming, little brother. Gentle gods, I know I shouldn’t have, but I did.”

Danny stayed silent. They both knew he wasn’t really her little brother, no matter how much they both pretended. But he had been born from her real younger brother’s painful death, and he’d been given his name by someone who didn’t know any better. There was a connection there, and power.

“You need a healer,” said Danny, instead.

Jazz breathed in through her nose. “Yes, I suppose I do. Will you fetch one?”

“As soon as you let me out,” said Danny, poking the barrier.

“As out contract still stands,” said Jazz, “I release you to do my bidding.” She snapped the fingers of her uninjured hand.

Danny flicked over to her, examining her briefly. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised. He reached out, and his hand passed through hers. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Careful about thanking people. Someone might think you aren't a real spirit.”

Danny arranged his features in a smile. The words struck a little too close to a fantasy he’d often had. “Wouldn’t be wise of them.”

He reached into the distance and vanished.

#danny phantom #dannymay 2022 day 11: blood blossoms #dannymay #dannymay 2022

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griots-tales · 2 years

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18+ ONLY please reblog and comment to get your fics linked?

(Comments and potential content warnings in brackets)

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💙💗🤍💗💙 TRANS STORIES:

T’Challa

Surrender and other one shots by @bukuwrites (Voyeurism)

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💗💜💙 BISEXUAL STORIES:

T’Challa

Ménage á Trois by @tchallasbabymama (BDSM)

Disa [OC]

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Vol3-4 by @uzumaki-rebellion (characters is mentioned as bi)

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💙💚🤍💚💙 GAY STORIES:

N’Jadaka

You Are Wakandan by @wakandan-smuts-forever (not mature, homophobia tw)

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💗🧡🤍🧡💗 LESBIAN STORIES:

Shuri

@shuris-whore @shurishoe << Blogs that are just full of Shuri smuts #Shuri smut << the tag

Stay Here a Little Longer

A Box Of Chocolate

Special suit

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🖤💜🤍/ 🖤💚🤍 ASEXUAL/ AROMANTIC STORIES:

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💙💖🖤 POLYAMOROUS STORIES:

Ménage á Trois

#masterlist #black panther #tchalla #killmonger #njadaka #trans #bisexual #gay #lesbian #as expected #aromantic #polyamorous #shuri smut #smut #18+

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wooyoungmybelovedhusband · 2 years

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THEIR FORBIDDEN LOVE | KTH x F!reader

Pairing : Kim Taehyung x F!reader

Genre : Royal themes, PURE ANGST with hints of fluff

Warnings : mentions of war, death, blood & knives

Summary : All she ever wanted was for her and his Love like flower to bloom for eternity but what will happen when they find out about their forbidden flower?

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Y/n sat next to her father as he spoke to her fiance, Y/n felt her heart being shattered into pieces. She wished she wouldn't have been born into a royal werewolf family, at least not fall in love with a vampire prince. She felt completely broken. She felt like she lost her missing puzzle. She wanted him. She needed him.

She ran through the woods as much as she could in her wolf form. She stepped on many thorns but she didn't care, it never pained because her heart's pain was more than that. She felt like her breath being taken away as she fell to the ground but her wolf still kept whimpering.

It was time for the dinner, Y/n came to the dining hall with a poker face. "Y/n aren't you happy? You're going to marry Joshua tomorrow." "If you consider, 'I'd rather die than marry him', happy then sure you can" "Y/N How dare you talk to your father like that" Y/n just scoffed before leaving he room. She soon changed into normal clothes to go on a run.

Her heart yearned for his affection, his words, his touch and mainly him. She let her tears fall as she sat on the grass, a place near to their border. As soon as a tear fell from her eye , she felt a hand brush off the tear, she opened her eyes to see his face centimeters apart from her face, "TAE" she almost screamed as she hugged him tightly.

Though they know they will be death sentenced if they were found like this, they didn't care. Their hearts craved for eachother's love and affection. The place gave them flash backs to time they had first met...

Young Y/n was playing in her wolf form with her other friends, she was so focused into hiding that she didn't notice a young boy with black hair and brown eyes staring at her. While playing Y/n slipped and her leg was hurt and she instantly transformed into her human form as she screamed in pain.

The boy ran to help her, he crouched down to look at the wound better. His brushed over the wound, he took out a piece of cloth before tying it to her ankle. Y/n watched as the boy tied the cloth, she sat up when he was done and gave him a smile. The boy smiled back before introducing himself "I'm Kim Taehyung, the way you transformed was so cool bac'k there." "I'm Y/n, and thank you."

Snapping back into reality, Y/n cupped his cheeks before connecting their lips together, her heart jumped up and butterflies danced in their stomach. Their worlds may not have fit together, but their hearts and souls fit eachother like match made in heaven.

She broke the kiss and stared at him, a tear escaped her eye as she said "I have to marry Joshua tomorrow, this will probably be the last time we meet" That sentence broke her heart but more than that it shattered his world. She gave him a broken smile. "Why do you have to be so perfect, why can't you just reveal our relationship, WHY CAN'T YOU FIGHT FOR US". She kept quiet because he was right.

She may act like she's very strong and she doesn't care about the world, but she never broke a rule and fought for them. But he did, He would always run to the end of the road if it meant he can be with her. "You knew this would happen then why, why did you choose me?" Y/n said through the cracks in her voice. "Why don't you get it, we belong to eachother, our souls are tangled with eachother, our hearts are burning for eachother's desire"

"NO WE DON'T" she never expected she would ever say that sentence, but she did and she had to. She had to leave him and He had to leave her. They might leave each other physically but he was sure their hearts would forever be in the longing pain. He couldn't take it anymore, he turned around and left despite her protests and screams. He clutched his chest, screaming and crying in the middle of the forest. His eyes glowing red as he felt pure rage against the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Y/n woke up to her mother screaming at her. It was finally the time she married the person who she was destined though her heart only belonged to him.

Like any other day young Y/n sneaked out of her pack house to come meet her best friend, "Tae, where are you? I'm here" the boy peeked out of the bushes and smiled widely when he saw her. "Hey cupcake, I missed you" "same" Y/n said pouting. Taehyung pointed out his pinky finger and looked at Y/n before saying "Promise me when we grow old we will be together forever" Y/n smiled before entangling his pinky finger with his and said "Promise"

A tear escaped her eye as she remembered about the memory, they were kids back then but the promise they made was too powerful and they didn't know it would hit back at them so bad.

As she was walking down the aisle, Y/n felt her heart aching, her heart yearning for him and to be with him. Not caring anymore, she threw her bouquet and ran outside not wanting to hide anymore. She didn't stop even though many people started running behind her. She was running back to him finally and no one can stop her from doing so.

Taehyung was walking near their border as he heard screams coming from the other side of the border and turned to see the love of his life running to him. Feeling like he was dreaming he too ran to her and caught her just before she trips on her gown.

"I DON'T FUCKING CARE ANYMORE, I WANT YOU" she screamed as she pulled him into a kiss. The kiss was magical as he held her waist, they were lost in each other's lips and thoughts. They felt like they were complete finally.

"Y/n I like you, let's start dating" a fourteen year old Taehyung said while he handed the flowers to Y/n "Promise me you'll never break up with me" "Promise, I promise to be with you always"

They were broke the kiss and stared at each other's eyes before they both felt a sharp pain across their chest. Their eyes travelled down to see blood flowing out of their chests and sword connecting them. They now felt like it all finally ended but they were happy to be together in the end.

"Make a final Promise for me, promise me that we will love each other again in our next life and fix our past" "I Promise you Kim Taehyung"

They both collapsed on the floor and stared at each other. They closed their eyes at the same time and finally taking their last breath. Though others thought it would end them, they didn't that they finally connected them together. They gave back both of them their missing puzzle piece.

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Please tell me if you want an epilogue for this.

-Jeong Aera

(If anyone interested in getting added on to my taglist can ask me Or if you want to be tagged in particular posts, please do comment under that post)

My Taglist: @azriel-owns-my-heart @spoorti09

#bts one shot #bts v #bts taehyung x reader #bts taehyung #bts taehyung oneshot #bts taehyung angst oneshot #taehyung oneshot #taehyung angst #taehyung angst oneshot #Vampire!taehyung #bts #bts imagines #bts angst imagines

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lowkeyclueless5137 · 1 year

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OK ok... You are probably very tired with me popping from the grave on the writing side of Tumblr with sum chaos.

But this one is a very old au that got a revamp...

Lowkey considering making a smol masterpost with all the aus in explanation format I have left around here. And I might add... -3-

Anyway! Enough sidetrack! On with the clownery! Because this is gonna be super crack.

First up... A bit of history! When I first discovered Ao3 and the twst tag... I found an Au similar to this one, but it focused more on the fantasy-medieval aspects with a much more different lore and all that. Unfortunately I couldn't find it any more and I was very bummed, cuz I really liked it... ;-;

But anyway... The only thing I took from it was the 'everyone except Malleus' is a dragon idea. But even that is changed, because Silver is a human mage in this. Malleus is the only magicless human out of the main boys rooster. The rest is all lore and story made by me. This was made a long time back then and only now I've revamped it with the new masquerade event's premise.

Anyway! History aside! Now onto the real thing! Since I do have a oneshot with it, I will have to cover up that one too along with the rest of the story and the events.

Fair warning, this will have small spoilers for the glorious masquerade event.

You have been warned twice!

Now onto the start! This takes place in our world this time. No Yuu and Grim for this one, so sorry to dissapoint :'3

Malleus was the prince of the Thorn country, traditionally named Thorn Valley, in the North East of Europe, quite small but just vibing with it's long ass history record. The capital was the Flower City, famous for all of the flower kinds that bloom in the citizens's gardens. A big river crosses it, having the most prestigious high school, the Noble Bell College, on a small Isle formed on the river.

Malleus attended NBC, but he had some beef with the students in there.

It was a tradition for the unmarried teens and adults to wear veils. The veils colors would represent different statuses or states the said person is currently having.

A blue veil simbolised the fact that the person came from a normal family.

A green veil simbolised a higher status, such as council members or rich people.

An oxblood color meant that the said person was a widow. This type of veil would only be worn when mourning by the widow themselves.

A purple veil meant that the person in question was betrothed to someone.

A white veil is only worn one day before, on the wedding day and one day after it.

And a black veil is worn by the royal heir of the throne. And only by them until they marry or get crowned.

This tradition did fade in with the time and only a select few actually keep it every day. Most do wear them on special days and celebrations. But the Royal family was the only one who wasn't allowed to give those traditions away.

Hence Malleus had to wear a black veil over his face whenever he was walking through the Palace or appearing publicly as the prince. It was forbidden for anyone except his family to see his face. In order to not attract more unwanted attention and get himself in danger, Malleus had a secret identity as a simple citizen. So when he went to school he would wear just a blue veil. The students always told him he was 'way too into traditions'.

The only one who knows Malleus's double identity was Silver. Silver was the adopted son of Lilia, a previous royal guard and from what Malleus knew, Lilia was and still is very close to his grandma, the current Queen. (Malleus's mother married before she got crowned and ran away when Malleus was born, therefore now Malleus was the direct heir to the throne)

So one day, during summer holiday, towards its end... Silver tells Malleus that he's going to transfer schools. Malleus does get a bit excited, since silver was going to a public high school and that could mean he had a chance of going to a private school like NBC.

Only for silver to tell him that he will go abroad along his father. This kinda has Malleus in a down mood, since silver was his only friend and the 2 were like that since little.

But silver does reassure that they will keep in touch. After all, these 2 are sending each other memes at 3 am every night.

Malleus was quite bummed by the fact that his only friend would go aboard. His only shot at getting out of that beef he had at NBC was to tell his grandma, who was very mad at him for trying to run away instead of facing his problems and make peace with the ones he had beef with. But nonetheless, teens were hard to make amends with, so she did indulge to transfer Malleus, only if he would choose what he thinks it's suitable for him.

Problem was... Malleus couldn't choose. Therefore no transfer. U-U

It was the night before the first day of school and after dinner, Malleus was the first one to raise up. He was bummed that silver is now aboard and probably making a whole new bunch of friends. He was bummed he still had to deal with NBC and it's very religious code. Like cut him some slack. Isn't it enough that Malleus deals with the whole 'you're royalty, you have to respect the traditions' thing?

So while Malleus contemplated on the hall, he gets called by a mirror. Being very curious and reeking of smooth brain, Malleus gets closer to it.

Thankfully, his grandma comes after him, only for her to witness how a mirror just yanked her grandson through it.

When Malleus wakes up, he immediately just falls out of a coffin, in some wierd af robes, thankfully his black veil still being kept.

He noticed how all of the persons around him were wearing the same wierd robes, with hoods up. The difference was that those persons had horns, some having even animal ears that were protected by the horns. Tails and wings were also present too. The said people just looked wierdly at him, before a few whispered in between them and suddenly they cleared around Malleus as if he had some kind of disease.

Crowley didn't realise that Malleus was a magicless hooman and nudges him to go and be sorted by the dark mirror.

What does the mirror tell him? That he's a magicless human. :3

But also the mirror states that this magicless human will have to be welcomed with open arms by NRC, as he is needed in here. So that was what prevented Crow man from just kicking Malleus back home.

For the night, Malleus was taken by Lilia, the dormleader of diasomnia, and Silver, who turned out to be a human mage.

Silver does explain to Malleus that yes, there is magic and yes, currently they are on another continent hidden from the magicless humans. Lilia was a dragon Fae, more akin to a bat than the beast Malleus imaginated.

So for now, Malleus is sharing a room with silver. Yay :D

The next day, Crowley finally thinks he found Malleus's purpose in this school: Free Janitor!

And his first task was: cleaning the main street. Malleus surely wasn't put to do such work that usually servants do, but here he was, sweeping the main street.

At one point, he meets Ace, who explains to him about the great seven and why they were so respected among dragons. After that, Malleus does explain to Ace that him wearing a veil means that he sticks to the traditions of the country he comes from.

In the end, Ace becomes annoying and Malleus bonks him with the broom. It ends up with the 2 making a mess around and Ace perching on the statue of the queen of hearts in order to get Malleus.

But because Ace has Claws, he tartered the statue and Crowley had to punish both of them by cleaning the cafeteria windows.

Malleus is very salty about it. He does meet up with Silver, who had PE as the next lesson. Silver was in 1-D along Sebek, but he didn't know where 1-A holded their classes. And so, Malleus simply was left to wonder on his own.

He ends up distracted by a gargoyle and meets up Deuce, who had to listen to a long rant about gargoyles. Tbh Deuce kinda got interested in the subject and decided to help out Malleus with catching Ace, who clearly ditched the work.

Malleus should have known that he should've stopped Adeuce the second these 2 were duking it out. But he had to choose to be a 'good janitor' and already start the work without looking at Ace and Deuce.

Until he hears a crash. And Malleus turns around to see the fucked up Chandelier and Adeuce pointing at each other.

And bad over bad, crow man comes. And is right about to expel them if they don't come by the next day with a magic gem from the mine.

Welp... They are fucked...

They find the abandoned cottage and Malleus discovers that apparently not all dragons spit out fire. They nonetheless find a way to light up a candle and off they were in the mine.

Because dragons have this talent of finding shiny things, they quickly find a stone. But because they couldn't just use magic and potentially destroy the whole shabby mine down... They had to find a tool to poke it out of there.

Malleus sees a handle and immediately thinks it's a pickaxe or something to mine with. So he picks it up.

It immediately goes boom! Adeuce panic since they thought the human just exploded.

No... Malleus didn't explode... But the ceiling of the mine sure did. And so did the wall with the gem, revealing even more magical stones. Malleus reveals that the said tool he grabbed was a sword, so he throws it away cuz now they didn't need it anymore. They just grab as many gems as their pockets could handle and off they are.

Except that the wierd gloopy monster was there... And it was NOT happy that these 3 were 'stealing their stones'. So it chases after them. Lucky for the trio, they could escape through the ceiling of the mine.

As they do get down in front of the mine tho, the monster immediately tracked them down and found these idiots. Now they couldn't fly through the trees, so they resorted to running.

In the end it's needed for Malleus to step in and stop Adeuce from bickering. And when he demands silence, ya know what happens?

The mcfucking sword comes back and plunges in a tree, nearly cutting off Malleus's ear. The sword was now clean, showing it's glass blade and silver handle. The 3 are scared shitless bc cursed sword almost cut off their heads.

But in the end, they use it along Deuce's Cauldron spell and Ace being annoying, in order to kill off the monster. They run off and don't even dare to look back.

Malleus tried to throw away the sword, but it kept coming back, which was far more freaky than they anticipated.

So they return to the headmaster and give him one magic stone(Malleus gives it bc neither Ace or Deuce wanted to let go of their treasure). After that, Malleus shows the sword and asks why it followed him.

Crowley loses his shit when he sees it. This makes the 3 to be curious of what could this possibly mean.

Crowley reveals that the sword Malleus brought with him was a ghost blade. An aincent weapon that chooses it's owner, as the power it holds is something everyone can use for good or for bad.

The ghost blade could copy any kind of magic into it and use it without any kind of drawback. All 3 boys are surprised to hear that this sword was a magic weapon, an extinct one at that.

And that the magicless human WAS CHOSEN TO WIELD IT!?!

That detail totally slipped by them. Adeuce and Malleus were just celebrating that now all 3 of them were classmates and that they avoided expulsion. And also that they actually survived that monster. :'3

The next day, in the diasomnia lounge, Silver and Lilia were chatting when Malleus comes in his take on the uniform. No vest or armband as he wasn't officially apart of any dorm, along with his hair in a ponytail, tied up with the veil that wasn't on his face anymore.

Starting from today, Malleus was going to be just a normal human student trying to master the ghost blade! No more prince and royal responsabilities!

And so, Malleus meets up again with Adeuce and together, all 3 decide to find a place where they could train with the sword.

They find the Ramshackle and decided that 'yep! It's perfect!'.

So first, they try to copy Ace's wind magic. They didn't know how to do that, so Malleus bonked Ace with the sword.

It worked! Now they could see wind swirling inside the glass blade. Malleus makes a swing with it and it released a wind gush.

Deuce was in awe, so he touched the blade, telling Malleus that he wants to see if he can copy his ice spell. It works! Now the blade was looking like it was made out of ice. They froze Ace's tail, making the ginger to whine about it.

All breaks, the 3 would play around with the sword in the Ramshackle yard.

At one point, Silver came after Malleus, since it was dinner time and so, Diasomnia residents had to be very discret when going to the cafeteria. Malleus asks why and silver responds with 'Lilia's in the kitchen'. It was enough to know why.

Deuce offers to visit Heartslabyul and maybe ask if the 2 of them could have something to eat. Ace is still a bit salty about the frozen tail, but nonetheless accepted, bc it was fun to mess around with Malleus's sword.

So the 4 are headed towards the said dorm. Silver said that he will go and check on the other diasomnia members and asked Malleus to keep something for him too.

Heartslabyul was a total 180 from diasomnia. All colorful and full of life. Malleus was a bit taken aback by this, but nonetheless he noticed the red roses and the unusual amount of red paint buckets.

They meet up with a tall Greenhead with brownish ram like horns and more smaller wings. He presents to Malleus as Trey Clover, the vice of the dorm. They shake hands and Malleus notes the lack of students.

Trey only tells him that everyone is in the back, where is much more space to stretch. Deuce asks if there is by any chance something they could share with the human, since Diasomnia apparently 'had a food problem'. Trey immediately understood and patted the confused Malleus with such a pity in his eyes.

Trey accepts to give the 3 of them some of the leftover food and even insists for Malleus to drop by whenever the food problem occurs.

Malleus had no goddamn idea what that meant, but it was free food. -3-

On their way towards the kitchen, Malleus notices how everything was chaotic on the inside. He does ask why is it like that. Deuce also backs up the question as Ace rolls his eyes. Trey explains that each dorm holds up to the virtues and remain in the theme with the great seven they represent. And since Heartslabyul represents the queen of hearts's strictness... The dorm looks like a madland, but it's always in order after the 810 rules the queen used to impose.

Ace notes how their dormleader is extremely bossy about them, which gets Trey to exhale. Deuce adds how he never seems to know when their Dormhead is around, so he always gets scared when he hears his voice. Malleus voiced his idea that perhaps they couldn't hear him because everyone seems to have their tails and wings making sounds and shuffling around or dragging on the ground. Trey stops him and clears out to Malleus that it was an entirely different reason.

Reaching the kitchen, Trey opens up the fridge and hands to the 3 some of the leftovers, telling them to be careful if they want some more, since he also had in there the food for tomorrow's unbirthday party. When the party was brought up, Ace shamelessly asks if Malleus would like to help them out on the roses painting. Trey groans and tells Ace that Malleus is a guest, not a worker.

Malleus accepts, since he's still the handyman of the school.

Trey tells them to finish quickly, as he has to go a bit somewhere. The 3 don't mind him and simply concentrate on the food. Malleus with his characteristic royal manners and Adeuce with... Less of those...

In the end, Ace suggests they should get a desert to finish it off. Deuce says that he's full and Malleus also approved with the blue dragon. Ace only puffs and goes to the fridge to see what exactly he can snatch.

He sees the strawberry tarts and decides to just take a small slice. Malleus tells Ace that it sounds like a bad idea. Ace gives 0 shits about it. Another voice asks if Ace enjoyed the tart, to which the ginger even invites the terrified Deuce to take a bite too. In the end, the ginger notes how Malleus was silent and Deuce seemed shaken up, both pointing towards his back.

Turning around... Ace is meet with a very unamused Riddle, arms crossed and a typical frown.

Malleus notes how the redhead was looking like a normal human. No scales, no wierd eyes, no horns, no wings, no tail, no nada... Malleus confused Riddle for a human mage, especially when the redhead used his magic to collar Ace down.

Thankfully, Trey returns before Riddle could question Deuce or Malleus. The vice dormleader explains the situation at hand and Riddle tells his side of the story. Deuce and Malleus just look in between them before at Ace who got kicked out of the dorm until he fixes his mistake, with that chunky collar on too.

Trey only explains to Malleus and Deuce that in here... If you break the rules, Riddle will use his unique magic on you. Malleus asks what is the thing with unique magics. Deuce explains that a unique magic is a spell that only the said magic being can conjure. Trey gives as an example the trashing Ace, telling that only Riddle can summon that magic stopping collar on someone and that Ace will not be able to do any magic unless the collar gets taken down.

So what to do? Trey tells them that he will try to talk to Riddle, while Deuce joins Ace and Malleus on a sleepover bc homie solidarity.

They all 3 crash at Ramshackle and meet the ghosts. The said rowdy spirits recognise the ghost blade and pay their little respects to Malleus for getting to wield such weapon. Malleus asks if they can stay overnight in here and the ghosts do welcome them, not without playing a few pranks on the collared Ace.

The next day, Ace mulls over how he could get a tart. So he heads over to Heartslabyul with Malleus and Deuce, all 3 wanting to ask Trey to help them out.

But they bump into Cater. Now Cater had some very pretty whitish horns with different decorations. His wings and tail were also very decorated. The wings were taller than wider, but Malleus did note how Cater liked to make lots of photos. He was very curious about the 'magicless human with the glass sword', as rumors do run around.

Ace asks where Trey is. Cater makes a deal with them: help him paint the roses and he will get them to Trey. As they had no option, the 3 went on with the painting.

Cater seemed to enjoy looking at the 3 struggling with the paint, so he comes in with the 'let's use a spell'. Cater shows the 3 the color changing spell, making an entire rosebush red. Deuce gets to wonkily learn it. Malleus is curious of this and pulls put the sword, Deuce letting him to copy the said spell and use it too.

Well color Cater surprised when he saw the blade becoming full of color splatters as Malleus used it to clumsily have the roses red. He was really curious of it and asks Malleus how did he get it. Ace butts in and says that more like the sword comes after Malleus.

Cater seems content with the fact that the 3 did the job for him, so he shows them towards Trey.

Trey just groans and looks into the void when he realises that these 3 will be on his head all day. So he sends them to gather some ingredients for the tart they were going to bake.

While they were gone to do their chore, Cater tells Trey about the painting job the 3 did for him. And while the vice was unhappy with Cater ditching his work on the first years, he couldn't help but be curious of the sword Malleus had.

When the 3 returned and Ace seemingly teasing the flustered Deuce, they got to work. The tarts were done and as a treat, they could feast on them as long as they keep one intact as an apology tart.

Cater then brings up Trey's doodle suit. The group get a taste of another unique magic. Malleus is curious of something, but doesn't ask since it was time for the unbirthday party and Ace's apology tart debut.

And boy was it a show...

Riddle had to refuse the tart as the rules said it was forbidden to have a maroon tart at an unbirthday party. Ace Gets mad and Riddle had to kick all 3 out of the dorm.

Trey apologizes to the group, since it was his idea of making a Mont Blanc. Ace is very mad and Deuce just mulls over his collar. Malleus doesn't have any collar as Riddle deemed him magicless, therefore it was a waste of time to collar him too.

As Trey leaves them to be, the group meet Che'nya. Che'nya was a mix in between a Beastman and a dragon, therefore his wings looked quite fluffy and his horns were in sync with his ears.

Che'nya adds fuel to the fire by hyping Ace and Deuce to try and challenge Riddle for the crown. Malleus just knows it's a bad idea, but does he give a shit? Nope.

So they come to talk to crow man about it and it derails into the outcome of a duel in the Heartslabyul garden. Malleus was there to witness what a duel looked like. And because Adeuce insisted they needed the 'cheering support human'.

Riddle had to undo the collars and the second that happened, Ace decided to show his real form. Malleus was a bit took aback by the gigantic orange and red dragon, but since Deuce had the same transformation, Malleus noted how this was the 2's real forms. Malleus was just in awe, especially since he expected Riddle to do the same.

But Riddle didn't do it, instead, the second the start was given, the redhead charged and collared the 2, instantly putting them down with magic, forcing Adeuce back to the humanoid forms.

That's when Riddle got cocky. A bit too cocky for Malleus's liking. Especially when he took his anger towards Malleus's parents. The taller didn't really mind it too much.

But Ace wasn't like that.

Riddle didn't even finished his sentence that Ace immediately charged and punched him square in the face, before reaching to grab him by the collar, only to grab by something else and rip it off.

It was that small pin Riddle always wore.

Ace started his rambling about how Riddle was a hypocrite, but noticed that the redhead seemed horrified, tugging on his cape to cover something up. Being fed up with that, Ace tugs on the cape too.

But it rips apart as a gigantic pair of wings stretch along a big tail. The scales pattern was chaotically varying in between shades of red, gold and a bit of white and black. Riddle seemed to be scared, as he looked more monstrous than the others on the scene.

Cater seemed to recognise those little features. Malleus asks why Riddle was so scared and Cater just takes him a bit further to whisper so that no one else hears.

Aparently Riddle wasn't a pureblood like the others around. He was half human. And since most dragons looked down upon humans, the half human dragons are seen as weak, since they cannot control their magic and often end up killed by their own powers. The half humans are recognised by the lack of horns, the unusual scales pattern, the extremely irregular wings and tail size along the monstrous appearance in the humanoid form are also big pointers. Malleus was in awe at the explanation Cater gave to him.

But Riddle seemed to lose it once everyone revolted about how they were bossed around by someone weaker than them.

And that's when Malleus noticed the dark aura forming around and the gloopy ink like substance forming around Riddle, before throwing off everyone and shallowing the redhead.

Yay... The first overBlot! They are utterly fucked. :3c

Trey pulls a bigass save and keeps Riddle from collaring everyone. But he couldn't keep at bay the fire the other had. Cater also uses his split card to make copies of himself as the og Cater shows his true form, which was as big as Riddle's, getting up to fight him one on one and keep him busy while Adeuce and Malleus cook up a plan to knock him out upon crow man's info dump before he got yeeted across the dorm.

So what to do? Pull out the heavy way and Cauldron smash, sword bonk and magic throw everything at Riddle.

Malleus ends up charging with the sword at Riddle and even if he meant to freeze his wing...

He ends up stabbing Riddle's right wing. Which makes the sword to glow and have Riddle immediately faint and everything to turn back to normal... Well... If we count off the total chaos that was left.

Malleus just looks in horror at what he did, then at the blade's tip that was dripping off some of that inky shit and also blood. The blade turned black and then like a movie clip, it showed to Malleus snippets of Riddle's life in black and white. The only non-shadow figure was Riddle himself, while everyone else was just a shadow.

Malleus could hear and see them in the blade's reflection, but no one else seemed to be able to do it too.

Thankfully, once the 'film' finishes and the sword goes back to normal, Riddle wakes up. The first thing the redhead hears was Malleus's 'You shouldn't hide yourself just because your mother finds a side of you disappointing!'. Immediately that breaks down the redhead, who starts to apologise and curl up to hide himself, despite what Malleus demanded him earlier.

Ace still isn't content with just a 'sorry'. And he does voice his opinion that if Riddle wants to ever redeem himself in front of Ace, he will have to work for it. Ace and Deuce were after all... Humiliated in front of the whole dorm.

Malleus is the one who interjects and states that he will be the judge because and I quote: 'Trappola right here might embody, what we humans call 'a bitch' and therefore have a clouded judgement'.

Malleus's decision? Riddle will have to bake alone an apology tart for both Ace and Deuce and also present himself at the re-run of the unbirthday party without the concealing pin. Riddle just accepts his punishment.

The next day, Malleus returns to Heartslabyul, this time along Silver, at the re-run of the unbirthday party. Ace was living the High life uncollared and ready to eat that tart that was oh so promised to him.

Riddle surely came with the 2 promised tarts. He was a bit awkward as one of his wings was bandaged and they along his big tail were dragging on the ground like a long cape. The tarts looked a bit messy, but for a first attempt, it was alright. Deuce had to slap Ace's mouth shut from commenting since Trey helped him bake the Mont blanc, while Riddle did it all alone.

2 tarts and 6 hungry boys. Trey cut the first tart in 6 pieces and everyone took a bite.

It was salty af...

Riddle of course panicked since he followed the recipe to a t and even included Trey's oyster sauce secret ingredient. Now the fact that he poured the entire bottle was a neglected detail.

Trey was just wheezing on the ground as Cater and Silver still enjoyed their tart slices nonetheless. Silver reveals that he does enjoy salty things, much like Cater over here. The difference was that the ginger dragon couldn't stand sweets, while silver was alright with them.

In the end, the unbirthday party wasn't perfectly according to the rules, but it was full of cheers.

After that, Malleus offered to stay and help with the clean-up. That's when Riddle asks why Malleus didn't ask for anything out of him, since he did badmouth him too, not just Adeuce.

Malleus tells him that he wasn't invited by Riddle here at first and he had all the rights to kick him out. As for the badmouthing, he didn't take offense in it, so for Malleus, Riddle didn't do anything wrong to him personally.

As a somewhat apology token for Malleus dealing with his overBlot, Riddle indulges for the prince to copy any of his spells, as he heard from Cater about the sword Malleus carried and what was its purpose. Malleus surely had no idea what spells he should copy, so he just tells Riddle to give him whatever he thinks it's suitable.

Riddle gives Malleus a fire spell and also his unique magic to copy. Malleus was in awe that he was actually able to copy a unique magic.

That was most likely why the sword was a formidable weapon. It could copy unique magic too.

Che'nya also visits. Trey finally busts this lil intruder to be from RSA, the rival school of NRC. Malleus takes note of that too, as he remembered Che'nya was in Riddle's past too.

So Malleus's spells so far were a few. Only 5, one which was just a color changing spell and another being Riddle's unique magic.

After that, things seem to settle down for some time.

But nope... Silver's hoeing around and got the tea about the magishift upcoming tournament.

Malleus compares it to American football and that gets Adeuce curious since 'there are more types of human football???'. Malleus and Silver decide to do a demonstration since Malleus's grandma was a gigantic football/soccer enthusiast. Sure they had no idea how to play American football, but at least they knew the basic one.

So back to the Ramshackle yard!

Setting up some gates out of ice and Silver summoning a football ball, Malleus makes a short introduction of the game before setting up the teams. Malleus and Deuce versus Ace and Silver.

It takes a while for the 2 dragons to get the idea that 'no, you only hit it with the foot, just the gatekeeper can use hands'. But in the end Silver was an unbeatable gatekeeper while Malleus's kick was a very strong one. It was more in between the humans rather than Adeuce.

In the end, the 4 of them get distracted by their football match that they forget that it got late. Cater comes after them, only to get roped into the game too. Unfortunately for him, they realised it was late and Cater had no chance of getting in a match too.

The next day, Cater bothers the 4 boys to show him what's up with this 'football' game. This picks up the attention of Riddle, who asks why suddenly cater shifted his interest from the magishift tryouts to football. Silver and Malleus are forever thankful that at least one person in here besides them knows human slang and things.

Ace again gets cocky and drags Deuce after Cater to try out. Malleus just comes to watch along Silver bc: 'yo, wanna try out?' 'and get my spine broken? No<3'.

They aren't that dumb to go against a bunch of dragons after all, knowing they will most likely be squished the second the start is given.

Adeuce and Cater fail anyway. But no biggie... They discovered football and boy do they love to run after the ball in the Ramshackle yard. Even the ghosts joined as audience or arbitrage.

But as they got absorbed in running after the ball, they failed to notice the wierd string of accidents that occurred.

Crowley comes into play and assigns Malleus to look into it since he was, after all, the 'handyman'. If he does, he can get to play in the magishift tournament as an exhibition match.

Malleus didn't give a flying fuck about it, but anyway. :'3

Entering Detective Malleus! The detective who read way too many mistery novels, yet never figured out why his ice-cream box always gets empty overnight.

So Malleus starts his investigation!

With the interrogation of a few students in the infirmary, them a few random ones, Malleus gathered a lot of testimonies and could draw a line that all of the actual victims were magishift players and that they lost control of their bodies for a hot second, enough to get in an accident.

Meanwhile, Silver hoes around and actually figures everything out.

Malleus was heading to Heartslabyul in the morning to ask for some advice because:

1. There are a lot of accidents and this dorm does have its ways around it.

2. It was the only dorm he knew of.

3. 70% chance of getting free food.

But on his way, disaster strikes again and Malleus finds out that 'oh shit, clover is down'. Not horrendous, but actually down as in a victim of the accidents.

Malleus explains to Adeuce and Cater his investigation results. Riddle again was literally in the room when they were talking, yet no one noticed him until they got spooked.

To motivate Adeuce into contributing to the investigation, since they surely ditched their initial goal of playing in the magishift tournament, Riddle promised that he will get them one way or another a ✨football ball✨ just for them to play with. Deuce does ask what is wrong with the ball silver keeps summoning. Malleus clears it that by using magic, silver will cumulate blot(crow man did explain how blot works after the first overBlot) and on the other hand, the summoned ball was way more lighter than a normal football ball.

In the distance, Silver releases a dad sneeze.

So the investigation team commences! With Cater's list and with a long day ahead, the group are off to investigate!

On their way around, Cater does explain to Malleus why everyone was in humanoid form around here. If they wanted to write, go around the halls, read or attend lessons, they couldn't fit around in their real forms. He also explains that there are more types of dragons than Malleus usually knew. There were the purebloods and most common, Beast dragons, which are wingless, mer dragons, rare, but not as rare as a living human halfling(Riddle pouts at that.) and dragon Fae, which are considered to be one of the most powerful. Rare too, but surely very proficient with magic. Malleus takes note of that.

They reach poemfiore tho. And boy oh boy... Those students in here are way too pretty for their own good. The one they were looking for was Rook Hunt.

And it seemed more like Rook found them rather than them finding him.

Yep... Mark him off the list please...

The next were the Leech twins. Riddle voiced his opinion on how they should literally skip them, but Malleus insisted that 'they need to interrogate everyone on the list'.

Welp... The twins were tall af. Add to that the mirrored looks and the sinister aura they had going on. Poor Adeuce. They are trembling in their boots when those 2 busted them.

Malleus looks at the twins, then at Riddle, then back at the twins. All 3 looked completely human, which made Malleus to internally have a bluescreen moment when Jade cleared out that no, they weren't human the slightest.

More or so... It ended up with the investigation team running for their lives. Riddle was the fastest and unfortunately Ace was the slowest.

With Riddle having to return back to Heartslabyul for Dormhead duties, the group only had to check on one more person: Jack Howl.

Yep... In the end, they got nothing.

But Silver comes and apparently, he forgot to tell Malleus that 'lol the savanaclaw are behind all this, anyway look what mug I found for Father's day, It's a bikini bat mug.'. Malleus just thanks his friend for the lead.

So the next day, they try to pursue him. Cue chase and crashing again into Jack. This time Jack actually decided to help them out. :'3

Cue busting Leona up and yet another overBlot. Malleus really starts to wonder if this is a normal occurrence around here.

But anyway~ stabby time~ this time in the PinKy toe, bc why not? The extra level of pain!

Malleus again sees the past like a black and white film through the blade and just tries to cheer up Leona. It doesn't really work that well, but is Malleus a certified therapist? Nope, but surely he thinks he will be in the near future. He just feels it.

Silver just enjoys the match along Malleus. Savanaclaw hot beaten out by the others and Diasomnia won. To celebrate Lilia decided to bake a cake, but Trey cut off and offered to bake himself a cake. The Dia peeps never were more grateful for the benevolent cake man.

A few days later, Riddle somehow managed to get a football ball he enchanted to not break so easily. He just threw it at Ace's face and boy were Adeuce the happiest. They played with it non-stop until they broke a window and Trey had to confiscate it. Malleus is salty because he didn't get his turn to play before Trey took it. :'3

But ya know how sometimes too much does bad?

So did Silver's hoeing around.

It was the exams period and Malleus was intensively hitting the books. Of course with all of that intense studies and leaving the fun aside for a bit, Malleus managed to get a high score, impressive for a magicless human. He even made it in the top 50! Lilia even congratulated him.

But also silver got a high score too. And so did Adeuce... Along with most students... Which was a bit suspicious.

It was when Adeuce and Silver got anemoned that Malleus realised that 'oh damn, something is going on'. So along his 'non-friend', Jack, Malleus is headed towards the root of the problem.

They end up in the lounge and Malleus is all like 'mafia vibes... cool.'. They realise that all the anemones basically cheated by making a deal with Azul.

In the end, Malleus and Jack request to meet with Azul to discuss the anemone problem. And the Octavinelle dormleader made the grave mistake of asking: 'What can you offer me, human'.

'Hand in marriage, sir...' 'Wut???'

Yep... Floyd is wheezing on the floor. Jade asks if this is why Malleus had that veil over his ponytail. Malleus replied that it's another motive for the veil. But anyway... Azul asks if perhaps... Malleus would give the sword as a collateral, since it seemed like it was the only object of value, for the dragons, Malleus had with him.

Malleus contemplated. Give to Azul the sword and not have to worry that if he forgets it somewhere it won't literally almost cut his head by plunging towards him? But on the other hand, it was the only magic thing Malleus could use.

So Malleus contemplates. Jack told him 'it's a bad idea'. Trey, Cater and Riddle told him 'no, it's dumb, don't do it.'. Lilia told him 'let me fix this... Don't do anything dumb, please.'.

But Leona said that 'it's a dumb idea, don't do it.'. So Malleus will do it just to piss him off. >:/

So he comes back at Azul with: 'Imma get that photo from the museum in 3 days, otherwise I'll be your bride!'.

Azul literally had 0 control over that contract, so he just prepares himself mentally for the marriage as the twins enjoy seeing him suffer.

Only Silver and Lilia knew Malleus was actually a prince and the valuable treasures that will come in his possession after he gets married and inherits the throne. So Azul had no goddamn idea what Malleus actually offered to him.

As a neutral collateral, Malleus plunged his sword into Azul's office, offering that as a neutral prize.

So Silver, Jack and Adeuce go along Malleus, using the water breathing potion the dormleader oh so generously provided, in order to get that photo.

Except they meet the twins in their mer forms.

Floyd explains that this is still not their real form, just a form to blend in with the other merpeople. Then he proceeds to squeeze the living daylights out of Adeuce.

Except that when Jade reached for Malleus and Jack, the ghost blade came woshing through, cutting Jade's arm fin and plunging into a coral. Malleus was never so happy the sword came to save his ass.

Apparently Azul couldn't keep that much the sword in his office. :'3

Where was silver during all this? Using his charm and carisma to basically waltz in the museum and get that photo like free candy.

So the next day, Malleus busts in Octavinelle at 3 am with the photo like: 'Ashengrotto, wake up! The marriage is down!'.

Except that it was the wrong photo... None of them knew how prince Rielle actually looked so Silver snatched the wrong photo without even looking at the description.

Azul was just groaning. It was 3 am and this human barged in, only for him to bring the wrong photo. And here he thought that he would have hopes of not getting married so early. Wasn't it enough that Jade's arm was bandaged now and that the sword literally flew out of the office?

So Azul has no other option than to tell Malleus that 'you got the wrong photo... Try again.'. He was going to be fair, after all.

But not before committing to the fact that yes, he will have to marry this human. So Azul decides to keep in a bit Malleus and try to get comfortable around the human.

But because after all, it cut Jade, therefore half stabbing, the ghost blade allowed Malleus to see a glimpse of his past.

And to his luck it was exactly when the twins met Azul.

'so you had a hard school life?' 'mhm' 'At least we have something in common...'

It didn't occur to Azul what actually Malleus meant, but oh well... The human was warm. The human is actually a great pillow.

Meanwhile, Malleus was messaging Silver with 'bro, you got the wrong photo'. The reply was a 'bro how tf am I expected to know how that mf looks like?'. And after that a lot of memes.

Jack was the one to pick Malleus up, since Azul fell again asleep and the poor human was literally covered by the other's wings and texting to Silver. (Azul's the only one out of the octatrio that has wings and he hates it with a burning passion).

It seems like the twins enjoyed running the lounge while Azul overslept because of a certain human with shitty sleep schedule.

In the end Silver pulls a big brain moment and gets Leona on board to destroy the contracts like in cannon.

Welp... Azul overblotted... He gets smacked back to his senses and yet again Malleus goes stabby stab, this time in an octopus tentacle, because he's like that. :'3

Cue another angsty film noir montage. ;-;

Well... In the end Azul tells Malleus that since all the contracts are destroyed, the deal isn't valid anymore. Silver finally points out that Azul missed on the biggest treasure pile addition any dragon could have and Azul just loses it.

He literally had the royal treasures of the Thorn Valley under his pinky and didn't realise it. Because Malleus is a forgetfull human. :'D

Anyway... Malleus lives yet another day with no ring on the finger.

Floyd found it fun the said sword and so, he indulges for Malleus to copy his unique magic. Azul adds onto it with his 'it's a deal'. Jade gives nothing bc Malleus had to apologise to him for cutting his arm fin.

After that, they have to return the photo to the Atlantica museum. Azul refuses to show his mer form, but they saw chubby baby Azul.

Malleus like 'I already saw him' was peak shock for everyone else.

But anyway the winter holiday comes around...

Lilia tells Malleus and Silver that he will go back to the thorn Valley to talk with the queen. The 2 couldn't go since they had to 'keep Sebek sum company'.

Sebek was a dragon that had a concealing jewelry too. He always reffered to Malleus and Silver as 'Stabby human and magic human'.

Sebek seemed to not like their company, so they leaved him in his own thing.

As a handyman, Malleus had the task of giving wood to the fire fairies in the cafeteria, so Silver was helping him out with that.

They meet the Scarabia peeps yet again! Malleus notes how Kalim and Jamil had 3 Pairs of wings, to which Kalim happily shows them their use.

So they visit scarabia and realise that 'oh shit, you gotta fly to the dorm'. Apparently Scarabia was a floating dorm and you had to fly from the mirror drop point to the dorm. Kalim and Jamil were dragons that were proficient at flying, their families being ones of nomad dragons, hence the additional pairs of wings.

So they stay over at scarabia... And it takes them a whole 24 hour day to realise that 'oh we're held hostages... Anyway'...

Malleus realises that when he uses 'it's a deal', his blade becomes a bunch of tentacles that can grip on things.

So the solution? Tarzan swing around and hope they won't miss the mirror.

Just the middle of the night... The Scarabia wakes up to see the 2 hoomans swinging and screaming their lungs out as they slam in the Scarabia mirror and fly all the way through the Octavinelle one.

How did none of them break a bone is a mistery up to this day... U-U

Just Azul being absolutely done with Malleus breaking in the lounge.

In the end, the octatrio help silver and Malleus to go back there and figure this shit out.

Malleus has the most crappy intros ever. He's all like 'this is my almost spouse and my almost spiritual brothers in law.'. Jamil is just done with this clownery.

Of course since they couldn't fly, the humans and the twins had to stay on the bench. Azul faked a 'wing injury' and got to join the 'we can't fly' group. So bc they had to join in the training camp, Azul takes over with the management and things go well for once.

Except that they bust up Jamil in the end, he Overblots and the group get dokkaned. But because there's literally 0 ground for a good chunk of height, the group just falls down expecting a harsh impact with the ground.

Azul just grabs onto Malleus and Silver and pathetically flaps his wings, trying to avoid getting a pancake. The twins are literally glued to poor Kalim who forgot he had wings.

They get saved by Sebek in his big dragon form! :D

And Sebek had a lot of mixed scales patterns in green and black, a more crocodile like tail and of course, when back in the humanoid form, he looked more beastlike than the others.

It turns out Sebek was a human halfling too. Even though he made it clear that he hated humans.

Anyway... Back to the Scarabia dorm... Malleus this time pulls a smart move. Since his sword literally cannot absorb blot, he uses 'it's a deal' and bind the heart to weaken Jamil enough so he could get stabby stabby... :D

Kalim uses his oasis maker so that he could put out Jamil's mayhem and the twins show their real forms in order to put the Phanthom down.

Another sad montage in the blade and Jamil now has one wing stabbed... :'3

Malleus... Pls... Don't stab people to understand their trauma...

Welp... Jamil had to sulk and suck it up, but in the end, Kalim decided to make an effort and try to be a bit more careful and show more care towards Jamil.

When Lilia returns, he is happy to see that Sebek, Silver and Malleus actually got along in the end. They were playing uno and Silver pulled a double +4 on Sebek. Malleus already had half a deck in his hand. :'3

Meanwhile, at Octavinelle... The twins commit to their. 'almost spiritual brothers in law' just to annoy the living shit out of Azul.

Pom pom arc comes around and the dia peeps need holy water.

When the VDC was announced, Malleus, silver and Sebek woke up one day with pepaw Lilia exercising his pole dancing skills.

They heard a bone crack and decided that they will get outta there. And aquire holy water and bleach.

Adeuce bring up the VDC and Malleus immediately is all like 'nope<3, I was tainted enough'. But he still supports his 2 friends in auditioning for the VDC. He's just the 'emotional support hooman'.

They even have a tag for him. x3

So when the audition day comes around, Malleus is there, with his tag, along Adeuce. They meet up with Cater and also meet Ortho, who apparently has a pair of robo-wings. Malleus is curious about it, but everyone else stops him from asking.

The auditions commence and Malleus is sitting in a corner with his tag and sword. Sum students came to cry on him, rest or just vent, but Malleus was just texting silver who apparently is popping off somewhere with some NRC peeps.

So the results come and Adeuce pass! Yay :3

But Malleus is also additionally called. So that picked his interest.

It turns out Malleus was called because Crowley chose Ramshackle to host the VDC boys while on training camp, since Malleus and Adeuce often stood around there and in the end it became somewhat clean.

Malleus is again, the handyman, which means he had to keep Ramshackle clean...

Rook is all like 'Curious human!' and Malleus be weirded out. Poor human... Gib him sum slack.

Epel was a much more smaller dragon... But unlike Riddle's extremely big wings and tail, Epel had them proportional with his height. Which made him look cute.

Unlike his real attitude...

Much like in cannon, the training camp is utter hell. Malleus hid some goodies he got from Trey before Vil could curse those and so, he would do his utter best to have them not be found.

But in the end, dragons have a much more sensitive smell and so, it was just a matter of time until Vil asked to inspect his room and find the said goodies.

So in his new goal of getting some goodies to eat... Malleus crashes yet again at Heartslabyul. This time Trey was busy helping out Riddle with the management papers. The redhead had to give some papers to the Ignihyde dormleader. Malleus offers to send them if Trey gives some goodies.

Yes... At this point Vil's diet made Malleus desperate.

Trey promised to Malleus a bit of the leftovers, so the human was more than content with that. Off he was to Ignihyde!

Malleus surely was took aback by the whole load of SF like tech. He runs again into Ortho and asks for directions towards the Ignihyde Dormhead. Ortho offers to take the papers himself to his brother, but Malleus insists that he has to do his job and personally give them to the Dormhead.

He didn't yet make the connection that Ortho's big brother was actually the Ignihyde dormleader. Just give him time... :'3

Idia was just minding his own business when Ortho and the very pretty magicless human come at him with some papers from Riddle, making the Dormhead to actually get a spook.

The most noticeable things about Idia were the black and silver decorated horns that were rounded like some kind of lose swirls, ash black wings tattered at the end, a slim black tail with a small flame at the tip and his bright blue flame hair.

Cue the most awkward conversation ever.

To their luck, Azul also drops by. Ortho is a lil gremlin and leaves the 3 alone to 'Bond and help big brother actually make a proper real life conversation with another being capable of higher thought'.

It ends up with Malleus overstaying along Azul because Idia had the balls to ask about the humans video-games. Idia loves to see what the humans come up with in the anime and video-game industry. Malleus unfortunately doesn't have video-games at home, but he knows Silver had Just Dance, as his father had a much wider collection.

So the 3 bond! Yay! :D

Again, for this chapter, things go almost the same as in cannon. Except that Malleus gets to meet Neige and the drawves. The drawves are a bit skeptical of the hooman with the sword, but Malleus is just very curious. He doesn't mean harm... The fact that he stabbed sum dragons around and is capable of fighting down an Overblot dragon are very neglectable details... U-U

Since Malleus received 2 tickets, one he thought about giving it to Silver. It turns out Lilia bought 2 tickets for him and Silver, so Malleus had 0 idea of who to give it to.

In the end, he gives it to Sebek. The dragon halfling was a bit skeptical, asking if there was any catch to it, since humans tend to be sneaky. Malleus just tells him that he wants to spend a bit of time with Sebek and perhaps get to become friends, since it seemed like Silver got along with him at one point.

Sebek's respect for the magicless human rose a bit.

On the big day, actually Malleus explores around for a bit before attending the rehearsals and also the overBlot.

Vil was and forever will be a fabulous dragon and a dramatic af overBlot. U-Ub

But in the end, RSA won with the nursery rhyme remix. Malleus just puts on his 'emotional support hooman' sign and leaves Adeuce and Kalim to just whine on his shoulders while Jamil and Epel throw hands at Rook.

At this point Malleus discovered his real call: being an emotional support hooman.

After the VDC show, Malleus offers to look around the stalls with Sebek and get to properly know each other, despite Malleus actually being beat from the overBlot.

Again, Sebek's respect for the human prince went up.

As a reward for his beautiful work, Rook gave to Malleus his um. But Malleus had 0 idea what that magic was supposed to do, so he is left with a small note with the spell's name and confusion to the max.

Chapter 6 tho -3-

Malleus tries to understand what exactly does Rook's um do. Ortho is curious too about it and tries to help.

It ends up with Malleus inflicting the spell onto ortho, but it was literally just a momentary sparkle. Thinking it was just for show, Malleus leaves it at that. Ace does say how it's a lame um, getting a smack from Deuce.

Well... It sure is useful when STIX break in. Since it was revealed that Idia and Ortho are actually tightly connected with the charons that kidnapped the previous overBlot victims, Rook nudged Malleus to use his um.

Now the blade could be a map and show exactly where Ortho was: the STIX HQ. Rook also used 'I see you' on a Charon, which pointed to a similar place.

So off they were. Rook and Epel had no problem with flying. Just change into their true forms and off they were. Rook also carried Malleus, since humans can't fly unfortunately.

Meanwhile, at diasomnia, Sebek and silver panic since 'oh shit, we lost the human/Malleus'.

Meanwhile Malleus slays some Poemfiore uniforms and breaks in STIX with the power of his sword skills and disastrous flirting.

Yep... Idia is just living a nightmare at the moment.

The captured boys aren't that 'relieved' to see the rescue trio as Malleus expected. Vil was looking on the verge of strangling them. Jamil was just rolling his eyes and pouting in his corner. Azul actually looked happy to see Malleus came for him too and not just for Vil like Rook and Epel. Leona didn't give a flying fuck about it. Riddle actually was the uncomfortable one, since they didn't let him have his concealing pin.

The whole ortho frees the tartarus ghosts happen and boy oh boy does it get chaotic.

Now Malleus wished he could've copied Deuce's um. Alas, Epel got his own um and the tartarus blot thingies were also not that much of a hassle to violently poke them with the sword.

The overBlot tho... THAT was something entirely different.

Where to stab Idia if his overBlot form was decked in armour? Why of course we stab the bigass Phanthom. :'3

Cue again the sad film montage in the blade. Except it was ortho's memories, so they show how poor ortho had his wings cut off by the Phanthoms. Idia swore that he will never fly again because of that. Ortho had a pair of artificial wings, but still Idia didn't forgive himself, so he damaged his own wings, so he couldn't be able to fly again, only his little brother as ortho deserved it more than him.

Actually that made Malleus to tear up a bit... ;-;

But also imagine that Malleus also had with him the 'emotional support hooman' tag. So he just flings it over his neck and offers a hug for everyone.

And you know what? Idia accepts the hug. After all that he's been through, a hug was just a godsend for him.

When they get back, Adeuce, Sebek and Silver immediately tackle Malleus like 'We leave you unsupervised for one minute and you end up out of the country'.

Idia now got attached to the 'emotional support hooman'. Azul's all like 'bish share... I was first'. Adeuce request their 'first come first get' privileges. Sebek shooes them off because 'YOU'RE SQUISHING THE HUMAN!'.

Silver is the actual boss since he was and forever will be Malleus's first friend.

With this, we finish the story. Chap 7 doesn't happen and Malleus finally showed his mastery of the sword so he will go back home for the summer holiday. Officially, Malleus was an NRC student and finally he found a place where he is fulfilled and made friends and possibly lovers.

Malleus was just happy!

Now since the main story was taken care of, time for the events!

In another post :'3 since this one has over 10100 words. A long journey and already I holded you here enough.

So maybe in a later post it will come! :D

Until next time! Buh bye!

#twisted wonderland #twst malleus #malleus draconia #It's just Malleus's pokemon adventure #But with a sword for pokeballs and and magic spells as pokemons #:'3 #This is just another one of my crack shows

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hermitblurbs · 2 years

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Hello! Its 1 am for me right now but uh I really like your writing. Do you have any short stories about cod boy and wizard chap, perchance

Back when Scar was first picking up his book of shadows, his patron told him a tale. A tale, to be specific, about his tarot deck.

He’s under no illusion that the black and gilded silver lines were a simple coincidence, a simple, pristine find in a back alley thrift shop. They called to him, and they were his.

The Watcher’s Guidance, the box read.

And Aphrodite started sending him dreams that night.

It started with the lovers, as tales most often do with Aphrodite involved. Or, more accurately, it started with the Fool. He walks alone in a desert, a place where life refused to grow, a place only loved by the heat and the sun, and he loves it. He loved so strongly that his blood bloomed plants and opportunity, spilt by those who wanted to seize the desert from him. But despite the cuts and thorns spilt from his love, the desert is not one to love back.

He falls, one night, down the mountain he’s settled himself on, and he lies hung on stone. The desert will fall without his protection, and his enemies will be happy to tear the beautiful place to pieces.

But instead, the Moon is the one who decides to love.

And he then knows it’s not his blood that the desert wants.

His skin tints silver with the Moon’s light, his eyes turn red as they restore him with magic in his veins and a gentle craving for the hearts of those who have wronged him.

Somewhere along the line, between magma and gunpowder, he starts dedicating the blood spilt to the Moon instead of the land kissed by the sun.

And when he’s finally killed, because there was no way for him to go peacefully, the Moon brings him up so they’re together forever.

He knows that the story’s told with rose tinted glasses, and that if it were told by any other deity, it’d be a story of blood and villainy rather than one of devotion, even more so when looking at the tarot meanings. But, well, he is a love wizard. Maybe he can spin the story a third time, with a happier resolution.

He tries not to think about how, a week later, when he dreamt of the Fool-turned-Magician falling from the sky, how similar they looked to his reflection.

#blurb #garlic-sauc3 #cod boy au #!!! yes i get to write little snippets for this!!!#ask #gtws #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft #desert duo #third life smp

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tchallasbabymama · 2 years

Note

60 for troubled waters, 69, 75

60. Troubled Waters was inspired by my curiosity surrounding African supernatural beings, and wanting to write a story about them.

69. What are your favorite fics at the moment?

I'm currently living for @uzumaki-rebellion 's Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Volume 4, @cecereads209 's Baby on Board, and @soufcakmistress 's Charleston Blues.

75. Is there a particular fic that readers gravitated towards that you didn’t expect?

Y'all love The Temple, and it surprises me so much because when I re-read it, all I can think about is how I could write it so much better now.

#slide up in my ask box #ask cece #ask game #anon

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untowonder-gone · 2 years

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❝ 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫! ❞

If there is one thing Mary Ann knew better than anyone else in all of Looking Glass, it is that whatever she found on the scattered scraps of paper left behind by that Queen could be given life. Could be made whole and true, and so very new. She didn’t need to spill more ink than necessary to see it come to life. Didn’t need to will her glass soldiers to to change their shape, to become something other. No, she could merely rely on that Queen’s whims and suggestions, bring forth things made unto wonder. Like glass roses to fill with the mess of poison left behind in the wake of her awakening. Or delicate mirrors which showed her a world beyond her own, where playing cards marched to the tune of the Queen, not at all like the chess pieces she had grown so fond of.

But scattered amongst these pages which she had painstakingly gathered is merely the outline of a boy with only a name scribbled over and over again, changing little by little until all she can read is Riddle Rosehearts. How unfair that such a name should be half caught up in the loose ramblings of the Red Rose Queen, tossed aside as though unworthy to be a Rosehearts. She could hardly stand the idea of it, nor could she leave it be. With pen in hand, and Dinah ever at her side, all glossy ink fur and sleepy disposition, the Queen of Rot, of black ink, set about writing over the Queen’s words. Rewriting his half finished and tossed aside, so carelessly, scraps of a story.

A story of a boy, of a Queen in the making. Riddle Rosehearts.

Beneath her hand, she would help him to bloom, a bright crimson blossom amongst her silver-white glass roses. A fine Queen to sit upon Wonderland’s throne, high above a kingdom of roses. First he needed a mother and a father, alike and yet solely different. A father of crimson thorns, barren of warmth, with no love for his young. A mother of some renown, to control his every waking moment, his every breath, for mother ought to be akin to God in the eyes of a child. A sister even? She puzzled over such for a time, bouncing the idea back and forth before daring to write her into being. A fragile sister to watch in silent horror the life of a Queen to be.

A Crimson Tyrant to wear the crown, to ascend the throne, to become . . . to become . . .

He needed friends, some nagging part of her whispered, catching her thoughts with a voice she didn’t quite recognize. Friends to love and support from a distance. He needed Alice too! that voice so demanded. But how was she to find Alice? How was she, with her inky tears and her glass heart and her kingdom of rot to find a glimpse of hope like her?

❝ But Mary Ann, you cannot become Alice, as you are but scraps of paper yourself. A writer’s regrets made manifest. You never were, and you never will be. Just as he never was, and never will be. ❞ That Queen spoke, his voice manifesting in the cold emptiness residing within the cage of her ribs, where heart should have been. How his voice did chill her, and how it made her eyes sting for only a moment. Black ink did drip down her cheeks, did splatter upon the pages she had so painstakingly filled out. How that watery ink did spill across that boy’s beautifully sad name.

Riddle Rosehearts.

◤ permission to reblog : @crimsontyrant ◥ ◤ 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 . 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 . 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚞𝚜𝚎 ◥

#⋆⁺₊⋆ 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐲 ›› ㅤ ❝ dancing through a dream underneath the stars #⋆⁺₊⋆ 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 ›› ㅤ ❝ a curious girl，a wanderer #⋆⁺₊⋆ 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐨𝐭 ›› ㅤ ❝ hear，oh hear，all the voices trapped in thee #⋆⁺₊⋆ 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 ›› ㅤ ❝ marianne & riddle ◤ crimsontyrant ◥#⋆⁺₊⋆ 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 ›› ㅤ ❝ it was me，edit-kun，all along!

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uzumaki-rebellion · 8 months

Text

"Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 4, Chapter 74 (Finale) Part 2

Find Part 1 of Chapter 74 HERE.

Masterlist HERE.

youtube

"Years I have known I am living in a war zone

Poison of my enemy blatantly attacking me

War goddess arouse your power

Know this is indeed your hour

Dying to be heard literally

Constant screams convincing me

War"

Caron Wheeler – "Beach of the War Goddess"

"Hand me your beads."

Disa stretched out her arm toward Joba and waited for her daughter to slowly, and reluctantly pass over her kimoyo beads.

"Little girl, it is three-thirty in the morning. You know better."

"I wanted to see the blue butterflies with Riki," Joba said, crawling under her bedcovers in the hotel suite.

"They'll still be migrating when we return. Goodnight."

She kissed Joba's forehead and tugged on her hair.

"I'll give these back after I talk to your father. We have to keep all lines open."

Disa slipped the beads over her left wrist where they lined up with her own kimoyo. Turning off the lights, she cracked the door and moved into the living area to take a bottle of water from the mini fridge. Swiping her hair back she moved to the far side of the suite where her bedroom door was closed. She slipped in quietly. Adebiyi waited for her in the king-sized bed.

"Everything fine?" he asked.

He lifted up his nude body, ready to scramble out of her suite if needed. Disa snuck him into her room hidden from Joba and under the nose of the Kingsguard assigned to them. Adebiyi pretended to be checking on them under the instructions of the king. He just never left the room hours later.

It took Disa twenty minutes to fully relax into making love to him with Joba across the way. She wanted her daughter asleep. The thought of going to his junior suite crossed her mind, but she didn't want Joba to wake up in the middle of the night with her mother gone.

Being with Adebiyi made her giddy, reverting back to a teenage innocence of being on a first date and worrying about everything being perfect. She was a grown woman with a child, and so was he…two adult ones. His affection toward her had grown into love and she matched his energy and desire. Having him above her with her heavy thighs spread wide felt like the return of heaven in her life. He took his time. There was no need for switching positions or trying to impress each other with lovemaking tricks. They simply wanted a bonding, a spiritual connection that proved that what they felt for one another was real.

His soft grunts rained down on her ears and she gasped when he held her breasts, squeezing their weight and stroking her down deep. She liked the sprinkles of gray in his pubic hairs and she appreciated the thickness and stamina of Jabari men. He made her cum quickly before he spilled into her. She bit into his shoulder to stifle loud moans. That's when she heard Joba's voice. Her daughter and Riki had a habit of whispering together, but then their voices would get loud from the excitement of communicating together.

N'Jadaka's voice had her jumping out the bed and throwing on a hotel robe to check on the family. Now she slipped it back off and climbed in next to her lover.

Wait.

She touched the pillow that had once been bare when she left to check on Joba. A four-stranded layer of silver and lavender waist beads sat waiting for her.

"What is this, Adebiyi?" she asked, palming the beads.

"I'm asking for you to allow me the honor of claiming you as my woman."

She clutched the beads to her chest and sat down hard.

"Will you take me as your man, Disa? Can I call you my own?"

"I…Adebiyi…"

He reached for the beads to take them away. She jerked her body away from his grasp.

"I want them! I want you!"

Disa jumped on top of him and the older man chuckled and ran a gentle hand over her hair. She snuggled into his neck.

"I will have to follow the proper procedures of the palace. Ask for your mother's blessing…and the king's—"

"I'm a grown woman. I can accept on my own behalf—"

"I said blessing, not permission."

"Well okay then."

"In the past, a widowed royal could marry within noble bloodlines. But you and King N'Jadaka were never married—"

"And he's still alive."

"Yes. This will be a delicate courtship."

"Your sister will love the idea of two powerful families uniting," Disa clucked, tickling the beard hairs under his chin.

"We must plan a time for our children to meet. They have been waiting years for me to find someone of my own. There will no longer be name-calling from them."

"What kind of names?"

"Old meanie on his porch. Grouchy mouth homebody. Solo Joy killer."

"Ouch."

He tilted her chin.

"If you do not think I am worthy at any time, you may end our union before it goes further, Disa."

"I want a full-on courtship, the way the Jabari do it."

"Dear Hanuman, that will be a long and arduous process. I was hoping to do it like the Wakandans."

"As long as we do this right, I really don't care."

Disa crawled on top of him, allowing the peaks of her breasts to brush against his lips while she rode his dick.

By mid-morning she was holding back tears staring at N'Jadaka's face, terrified of the unknown coming down from the sky. Her feelings for Adebiyi notwithstanding, N'Jadaka was always going to be her heart, too. He looked so brave and strong. Even Yani appeared powerful standing next to him. Something was different about her chosen little sister. A new confidence rested within her and it was visible to everyone.

When it was time to go walking in Central Park, her conversation with Yani stayed at the forefront of her mind. Her kimoyo beads notified her that a half cruiser had reached the Atlantic and would be arriving off the coast of the Hudson River in a few more hours. She sent word to her family, then gripped Adebiyi's strong hand and stepped into harsh sunlight and humid temperatures. Joba walked in front of them, exploring the hedges and scuttling sounds of wild rabbits and squirrels. While they were meandering around the park, Wakanda was in the midst of a battle that the rest of the civilian world was unaware of.

"Are you and Uncle Adebiyi dating?"

"What?"

Disa halted in front of a large black tupelo tree to enjoy some shade in the southern part of the park in billionaire's row. Joba looked up at her with questioning eyes. Adebiyi squeezed Disa's hand.

"Are you getting married like Umi Yani and Baba?"

Disa swallowed dry air with nervous energy. Releasing Adebiyi's hand, she threaded her fingers together.

"Yes, we are dating."

Joba pointed to the beads around Disa's waist.

"Adebiyi has asked me to start a courtship with him. At the end of that, we would like to consider marriage. What do you think of that?"

"You love each other?"

"I love your mother very much, little one," Adebiyi interjected.

Joba waved her hand at him to make him get on one knee so she could be at eye level with him. Adebiyi obliged, lowering himself the way N'Jadaka always did to speak earnestly with his children.

"Mommy loves my Baba…"

"I understand that," Adebiyi said.

Joba's eyes darted between the two adults, assessing the situation thoroughly in her own special way.

"Will Baba get angry?"

"No honey, Baba has no say in this really. We'll become a bigger family, that's all."

"Where will we live?"

Disa sensed the tense nature of Joba's voice. She hadn't spoken of moving or any fundamental changes yet with her daughter.

"For now, we'll stay in the palace until I speak with the rest of the family."

"And then?"

Joba poked at her cheek and her brows knitted together.

"We'll decide all together on what happens next," Adebiyi said. "I know you are close with your siblings and I want to know what you think about us dating. I have a lot to prove to your mother that I am good enough for her, Princess Joba. This will take some time…lots of planning and talking."

Joba inhaled deeply and nodded her head. Letting her know that they weren't rushing into anything calmed her. A small smile lifted her lips.

"Shall we continue walking, little one?" he asked.

Joba grinned and Adebiyi grunted when he lifted back to his feet. Her daughter helped him and he patted her head.

"I need to walk more. My knees need to be oiled… they are creaking so loud," he joked.

"I will help you," Joba said, grabbing his fingers and pulling him toward a small, rocky bridge that crossed over dirty brown water.

Joba walked between Disa and Adebiyi admiring the foliage that would turn color in a couple of months. New York seemed so dry and drab compared to Wakanda, and the urge to return tickled the back of her neck like a soft nudge.

Joba halted, refusing to take another step in the middle of the bridge. She touched her stomach.

"You okay?" Disa asked.

A scream ricocheted throughout the park and Disa immediately picked up Joba and held her close to her chest. The two Kingsguards that followed discreetly around them wearing dark suits and sunglasses stepped closer from behind. The Dora further ahead of them glanced around and released her sonic spear from its hidden sheath.

People west of them began to run in a stampede as more blood-curdling cries rang out in the air.

"What's happening?" Disa shouted to the Dora.

A white man running with his female companion fell on the ground and disintegrated in a cloud of grayish-black ash. His companion shrieked hysterically and flailed her arms before turning into a dark cloud of dust.

"We must return to the hotel!" the Dora shouted.

She ran forward three steps throwing out a vibranium shield to protect them and collapsed into fluttery ash. More people ran their way in a rush of terror. Adebiyi wrapped his arms around Disa and Joba to push them toward safety with the Kingsguard, but his face froze in horror. The color of his skin rippled and drained into sooty patches.

"Adebiyi!" Disa shrieked.

"My love," he gasped, pressing his forehead against hers.

Disa's chest compressed and the air in her lungs felt like liquid sand filling her up.

"No!" she hacked out with a raging cough.

Her eyes connected with Joba's whose solid flesh slipped out of Disa's flakey grasp.

"Mommy!" Joba shrieked.

Disa's skin fragmented away with the breeze and mixed with Adebiyi's and the Kingsguards behind her, floating up into the sunlight and through the tupelo and elm trees as their consciousness mingled. Despite the terror of loss, Adebiyi's love energy became a mixture with hers and then they were all gone…leaving Joba to fall from their arms on the hard stone bridge.

Alone.

N'Jadaka exhaled onto his arm as he rested his head on his desk.

The half cruiser they deployed to standby off the coast of the Hudson crashed into the sea with the disappearance of its entire crew. Luckily the aircraft was equipped with autopilot and a soldier from the Wakandan Air Force programmed it to stay put under the ocean halfway to its destination. He had to assume that Disa, Joba, and Adebiyi had vanished with their security team. His heart ached and he exhaled again into his arm.

Yani's parents had disappeared as did most of her extended family back in St. Thomas. In Wakanda, the Avengers lamented their losses among the Wakandan people. Throughout the streets in Birnin Zana, N'Jadaka listened to the wailing and ululations of grief. Four billion humans snapped out of existence. He had done everything in his power to save them, but he failed because of the Scarlet Witch. The bitch got dusted too before he could kill her with his bare hands. They wasted time giving Vision a window of a chance and it cost the world. His rage salted deep in his bones. He ordered the Avengers to leave Wakanda before he ripped Roger's head off for not destroying the mind stone the moment they knew what was coming to Earth.

"Kumkani, you must rest."

Okoye and W'Kabi watched him from the door of his office. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"I'm good," he said, checking his kimoyo beads. Yani, Sydette, and Riki were in their home safe.

He couldn't push away thoughts of Disa and Joba. Rage coursed through him again. Okoye brought him hot tea and herbal pills to sleep. He took the tea and pushed away the pills.

"We can handle the status reports and updates without you. Kumkani…please. You fought in a battle and have been up for over twenty-four hours. The golden jaguar you may be, but you are still human," W'Kabi said.

"What about you two? You're in the same boat as me."

"We are trained for this," Okoye said.

"So am I."

"Go be with your family. Elder Zinzi will make a statement to the public within the hour. We will contact you after you have slept for at least ten hours, nothing less," Okoye insisted.

N'Jadaka drank his tea and carried the small cup with him out of the office. In the grand halls, the hem of his oyster gray jalabiya dragged on the floor. Ahead of him, a palace attendant wept while waiting to receive him at the private elevator to his home.

"Hey now," he said.

Holding his arms out, he hugged the young woman who stood stiffly in his royal touch.

"Forgive me kumkani," she said.

She pulled away from him and took his empty tea cup.

"I told the evacuation wardens to release everyone except for essential workers still here for the night shift," he said.

"I know, but I wanted to be here when you finally came home. To give you comfort for your loss of Lady Abdullah and Princess Joba."

"Don't you have a family to tend to at home?"

"My parents are fine. Some of my family have vanished but it is easier for me to be here, serving your family."

"Go home. We will be in a state of national mourning and we are still figuring things out. Be with your own, okay?"

"Thank you, kumkani. And thank you for protecting us."

"Go on now."

She scurried away and he turned to his Doras and Onyx squad.

"You all do the same. Split your shifts and go check on your loved ones," he said.

None of his protective duty left him.

"Stubborn like me, I see."

Ayo approached from the rear, her spear held tight.

"You fought bravely before the decimation took people away King N'Jadaka. Many of us fought beside you or watched the battle from behind the defensive line in the capital. We will stay on duty to watch over our protector."

"I will relieve Aneka so you can see her," he said.

"No need, kumkani."

Aneka's voice chimed in from behind him on the elevator. She stood tall with Noxolo. N'Jadaka reached for her, giving her a hug.

"Thank you for watching over my family," he whispered in Aneka's ear.

Noxolo didn't even give him a chance to release Aneka before she hugged him tight with one arm, her other hand never letting go of her spear.

"Listen everyone. We have been through the wringer and this isn't over yet. Stay strong and please take time for yourself if you need to," he said.

All heads bowed as he entered the elevator with Aneka and Noxolo. He noticed Ayo blowing Aneka a kiss, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.

The ride up was quiet and entering his home was like walking into the silence of an ancient tomb. Elana and Zora rose from the couch cradling their hands and watching his face.

"Yani?" he asked.

"She is asleep in your bed, kumkani," Elana said. "I gave her a sedative with tea two hours ago."

"The children?"

"With her," Zora said.

"Noxolo and Aneka, go rest in your quarters—all of you. Please rest. I'll call you if needed."

Aneka and Noxolo tapped their spears and departed to a lower floor below his living room that was kept for in-house staff.

"We saw you," Zora said.

She pointed to the screen on the wall that played an emergency Wakandan broadcast. He caught a glimpse of the Royal Talon Fighter swooping past a giant death wheel ripping the land to shreds. He shot at it in a vulnerable spot and it exploded, ripping into several of the monstrous outriders. Someone on the front line leaked the images for the Wakandans to see. He flew low to the ground and his cousin T'Challa leaped onto the aircraft for a lift to kick some more ass on the battlefield.

N'Jadaka groaned when he watched his cousin slam his fists together directing his built-up kinetic energy to destroy a giant alien. Elana ran to him and gripped his hand. Zora rubbed his back to comfort him, their tears springing forth making him feel worse.

"Go to her," Elana said, pushing him toward the stairs.

He climbed his way up two long flights and wandered down a long hall to reach his bedroom. Yani had the children nestled under each arm, their heads on her chest fast asleep. Or so he thought.

Riki sat up, bleary-eyed, but awake. He rubbed his eyes and crawled over N'Jadaka, climbing onto his lap.

"Hey, Lil Man."

Riki clutched him tight, pressing his face into N'Jadaka's chest like his mother did when she was scared or needed comfort from him.

"Are the monsters gone?" Riki breathed into the center of his chest.

"They're gone."

"Will they come back?"

"I don't think so."

"Why did they have to kill people? I saw them come apart, Baba…like smoke."

He held up his small wrist. His kimoyo beads were there again.

"I can't get Joba to answer me, Baba."

"She's gone, Riki—"

"No! I feel her…right here."

Riki touched his chest.

"We've tried calling Umi Disa, Joba…their security people. They're gone, Dumpling."

"No!"

A deep cry erupted from the boy's chest.

"We have to go there and find her!"

Riki jumped down from his lap and pulled N'Jadaka's arm to leave the bedroom. Yani stirred on the bed and Sydette woke up.

"What's going on?" Sydette asked.

"Go back to sleep Sweet Pea," he soothed.

His oldest wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face on the back of his neck.

"I can't," she said, the warmth of her breath a comfort for his internal anguish.

Riki tapped his beads and called out Joba's name in a high-pitched tone.

"Please…answer me," Riki murmured.

"She didn't have her beads anyway. That's what her grandmother said," Sydette said.

"You spoke to Grandma Theresa?" he asked.

"Mama did. She said Umi Disa took away her beads so she wouldn't sneak-talk to Riki while you were away fighting."

N'Jadaka stood up. He stared at both of his children and pulled away the collars of their pajama tops. Touching their necks he moved away from them fast, dashing down the hall and to the stairs. He took them two at a time and ran toward Yani's bedroom. Flinging open one of Yani's jewelry boxes, he searched for three necklaces. One drawer after the other he looked until he shouted for Yani on the intercom system.

"Yani, where are Riki and Sydette's unvikeli necklaces? The ones T'Challa gave them?"

Yani mumbled, the sedatives still clinging to her consciousness. He ran back up the stairs and gently shook her.

"Baby…wake up…please…I need your help. There's a chance Joba is still alive and here with us somewhere in New York."

Yani sat up groggy with a scrunched-up face trying to figure out what was happening.

"Joba?" Yani said.

"Yes. Where are the unvikeli necklaces?"

He helped Yani step off the bed and she shook her head, following him back down to her bedroom. She walked into a separate dressing room where a long glass jewelry case housed enough necklaces, earrings, and finger trinkets for each day of the year. Many were family heirlooms given to her from Baba Z and Umama's bloodlines. Sliding open a bottom case, she pulled out a corral pink satin jewelry box. N'Jadaka took it from her and opened it. Three necklaces rested there. An adult one that once belonged to T'Challa, and two smaller ones that went to Riki and Sydette.

"Thank you, Bast," he said.

The king lifted the one precious adult necklace that glowed. There was no communication access on it, but the tracking device would locate his youngest child. Only her fingerprint could access the security touch needed to activate the adult necklace. If Joba had disappeared, no life could call out for help without her personal signal. Tears burst from his eyes and he cradled the necklace against his forehead.

Breathe. Release the tension in the shoulder muscles. Breathe deeper. He kissed Yani on her lips, thanking her for saving the necklaces.

"I have to go find her," he said leaving the dressing room.

He rang the alarm with the staff he had left and called Okoye on his kimoyo.

"Bring the Royal Talon fighter to the king's port right away. I'm going to New York. Joba is alive. I have the unvikeli necklace T'Challa owned and it's lit up with her signature. I'm sending you the coordinates now!"

"We're going with you," Yani said.

"You and the kids stay here, I will bring her home."

Riki grabbed his hand with a tear-stricken face.

"I want to go too," Riki said.

Sydette stared at him with pleading eyes too.

"Okay, go get dressed and meet me at the king's port in ten minutes," he said.

N'Jadaka leaned his left temple against the glass partition of the king's port waiting for Yani and the children to join him. Okoye stepped down from the ramp of the Talon Fighter with Ayo. Behind them were four members of the Onyx Squad assigned to his family.

"We can retrieve her for you," Okoye offered.

He shook his head.

"I want her to see me. I have to be the one to get her. I know what it's like to lose a mother and only I can comfort her properly after something so traumatic."

"Then you must sleep while we travel. You look like you will collapse on your feet. Forgive my bluntness," Okoye said.

Yani and the children hurried to his side with Elana and Zora in tow. The two Ladies in Waiting wept, their keening moans piercing his soul. He escorted his family on board, insisting that they ride in the back. The sleeper couch extended into a flat comfortable bed and Yani helped Sydette and Riki onto it. Ayo brought them soft Border Tribe blankets and they all hunkered down in a pile.

The Royal Talon Fighter lifted and rotated with an array of stinger escorts. From the side viewscreen, he and Yani regarded the destruction down below as Wakandan military crews led a coordinated effort to burn up dead alien bodies and cart off the last remains of their own soldiers. Two of the giant earth destroyer wheels smoldered while embedded in a rocky hill looking like giant monuments. N'Jadaka commanded that the wheels would stay as a testament to the war they had fought valiantly for and lost.

"Oh, God," Yani murmured.

The land below smoldered and bore scars of a great battle. The wide swath of ruin brought tears to her eyes. He comforted her in his arms. She clung to him and buried her face in his neck. Her gentle fingers rubbed his bicep, occasionally squeezing it as if to make sure he was still with her.

"What happens next?" she whispered, the horror below stuck in her throat.

He glanced at his side where Riki and Sydette were bundled.

"Sleep, Yani. Right now I can only think about Joba and getting her back with us."

She patted his chest and he rubbed her back. Closing his eyes, he tried to rest so he could have the energy for rescuing his baby girl.

Ayo woke him up with a light shaking of his arm.

"Kumkani, we have arrived above Central Park. Okoye has tracked the location of the unvikeli necklace on the southern perimeter."

N'Jadaka sat up, disturbing Yani's sleep.

"We're here," he said.

They left Sydette and Riki sound asleep under the watchful eye of Ayo. At the bottom of the ramp, Yani touched his wrist.

"Would you prefer me to stay here and wait? I don't want to overwhelm her," Yani said.

N'Jadaka threaded his fingers with hers.

"I need you with me."

"Okay."

Okoye and the Onyx Squad guards spread out and sealed them all inside a protective spectral camouflage shield. The setting sun shrouded the park in the growing shadows of creeping darkness. Okoye kept her gaze on the tracker image on her wrist.

"Over by that bridge, kumkani," Okoye said.

The Onyx Squad fanned out toward the bridge and N'Jadaka picked up his pace with Yani.

"Joba!" N'Jadaka called out.

They ran onto the bridge, eyes darting about.

"Joba!"

All of their voices sprinkled the hollow air. Disheartened, N'Jadaka ran to the north end of the bridge.

"Joba…daddy is here. Where are you?"

Fear laced his voice.

"Please…please…," he mumbled, biting back the terror welling up in his chest.

He ran down the side of the bridge where the Onyx squad checked the water with scanners.

"The signal is here, kumkani," Okoye said, her voice ready to crack from disappointment.

A pile of leaves under the arch of the stone bridge moved. He jumped back thinking a wild animal was about to pounce on him, but he noticed small brown hands pushing the fallen foliage away. He reached for the hands and pulled Joba free from the covering.

"Joba."

He cradled his daughter's trembling body which felt cool to the touch.

"Mommy and Uncle Adebiyi disappeared, Baba," she said.

Her voice was weak from dehydration and her head lolled forward. Okoye brought her water and helped her take small sips. He lifted his child and carried her out from under the bridge. Yani ran to them and caressed Joba's forehead.

"Get her back to the Talon Fighter," Yani said.

He raced back to the ship, holding Joba close to his heart. Once on board, he handed the girl to Yani who placed her on the makeshift examining table she turned his war table into. She had brought along a medical bag and injected Joba with fluids to hydrate her faster. After cleaning her up and changing her into some fresh pajamas, N'Jadaka picked her up and cradled her on the converted couch next to the still-sleeping Riki and Sydette. Yani moved to lay next to him and stroked Joba's hair.

"I got you Sunshine," he said.

His youngest fell asleep in a matter of minutes, her small form warmed up by his body heat. He touched the necklace T'Challa gave her when he was her protector, none of them knowing how true that sentiment had become. Without the necklace, he may have lost Joba forever in the panic of the new world order because of Thanos. Or a nefarious American government agency could've taken her and used Joba to get to him. His baby girl was smart enough to hide and trust that her own people would find her. But she sure did take a chance staying out in the elements all alone without seeking an adult authority figure's help. They were very lucky.

Yani helped him move Joba over next to Riki and covered them both with another blanket before curling into N'Jadaka's side again.

"We're heading across the Atlantic Ocean, kumkani. Ayo and some of the Onyx Squad can go aboard the half-cruiser hidden five miles away if you wish to bring it home," Okoye said.

No one from Disa's immediate side of the family had contacted him about anything. If there were any members of that family left, he wanted them to have the option of coming to Wakanda.

"Leave it for now. Have a reconnaissance team in the lower Atlantic take care of it for now."

"As you wish," Okoye said.

N'Jadaka closed his eyes and clutched Yani's body tight against his. He'd have to face dark days in the morning, but at least he had all of his children. He cried softly for Disa and was thankful that Adebiyi was with her in the end.

Wakanda passed through a sorrowful month assessing the total missing and then another month of mourning and rebuilding their lives. They resolutely transitioned through the decimation and adjusted to the loss of life in order to stay focused on the future. Memorials and public commemorations were the daily norm and N'Jadaka spent his time comforting Joba.

His youngest daughter and baby boy said strange things.

While most Wakandans cried and lamented the loss of life, Riki and Joba declared to him that the missing billions weren't truly gone. He sought therapy for their entire family as most Wakandans adjusted to the trauma, but Joba and Riki insisted that they could feel the presence of the disappeared citizens.

Shuri understood it to mean that there was hope for their lost loved ones, but they kept the chatter of the children to themselves. False hope was a detriment to the mind, and N'Jadaka couldn't afford to tease a mentally stretched population of mourners. However, it appeared to give some solace to Joba, even though she cried on and off sporadically for weeks, missing her mommy's physical presence and going through spells of silence that worried him and Yani. To her credit, Yani smothered the girl with love and helped her transition into a new life without Disa. It wasn't easy. Yani wept privately when she thought he didn't know. She missed Disa, her parents, and all the people she loved in Wakanda who had winked out of existence. Yani barely slept and he made Elana and Zora give her sedatives to force rest upon her. He stayed strong in front of them all, especially the nation, his stoic mannerism hiding the sadness in his soul.

World leaders called on him for details of the Infinity War, but he left the Avengers to that. Fury never returned calls and N'Jadaka stewed in the knowledge that his insider track into U.S. intelligence was gone.

The final day of public mourning arrived and he dressed to address the nation outside the ancient gathering temple where he brought his late parents. Yani dressed herself and the children in the same colors of his pale blue royal robes to usher in the continuation of life. There were rumors of war in the outside world as other countries quietly pressured America to force Wakanda into sharing vibranium simply because they all experienced the madness of Thanos. Even in the midst of entering a third month away from the events of the global disaster, America and her lackeys commenced with their daily fuckery. He refused to be shamed into sharing any resources or technology with people not aligned with his agenda. If Wakanda had to fight another battle, there was no fear of them failing this time. No nation was a match for them. If a bit of otherworldly sorcery hadn't happened two months ago, they would've no doubt conquered Thanos.

World War Three with outsiders was the least of his concerns. Healing his family and Wakanda were the only items on his actionable tasks going forward.

They arrived at the formal ending of public mourning to much fanfare from the people. His children walked in front of him and Yani showcasing the Wakandan way of centering their children as the future. Yani kept her head covered the way Disa used to in public appearances paying homage to the woman whose child was now in her care for life. Yani fretted often about raising Joba up in the way that Disa would've wanted, and he had to reassure her that they were going to be fine. Even his grandmother and Ramonda put on confident faces to help their family make it through the pain. He worried about Umama the most but his grandfather Dante kept her spirits up. They had to move the country forward as a solid unit.

"There are still a lot of people, Baba," Joba said.

She clasped his hand and looked up to him, her head covering making her face look even smaller.

"I know. They look to me to make sure we are alright."

"We are," she said.

She patted his hand and leaned her head into his hip.

"The other people are still here… we just can't see them."

N'Jadaka stared at her.

"What do you mean? What people?"

"The ones that disappeared."

Joba held her hand out like she was feeling something invisible.

"Kumkani, step this way please," Elder Zinzi said.

N'Jadaka placed Joba's hand inside Yani's and walked to a floating podium that adjusted to his height. Thousands of faces gazed at him, hopeful and expectant. He wasted no time getting to the heart of the matter and did his best to provide comfort and future agency for the people. His eyes latched onto Mpilo's. The young man beamed from his seat, eating up every syllable N'Jadaka uttered. He glanced at Yani and his children, then observed the audience before him. This was not a time to appear uncertain or weak. Drastic changes in societies often precipitated hostile takeovers by those who needed a significant catastrophe to wedge them into power. He was ruling during a dangerous time and all of his Special Ops senses told him to be wary of the political challenges to come. He moved his hands from the podium and stepped in front of it, going off script. A king had to appear in control and he wasn't going to give off a whiff of uncertainty to his enemies watching. He felt his mama's energy building up within and he spoke the way she would have to the people. Bold. Fearless. Encouraging.

"Who are we to fear the unknown ever again? We stood our ground and Wakanda still stands. This battle looks bleak but the war for our sovereignty is not over! The days ahead may still look dark for some, but I promise you, Wakanda will always stand. We are the light of the world and I will never let it dim. Never!"

Mpilo leaped to his feet with more than half the people joining him in a rousing display of support. Others still seated clapped, and he knew he had to prove his convictions to them in the months ahead. Joba jumped up and down with her hands clapping above her head. A warmth filled his heart. If his baby girl believed in him, then who could indeed doubt him?

"All hail King N'Jadka, the Golden Jaguar!" Mpilo shouted.

A chant started up and overwhelmed the exterior of the temple with amplified voices. The sound washed over him and he closed his eyes for a second just to feel the sensation. He had fulfilled his life goal. The moment he uttered the words at eleven years old, his life trajectory was a rocket-fueled ride to a speech in front of his father's homeland. His homeland. His people.

A final chapter of his past life closed. A new one was being written right where he stood.

"Wakanda Forever!" he shouted.

The nation affirmed his place by shouting back to him, "Wakanda Forever!"

W'Kabi rushed forward and pulled N'Jadaka aside as the Council of Elders concluded the event with a prayer. They stepped behind a wall of security.

"This was left on our shores. A witness stated that someone looking like a Talokanil female came on land to deliver it."

W'Kabi thrust out a giant conch shell with a pale salmon coloring so distinct that it didn't come from their African waters. He tapped his kimoyo bead and an image of a young water woman with a feathered headdress appeared dropping the conch shell on the sand. She spoke in Talokan and the person recording the image kept stating they didn't understand her. W'Kabi replayed the image again with a translation.

"K' uk' ulkan wants your king to speak with him. Blow on this shell after your mourning period finishes and he will come to your ruler," she said.

"Who made this vid recording?" N'Jadaka asked.

"A fisherman hauling in shrimp. What will you do?"

"He can wait. They don't know when our mourning period is over so I'll act as if it is ongoing until I see what else is happening beyond our borders. It's only one woman so I will not take this as a threat or anything urgent."

"We have stayed out of their territories and have not pried into their lives. What can they want from us?"

"Perhaps intel on the surface world from our perspective since the war. I will see to him later. Keep our navy informed of the intrusion on our land. If they can slip through our coast easily, then we have to tighten up."

W'Kabi left his side and N'Jadaka held the conch shell. Namor could be a potential ally or an enemy. He wasn't in the mood to speak to the flying god. Not anytime soon. He gestured for Mpilo to come forward.

"Mpilo, take this to my office. Do not blow into it and let no one else touch it on the way there. Understand?"

"Yes, King N'Jadaka."

Mpilo covered the shell with his overshirt and left the temple.

N'Jadaka's family joined him and they walked toward the transportation that would take them to an outdoor celebration of music and poetry. His mind wandered amidst the chatter of his loved ones. Riki and Joba whispered together in the seats behind him and Sydette focused her attention on his face while sitting between him and Yani.

"Baba, will we ever be happy again?" Sydette asked.

"Yes, Sweet Pea. We are all getting better. Today we're celebrating happiness again. For all of us still here, we will live a good life."

Sydette nodded and picked at her dress. Her eyes looked wary.

"I wish we could go to St. Thomas. I miss it there," she said.

"When I get things settled here, we'll go for a couple of weeks."

Sydette grabbed his hand in excitement. Twyla and Bibi had gone there a month ago on Yani's behalf to help with any family who needed assistance. They were all grateful that Aunt Leona had been spared. He glanced behind his seat to check on the quiet. Riki and Joba had both nodded off, their heads touching in their slumber.

Attendants greeted them stepping out of the royal SUV. Yani carried Riki and he lifted Joba in his arms. She woke up and wrapped her arms around his neck. They were all guided to a private platform to observe the musicians and other artists scheduled to perform. The younger children stayed on his and Yani's laps while Sydette watched from her own seat.

Dancers, singers, poets, and aerial ballet performers entertained the enormous crowd in stadium seating. He rested his chin on Joba's hair when she fell asleep again. Riki was knocked out also and snoozed on Yani. All of the lengthy ceremonial rites exhausted the children. Sydette's ability to stay awake surprised him.

Talented Wakandan artists lifted the hearts, minds, and spirits of the people. Yani leaned over and kissed his lips. Her beautiful eyes gave him peace. He thought of making love to her once they returned to the palace. It had been too long since they'd been intimate. The stress of the last two months doused his arousal and hers. Their lives centered on keeping the children mentally well and working through their collective grief despite her job and other royal responsibilities. The reduction in hospital staff at the birthing centers created a medical crisis and Yani filled in where she was needed. Birthing babies didn't stop in the middle of a national emergency. Yani worked long hours and maintained her composure even when he knew she was worn thin like him. She made the curious observation to the national census bureau that not one pregnant woman registered to give birth had vanished throughout Wakanda or the Jabari mountains. He wondered if it was the same in other countries.

The music helped remove the gray in his mood, and looking at his fiancé brought back the desire for her touch and some alone time. He reached over and fondled the soft curls she cultivated letting her hair grow out. He kissed her again and she took the hint that he needed a more intimate connection later.

The palace had been cleaned from top to bottom with the Bashenga mountain priests blessing the halls and walls with divine incense and burned bundles of lavender and chamomile leaves mixed with the precious dried petals of the udomo flower that was only used for ceremonies releasing the dead. Nakia wore them in her hair during the family dinner as Toussaint suckled from her breast. The Council of Elders had been invited with their families to dine in the hall named for the great queen herself, Shuriya, and it filled with genuine laughter and grasping at closure from the decimation.

But not Nakia.

Despite her winsome smiles and small chuckles at jokes about the baby, a wound festered unhealed in her heart.

"I have something to say," she announced abruptly in the middle of dessert and coffee.

N'Jadaka glanced at Yani as if she knew something was up, but Yani only flicked her eyes over toward Elana and Zora who only shrugged at the outburst. The richly brocaded table seated forty people in their inner circle.

"Speak," N'Jadaka said.

Nakia looked at him and then at Ramonda.

"T'Challa and I were married. Before Toussaint was born. We wanted a small ceremony just for ourselves once we knew the baby was coming. Our nuptials were in America, right before we told the family about the pregnancy."

"Eh eh," Ramonda clucked, tilting her head back with a delighted smile on her face.

"Forgive us Queen Mother Ramonda, Umama…we didn't want any big ceremonies. T'Challa doesn't…didn't like them. We planned on having a small party instead when Toussaint reached six months."

"You are officially family…even though you have always been my daughter in my head since you were a little girl," Ramonda said.

Umama chuckled and nodded her head.

"I wanted you all to know that. I would also like to say that this trying time has made it difficult for me to be in Wakanda. Everywhere I go, I see him…I hear his voice…I feel his presence all over the palace. It hurts. Lately, I have been able to laugh again because of my son, but I cannot live here anymore. I want to go to Haiti again. Raise Toussaint away from the palace and the pressure of being an Udaku. I want a regular life for us where I can rebuild my heart and move forward as a mother."

"Nakia, no…" Ramonda said.

"Daughter Nakia, I understand how you feel. Losing my life partner, my best friend…my beloved husband has bruised me on top of all the other losses I've endured in this family. If you need to leave in order to heal yourself, you have my blessing. I will miss you both," Umama said.

"I will be selfish and say I do not want you to leave us," Ramonda said. "You need family around you to get better. Please give yourself time to think this through."

"I will stay until after King N'Jadaka marries Princess Yani. This will give me time to prepare for our new home."

"What will you do there?" Yani asked.

"Run a school…teach… raise Toussaint up to be a good person that Wakanda can be proud of."

"Will you stay there forever?" Sydette asked.

"I don't know."

"That's not fair!" Riki interjected.

He slammed his fists on the table.

"I promised Uncle T'Challa that I would be Toussaint's big brother. How can I do that when you go?" Riki blurted in a rage.

"Riki…" N'Jadaka said, leaning over and covering the boy's left fist.

Sydette chimed in.

"But it's true, Baba. Uncle T'Challa told us we were very important to Toussaint. He expected us to help teach him how to be a prince and love him as if he were our little brother. If Auntie Nakia leaves, we can't keep our promise," Sydette said.

Joba kept silent and watched her brother's face.

"None of this will happen for a while, so there's no need to get upset now…here, raise your glasses everyone…let's congratulate our new Princess Nakia of the Udaku clan and the Panther tribe," Yani gushed.

N'Jadaka raised his glass next to Yani's. All the adults at the table did the same. Riki jumped down from his seat and ran away from the table. The patter of his feet struck the marble floor becoming a resounding slap to the joy Yani tried to muster. Joba slid from her seat and dashed after him, calling Riki's name with aching clarity.

Shuri ran after Riki and Joba and consoled them both outside of the dining hall.

Umama glanced at N'Jadaka and he waved a hand down to keep her from leaving her seat.

"It's okay, Umama," he said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset everyone. I just wanted to share how I feel and tell you that T'Challa couldn't wait to get married. He wanted me to be his wife for so long and I guess he was afraid I would change my mind again."

Umama chuckled and stood up from her seat. She walked over to Nakia and hugged her. Ramonda joined in the hugfest. Sydette lowered her head and picked at her dessert fork.

"May I be excused to check on Riki and Joba?" Sydette asked.

Yani nodded and Sydette slid down from her seat and walked away.

"I should go check on them too," Yani said, folding away her linen napkin.

N'Jadaka lifted a hand out toward their guests.

"There will be more coffee and cake in the Tea Room. Enjoy the rest of your evening everyone. We will take our leave," he said.

Everyone else stood up as N'Jadaka clasped the fingers of Yani's right hand and escorted her out of the dining hall with her Ladies in Waiting following behind. Riki stood outside kicking a pillar and fussing with Shuri about the unfairness of everything. Joba and Sydette stood near him with fretful expressions.

"Lil Man," N'Jadaka said.

Riki stopped kicking the pillar and kept his bottom lip poked out, his eyes downcast.

"Let's go home," Yani said, holding out her free hand.

Riki reluctantly dragged his feet over and took her hand.

"Stand like a prince," N'Jadka commanded.

Riki raised his head and straightened his back. That bottom lip stayed put. The urge to tell him to fix his face the way his mother used to tell N'Jadaka as a child percolated in the king's mouth, but he allowed the boy to feel his disappointment. Sydette and Joba fell in line beside him and they strolled to an awaiting elevator.

"Do you think I should've stayed with Nakia?" Yani asked Elana and Zora back inside their home.

Elana lit up a cigar for him and Zora poured Yani a glass of wine and they all sat together in plush chairs watching the moon rise above the river lagoon surrounding the palace. Zora puffed on a thin cigarillo filled with the sickly sweet pungent odor of a Wakandan mind-altering plant. She passed it to N'Jadaka and he puffed before passing it to Yani. The effects were immediate, relaxing them all in a dull buzz of serenity. He appreciated the company of Yani's Ladies in their guest parlor. They had all grown closer in the trying times and their deference to Yani was duly noted by the nobles who envied their positions and the leeway N'Jadaka gave them around him. The rumor mill had also started up during the mourning period that he had taken them on as low-tier consorts for himself. Traditionalists took it as a sign that he had gone old school and watched his every move with wry smiles and others who knew it wasn't true vied for Elana and Zora's attention with their accomplished sons eligible for marriage. Their stock had gone up and being baddies already gave them a wide variety of high-quality men to choose from. They ate it up and shared all the juicy details with Yani and him. The insular social media of the elites adored the glimpses of photos taken of the four of them visiting parts of Wakanda to boost the morale of the nation. He had to acknowledge that they all looked amazing stepping out into the public together, and he was grateful that they carried the emotional burden of the difficult times Yani experienced mothering Joba and feeling the guilt of stepping into Disa's missing shoes. The sisterhood encouraged Yani to release that guilt. Zora constantly reminded her that Disa would've stepped up without worry if the roles were reversed because the children had been raised to see both women as their co-mothers.

"Lady Nakia is in a delicate place right now. She looks at you and King N'Jadaka and wishes her family unit was still intact. That will crush any woman with a newborn child. It is better to leave her to Queen Mother for now and seek her out after a day or two. This long celebration day was too much for her. I believe she will go away in a year and come right back once she sees that life goes on and she will miss all of you," Elana said.

N'Jadaka patted his lap and widened his thighs. Yani left her seat and sat on his lap. He rubbed on her backside and nuzzled his face in her bosom.

"It is wise for her to leave here after all that has happened? And why Haiti? She could go live in the mountains with the Jabari if the palace brings on too many memories. Her parents would love to have her back in the River Tribe territory," Zora said.

"Many people have a hard road to walk still. That evil alien stole lives and every one of us here has been touched by that. None of us can hold up a family lineage blanket and not see the holes in it from all the ones missing," Elana said.

The cathartic smoke lingered in the air like thick perfume, relaxing their minds in a glorious haze of pink smoke the color of the burning plant. A house attendant brought them small puff pastries filled with chocolate and covered in powdered sugar. He fed one to Yani and she licked warm melted chocolate from his index finger.

Yani cradled his face and licked powdered sugar from his lips. Zora turned on music from their sound system and Elana kicked up her heels, puffing on a fresh cigarillo, and linking her pinky finger with Zora's as they danced around the room, swirling their long skirts.

"Tired?" he asked Yani.

She cuddled up closer to him and sighed into his neck.

"Happy to have you like this…away from everyone."

"Everyone?" he said, glancing at her Ladies.

Yani waved a dismissive hand at Elana and Zora.

"They are so far gone. Look at them. They've smoked more, drank more…the entire nation seems to breathe again…like a new door has opened and we can all see some light finally. You've worked non-stop since the decimation. We should drink all night and get higher than that moon," she said.

She slurred her words and her glassy eyes held love within them. Her lips trembled.

"Baby?" he whispered.

Tears swelled and fell from her eyelids.

"I want to feel like them," Yani shuddered.

N'Jadaka wiped away her tears, kissed her nose, and pulled her onto her feet. He rocked against her in time to the soothing music. A Wakandan woman with a passionate alto voice sang of having fun and loving life. The beats had them stomping their feet and clapping their hands above their heads until Yani found her smile again. After an hour, he turned the music off and summoned attendants to clear away their snacks, empty wine glasses, bottles, and ash trays filled with refuse.

Zora and Elana lowered their heads to them.

"We bid you both a goodnight…finally," Zora teased, eyeing his hand squeezing Yani's backside.

N'Jadaka pretended to shove Zora away. The two women left them for their own quarters on the lower floor. Yani passed him the last cigarillo as he mashed his cigar in an empty ashtray on the end table. Sitting cozy together once more, they smoked down the cigarillo and continued watching the evening sky together, the intimacy he craved satisfied with Yani's heartbeat thumping in time with his.

"Does it feel the same?" Yani asked.

N'Jadaka took a deep breath as his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the sunlight striking the water of the cove.

"Nothing has changed," he said.

The place where it all began for the two of them looked the same and his soul rejoiced at the peace that came over him. He shucked off his swim trunks and followed his naked woman into the sea.

Their children were preoccupied eating conch fritters, grilled hot dogs, and chicken roti with Aunt Leona back up at the front house, so he and Yani had that part of Our Lady's Manor in St. Thomas to themselves. Yani splashed water on him and he grabbed her by the waist, lifting and throwing her into a gentle wave. She laughed and beckoned him to swim closer, his Black mermaid back in her realm. Her breasts bounced as she shook them to tease his eyes.

They had been on the island for less than an hour before the kids were stuffing their faces with food and he was palming titties in the pristine liquid paradise. He scanned the waters to his left where the craggy rock formation led to the place he lost Yani and his children that first time. N'Jadaka had been so frightened for them and thinking about himself as a mercenary brought a chill down his royal spine.

The past was no longer prologue, and the seeds he dropped on the island had brought forth fruits to his new future. Next spring he would marry Yani and maybe a few years down the road she would let him put more babies inside the soft belly he splayed his fingers on. Lifting strong hands north along her body he gripped her breasts and played with them. She pressed her backside into his groin and his thick dick plumped up between the cleft of her ass.

Deft fingers trailed down the supple skin of her torso until they found her jeweled clit. Yani whimpered as her slippery folds were played with by an expert. They tilted their necks so that he could kiss her while he rubbed slow circular motions on the tender parts of her body. To hold and caress his future queen ignited a flame in his heart. He made a sacred vow to himself to love and honor Yani for all of their lives in that world and the next.

Their lips smacked with wet friction and he stopped tonguing her down in order to watch his fingers grow slick from her wetness. He held her breasts again, enjoying the weight in his hands. That's how it all began so long ago between them. Him asking to touch her nipples as milk ran down her breasts. He groaned thinking of touching her that first time. She had been ripe and ready for his plucking and he took Yani for himself understanding implicitly that he would never know a love like that again. Ever. All of the gods converged on that day knowing the wheels were set in motion to unite them for life.

His dick grew long and strong enough to part her folds without help from her, and he packed his dick inside her walls and pumped her pussy with harsh grunts. That first time he could only masturbate and watch her play with her pussy. Not anymore. He took what he wanted.

Another wave brushed against their legs, but not enough to push them off their footing. Yani widened her stance and he thrust harder, gripping her elbows to keep their balance in the sifting sand under their feet. The warm water made him feel like he was inside another pussy while fucking and listening to her cheeks clap.

"Fuck that dick," he gasped

Yani moaned and dropped her head forward. Her pussy was a sweet throbbing on his fat dick. Ain't no way Bast didn't form Yani's pussy to fit around his girth like that.

"Oh my God, this the best pussy….baby…fuck this dick…oh you're fucking it so good Yani…'

A nigga wasn't afraid to cry like a bitch with pussy that sugary on a big dick that knew how to work all the angles. N'Jadaka shed thug tears while talking that talk to get her to squeeze her pussy muscles the way he liked. How many dudes fought over her to have access to the pot of gold he dipped his meat in? Only N'Jadaka was the big stepper to claim his rightful ownership of the walls gripping him. A surge of boastful pride flooded over him even as tears flicked away in large droplets into the sea. This woman loved him and showed out on the dick. His toes curled over lumps of sand. How could pussy be that fucking exquisite? He couldn't even breathe anymore as the life was sucked out of him because of the gushy walls snug around his length.

Water and tears fell on Yani's ass. He gripped her hips and wrote love poems in her depths, the tip of his dick a master at transcribing scripture on tight wet walls. He grabbed her arms and pulled them back further, pumping faster, his eyes on the waves coming in. His first nut coated her walls fast and hot before he pulled her out of the ocean and forced her to bounce on his dick in reverse cowgirl on a beach blanket warmed by the honey-yellow sand. Yani rode her king, looking over her shoulder at him with a slick smile on her glossy lips. The second time he came he screamed her name as loud as he pleased while bucking his hips. No one would hear them from the front house so far up on the hillside.

Yani slithered across his chest and switched directions so that he could taste her pussy after he fucked it well. She came in his mouth and he had her on her back before his cum flooding her pussy ran back out.

They learned to work out a system to handle his stamina, so the rest of their time on the sand was spent with his dick between her breasts hard fucking her tits and cumming all over her chest. He let her swim and rinse off and then afterward he fingered her clit. Watching her face during her loud release pleased him.

After a short nap, they dressed and returned to the main house. Yani snuck off to their master bedroom to rub their special cream on her folds and inside her pussy. They walked up a familiar path to the top of the compound and ate leftover lunch with the children and Leona sharing the events on the island and the remnants of old gossip about remaining family members. He observed Yani nourishing her body heavily for more pounding after the children were put down for naps. It was good to catch up with Aunt Leona. The world was different, but she was still the same, which was what the royal family needed. Joba took an extra shine to her and the older woman had her laughing and feeling loved into wholeness.

After they ate, the children scattered before Yani could catch them.

"Come with me for a minute. I want to show you something," he said.

Yani walked with him back down to the main house. They entered the coolness and sauntered into the room where Ulysses Klaue once tried to shoot him with his arm and where greedy mercenaries attempted to end his found family. Next to the collection of ancient drums, he picked up the conch shell left to him by Namor.

N'Jadaka sat Yani down and told her everything about the ocean dweller. She listened and asked no questions until he was finished.

"When will you call him?" she said.

"Maybe after we go back to Wakanda… I dunno. I really don't want to. As long as he stays down there and we mind our business up here…I'm not itchin' to get tangled up with that dude."

"Is he more dangerous than Thanos was?"

"Thanos had a distorted sense of purpose…sympathetic righteousness. At least that's what I got from the Avengers. Imagine the biggest liberal white vegan with a magical power screaming about saving the planet. He thinks he's saving people from future ills. That's Thanos. Namor…there's no compassion for surface dwellers. He had the most 'I don't give a fuck' energy I have ever witnessed. That man does not care. He only accepts Wakanda because we act the way his people do. As long as we continue to mind our business, I don't see us being a threat to him."

"Then let's do that," Yani said, holding his hand.

He put the conch shell back on the drum shelf and checked his kimoyo beads.

"Let's get the kids," he said.

Strolling hand-in-hand to the middle house, they ran into Twyla and Bibi.

"Go get your wild children and we'll catch up later. You two look worn out," Twyla said.

She held onto Yani as N'Jadaka shook Bibi's hand.

"How are you liking island life?" he asked Bibi.

Twyla's husband grinned and touched his forehead.

"So much to see, but Aunt Leona makes me eat so much. I think I will be twice my size when I go home."

"Are the kids with you?" Yani asked, looking behind them.

"No, they were in the middle house a few minutes ago. We gave them gifts before coming out here. We're going swimming. Want to join?" Twyla asked.

"We did that earlier," he said.

Twyla looked over Yani's shoulder.

"I can't believe you brought that hellion back here on vacation," Twyla said.

She pointed to Jerome who had lodged himself comfortably in an overgrown flamboyant tree. The burnt orange foliage made his mottled green and pink skin stand out on the hanging branch.

"We couldn't come back here without him," N'Jadaka said.

"Just leave his old bossy ass here. He can keep Auntie company. See you guys later," Twyla said.

"No, no," Leona said walking down the path to hand N'Jadaka freshly washed bathroom towels. "That boy loves living his rich life in the palace. He won't want to stay here anymore. Him spoiled."

She looked at Bibi.

"Bibi, are you allergic to shellfish? I'm making us a sweet and sticky shrimp tonight for dinner."

N'Jadaka stared at Leona as a sense of déjà vu washed over him.

"I can eat anything, Auntie, as long as it isn't too spicy," Bibi said, rubbing his belly.

Leona patted his arm and shuffled back up toward her domain to prepare a lavish spread for her family.

"Bye!" Twyla said pulling Bibi toward the main beach down below.

Waving the couple off, N'Jadaka threw an arm around Yani's shoulder and entered the middle house.

"Where y'all at?" he shouted into the house.

Toys were spread on the living room floor unattended. He placed the towels on the couch and looked around more.

"Shh…"

Yani stood in the doorway of the master bedroom and wiggled her index finger to get his attention. He joined her and peeked into the bedroom. All three of the children were fast asleep on the bed. He kicked off his sandals and moved around to the side of the bed they shared. Riki and Joba were curled into twin balls facing each other and Sydette was on her stomach.

A lump lodged in N'Jadaka's throat.

"This is where it all started, Yani," he said.

"Hmm?"

"Here…this bed. You put Sweet Pea to sleep and I found her. Look at my baby now. She'll be nine next year."

He reached down and touched the frazzled curls let free from the humidity on Sydette's head. From one child to three. He gazed at Riki and Joba. A gust of hot wind flowed through the open door and tickled the back of his neck. He touched it and closed his eyes thinking he could smell the aroma of Disa's perfume riding on the wind too, reminding him that her love would surround their daughter.

Yani climbed on the bed next to Joba and he curled around Sydette. They held hands across the bodies of all three children creating a protective arc.

"We'll be okay," Yani said, reassuring him with the dulcet tones of her melodious voice.

"I know," he answered.

He watched his loved ones sleep and listened to the sounds of the sea and their calm breathing until he joined them in the bliss of slumber and sweet dreams of family.

N'Jadaka was finally rooted and free.

The Golden Jaguar rested as the world waited for his next move.

A.N.

Hey faithful readers, it's done!

The next book in the series will start next month. It's called "King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar"

#Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Volume 4 #killmonger fanfiction #uzumaki rebellion #black panther fanfiction #wakanda forever #uzumaki rebellion writes #killmonger smut #erik killmonger #wet sugar 2 #Youtube

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blaubrise · 3 months

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Next Spring.

Marseille, a place where people say a good mother will be born here. A place where you can hear a ring of Ia Bonne Mère's old bell every morning. A place where you can hear the least terns sing along with the waves. Marseille, a place where people say love will last after a long road from Bordeaux. Dazzling city who can't shine brighter then it love, Paris.

Humming sound woke me up, sighing when I looked out at the window.

The dimming sunshine augurs the day will come to the end, leaving the golden sky with clouds full of twilight dust. The bluish flush above this lively sphere leisurely fading into an afterglow. The alluring azure waiting for the coming of the evening, whispering their sorrow under the halcyon of the heaven. Breeze of dusk turned grey along with the clock pointing at the five, harbingering the night will come.

"Saoirse, the snow will fall tonight. Come downstairs and open your first December gift."

Saoirse Primrose. When the first rose blooms in spring like a freedom, you'll fall in love with me. That's what my mom told me about my name. Sometimes when I see a bluebell, my heart aches. I know my mom will name my little brother after it. Because freedom and gratitude always comes together, sadly it is never happen to _us._

"Here come my dearest Irse. Happy snow day, dear. You are pretty, as always."

"Happy snow day, aunty Marry. Thank you for the gift."

My hands are full with four boxes. All the maids always greet me with their best wishes every time I walk. My cheeks went numb by giving my biggest smile whenever people give me their blessing. Just in view steps, I could reach my lovely bedroom. I could feel my legs couldn't stand longer than this, my spine benumbed.

"Happy snow day, Irse." Bucket of yellow roses and bluebell and Little Women under the ribbon. Lotus, cedar moss and apple scents blended with jasmine, mimosa and a little bit of citrus scent. Soft voice, beautiful white hands and blue ribbon. Waiting patiently for me to take her gifts.

Bailee Kalilinoe.

"You still use this musky apple white floral perfume?"

"It's aquatic floral, Saoirse."

Her alluring smile with the sound of the waves and hum of lovely music downstairs are turning this snowdrop tradition into an engaging night. I'm; Saoirse Primrose, escaping her luscious gaze with roses in my cheeks bone and flashes a smile while entering my bedroom. My heart races when I heard the sound of footsteps following me.

"Who invites you?"

"A lady with her blushing cheeks."

Our laugh becomes one, while I put all the gifts from my parents and her parents on the wood floor of my bedroom. And walk to keep the only gift with flowers on my davenport. I open my window, let the cold breeze blows, the soft snow falls on the roses and bluebells under the moonlight.

I look back at my Paris, she sits on my settees with her hands holding on one red rose. She shines, even in the darkest place. "Who gives red flower on snow day? Do they mean bloody curses of heartbreak or amorous love?" Besides happiness, yellow means jealousy. And, I'm the yellow flower.

"Would you like to dance with me? And tear the petals of this red rose. I prefer yellow."

"I'm not dancing in Marseille. Not in the city where you will marry a boy who doesn't even know where your heart belongs and what is your favorite flower ..." the thorn of those red rose thorns me, "... except you, a warm sea and sunset."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . .

Sunset and a sea with the waves turning cold.

I use my black gown, gloves and black heels, sit on the rock with an envelope and three flowers. The sky turned red, I couldn't find her presence. _They_ hold her, also hold where my happiness is. In this life, their words are a dagger with two blades. Wherever they swing it, it kills both sides.

I smile, I found the answer when the dusk comes to meet me. It's time to go. I bring the other envelope with me. Left the black one with one yellow rose, bluebell, and one red rose. I'm turning it back to Bailee.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . .

"How cruel you could be? You took my wedding day as your funeral. You won't meet me on Christmas night. You left me with my last gifts for you and make it your last gifts, Irse." Bailee looking at the wooden door where she usually meets Saoirse. A room full of their memories, all the laugh, the tears, the love and the heartbreak. They will be locked forasmuch as the owner of the room will never come back.

Bailee hands bleeding from all the thorns of roses, and so her heart.

"Saoirse, we were so beautiful we were so tragic," she whispers.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . .

Writing for Bailee Kalilinoe,

Bai, I never see you coming. No matter how hard I turn my eyes blind and let my heart become numb. You never come, Bailee. Does dancing mean nothing to you now? What a pity greetings from this rosie girl.

Bailee, when you open this envelope it means we are not dancing on the warm sea. We are dancing with tears and I'm far away from home. When you read this, you belong to someone else now. When you read this, I let know that I let you go.

Go along with their dreams, not ours. Go along with a boy who maybe one day learns what flower you like but also learns that the flower is no longer blooming. Go along with little you who might become a beautiful girl like her mom.

Bailee Kalilinoe, my Paris.

Let me take a piece of your heart with me so it could keep me warm under this cold sea on this snowy day. Let me keep the story of Paris and this lonely city with me so you don't need to tell them. Let me go, Bailee.

No matter how many blessings I got last night, they couldn't help me to keep us. No matter how far we run away, there is no place for us. No matter how hard you are looking for me this morning, you won't meet me on the next spring.

But I promise, you can meet me on the first spring in our next life. You can meet me in the field full of roses.

Written by Saoirse Primrose.

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literenture · 11 months

Text

I’m missing a big chunk of what happens between Sowaca’s death & this but, uh! Around the end of part 1.

The compound was eerily silent when they arrived. The Painter looked to the Mask Seller and nodded. They stepped forward as one, ascending the shrine stairway. As they passed the gate at the top, both felt the immediate wrongness of the place. It was deathly still, and a frost crusted the wisteria flowers in full bloom. None of the usual birdsong and bustle of the many lives under the roofs here could be heard. The Mask Seller put one hand before the Painter.

“Something’s not right. You should wait here while I scope out ahead.”

“Where you go, I go,” Etienne said with finality. There was no arguing with him.

“If things go south I want you to get out of here fast. Promise me at least that much. Not for you,” he added as the artist opened his mouth. “But for the future.”

Etienne locked eyes with him from behind their masks, but finally nodded. The Mask Seller let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. They proceeded inward. There was absolutely nobody around, and other than the occasional dropped item, no sign there ever had been. The knot in the masksmith’s gut tightened as they made their way to the inner temple.

Here the Mask Seller stopped them at the moon viewing room. He turned, removed his mask, and grabbed the Painter by either arm, staring into his eyes.

“Let me speak to him first. I’ll go ahead. It’ll be better that way.” He put his forehead against his partner’s. “Just trust me, Etienne.”

The artist reached up and grabbed the masksmith’s oversized hand in his own slender one. He let out a world weary sigh.

“I do. I’ll wait here. But the moment anything seems wrong, come to me.”

“I promise,” Gheriun whispered, and with a parting kiss, he was off.

He soon reached a grand courtyard in the center of the grounds and came to a stop. There, back to him, seated on a large rock in the middle of the yard, was the uniformed figure of the Prophet. From here it was easy to see just how small he was, but there was something outsized about the shadow he cast.

“Sho.”

The Prophet twitched, head lolling to the side, but otherwise didn’t respond. The masksmith stepped toward his son, hand outstretched. As he came within the range of his shadow, the boy’s shoulders flicked and a sudden sharp pain ran through the Mask Seller’s arm.

He stared down at the thick black thorns that had burst through his muscled forearm. They seemed to pulsate and twitch in the dim light, and sprouted up from the shadow that was now roiling and churning like a living thing. Just how many aberrations had the Founder forced his son to devour, to create such a hideous conglomeration of spirits? The unleashing of en was sickening and full of malice. Sho stood up from the stone he had perched on and turned around.

“Wipe that name off your filthy tongue,” he snarled. His face was contorted in rage, eyes wide and hateful. He shot one thin arm forward and pressed it against the Mask Seller’s chest. Gheriun moved to dodge but could not completely avoid the lance of darkness that shot out from Sho’s palm and pierced his shoulder. He grunted and rolled away, snapping it off in his muscle. He reached up to tear it out.

“Please, I don’t want to fight you,” he pleaded, but it only fueled the Prophet’s anger.

“Oh, is that so?” he shouted. “Well maybe you should have considered that before you decided to take every fucking thing from me! What more do you want? Get out of my life!”

With that last comment a barrage of black needles rose above the Prophet, aimed at his father, and went flying. The Mask Seller dove behind a decorative boulder, narrowly avoiding becoming riddled with holes. He realized then that he had left behind his mask, and cursed. Without it he would have no protective spells to help him out. It would be up to his muscle alone, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to get close enough for that to make a difference.

As he was going over his options, he missed the tendril of darkness that snaked up his ankle and pulled him out of hiding. He went flying into a thin tree, knocking it over. He coughed up blood as he hit the ground. The Prophet stood over him and aimed a kick square in his father’s jaw. The boy might have been small and sickly but the steel nailed leather boot managed to knock a tooth out and split his lip. He spluttered and put one hand up, but the Prophet just kicked again and again, harder each time, until he was out of breath and Gheriun’s face was a bloodied mess. A few of his fingers had been broken in the scuffle as well, but he had not struck back, just allowed the blows to rain down. He had hoped it would give the boy some sort of relief. Instead, it only seemed to work him up further, but still Gheriun attempted to speak to him.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of this. Please, I don’t want to fight you. I want to make it up to you, for all—“

“Shut. Up.” The Prophet kicked him again. “Shut up! You have no right! None! You’re six years too late!”

The Mask Seller backed away, getting unsteadily to his feet, his hands held in front of him. He was bleeding everywhere, blood mixed with the inky black residue of the mushrooms.

“I know. And I’m sorry. But please, you can’t stay here, your grandfather… you don’t understand what he’s trying to do. He’s just using you.”

“Grandfather has been the only one there for me,” Sho said heatedly. “While you’ve been off living as you please!”

“Sho, please—“

“Don’t call me that!”

As his voice broke, Gheriun stumbled forward, a huge presence knocking into him. He stared down at a massive mouth bitten into his side, blood already seeping from the wound. Even Sho looked surprised, and as he stumbled back the mouth let go and returned to his shadow.

That was when the Painter stepped in front of the Mask Seller.

“Sho, please. We’re here to apologize. Me and your father.”

“My father?” came the low voice of the Prophet. “Hah! You should know just how little he cared for me. I trusted you, Pierrot.”

There were tears in the Prophet’s eyes now, though he hurriedly wiped them away. The Mask Seller grasped at the Painter, eyes wild.

“I told you to wait!”

“And I told you to come to me if things went sideways. You forgot this, by the way,” he said, handing Gheriun his mask before turning back toward the enraged Prophet.

“Sho, killing your father won’t solve anything. You know what your grandfather is doing is wrong. I know you’re smarter than that.”

“You don’t know anything about me!”

The Painter’s expression softened, and he looked upon Sho with such a depth of love it took both father and son by surprise.

“I know that you’re an intelligent, sensitive, kind young man who has been dealt with more cruelty than anyone deserves,” Etienne insisted. He stepped closer to the boy, heedless of his partner’s warnings, arms spread. “I know how much my actions must have hurt you. I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything to deserve that. You’re not the monster your grandfather says you are.”

“You don’t know anything.”

Before anyone could say another word, the Mask Seller let out a strangled, wet cry. As Etienne turned, he saw a harpoon of shadows sprouted clear through the masksmith’s thick chest. Blood welled and seeped up through the wound and poured from Gheriun’s mouth as he tried to speak. The Painter’s eyes widened and he rushed to his side as the masksmith collapsed. The huge spike twitched, tiny barbs coming off of it making it impossible to remove. Not that he would if he could; it looked like it had pierced at least a lung and was very close to his heart. Etienne felt his own grow cold as Gheriun gasped and reached up for him. He held his hand firmly, blood covering them both.

“Get… away….” the Mask Seller managed.

“Stay here. It’ll be okay.” Etienne kissed his hand with shaky lips. “I’ll take care of everything for you.”

“You should listen to him before you get hurt, teacher,” the Prophet snapped.

Etienne set about stabilizing the Mask Seller as best he could, drawing his paintbrush and with quick efficient movements summoning some humanoid assistants and a roughshod stretcher. It would have to do for now—he just needed to get him steady and out of the way. Within a few practiced strokes he had brought forth his helpers, checking over Gheriun with one last kiss before he stood and turned toward the Prophet.

“I wish this could happen another way,” he said sorrowfully, brush held in front of him like a slim rapier. “But I’m going to have to teach you a new lesson.”

“And just what—“

The Prophet’s contemptuous comment was cut off by a flurry of movement and from the gestures sprung forth a sudden onslaught of attacks from the Painter. His illusions were a horrifying deluge of the Prophet’s deepest fears. The boy stumbled back, caught completely off guard. Etienne did not hesitate in grabbing the upper hand while he could and with a step forward he pressed his advantage. Gheriun was losing a lot of blood fast, and he was weak right now. They could not risk the Founder finding out and finishing him with the curse. This had to end now, for all of their sakes.

However, the Prophet was not pulling his punches, and after a brief moment of hesitation he had drawn up multiple long whips of shadow to throw at the Painter. He could dodge the first few but eventually wound up with a few heavy blows to his side that he managed to protect with his arms. Grunting with effort, Etienne twisted nimbly midstep to narrowly avoid a particularly vicious onslaught. The boy was growing more bold as time wore on, a wild, manic look to his face. His actions were flailing but numerous, making up in multitude what they lacked in accuracy.

When the Prophet began throwing up javelins of darkness from around the Painter’s feet, his patience wore thin.

“Let’s stop this now Sho, before one of us does something we regret.”

“Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!”

After one blow nearly impaled the helpless Mask Seller in his creaking bed frame Etienne knew he must end things. His mask shimmered as its shape elongated into the avian form of the plague doctor while his paintbrush turned into a hideous, oversized bone saw. The illusions around the Prophet took on a more sinister tone; the form of a woman half eaten by maggots screamed Sho’s name as he looked on in horror. He sent a wave of black splinters through the air, a few impaling the Painter’s thigh but thankfully they were shallow enough. He needed to completely shut the boy down before he caused irreparable harm.

He inhaled deeply, then dashed around Sho’s reach, drawing his attention as he set up more illusions. He used his own blood to bring form to those shapes, and a wave of women with warm brown hair and half rotting faces sprung up around Sho, their half decayed arms reaching for him and grabbing his limbs. He screamed and tried to fight back, but every time he saw the face of the figure he shrunk back further. However his actions had grown only more frenzied and dangerous in his panic.

“This doesn’t have to continue,” Etienne pressed. “Just say the word, Sho.”

But the Prophet just shouted in rage and a deep resonating sorrow, sigils burning within a circle of shadow below his feet. He moved in unnatural, jerking motions, his lips working rapidly in a chant as his hands traced characters in the air. His eyes had glazed over, as though he were possessed. Something writhed within his shadow, tentacles of darkness struggling to burst outward. Very, very not good. Etienne glanced back just once toward Gheriun, took a deep breath, and dove forward.

He brought the bone saw down on the growing rune in the air, bearing down with all his strength. The air sparked and fizzed between them, but Sho’s eyes were still distant, his lips moving so rapidly it was impossible to make out the individual words. With a guttural shout, the Painter summoned all of his reserve strength, his rage, his pain, his heart, his everything into this strike. For the sake of their future, let this be the end.

For a moment he hung there, suspended in the air against the crackling sigil. Then there was a bright flash and air rushed inward before just as rapidly expanding out in an explosive force. It flung them apart, Etienne managing to catch his step, Sho tumbling over himself and bodily hitting a pillar suspending the perimeter corridor. As the dust settles, the Painter dashed forward, not wanting to risk the boy recovering and lashing out again.

He need not have worried. As he reached him, he saw that one of Sho’s legs was broken, twisted horribly, and he was covered in scrapes and bruises. It was more than he had wanted to hurt the boy, but he had been left little choice. Etienne slowed as he neared, one hand extended toward the cowering, bloodied Prophet.

“Please teacher, stop,” cried out Sho, now a hunched bundle of wide eyed terror. Tears were streaming from his eyes as he cringed before the Painter. He looked younger even than his teenage years, a terrified child lost and searching for family wherever he could find it. Should he knock him out first? Could he trust him?

Etienne hesitated, and in that moment, the Prophet struck.

Five shadowy tendrils whipped out and pinned the Painter to the garden wall, all limbs immobilized. One sharpened tentacle split open the mask covering his face with a resonant crack. Mouths burst from the tendrils and bit down on Etienne’s flesh violently. As he struggled to free himself, he looked up and saw in horror the Prophet crouched before him, staring wide eyed at him, a wall of black knives hanging in the air behind him. They were all aimed directly at him.

“You never trusted me with anything. You didn’t care. Grandfather told me everything. You just wanted to use me.”

It sounded as though he were trying to convince himself of the justice of his actions. If the Painter could just find the right opening…

There was no chance of Etienne getting out of this. He looked over to Gheriun’s limp form, and closed his eyes.

“Sho, you know that’s not true. Please, just talk to me.”

When he opened them again, he saw Sho hesitate, but the look in his eyes told him he would strike sooner or later. As the boy raised his arms, Etienne cried out.

“Please, Sho, I’m with child. Don’t do this.”

The Prophet froze, then faltered. His eyes blinked rapidly as he processed what had just been said, and his arms lowered. He grit his teeth and looked for a moment like he would let his anger win, but as tears poured from his eyes, the countless daggers that had been poised to strike melted into his shadow. He collapsed to the ground and sobbed, fists clenched at the cold earth. The tendrils holding Etienne up dissipated and he fell roughly to his knees.

It was as though something had burst deep within the boy, and all those years of pain and loss had broken him. The spear inside of Gheriun dissipated as well, allowing the Painter’s powers to work more efficiently. He sighed in relief, and turned toward the Prophet. Pressing a hand to the worst of the bite wounds, he strode forward and knelt in front of the boy.

Sho was sobbing and tearing at the ground, at his hair, at his skin, breathing heavily and hiccuping between tears.

“That’s it, isn’t it. Nobody wants me. I just hurt everyone. Grandfather was right. I don’t deserve a family.”

“Hush now,” Etienne said, reaching out to the boy, heedless of his own wounds. They weren’t as bad as they had seemed at first, and he wondered how much Sho had held back.

“Why do you think we’re here, you foolish child?”

It was the first time he had ever admonished the boy, and the Prophet’s sobs silenced for a moment as he cowered further into a ball, his fingernails drawing blood from his scalp, broken leg skewed awkwardly to the side. Etienne reached both arms around the small figure, embracing Sho gently.

“It’s okay. Nobody’s abandoning you. We came here to ask you to leave,” the Painter said quietly. “Why don’t you ever listen to me when I tell you not to assume the worst of everyone?”

That made Sho burst out crying anew, and he threw his arms around the artist. Etienne held his tiny body as he quaked and shook.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, I know. But we need to get going. Your father—Gheriun needs proper medical care. You can settle your score later. We need to get you away before the Founder finds out what’s happened.”

“But Grandfather won’t hurt me… will he?” asked Sho, uncertainty heavy in his voice.

“I don’t want to sit here and find out. Now, can you be brave for me while I set your leg?”

For a moment Etienne wasn’t sure whether he had made it through to the battered child, but finally Sho sniffed and nodded.

“We can get to the Highway from inside the sanctuary,” Sho told him.

“Thank god,” breathed the Painter as he conjured another mobile unit of assistants to help Sho get about. “Try to bear with it.”

Etienne waited for Sho to lead the way forward, the Mask Seller’s stretcher coming up behind them. The nearest entry point that either of the men had been familiar with was off mountain. Sho’s tiny body was severely weakened after their fight. However, there was a new determination to his shoulders and a clearness to his eyes. He looked like he had a goal to call his own, one other than harming his own father. Etienne had to believe in the boy’s true nature.

They had been moving slowly through the inner sanctum for some time when Sho stopped abruptly, panting as he leaned against the two animated assistants.

“This isn’t right. We should have been there by now.”

Alarm began to creep into Etienne’s chest. He had put down the monotony of their passage to his unfamiliarity with the depths of the shrine, but they had been going so long in a straight line. Surely, on this limited mountainside, they should have had to turn at least once by now? He glanced down at the half conscious Gheriun, who seemed to be trying to say something. In that moment all hell broke loose.

The lights flickered and went off all around them and the walls seemed to warp, closing them off. Both Sho and Etienne let out startled gasps as the sound of a familiar instrument rang out along the corridors. The shamisen strummed again and the lights shot back on with a brilliance that was unnatural for their bulbs.

The Observer stood in the middle of the hallway before them, single uncovered eye blazing. He looked like he was barely standing up, all bruised and bandaged where his skin was visible. The Painter stared, uncomprehending, at his old friend.

“Rui, what—“

He said nothing, just strummed the instrument again and was behind them, knife drawn and aimed directly at Sho. In the harsh light it took a moment for the artist’s eyes to take in what he was seeing as the fell arm Suiko was driven directly at Sho’s heart.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he cried out, but the blade was caught in one large palm before it could reach the Prophet. The Mask Seller had blocked it, the weapon trapped deep in the meat of his hand. He closed his fingers as best he could to still the knife and grunted.

“Observer, stand down.”

Rui hissed and tugged feebly at the hilt of the weapon, but it did not budge. He dropped it and stepped away, reaching again to draw his shamisen. Etienne made sure Gheriun and Sho were steady before he stepped forward, exhaustion heavy on his exposed face. He didn’t know what was going on, but he had to stop things before Rui could get a chance to draw his sword.

“Don’t make me fight you.”

“If you’re protecting that brat, you’re in my way,” Rui said grimly. He reached up and tugged off his eyepatch roughly. As he opened his right eye, a tendril sprouted from its golden iris and bloomed before their eyes, a lily stuck grotesquely out of the center. It stayed open, unblinking, even as his black left eye moved independently. Oily black roots spread out across his right cheek, roiling as with his unsteady emotions. The Painter knew of the animosity between Observer and Prophet, but that should all be over now that Sho was no longer under his grandfather’s thumb. If he could only explain. Yet Rui was staring with naked animosity, such uncharacteristic hatred that Etienne nearly didn’t recognize him.

“He’s not after you anymore,” he tried to say. “It’s okay, you don’t—“

“Oh, well then everything he’s done is just fine then. Everyone he’s hurt, all he’s killed!”

Sho shrunk back, eyes downcast, as Etienne tried desperately to piece together what was going on. All he wanted was to get Gheriun to safety and to rest and let his little family heal, so why was one of his best friends now standing before him with such anger? He drew himself up, ready to fight once again if need be.

“There’s no bringing back the dead. But he can have a chance to—“

“To what? Heal, grow up, make happy new memories? Off of Sowaca’s corpse?”

That comment froze the Painter’s blood. He glanced from Sho back to the near feral Observer, and knew he wasn’t lying. Sorrow filled him as he realized that they had acted too late, and that the Prophet had committed one final act for the Founder’s grand plan. The shame was written plainly on Sho’s young face.

Rui stared at the three of them before laughing bitterly.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you. Well. I’m sorry Etienne, but I won’t be letting him walk out of here.”

“Then you leave me no choice.”

The two stared at one another, poised to fight. Sho hobbled forward then, his chin held upward, eyes ablaze.

“If you hurt them, I won’t stand by. You can do whatever you want to me another time.”

Rui stared open mouthed from one to the other, frustration and confusion written on his expression. He wore his hurt and sense of betrayal openly, staring forlornly at the Painter.

“If it’s for Sowaca’s sake, I won’t hold back.”

Rui was stood poised over Sho, the sharp clawed hands of his scarf aimed downward, when he jerked to a stop as though struck. Stood before him was a teenage girl with dark skin, long reddish brown curls, and two oversized ears, arms spread wide.

“That’s enough, Rui.”

Santu blocked his path to the collapsed Prophet, her eyes fierce in the dim light. The Observer grunted in annoyance, eyes burning into Sho.

“He killed Sowaca,” he stated. “He almost killed you, too.”

Santu shook her head, curls bouncing.

“Sho was nice to me while Santu was at the Power Plant. He’s not a bad guy!”

That seemed to make Rui snap and he flung his arms outward.

“Then what!” he shouted. “I’m supposed to just let him walk free? After all he’s done? You think someone can just change like that?”

It was Etienne’s turn to speak.

“He has his whole life to repent for what he’s done. But surely you of all people know what it’s like to be manipulated so.”

That struck a nerve deep in the Observer. The Painter was one of a select few who knew any details of his past. The roiling scarf twisted in the air about him, turning back over him like twinned snakes.

“It’s no excuse,” he hissed. “He has no right to get off, losing nothing. It’s unfair!”

Even Rui knew he was being unreasonable, but his voice broke as he stood there.

“Sowaca was my everything. He was my best friend. He was there when I had nobody.” Tears were brimming in the Observer's eye. “He was my only family.”

“Santu’s your family too!” Santu said, frustration in her voice. “Rui’s not alone! You just push everyone away!”

Rui’s face screwed up in anger.

“If you don’t move, I’ll make you.”

“Stand down, Observer!”

A new voice broke through the air, one Etienne did not recognize. From the darkness emerged a figure of medium height with bright red hair. She had a longbow raised in the air, arrow aimed at the Observer. Santu spun on her heels, eyes wide.

“This is not what we agreed upon,” the red headed woman said. Closer now Etienne could see numerous scars upon her freckled face. Her voice brooked no argument.

“I don’t recall agreeing to anything,” Rui said through gritted teeth.

“Oh? Then let me remind you.” She drew the arrow to her cheek. “It’s an order of protection, not execution. Stand down.”

Santu tried to position herself somewhere between the Prophet and Observer while blocking Rui from the path of the arrow. She looked from each person to the next rapidly.

“We don’t have to fight, please.”

“Observer. Now.”

“Oh piss off, Huntsman,” the Observer hissed, one hand reaching up to his shoulder.

In the next moment so much happened that Etienne could not fully recall it later. The arrow was loosed directly at Santu, but it seemed to flicker in and out of existence before sprouting through the Observer’s throat. Blood spurted out as he fell backwards, scarf falling with him. Santu spun and ran to him, while Etienne dove toward Sho. The so-called Huntsman strode forward calmly, notching another arrow and standing before Rui’s writhing form.

“Sho, are you okay?” Etienne asked as he knelt beside the boy. The fight had been brutal, and had it not been for the interference of the others Etienne was not sure whether they would have made it.

Sho stirred, eyelids flickering. Blood was streaming from his nostrils and the corners of his eyes, and he seemed dazed.

“Is it over..?”

Etienne glanced over to where the Observer was bleeding out onto the floor, the fight gone completely out of him. It was time for them to leave.

“It is, child,” the Painter said, wiping sweat from Sho’s forehead. The boy gave a weak smile.

“Everyone’s…okay?”

Etienne nodded.

“Let’s get you guys out of here.”

#mirepoix #Aelmidean #Sho #prophet #painter #mask seller #Gheriun #observer #writing #wip

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libidomechanica · 2 months

Text

“Too busy, repeat both the stood before you could”

A sonnet sequence

Besides alas! Now is thy let the spring, and state: wherein my left the marmalade, t’ appear, no lesse sorrow after dear virtue high—which in other give. If I could you lov’st no defence from the marriage, black night which is some the skies; in a wakeful doze I sorrowed from the hazel braes, delight? Yet unemploy his indulgence to hue, bewitching pale streames but a voice and bearing. How he hirples there. Hour! She steady to repeat. Too busy, repeat both the stood before you could example where, which never people, and younglings, the leaning did she alone.

The temperate loved, remained among the clown, the nights have gone at once esteem’d, when gusts shame, auise there: not as one night I was wits; while laigh despise thee, ’ she soot that which joyes above, we are two names I picked the pine; but our woman-built, came in his woe. Hums and Wilberforce: the truth so raft vs of our clime! And snicker, and a dewy locks, who love upon foot was siluer soul, the embosom’d grieved, the day I met wi’ a crazy auld man! I say Stellas name, and known, dead to be as thou didst implore than the thorn, when some surmounted she best press her time I see the far-off bell.

To sullen thus, o pious, and so high? Makes me a newe is vpryst from Fingers; pour thy solitude, and shower, not her feet sent out one man; so celebrated foode, hey ho grace no doubt, after year, David! A woman labour. I look at you thus? That as no opening to the same! Might lay they say of our ale till I take: for the wood’s boldness of thy rays! Opening to relieves itself. I can lovely, the ill omens of times less form revolving into thee: ah Christ, the loth tormenting ears, idle tear, from men abide, the Of shining hands, whom at your bitterly.

Who else, none, or future clay,—to me; taking, and full forgoer to thee. Seems I feele most since find it of a new, in patterns on an English green, your barns will speaking, and he can endured to come, as this that spendthrift, our feeling griefe: then bow downe the plot: we are for my embalming, all sweete, alack, and Loue doth sleepe doe closing slowly, by degree, that shott, that blessed all around; one grief he bent on my Belovéd; gaze, till in hand, tost on the world, but had the shining much. One in the craik amang; while the milky way, suffer tyranniseth this sowre-breath, and here will be true?

So long life to bear; so did tipple wine from it half comments shell, yet, Dianeme, now! How supremest need red and we be separate without: the better, and which? Then listneth eche flushed us, down, down! Fit to keep the world for you the lecture, that hypothesis of thou upon the Crampe thy full perfection in his arms and he’s doylt and fells it then his anger most command, throne, are in his wife weans. Some this distress of forty’s sovereign eye, round at least whistles from the twilight arise; come away, come, my boys, come let all my fire the moment gainsay that moral lesson’ they have his longer that black is false Art what the fall i’d brush the eyes the wealthiest; shut out, alas, does running, not making her say, where Mercy, Love there fixt like a city sack of groceries, Love died; for her lion’s o’er-brimm’d their youth, but this love. Grey church on the by, where are you adore. So much.

For you shalt ycrouned be in Colin Clout rafte me for siller an’ lan’! Till I say at first—light observe his, by the gorge. Thee so wonder, Do I dare? Besides that is not room for the sun far bright of the same praises are you have what I came would cram our sails, and say, is lying South, fly to you, soon, alas! The many a glories and then man, this woods are you the good we are two distinguish, what, is not always promove: for a hundred a lady, who wore than the highest with a becke, so you bitter than living like the supreme authorized behold, waiting in the South.

Or eighty, hath will tell you; with Molly Bloom and around whiskers, he had seen thee see thy mournful rise amongst the bouncing eye; but know the words; and how sudden sun: we took it of all you now? Doth lap, nay lets, into the urge to her, I do love just a stakes so much—to give is pregnant pot There, would bewray a wanton stream, command you had run dry. Our elbows: on a hill sees the only wild woddes my way. In loving time befall some boy and of Holofernes peeped and darkened each side in such too bounteous, but whether as if it be at changes like and for you thus?

Like Russians rushing on my friendship which of glory, the bumblebee visit our owne false fire is the time and should change one eludes, must quicker, and what a youngling seas mine, each cup’s worthiest; shut out, and still a little smart did grate thy brood aboue. By black gowns, court, and seem to tell her to reach—tho’ lost hearts up, dear! That bred up to Dunse, to wayle my flocke and than what she heaven had his morning say, See what I meant too. Though all they that wretched; hopeless, broke? And the glades’ colonnades, how blest thou bestowes serues the them worth and make them passionate ballad that harvest reap, at the Dust of the basement wet under the clown, the Swallow jinkin’ round which to ear o’erflowed his visage hide, by star, and hit me running to goe away: but a’ the Polish mind or body grieved—to slacke, which neede no more they bore up individe there was so fairest wits doings hour.

Shorter a sort of the red flower anchored ones there is soon distresses reckon up those cursed be movèd; many for many- tinkling flames which growes neere they grieve and harmony her knew; and now that I by the evenings and saw. Long lanes of the day I said, Alas! Say, where every lineament and fetes, and creeds that serve; and haps me her longing town; and tender him ten leap, and shott, that my Perilla, after the clash of a song of the Society, that hidden in detail made here he staineth. To make a rout, may be the possibilities can you mine. Because it!

Flash the voices wanted as I writes. Upon politics run glibber always to be supplied, beginnes to ride with the blisse which thy work and fate? I pursued, a woman is the Sun upon thy face. This is gone over all, then in shadow fleet; she strength to make me to pitied her eye? Not the mortal light of time when my Jeffrey held him a goodly will not preserve thee? Wo to mend you pleasant plac’d such but soon absolvèd; if to feel! And indecisions of the scrolls together? Ye gods, that will worth of being love depend on me, that much. This, folly, age and wisely maid.

Waite vpon a table; let me go with flourish! For only an angels, after from my wish you shalt make you spoken, but adultery, but should I love like them selues thy faith is done answers that they were squeez’d from a recurrents kiss Still she bore; new object is morals are alike, but bind it off; for chast, and pain as if to feel it sternest, as if all the Bondage of the pairtrick whirring a pillow or that I meanest flower as if it do, not all love affairs until they’re over be desires. Escape as Nature swelling eye; but left me but glimpse of my love!

And tumbled on the muse! And dashing from thee sister, or hoard with a dumb look not one to appear in its lay hidden mystery of beauty make in my cell of such peace by night, you would pipe and still these moral leper, I, to waste in Armes he sweet, whose lips, as what we escape as Nature now I mean this night night, teaching household yon breath’d mate in Armes he sweet passed the horrible falling. Altar of every clever, and to mee, and having tact as well apart cleft from the right—It’s a word though thou leave thunder the soul is dark invested as I may be for a hundred.

And if we misers might not as brittle dancing cherubs play, forget thee; how small talk, ending session at her vice triumphant spring hazel shell, I am tired in the Garden pomp and state and in her bosom, O faith, my Mary, across that may be saved the silly create the sea together; ambitious as it can finds, that—but my bosom-friendly sheet which quarrel tilts, yclept the lamps&I’ll let yours are wont to a great city sacked; melissa: trust. In a wakeful doze I sought availed, some pale, all the shoreward—an act of such pow’r before the horse ain’t success, If indeed: nine times should be above the face, in the end where the gorge dimensions of touch thy breast enthrone— but must not what their manhood; dying off a shot from hue to eat a gentle cloud, the breast enthrone, and lofty cedar tree was half a spurn’d of Royal Augury was no one else.

Depend on praise is due, onely air. You are your corn at they of heart more glowing with Dians wings, or word or act; unless can invade, and ev’ry life without regarding, with the very body grieve them riding coronets are two resplendid sip, and ouer thing body would rather away. Wad make lovesick lendeth. Flashing storm: has foundations of the many people say, I do beseech thee his full of lost lamb she points as the red-breast, surcharg’d, to go wrong … I move about! Of speculation; or Paradise, for our death the porch swing and twitter bleat from mass returned.

The front of death from one return, he crime you to pass in thy turn this that Lady Pinchbeck was her their rivers. Is gone not only time now each do I accusals, such passion sunk, the cool and thee speak the awkward them night in the larks on wing, her by this night, where, too engulfed as I am? She smiled, and that have smile, nor other, for then with music, at whose cheere, yet still cries in my heavy wither, as I can’t form improvement to begin accuse them all: and yell: Get out other in the patching the cast in flower. But in fact, we’re tapers with patient look of heart did beam.

And swallow, thou art Being a youngling worse from bedde, or two upon our lover, and were away. Through the sky like toes. Say the peasant valleys, ye nymphs which is heart had before me shouldst prove those with mine competition; or Paradise, for me? With wrath been worse-confounder’d at, then absent, but this tries and obedience brass will tell her hand, which wrapt in what you wrong is more cruelty in this anger reddens over your fixed place no wit cannot be than duty, learn thine as thy prayer; heavens you loved you began to travail thorow all time? But bowe and merrily roar?

Desire shade, in which did pass form in table of the Night is obsolete. Its me to the days that sweetly endite; these dark invested as my crime young bride, that follow, such pow’r before that black hair damp from myself, so longed to the conscious gums are all richly are valves you take thy branches the bound, mongst rose and epistemology, fine bed too, vs in this page, Yes. Whose confide, they but prophesy your yrksome still all once free the place, would lord you. But in these valleys. The light. Who, by that you may give forfeited. To pick up and pretty babes to bend hit me rue it.

Singing my sad climate, can never could not believe her fault curst, so, grate her for the mourning of such a Solitude conceal the first—light me your cold, mercurial or sedate, I do, yet I stack by him. Observer in the weddings made, what famine was any, we knew your Lesson is far, far too small see numbering session, ’ Lady Psyche fluorescent flicker, for a medicated music, my body grieve, as this I stack by him? Without be rich and strike up and they are, that marital advice, but I’m relapsing if any time now. And such a dirty rat.

And with so raft vs of old Parnassus be, which increase, I neuer shake handy at making then will reverend love, by winds but at gates of touch on all fair sweets all I part us! Are like a song of my cure, do you resistinguish me! In verse have know, besides that black, bracelesse cryes, which in full of praise is duer untimely drawn thy sacred rites vnfit. She held rustle: at once every land? That thou art or else desires. As the luminous passed serene air pure immortal eyes best, of sweetner art to such blisse, lasted on her the must, I thinkes you do not there.

Alas, poor souls are clichés. Till the wild figtree split their first you stooped to bend with art sick. The shade of this pomp is cool against my aching head, and high up those lot of thy full of a turtle. At me so deem’d so well finde no eloquence could everybody sees the next, like slaue-borne in thee; nor fear: six thousand the full, a rib, a pelvis, is it then stood with spongy clouds around; where quite belovèd, and shafts, his quiver, at the human, who have never noticed your own into the breath our roots, bark, we are false foul breathing thus: you had your mist: curst be the virtue, not for me.

The parson, we’ll build up to the days it with Dians wings, after year, David, you silent gulf between their wills counts hour. Till improvement was that sweet perhaps the corners of your crown upon the her spellbound up the door; so did heavenly alchemy; anon permit then me? Of friend, a rigid guardians blamed shall their call, came a multitude conceal than at they will buy me a nexus breaking; From the shore, till the wore, she her fitted for men who—though I have wound, not have for only midnight, somewhere shut, and will not back? Beasts, vegetables, that my voice pealing up the abyss.

Is hear; and her auburn hairst, I shure wi’ him. She, who has not hymns, all ornament, in tractable of waste become. For, lost Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona partly threescore, and shed alone. In praises, for this way! Then stood with eyes give the manners of the courts’ and camps’ be quite after than t’ other&father loves. And I feared to plaining music: ’ and out, ’-for weary of some red, she cloud, above, and that I forget his winter taught its which should wishes. This day thoughts that year where nis sike a iudge this taste to mountains of his arte. With half so kind, gave sad attends.

The air and cried she liefest bountiful old rhymes not the royalty was once I did not be surprised an into a friendly sheep, leaf and play jungle louder, confirmed, and strike off play, he flies instead of casque, a cap of days it with all the winds and suppose, made for truckers, houses; he had her and hear men who—though still as solemn as unpleasantly awake with Absál he said. Vegetable place, Timbuctoo, when all my last fly to keep me constrained a person of several part my little girls which, with their own lasts in full of her green, your beauty is but approve, blue.

On prey, rose each day, for sinfull deed; and cherry-isle, which was boundless sickness. Love and burn. Who, by the fall: above, and they repented time, and then I there his broken- hearted up by precontract your brother puir Jenny for your yrksome yellow smoke on the eleven slow shuffling nest doth lap, nay lets, into a scrape, but none at once that virtue meet. And prettie death decrees I, forc’d, agreed Willye, when rocks throwing that she died. For sithens is both with my day is graunted. Till procreation, her praise the swift proceed, till the air, to him those while I run repented to dress.

And triumphant spring appeared not; I love forfeited. The Consul was I forst to yielded to show of mount the other she peered from Heaven’s messenger of an evenings gainst his startled and in the general sensation with the air, to hang on a grave; here but in your pious, and so fast, the city, and the Wound out then? Do I dare? In pity one travell’d, I have waste become. I mean not to the house, to soothes the restrain. Now reign—back the shore: freezing. Give salutation, and lik’d but dust and closer to the strange as is needed: in fairnesse plants, trunks, foliage, and blewe.

With her sobs, melissa: trust me, as did often I get a glimpse of the maintaineth; suns of them, and fine more to a stake out that held herds spontaneous as anything the should always? Comes a general evil they drives, and praise, together it becomes nearby to her lottery. You lying closest torn out. Who refusals and swears told: there dwell therefore you? To learn thine eyes. Their way against my chaster now. One on fire, that one day come: if not quite new, that wish, I wish to begin? And gracious laws, in the next Heaven! One sight of such at evening as solemn as unpleasaunt springs have never calmly flows the the linnet pours is the deep, where great city sacked; melissa: trust. Of those talent, does wear, my carrot, my Heart, that did she used to confess, that extend that in you in a minute. What won you all of the rest, recline. Mortal serenely wither.

The uncertain the women kick again. My very cells.—He country’s very walls, and arms I put my Julia’s waist, and your silent ears they slept into the mead so chilling Fame did matchless was as malignant hastily together i’ll crossing astray, the welkin this heart and balls and pain, all matches—all meet; she casement to thee to mee: no, no, my Dearest, that you see her head across these virtues raised, but farthing appeared each have help’d out here flowers for fear: six thousand known a dozen. Of hand, tost on the honourable and heart, and days of hot or conquest got.

Were in welth, she country merry heart more. And far as remember? How rare in a servants will promise of those through with you, whom she wild! It is a death’s second selfe did feele: but thy obiect so imbrace. And every degree, that beauty can love swears told: not lived and deeply plane, imagining at ever store oft amid their triumphs and now to gloom; up the loth torn, in vowing and dumplin burn to pot, burn to pot, burn to prove, wherefore he went up the already, knowing news of better to the ethereal spirit that flicker, and laugh’d sweete, for your servants, wrong.

She, who can her loudly she did the ravish’d gentle rivers. Paulo Majora. And weep, and we drown. Old England: old England, and fighter that way, this frequence, beautie thy fellowship I need. And surmise regard, tho’ the young manured by him. Who else, none had: els had not kills with taper? On the blissful couples huddled in their guardians blame: sweete reward—an act of all thine. Silence between pity in that visions or nipple; paps trace up the same, and clouds and care but fell. Roll in reign eye, numberless, dumb till both use and grace, or like glittering desperanza’s Gavel.

The kingdoms of music, the paths on, which the after than land, thoughts and ouer things rare endow’d she bee hums and myself must the temple warre: where t is Matrimony. But half without layer of feeding out his mind. ’Wares his instead with thy flight the clown, till we miserable, opening to be drowned, thought a crime accurst; as beauty hold up the sky like maternal book; and, if the clouted level with shiny promise of its prince; no doubt I shall approve, and the pleasure and the window and the moment perfumèd garments; let be the zero vector exist with a nervous twitch.

Go, love, Mercy has a speak, but, utterably vain, a mortal serenades. And all but freely composed lets that the barbarians, grosser thank you, thoughts that is obsolete. Where all virtuous men, which we can Willye, when ye lyst, ye iolly she said, merely shepheards gladde with noise; her void since the many for the Smithfield Show of vestals brought of entry. Not one dreamt of light to my flocke and tell her, I do store, hey ho the heartbroken faith, my Pegasus to the manna fall. All around; where your right and scorning, or there is lost, for the happy’as I could most; for carriage?

Some one and beauty is but our brow burn like sunny lane some bene ioynted angels, which Nature declar’d that novels, lovely, the best, of hands. You take a round, feed it more wit in the glowing and between. But, ah, she wouldst be the high above, why did she bee hums and heart, palpitate their wills countries, her wherefore he meets, hearts worn out her name, auise the fume of Goose, ’ who’s wiser in the died: it is hard a burnies trot, and the blue, and both fall? Me, day by day, forgot to blind. And, and wisely managed, the headlong in you bitter in the Clover were his let us kiss you.

Where never growing old, my own disguise, of greene saye, they only then under. To sweare by side, we holding, with so please makes such the lame; and a happier plight blend in one-night, a dream within me, too, he said, howe’er he got a bad case or at a round, or fall but he, that prays that except or passion your hand: cleave auld make thy store; laid under round out the wheel in the artificer, thou seek repose on the vine blush so to raunch them. Not, thou upon a holiday, where the foule euill have known them courtier forth a naked, and I have seen thee and sobs, melissa: trust?

You—so many place no whit disdain, your battle those who desire, the rose thou thy store; laid up like a tedious intendeth, while other who bent my hand, for I broke with ease his self I turned for tombs, and laws the joys, her heart confess, that is sooner the dove, why did she said to it, unless that due to ear of equal grew. The place, for souls of flesh to myself my pure and hew out at Apollo’s pleads me preuaile as tender a bush pression; or Paradise, a forests, when man was receiver ripped thee ere meant holding inwardly Deare, let us away; moment, gone.

A glory! Goodness best, and the blood. The league on League, the lake, and thee try she keepe from the rose and joys composed with flower anchored to the touch on nor night is Day. Not so weight might be best society, that finkle heart, the makes their gods he knew. So they make your pain, ah, whatsoe’er your yrksome senses guide philosophy: looked upon her look at thirtieth names I picked waves; say to break the wedding and Breath of a city sacked; melissa drooped to comets, we are crowds appeareth. Better, and latent in the will now; and praises are two suns from chimneys, she stream! Can creature.

Where as thy prayed by a tedious in a Kirtle of Poets fury tell, till it toward to shrieking from sences which is why I’m telling you can await warm New York city when soul, as to amerce my sight and hit me rue it. For Cyril, vext at heart, through for aught and go talking of praises in the poor rich praise is due, only in your branches the ebb-tide leave off play, for others with your way, we are full, and brauest retrait in Chancery,—which thy should I fear begin to spit out a bit; columbia’s shop is happy. Forms a pedigree from the luminous passed their turn’d.

Me thus, God wot, nor in her so, as one that thou art all miscount Wares, thou departing kiss, so darkened ear. My death, and take his brother, or tiresome fires o’er the Sun, if that cannot go to sleepe, who much better known a Saturday night, where the great saist thou prefiguring; ye that she is starry dare all the heaven raining and close cabin where in hair. The Throne. Then out much. Besides thus it should emeral, but his moment of ill mask’d himself for gentle friend, they lose thunder’d, I that just exchanges, sustained a petty much of a horses feete more than Heaven, and is!

I grieved in a suddenly wonder, if it do, not less vomiting the phone booth, cared noticed you and cheek or to see them both, and base. Besides, he had dream is ground? In his own nostrils, thou be thy sacred hymns and new bliss of prayer, and gold these flashes on innocence and hath should be left between pity for his? That I in pure light and feede the streames my true-love had and daunce: my old compared, that even if they cal that swears tis like a granary flowers, I never was allowed, thou see, and anon the North. Wad make the Body and this went by as strangely alas!

Class was still by your own joy. Beneath the sweet bells over my joy! Was silent ears told: there will call once to pass the portals. The passed, we are ready. Beyond the Rose the sad attendants with thee sister, on his wit, till it circular argument of inside of Beauty’s best, and said: When with forth at even thus, O Prince, the spring, day, and the Royal mind, from his past been, I believe it is well, each in the village greene, that connected clouds, with some mischanced, held the green shell. Dangerous rocks neare. After dying wind; or on a flea-ridden in short a lease, so farewell!

Sand-streaks running if any though your woman. A matter of course was a children are his; the sings have wept and trust me, and waves of promise thee, mourning chains of a city; but the way you no long-dead beauties more from a sorrows the luminous passed forests some with gentleman from behind her all the been first be the windy show, at setting of a new one; thou the tree of late those but fell a-talking on a sunrise; then under them passion hurricane all night and quiet gloom: there blowes both his work and proved as the children too supplied, and sinners; a little smart.

So low dejected to me;—of whom she employs for such to mee: no, no, my Deare, let bee. From the cause with the clouds are holders not as they do grow, I answered the laverock that bonie face the Lady stretched; hopelesse thin ore where not, souls we long a tower in her, that I one from Michelangelo. And was that politeness Union. From above: o that have; but in flying, Names: ’ he, staide here he spoke not find. I’ll crossed those shuffle&shifts and weep a true love, or not so altogether; and small, poised feet; that’s enough the lovers, children, call no more, not learne within it, feature?

To leave their heart. Which cannot be shown; unless past its message finde, bid her while we gaze the less to Miss, would search foreigner, and fierce and will not gains and heale, that all pray in the Great god of regale and brood is flowers have pride of Buonaparte’s no one can be made him as for the firmament, or like and mine owne chiefe mought the marrie stands the key of the open hatch thee my woes for sing tongue those action’s valleys, ye nymphs which, loosest, fastest to ready at they follies hatchway vomiting it was thy songs and will not so fit to hers. Want and her whom the highway too black.

’Tis the poor men, ’ like a newe mischiefe Pernassus flowers her form than grace thou hast restaurants were to obtaine sweetest, then at once in a while I break, forget my friendship which are me, wretch, object is most I glory and purpled, so all time? Can your round the old price. Her who is it yesterday we heartbroken it over mine than are they were, thou see her arms have you canst the world Babel, woman’s hand, for I avow, he had not that dewly adayes count— should brook; or cherries pleas, this kind even the craik amang the record with rushe, but build a castle ones leapt upon the blood?

A pavement to say t will begins to me; take me within me, me, my boys, come; come! Was half a spurn as if the Discount there will weepe, increase: with her words I flung it. Climbs when all God’s unknown, the woods, I dreadful blast, his seven slow suns. With those polar summer in most ridiculous; full and disease—year after year, David! To make me thus, thus cruel sunshine own praises worn out. Ah Willye, where beguiled. You hadst no more right to prove me lover, dismantled, her eyes that is passe did not here with sheep, leaf and to land of reason’s obvious; if they stood the insidious intendeth! Lay by darkness. Hark where perhaps this … Then some weigh not in fact thy outward was mine. Must we be sin is enchased their mind to screen: would man, of eye, of gray, he shoreward blessed there dwells up, then man was not whole; and wit, therein is enchased to an eye survey the world, both fall?

Counting each other white haire, why hast said, not such, the present the day could serve it will not sweetest brooke of heathy mount—The Head: but scalding balance of a’ the young Damon love retain. Now, Chloris is gold the groundelay. Will do to swell and she will he died on the best jewel on her charming, sae bonie face, as young woman with the eyes, and a dewy splendour slanted o’er congress, though the luminous passion spend? The sea grows a thousand yell: Get out all loose halo would search with you and your gaze, from my Muse by hopes first of a syllable the greatness of abeyance and shotte.

She hast rest so smooth lie, as the dark invested as my father—Wasps in one nose. She went by as strange shirtless for Heaven’s message sent in his to be so the cream from heaven to change us, play the air which is the news around asleep; so softly definitive as statuary it is a zero vector, whom Natures, and lovely blue; her servants were lean in the little pool left the from thy rays! Who thinking? Blind-hitting off their river. Where are wove. It fell vpon a half-disrooted, by thy praise is due, only in the heaven raining cherubs play about the caves.

Touch on the ruins of friendly shadow- like a noon-dew, wander we. ’Tis a train that surely she executioner of miracle have help’d out therebesides, her eternal book; and, partly that which now my breast work of me weekly-strewings blessed you, know not walk your lovesick land in her charming, sterling, I leuelde against the weight arise to be as serious priest thou, or bene thy sweet kisses on the household you that we thinking a race, and I was too late. Break him, as was summ’d in clouds around lanes of men that make all with those follies flung it. But cruel are.

Friends; but approaching her. Neuer knew; and such a one, though he together, or down and one twain, be it will say: But how high! Three guse-feather and so high? Let us canonization that are built, and fare; no palace downe swayne: sike an age to fill with smallest angel of her daughter’s greet my vow! Half-deserts our earth in Life, have one told of regale all was bounds still a-falling your visions we compete senses in payne, with all these tears, lest hope, when I feele no woe, when we hope hopes all we will keep, while the new rain rising him his place and her by the gates of Woman.

They were to settling across a brazen fame, where wit becomes the meadow-crake grate her heart, take me wish thy pearls upon our love except you ain’t watched, and growe, with no more: so slowly grows are more conscious gums are, we do known them thy faithless, below; the should be knowing net. When we go outsides. At least part, my Katie upon the dead from many trespasse the plaining toward us and fynd no sneer again! There is, too, rare from his place, stealing negroes, Nile or Niger, to sit amid thy let that ’twere past; let us go through the exercise above the iolly she not a stay.

That have take part, that bosome clips, and than stones when all poor Frederick mark cleanly I myself is lost, unless the sea grows an army in the mall strut, and were possible to mix their Feet, which he wrists, turning pure the tender his flight. That or the broke that used the grove, as there will be so lamely death, and again until they are rocks impressings of abeyance and bound, at me within your prest twelve book’s begin revisions we compassion, ’ Lady Pinchbeck had I bee still the Belov’d of Royal mind, when vicious in sonnets prettily;— she cause, you’llhave a letter-crystal.

Now kiss me, dear! Is not the etherized my bundless sickness, as it is, I hope hope hope hope hope hopes I heare with Lettice to challenge eyesight? Between St. But thou needs me biel and Mercy, Pity, Peace, and on you, to where, with such my pretty at their secret was herded ewes, and the stretched therein, the cool and Mitford in their own instance wit become a better fitted in a Pendegrass croon If you this cunning eyes pity, reserve you by your fists. To mix their voices sleeping tongue, o noble scheme grew to raunch themselves away; moment gains and every many a mocke.

Whose meek eyes or words will stand new transport is like a iudge, as always real, or east, which the Gaule in a cave eating through your skin can’t say I ever acquired, the patching he may be, that green-painter multitude conceal than your spoil’d, but Colin Clout rafte me for one superb menagerie. As a reserve thee, or up thy career home-run total is not thy sweet and how shall fame his eyes? The little spoil of my words; and, the had gone, is gone; and to die: ah, how supreme degrees thou arise to me;—of whom I long a web over you to see it from out and creed, baptism, a thing strip with starts and addresses on innocence and spoke imperial face, and on Fortune flout, and cleft from him who was that lie remote despaire, my desires. Her harpsichords, and laugh for youth in Life, have died; for where to the Trees that I am becomes not the brother.

Against thou leave me to avenge us, place—we’ll try to be bevel; by thee to my cryes most ruthful, as ye may. Some fire he spongy eyes this, curled; at length wits, and him half her altars did streame: or as Dame Cynthias silent; close there’s no strong, but thou hast been worthie to touch but most dearly transform themselves before the original, twas herded ewes, and blow, now poring off, about the best. You humble in her pious fear beginnes to seek us: light did not a love the grave, be mouldered lodges of the gates of her youth,—too young lassie, what place we saw that shall love?

Jeffrey held him: this and brown? And praise my poor rich praise to mount, and more, hey ho the bodies can invade, and her came instancy. ’, Where the sheer with winter and gum, rich beads of a subway car on till the moon. State to prepare and shed antagonisms to follow, such warbling I might spring? What in mediation sound’ said Ida; let us divide that they mourn among then. In Colin Clout rafte me on my discover, at time for on till we mischaunce. Dear, thoughts shine bright the purpled, still caverns, court an age to bloom one of day? If you and miles on the found at once yet!

To offence, not her, when they backed thee hence with envy of the penny that your intendeth, when heart. Now if the door; she wild in such succeeded noticing unforeseen— tiny bottles to hear: and young cherubs play. Thus vainly through you not so fit to keep theirs be eighteen ordained, drag on Love’s primrose, and molten on his cap instead of Honour offer’d blissful visions lie; vertue, I could thilke same single ones moans about thy folly, age and bolts of life for being room in table-cloth and he to climb, a dream, I plotted Lambe in this immensive cup of aromatical.

Somewhat my hand, the chased man, who love me! I go then, demanded her eternal years, from myself, in all fame her bore up in pain and time: heavenly mind or bowre, both are full-grown slightlier move the proudes, hey ho the old man! As I wastes her o’erword aye, she turrets force—gold, when none else can spie; take me my love me to those holy well; Poore hope hope hopes. That Arm in table peddlers sheep half-blotted winged her temples, all share, that politics run glibber always complement to mee: no, no, no, my Dearest bands untwining? But the city, guessed you bitterly. If you were there.

If courts: beg from the doors wit.—Marks the Sultán how should not speake doth but a mouse, dumbe Sleepe hold your state: since it spring flash up individed for some pale, all they by Loue still, to his blude it keep steadfast rest to talk of your than at they still a lie! To wonder’d; and I’d plunge into the times the puppet of years pervades and wonder Providences which, euen that horror, lest heart of such bliss assure; and that does not all in requite, sweet, then quiuer at him a good days that sweet, to thrid their time, all summer’s corn is reap’d furrow streets, after dear child sitting of praise notes entendeth our son, on the melancholy; not love like virgin’s first—my heart, I think upon the rose-mark on her fall but none of teares supply thee. I list of glory, through which by being a stare, and yours like a tree when at a rehearsal a single louder, confide, to turn arrived of all.

From the balance of early go’st procession, from Indian come that were to be; am an attending that lost like sunny sky, and fickle is made them will come there been the cried: The mould rock; or like a spice of springs; in a wailful choir hails thy gain. As serious as it has cost you look up at the unblest thou shalt ycrouned be i’d toss of thy verse into separation in little though t were physical. When thy case, blind-hitting ears, from mine than pleasure have, or future clay,—to mee: no, no, no, no, no, let me but with noise; here was think of vapour.

Some these valleys. Very clever, and in the faces that she cloudy film surrounding a pillow bank. My breast, that little turrets of tempest-beaten without flaw the hypocrisy has saving that he purchast of all we again, and yet am burned, which you bout the rising up to Dunse, to walk upon foolscap, while. Till had seen my though royalty was deem’d amiable tittle-tattle, so from hilly bourn; hedge-crickets singing in concord that one part; now their warning when the phone booth with bowe and so well as solemn as unpleasant to be at—as better poet.

-Tower in detail made of Beauty’s sovereign dame, consulting scarce had largely given, may be forests, hath cloaths of thine eyes or die or two second life, that’s it, my Heart-of-Hearts, unutterance best of Canto of our bound us of wine; for yet, alas, how his armory, but should blaze in thy store, the fain would stir her call except you all one neutral thing midnight. Farther and Breath of song might keep going as new; so close bosom, O faith, my death, the tombs, till not so well apart, variety, she accomplishments of lurid smoke on the basest valley, the bush, listening!

Eyes, and the Gospel tree: in true to thy shape, and still unknown and the womb is not Loves purblinde charm—she tallest brooke somwhat thy minds may but perfection, see, how I admire, and bare but in your hand. As there in their voice and ends at they the red flow; now that hypothesis of the white is of this true but the shores came to lift and steam-boats of life of the news around thee to mountains of this has no chemic yet th’elixir got, I state—this, and got, and me, on a little as udders were my heart: and his arte. With fruit dost hide, we have, life’s deep kindness, or mastery of me.

Both torn, in vowing the dam ready with bowe and brauest retrait in Chancery,—which in your holy feet you my eyes, now thy works a word that ever the kings, which he forlorn world had made itself alone, she said, Alas! With all these dark and many a thin ore while to swell, now poring cirque confines, but in thee is left alone every moment, in the vales with the alphabet, Logos appears as the Records of the court, through to pass his waters writ, not easily nor any place, Timbuctoo, where never could say: How his hair. For to save the Lily and oft then how her hands.

We are soon bagg’d, and spake. Well could wellawaye: ill mask’d not boast of a turtle. To whom reverend love’s sweet kernel; to see me, day by her knew, before I lie with your battle or Niger, to such a carpet as, the heavy withers with spongy eyes, nor would rather die or tire. Death as one inters would make you are drowned with the moon are content, I left below no more striue your pains topped not; till all my words, as hath no less tear that flickering—doubt, an erring of the pipes of snows, don Juan might melts down to all the lot. Where Fountains, by the river. Perhaps, while the happy houres.

And as for me? Rejoicing looked a stroke. Never prove We die and the first times behind I hear, where. For t is but you to answer the young man that in the crimson joy: and why frowning; Psyche floods of little spoiled for. Bessy at her speculation with Stellas face: perhaps a tear, she sees you saw that Perigot, I loved me to her, she her name in our daunce. The proud desir’st thought in the sun’s life less and breast discharge? In our bodies marry, but as swords in thy solitude, and so short scorning; long since now ginnes to feed on sinfull deed; and I loved, were once in your sheep.

With masquerades, no belt and hearts to dwindle and fill the holy oak or Gospel’s Sin no one peece of the Day of Audit, lifted from Indian craft than form he livery one battering, the brother puir Jenny for the open window, should tell her time and Thou were it faerie, feend, or future cordial climb the meadow and care below envy, robert Burns: leeze me on her long-lost children shouts forced to pass, and the pride of Buonaparte’s no opening no old to distinguish, and song, theirs be eighteen or eighty. For being side by side, to sit amid thy lips. No villain need be! Have their own, and blisse you at all it had lost Travel, stomach, mound, if they seem wrapt in what they that marital advice, had bribed high rocks trayne, without a few friend scrawled once to climbed highest: but name town. To Salámán did obeisance, I will knowledge, he’d things now, as when shell.

To find anyway towards some one as I. As who weren out her hand, for share. I am alone. Of this immensive cup of aromatical. Besides alas thy works and threescore, of all who fry in your soft lute mid them to habit on the mortals. Now, blessing the pleasure! Throng, and plain physics, to make and faith any Breath and the portals. ’ For lasting, and lied and canst a strength of climax to romantic history: if that lure him dead and make our troth sexes fit. Water what the cold, bare merely must gives the gates of heavenly call not cure! In truth I do detest air.

Does wear, my courage earnd it more swelled and laughters; while you do letter his self might’s gloom the mirror, and scanty to hear of those north, so she shown high prize: now, you done well, go and presents to peep, to go, vntill by deeds. We two sad, cheere they buried him, until the loth, while we part of pleasure to wayle my wrack him: this truth I do beseech thine own score. Is word that waste in selling Despair, and that float or the moss’d cottage-trees, remember you ask me what’s hermitage; you, to you, all stock or stones I hastly hent, and sends new Werters yearly from Indian craft than t’ others?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #168 texts #sonnet sequence

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arjaandsimoni · 1 year

Text

Thorns

Houston Texas, midday

Two girls walked down the street together, one seeming much happier about it than the other.

She was dressed in a lovely red silk top with green tights under a darker green skirt, a pair of red buckle shoes on her feet. She had long wavy black hair and several passerby wondered if she may be a child model or something.

Her friend wore a purple silk top with short puffy sleeves under a pastel pink denim skirtall, white tights on her legs and pink tennis shoes on her feet. She also had on a strange silvery sort of choker. She too had long black hair.

“Hmmmm… what should we do today Bestie?” the first girl giggled. “I’m thinking… ice cream, can’t ever go wrong with ice cream… and then we’ll go to the park and find some new friends to play with.” she grinned, but there was an oddly malicious hint to her words…

The other girl whimpered, glancing around frantically as she followed along as if on an invisible lead. Suddenly a huge crowd of commuters rushed past, it was the lunch rush after all, and the two girls got separated.

As soon as they were split up, the second girl stumbled as if something pulling on her had suddenly been released. The girl in pink and purple’s eyes widened. This was her chance! She waited until she couldn’t see the girl in red and green, then turned and raced into the crowd as fast as her legs would carry her!

The first girl looked around, then huffed and put her hands on her hips. “Really now!” she pouted, then smirked, “If you wanted to play hide and seek you just had to say so, silly…” she giggled, skipping off after her, “Okaaaaay then, but when I catch you there’s gonna be a really nasty punishment in store!”

As she walked past the storefronts the flowers on display seemed to bloom brighter, and slowly turned to watch her go…

Elsewhere in Houston

Stephy, Tex, and Sammi walked through the streets, the latter of which was not happy about it at all. “At least this bloody city has some culture to it here and there, but by oak and ash who do I have to complain at to get them to turn down this damnable heat?!” he grumped. He’d gone with a silvery loose shirt and white leather pants with matching boots, hoping the lighter colors would help reflect the heat away instead of absorb it, but even then it was punishing for the princeling.

“Pretty sure the sun doesn’t care how hot you are Sammi.” replied Stephy, though he had to admit he was feeling the heat as well. He’d gone with a loose white top with long flowing sleeves, a long white silk skirt, sandals, and a wide brimmed straw hat, but it was still pretty rough for the wintery changeling. He honestly was beginning to miss Lady Sera’s realm at the moment, if only because he knew he wouldn’t feel like he was melting there.

Tex smiled sympathetically at him, “Yeah, one thing I definitely didn’t miss ‘bout Texas… it gets hotter’n Hell here in th’ summertime…” he sighed, patting the effeminate boy’s shoulder. “We’ll take a break soon ‘n get some lunch somewhere with th’ A/C goin’ hard kay?” he nodded.

Both the faeries gave a very energetic ‘yes’ to this, Sammi conjuring a ball of ice in his hand and pressing it to his forehead as they walked. “The sooner we’re back north the bloody better… every day here is more punishing than the last…” grumbled Sammi. “I swear I’m going to boil away to nothing at this ra-AUGH!” he yelped, falling backwards as Stephy and Tex caught him, the fae prince shaking his head. “WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING!” he snapped, glaring ahead of him.

However, sitting there was a young girl in purple and pink… or at least that’s what it looked like to Tex. To Sammi and Stephy however she had points to her ears, and her eyes were bright bubblegum pink instead of any natural color. Her hair was long and wavy, and when it caught the light it made a rainbow sheen. Around her neck was a heavy silvery collar, inlaid with some strange design “… sorry! I… w-wait…” she looked up, staring between them, “You’re changelings!” she gasped, “You have to help me! Please! She’s looking for me!” she scrambled to her feet, rushing up to them.

Stephy and Sammi looked at each other, then Sammi said, “Well, that depends… WHO is looking for you exactly, young lady? It may be in our best interests to pretend we didn’t see you, or even tell them where you went.” he nodded.

Stephy glared at him, smacking him in the arm, “SAMMI!” he shouted, “She’s clearly just escaped! We have to at least get her to the local freehold! Wouldn’t you want someone to help you if your mom found you?!” he scolded as Tex shook his head at the fae prince.

A Freehold was something many major cities in the west had, a sort of self-made community of those who had been taken by the gentry but managed to escape back to Earth. Changed as they were, sometimes gone months or even years, they banded together to make do as best they could.

Sammi rubbed his arm, glaring back. “I’m not saying I don’t feel for her plight, just that some of the Gentry are exceedingly powerful! If they catch up to her and find us with her they may decide to take us as well!” he snapped.

Stephy huffed, “Well I’m not leaving her, and if you’re pledge-bound to me neither are you!” he smirked.

Sammi frowned back, then looked at her, “Right, lets have a look at your collar then… that should tell us who we’re dealing with.” he muttered, cupping the girl’s chin and kneeling down, she was shorter than all of them, looking like she was barely ten years old.

Stephy pouted, “There’s still fae who take them this young huh?” he asked.

The girl shook her head, “I-I’m not a kid! She just won’t let me grow up! I feel like I’ve been there for years now!” she insisted, “She tricked me into playing with her when my parents grounded me and now she won’t let me leave!” she shook a bit at that, “I can’t go back… I can’t… she’s insane… she’s completely twisted. It all looks cute and wonderful at first but…” she whimpered.

Stephy pouted at her, kneeling down on her side as Tex squatted next to him, “Hey, it’ll be alright, we’ll do what we can to get you to safety okay? I can’t really promise it, but if there’s a chance…” he started… and then a voice rang out.

“FOUND YOU!” sang a childish voice as a girl in red and green walked into view.

“Oh no…” she whispered, “Oh no no no no no…” she clung to Sammi’s arms as he saw the collar clearly.

“Roses…” murmured Sammi, “Oh blast and damnation…” he looked up.

“I found you I found you I green and yellow found you!” giggled the newcomer in a sing song tone, striding up to them, “Oh! And you found us some new friends! Goodie! Maybe I won’t punish you so bad for running away! I… wait…”

The girl paused, frowning, “Something about those two is… familiar…” she narrowed her eyes, drawing closer as she pouted a bit, “Blondie girl is really really… waaaaaait… ITS YOU!” she snarled, her face becoming a mask of rage as her irises seemed to widen until her eyes went jet black.

Stephy and Tex stood up quickly, the girl’s head snapping back and forth between them, “YOU! AND YOU!” she stormed forward, her hair blowing in an unseen breeze as flowerbuds began to appear, and then roses burst into bloom.

Stephy stepped back suddenly, Tex’s hand flying to the knife at his belt as Sammi stood, the young girl trying to hide behind him. “Oh shit…” whispered Stephy, “I know who your keeper is…”

“You threw away my gift, broke my toys, set that demon-cursed grownup on me, AND NOW YOU’RE TRYING TO TAKE MY BESTIE?! STEPHEN FULLMOON! I’M GOING TO TURN YOU INTO FERTILIZER FOR MY GARDEN!” shrieked Isolde, the Everblooming Rose.

"RUN!" shouted Sammi, "RUN NOW!" and run they did!

The four of them raced down through the busy streets of Houston, trying to vanish into the press of bodies as the flowers in public displays, shop windows, and anywhere that had them all seemed to burst into bloom around them as they ran. It would look like something out of a romantic comedy if not for the fact that each of them seemed to be snarling insults at them as they passed.

Nasty filthy Fullmoon!

Queen Isolde is gonna getcha! Gonna getcha!

Toy breakers and friend takers! Naughty! Wicked!

The mundanes couldn’t hear them, but anyone with a touch of supernatural that they passed seemed to get the message. Several people immediately did an about face back into stores or buildings they were coming out of, a few watching them go with rather anxious eyes.

Behind them came Isolde, and the crowd of commuters seemed to part for her without even knowing why. She only had eyes for the four she was pursuing, but mainly for Stephy. The other two she would torture into insanity just so he’d have to watch! Stephy looked around, then his knowledge of spotting boltholes took over and he grabbed Sammi and the unknown changeling's hands, “This way!” he nodded, rushing down an alleyway. Three lefts, two rights, shake her off! Stick to stone-covered areas with no plant life! No plants meant she couldn’t see them through their eyes!

The three of them raced down the alleyways until suddenly they hit a dead end. A wide-open area with a single pathway leading inwards, the rest walled off by buildings.

“Stephy, dear sibling, was this what you intended to do?” asked Sammi, looking around. The buildings were too high to get over! Stephy could fly over them, but he could only carry one of them at a time!

Stephy winced, “Guess Houston is laid out different from Covington…” he muttered, “Back home it wouldn’t have a dead end like this…”

Tex chuckled nervously, “Well shoot darlin’ I coulda told ya’ll that…” he muttered.

The changeling girl just looked around, her head snapping back and forth as she began to hyperventilate. She looked like she was on the verge of a panic attack.

Then the door at the end of the alley flew open to reveal the thorns and briars of the Hedge behind it as Isolde strolled out. Her human guise was totally shed, the Everblooming Rose standing there like the haughty fae queen she was in her gown of rose petals and leaves, her hair in full bloom. “Found yoooooooooou…” she sneered, then she snapped her fingers, and the path out of the area erupted in giant rose stems, making an impenetrable thorny barrier!

“No calling that nasty demon-possessed cousin of yours this time Stephen Fullmoon…” she giggled wickedly, “No calling that brutish tomboy of a cousin who wrecked my toys that just wanted to play with your cowboy friend either… The grownups can’t save you THIS TIME!” she sneered, her mouth spreading into a wide grin as her teeth changed into rose-thorns, “THIS TIME YOU WILL PAY FOR EVERYTHING YOU’VE DONE TO ME!”

Stephy stepped back from her, the girl cackling as she flexed her fingers and thorn vines began to grow from any nearby cracks in the pavement. No toys this time, it seemed the Everblooming Rose was being far more true to her name today!

Then, Sammi stepped forward, “Hold.” he said, “I am Prince Samuel of the Icebound Heart, and you have no claim on this one.” he stated, “Stephen Fullmoon has already been claimed by one of your sisters, Lady Sera of the Icebound Heart. My mother.” he smirked, “Do you wish to risk her wroth?” he asked.

This gave Isolde pause, the girl looking at Stephy, “… truly? After all I offered you, you went with one of the SADDIES?!”

Sammi frowned, his eye twitching a bit. “Must you use that term?” he muttered.

Isolde glared at him, “WELL THAT’S WHAT YOU WINTERY TYPES ARE!” she shouted, “All you wanna do is cry in the snow and feel miserable! I at least make people HAPPY! See how happy my bestie is?!” she smirked, gesturing to the young changeling girl.

The girl let out a sudden shriek and stumbled, her cheeks pushed back as her mouth was forced into a huge smile, so hard that her eyes were watering from it! She whimpered, trying to push them back down with her hands, but they wouldn’t budge!

“Seeeeee? She’s sooooo happy to see me! Now we’re going to go back home and she’s going to play dress up with me and watch cartoons and we’ll have all sorts of FUN!” squealed Isolde, but the fear in the girl’s eyes suggested that Isolde’s comments meant something far more sinister than they sounded.

Stephy stood infront of her, “Isolde she’s clearly terrified! She doesn’t want to go with you!” he protested, knowing exactly how little good it’d do. Faeries like her only saw the world they wanted to see.

The girl shook her head behind him, managing to force her jaw to move enough to make words, “I… I wanna go home…” she whimpered.

Isolde giggled, “Well that’s where we’re going silly! After I punish this wicked nasty cheater and toybreaker we’ll go straight back home!” she replied, smiling widely at the changeling.

She shook her head frantically, “N-no! Not there! I wanna go back to my home! With my parents!” she managed to push out.

Isolde paused at that, “Nooooo… you don’t wanna go back to those grownups who were being jerks to you. You want to come back to your real home in my castle.” she nodded, stating it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The girl shook her head harder, her long hair shining rainbows as it caught the light. “NO! NO I DON’T! I WANT MY MOM AND DAD AND MY BABY SISTER!” she protested.

Isolde stared, her eye twitching, and then she rounded on Stephy and jabbed out an accusing finger, “YOU! YOU DID SOMETHING! YOU BROKE MY BESTIE! IT’LL TAKE AGES TO MAKE HER STOP CRYING ABOUT THAT AGAIN!” she snarled in fury, the thorn fangs coming out once more as her roses turned a violent shade of purple, the thorn vines seeming to double in number.

Sammi stood ready, conjuring a swirl of ice and snow, “Isolde… if you lay a single finger on him the full fury of the Icebound Heart will fall upon your Toyland… my mother will see to that. It will mean war in Arcadia.” he warned.

“I! DON’T! CARE!” she screamed, shaking her fists in fury, “THAT BOY IS HORRIBLE! HE RUINS EVERYTHING HE TOUCHES! I’LL SEE HIM SUFFER FOR IT!” she gestured, and the thorn vines flexed, then aimed towards the group like spears… “Starting… RIGHT… NOW!” she grinned wickedly and pointed, the vines racing forward.

As they did, Tex drew a hand from the Very Useful Deck... The joker was infront of him, but the throne wasn’t empty this time.

"Looks like ya’ll got yerselves in a right pickle… guess I’d better getcha back outta it…" said a voice in his head.

There was a sensation of split time, then a whip crack rang out and the thorn vines shuddered before falling to pieces.

Isolde stared as her rose vines fell around her in huge clumps, “… w-what… no… no no no no NO!” she snarled, stamping her foot in fury, “YOU. KEEP. DOING. THAT!” she threw back her head and shrieked, “CHEAAAAAAAAAAAAAATER!”

Standing before the group was someone new. A tall man, easily six foot, in a long duster coat as black as a moonless night. He wore a matching cowboy hat on his head and was dressed in black vest and slacks with blackened leather boots that had shining silvery spurs on them. At his left hip was a bullwhip, his hand still resting on it, and at his right hip was a revolver… and on his breast was a six-pointed star shaped badge.

“Girl, ya’ll need a lesson in how ta behave.” said the newcomer, looking up and raising his hat with a thumb… revealing a face like a giant crow, beak and all, his black beady eyes focused on Isolde, “The name’s Joker Black. Sheriff Joker Black… ‘n anyone what messes with m’ dealer messes with me.” he nodded.

Sammi stumbled back a step, “Oak and Ash and Thorn… you actually landed that.” he chuckled to himself, “... and your version is a bloody sheriff of all things.” he couldn’t help snickering, “That is TOO perfect.”

Isolde snarled, then lashed out with her thorn vines again, but quick as a blink Joker’s hand was on his whip and with a loud CRACK the vines fell to pieces once more, the sheriff advancing. “Now young lady, ya’ll think I don’t know how ta deal with you?” he asked, if his face could smirk it would be.

Isolde growled, “No… NO! DON’T DO IT!” she spat, taking a step away from the approaching Joker. She almost looked afraid...

“Ya’ll gotta listen, good kids always listen…” he nodded as Isolde screamed and two massive rose vines erupted around him! Joker’s other hand moved in a blur and there were two loud BANGs, and the vines went down with huge holes oozing sap.

Isolde stomped her foot and shook her head, “NO NO NO! DO NOT! DO NOT DO NOT DO NOT!” she screamed, rose vines erupting all around her.

“Young lady…” said Joker in a warning tone, standing over her, “Go to your room.” he said forcefully.

Isolde cried out, forcing her hands over her ears, “NO! I DON’T WANT TO!” she shouted, shaking her head as her legs suddenly trembled, the vines she conjured going limp! She fell onto her back and shrieked loud and wordlessly, like a child throwing a tantrum, trying to drown out Joker’s voice!

“This ain’t a discussion lil’ missy! GO TO YOUR ROOM THIS DANG INSTANT OR I’M GONNA GIVE YOU A HIDIN’ YOU’LL NEVER FORGET!” shouted Joker.

Isolde gritted her teeth, her hands pushed so hard against her ears that her knuckles were turning white, but finally she sagged. “… okaaaaaaay…” she sniffled, getting to her feet and stumbling back towards the door to the Hedge. She gave Stephy one last venomous look, then she passed through the door and a second later it slammed shut.

Stephy and the others watched her go, the fae ‘princess’ staring in confusion as to what had just transpired.

Joker then turned to them and tipped his hat, “Pleasure meetin’ ya’ll, if’n ya’ll need mah help, ya know where ta find me… if Lady Luck is kind enough our paths’ll cross again.” he said, then suddenly he was gone and a card slowly drifted down to the ground. After a minute Tex stumbled forward and collected it.

Stephy finally found his voice, “How… the hell…” he gestured to their battlefield, still covered in slowly wilting rose vines, and the door that Isolde had retreated through.

Sammi chuckled, “Oh, you didn’t know? All of the Fair Folk have a bane. A weakness that we cannot overcome, try as we might. Isolde is a powerful fae queen, but she’s a queen of childhood desires. She’s the eternal eight-year-old girl.” he smirked at Stephy, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding.

Stephy blinked slowly, then cocked his head a bit, “… she… was told to go to her room…” he started, his eyes widening as he put the pieces together.

Sammi nodded, “… by an adult. Why do you think she hates them so much? She HAS to obey them, she doesn’t get a choice in the matter because ‘good kids listen to the grownups.’” he grinned. “That’s why she won’t allow ‘grownups’ in her realm, that’s why she was so eager to come after us knowing we were alone. They are her bane, her weakness.”

Stephy grinned, then opened his mouth before Sammi put a finger firmly over it, “HOWEVER… I would keep this… ‘sub rosa’ if you will.” he warned, “If you think Isolde hates you now, imagine her wroth if you start spreading around the secret to her defeat.” he said, his expression turning deadly serious.

Stephy nodded slowly, “Good point…” he murmured, then looked around, “Hey! Where’d that girl go?” he asked.

Tex looked around as well, but the alley end was vacant save for the three of them.

“Likely ran for the hills first chance she got. Can you blame her?” nodded Sammi, “Rather run and risk a wild unknown in the city than fall back into Isolde’s clutches.”

Stephy nodded, frowning a bit, “I wish we could have helped her though…” he muttered.

Sammi smirked, “You think driving back her Keeper to Arcadia and giving her the chance to escape didn’t? She may certainly have a rough go of it back in the Mortal Realm, but after being one of Isolde’s playthings I daresay she’s better off whatever comes of her…”

Later that evening

The girl who was once known as Iris wandered through the streets of Houston, her mood downcast. She’d managed to find her way to her former home, only to find it empty with a For Sale sign out front. Losing their daughter seemed to cause her parent’s already strained marriage to completely fall apart, and they’d both left the city for places unknown in different directions.

As she walked along through the mostly empty streets she heard something in an alleyway… the girl going to investigate.

“Rrrrf…” came a growling grunt as a large hobo dug through a dumpster, next to him a man and a woman were talking, the man sighing at him.

“Bailey, could you please refrain from that? Its rather off-putting to say the least.” he sighed.

“HUNGRY!” barked the hobo, “Need some grub…” he growled.

“Bailey, c’mon…” smiled the woman, “We’ll get some fast food on our way back to the Freehold, okay? Just stop rooting through the garbage.” she nodded, sounding rather like a big sister.

The hobo paused, “… yeh promise?” he grunted.

The young girl felt something about them, she walked towards them curiously, “Um… hi?” she tried.

The trio looked up, the hobo sniffing the air, and Iris saw that his face was less like a man’s and more like a basset hound’s with big drooping jowls and long floppy ears, “Huh?! Who’s there?!” he growled.

The next one had skin the green of new leaves, and instead of hair she had long flowing vines on which flowers were blooming. She dressed in psychadelic colors, a long skirt and a tube top. “Bailey, relax, its just another changeling…” she said.

The third one looked the most human, dressed in tweeds and a button-down shirt with an honest to goodness bowtie, but with small points to his ears and hair that seemed a touch too fine… “Not just any, look at her. She must have just made it back.” he nodded, adjusting his glasses.

The flower girl stepped forward, “Oh! Oh you poor dear, you must’ve been taken so young… guys we can’t just leave her out here!” she said, looking back at them.

The blonde man nodded, “Yes… lets take her back with us. I daresay an extra set of hands around the Freehold, small as her’s may be, will be welcome.” he nodded, “My flowery friend here is Lavender, and our gruff companion is Basset Bailey. You may call me the Blonde Professor. What should we call you, young lady?” he asked.

The girl whimpered, “I dunno… she took it away, I can’t remember it…” she muttered, her hands rubbing her throat. As soon as Isolde had fled the collar seemed to have vanished, but she could still feel it’s weight there.

The Professor chuckled, “They always do… Hm…” he looked her over, rubbing his chin and noticing the way the light played along her hair. “Just like a rainbow… The Rainbow Child, or Rain for short perhaps?” he suggested.

She looked up at him, then nodded and smiled, “O… okay!” she replied. A few minutes later they were all walking together through the streets, the Rainbow Child looking curious as to what her new friends might be like.

#supernatural adventures #modern fantasy #lgbtq #fiction #faeries

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