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#finish a book alder
writerfae · 1 year
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To think my story and the whole universe I created around it all sparked from the wish to have a story about faeries that focuses on other things than romantic love… it’s so wild. A whole new world created, all because I couldn’t find a good faerie story to read that was not romantasy
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jewishdragon · 1 year
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Speaking AGAIN about Sherlock Holmes: If you’ve ever enjoyed a Sherlock Holmes adaptation (be it old movies/shows or new ones)
You really really should read A Scandal In Bohemia. Yes, that one. With Irene Alder. There’s a reason it’s an iconic story that people really love to adapt again and again and again. It’s less of a mystery and more of an adventure. There is no mystery to solve, but a problem, and Holmes’ solution is Some Wacky Shenanigans. I personally think it’s some of Doyle’s most solid writing for Sherlock Holmes, and the entire story is a wild ride from start to finish I promise. It also has Irene who in terms of women written by men in Doyle’s time is a fantastic character. When I say Strong Independent Woman, I’m not joking. She’s brilliant, She crossdresses to go out on the town safely, she makes her own way in life, she fucking blackmailed a king!!
Read it. Or listen to an audio book version.
Here’s a PDF so you able to read have no excuse:
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colorsunimaginable · 2 months
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the spare // chapter sixty-seven // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au
story summary: 
While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?
*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*
words for this chapter: 8k warnings for this chapter: drinking, a wee bit of p in v
CHAPTER MASTERLIST
my lovely beta reader 💕 banner credit @cafekitsune
Chapter Sixty-Seven:
It’s the day after Christmas and I spend it overthinking, worried about this ‘gathering’ at Cliveden. To distract myself, I fiddle around with the new camera Thomus bought me. 
And I might have taken a few… dozen pictures of him. 
Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but regardless I now have images of him sitting at the kitchen table with a book, typing away at his desk on the typewriter, and even one I convinced him to take with me in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. 
“I think I’m… nervous,” I say as we’re getting ready to leave.
Thomus finishes adjusting the collar of his cloak around the collar of his sweater and gives me a curious look. “You likely have more in common with them than I do.”
I shift on my feet, clutching the Tupperware full of cookies tighter. “I highly doubt that. Ever since you told me about this party, all I can think about is the time you spanked me in front of them.” A satisfied smile spreads across his face as he chuckles and pulls a forest green knit scarf from beneath his cloak. “Are we all just supposed to pretend like that never happened?” He steps closer and loops the scarf around my neck, eyes focused on the task. “Are you even listening?”
“Of course.” His eyes snap up to mine as he flips one end of the scarf over my shoulder and the other down my front. “You have nothing to worry about.”
I release a strained groan and fidget with my Ilvermorny Christmas sweater, pulling the hem further down around my hips. “Let’s just go.”
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We Apparate straight there and I’m gonna be honest, I have no idea what to expect. The few parties Jacob Astor has hosted that I’ve witnessed have varied wildly. From a super serious Death Eater meeting about human trafficking to dancing with Thomus while high on a lust potion - you never really know. Not to mention, the usual crowd has been an unfortunate audience to my most embarrassing moments in the last six months. 
I shudder out of my thoughts while we trek to the large hosting room. The smell hits me first, cinnamon and oranges, and then I register the song playing gently from the corner of the room, Bing Crosby’s White Christmas . An Elf snaps away our outerwear as we approach the open doors.
The room is absolutely decked out . Floating candles light the room, hovering just under the high ceiling. Fake snow drifts down from a dim grey sky, fresh holly on every sconce. In the center of the room against the windows is a massive tree, covered in tinsel and twinkling lights. The grand fireplace is crackling with a delicious smelling fire. We walk closer to the tree, where people are gathered around on couches and chairs, and I can make out what lights the top of the tree... A bright, glowing Deathly Hallows mark. 
Well, that’s fucking weird.
I don’t have time to think on it further before Jacob Astor is standing before us. He looks as dashing as ever and not so surprised that I’m not currently blind. He smiles at both Thomus and me, and I wish I could tell if he’s being sincere.
“Glad you guys could make it,” Jake says cheerfully as he shakes Thomus’ hand, but he’s looking at me. 
Thomus smiles in return, looking more relaxed than he usually does when we’re out. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
As they exchange a few more pleasantries, my eyes wander beyond Jake, trying to see if there’s any familiar faces. I clock Kyle sitting near Will when Jake says something that recaptures my attention. “I see you had your very own Christmas miracle.” 
Thomus’ arm slides around my waist. “Yes, I had some very good luck.”
I don’t miss the double meaning to his words. I wanna remark about how his good luck was really my hard work, but I bite my tongue and force a shy smile as Jake turns to shake my hand as well.
Jake gestures to a food and drinks table set up along a wall. “Help yourselves. I think Will’s trying to start up some drinking games here in a minute.”
I start walking toward the table before Thomus, mostly because I’m eager to exchange this box of cookies for something with alcohol in it. Towards the desert section, I glance back over my shoulder to make sure no one but Thomus is watching me slide trays aside, making enough room for my offering. 
Finally with free hands, I scooch next to Thomus standing by the drinks. 
“Can I pour you anything?” he asks me. 
My eyes scan the bottles, then point to the one I want. “Yeah, can I get orange juice with Malibu?”
He reaches for the white bottle I pointed to and pours a double into the iced glass he’s holding. “Coconut rum?” he questions as he’s reaching for the pitcher of orange liquid. 
“It’s my go-to,” I say as I grab a coffee straw, taking the glass and stirring it once it’s full. I take a sip and it’s just right. He’s busy pouring his own glass of whiskey, but I offer him the straw anyway. “Wanna try?”
I briefly pull his eyes away from pouring as he leans down to wrap his lips around the straw. There’s just something about seeing his jaw flex like that that has me pinching myself. 
“Well, it’s certainly a combination of flavors,” he says after swallowing. 
I snort and forget what I’m about to say when I feel an arm brush my other shoulder. When I see who it is, I relax. “Oh, hi.”
Will’s eyes immediately find the box that doesn’t match the rest of the dishes and nabs one of the bright red cookies. “Oh, hi,” he teases after he takes a bite. His face is sans beard and rocking a stache now. “You guys ready to get trashed?”
“What’re we playing?” I ask, taking a few big pulls of my drink.
“Anything,” Will answers immediately. He pulls out his wand and summons a tray pre-loaded with tiny cauldrons just big enough for shots. A bottle of firewhiskey floats from the collection before us and starts filling the cauldrons. “Got nothin’ but a good time on the agenda.”
“Can we play Thunderstruck?” I ask. 
Will beams. “Fuck yeah we can play Thunderstruck.”
As Thomus and I follow Will back to where everyone else is gathered, Thomus leans in. “Should I know what that is?”
I can’t help but smile. “Oh, you’ll find out.”
There’s an empty loveseat Thomus pulls me onto. He tucks his arm around my waist again as he settles back, practically tucking me into his side. 
As Will passes out the shot cauldrons, I can finally sneak a peek at who’s actually here. Kyle and Will - and obviously Jake. That Roosevelt guy is here, too, but I forget his first name. There’s a pretty blond woman talking to Jake that I don’t recognize and… oh, that’s it. Small group, I see. Which I will admit I’m glad for. 
I take the first shot that Will offers me and I down it immediately before putting it back and grabbing another one. I haven’t really eaten much today, so the alcohol hits my stomach like a warm blast.
“Alright, I wanna make a toast,” Jake announces, standing with his shot held out towards the blond next to him. “Firstly, to my sister, Diana, for the last minute decorating.”
“Well, you obviously weren’t going to do it,” Diana says with a laugh. 
“Exactly,” he says. “And then to all of you - for making this past year as successful as it has been.”
For one blissful moment I had allowed myself to forget why I was here, why they’ve had such a successful year. It takes .2 seconds for the anxious pit in my chest to grow twice its size. I’m the first one to finish my shot and then sip heavily on my cocktail to wash the taste down.
“Alright, the first game we’re playing is Thunderstruck, so everyone top off their drinks,” Will says, heading over to where the Christmas music’s playing from. 
Since mine is already more than halfway gone, I shoot to my feet to fill it back up. I’m not the first one to the drinks table because Kyle is there ladeling in some kind of fizzing purple punch. 
“Want one?” Kyle asks as I glance over my shoulder at Thomus, who briefly looked at me before turning to greet Diana.
“Yes, please,” I reply. “Two actually.”
“This your doing or his?” he asks, his voice low. By this he doesn’t even have to clarify - I just know.
I look up at him and shrug with one shoulder. “Mine.”
“Hmph,” he grunts unhappily. He finishes filling the first glass and then starts the second.
“What, don’t believe me?” I ask, taking a sip of the punch. Elderberry and something that tastes like Aloe juice. 
“I believe you,” he says quickly. “Now it’s just my turn to hold up my end of the bargain.”
I sigh heavily. “You haven’t figured out how to get me away from Thomus yet, have you?”
“Well, I have a few ideas, but I don’t think you’re going to like them.”
“Such as?”
Before he can answer, we get called back to the group to start the song. I’m supposed to hide the fact that I have my magic, so with both hands I carefully cradle my half drink plus the two new ones back to the loveseat. Thomus is still chatting with Diana, a conversation I’ve completely tuned out, so I just slide our drinks onto the coffee table in front of us. 
“Melisa, can you explain the rules?” Will asks. 
I’m a bit taken aback by the use of my whole first name - especially being pronounced correctly - instead of my last. Everyone’s eyes are on me now, so I take a deep breath before spilling the details. “Okay so, we go in a circle and every time the song says ‘thunder’, one person drinks until they say ‘thunder’ again, and then the next person starts and so on and so forth, does that make sense?”
“I’ll start!” Will says before pressing play and jogging over. He comes to sit on the armrest of our loveseat.
The first few thunders come in quick succession, so once Will goes, I go, and then Thomus. The thunders go around the circle a few times before the first long stretch lands on Thomus, who has to finish his whiskey, and with some encouragement, grabs the punch I push towards him. With the circle being small, by the time the song’s over, everyone has finished their drinks.
“Now that we’ve all settled in,” Will jokes, “the next game we’re playing is called Captain.” He sets the music back to Christmas music and turns the volume down to a background level. “Usually, it’s played with a pirate's hat or a sailors hat, but since it’s Christmas - “ he waves his wand and a Santa hat appears on Diana’s head, much to her delight “ - this is what we’ve got. Does everyone know how to play?”
I shake my head, noticing the alcohol has started to loosen my limbs. I’d finished my cocktail during the game and have started on the punch - which I swear keeps refilling itself.
Diana rubs her hands together conspiratorially and leans forward over Thomus to explain. “Whoever has the hat gets to pick someone to do a dare. If they do the dare, then we all take a shot and they get the hat, but if they don’t then they’re out of the game. Last person in the game wins.”
I smile at her. “Please don’t pick me first.”
She laughs. “Don’t worry, I got my eyes on someone else.” She jerks her chin towards Jake, who immediately dons this ‘oh shit’ face. She leans back, crossing her arms with a shit eating grin.
“Why’s it called Captain?” I ask. “Just because of the hat?”
“Whenever someone gets the hat, we’re supposed to say ‘Aye, Aye Captain’,” Thomus explains for me, his face leaning in close. 
I immediately giggle. “Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?”
He runs his hand down my thigh and tilts his head in confusion. “What?”
I shift in my seat, getting closer to him so our thighs touch. “Nevermind.”
“Aye, aye Captain!” Roosevelt and Will shout. 
Diana taps her chin like she’s still considering. “Hmm, dear brother, what shall I make you do?” Then she grins. “I dare you to take your socks off with your teeth and wear them tucked into your collar for the rest of the game.”
My head quickly swivels to where Jake is sitting to get his reaction and he does not disappoint. His face scrunches up in disgust as he slouches in his seat, already toeing off his nice shoes. 
“Hopefully those aren’t the ones you were wearing yesterday,” Will laughs. “Or are they?”
“Shut your trap, Hoffman,” Jake grumbles. 
We all wait with baited breath as he grabs his calf to pull his foot closer to his face. He quickly traps the sock between his bared teeth and pulls. It slips off and he does the same to the other one before tucking them both into his collar. 
He grins triumphantly and quickly summons house slippers for his bare feet. “Ha!” he says. “Drink up, assholes.”
We all take our drinks as the Santa hat gets transferred to Jake. 
“Aye, Aye Captain!” we all shout. 
His eyes jump from person to person, and he’s quick to settle on Kyle, who clearly isn’t paying attention. 
Kyle’s sole focus is on Thomus, blatantly staring at him with something akin to determination and consideration. 
The look quickly disperses as my stare gives Jake’s intention away and Kyle’s expression neutralizes. 
“Kyle,” Jake says. “I dare you to serenade the person to your right.”
Kyle sighs dramatically, rubbing his hand down his face. “I’m not nearly drunk enough for this.”
Nevertheless, he swiftly gets down on his knees in front of Diana, a hand clutched over his heart. As he’s clearly about to break out in song, I briefly wonder if he’ll have a decent singing voice, and I find out soon enough as he belts out the easily recognizable first notes to All I Want for Christmas is You . His voice is off-pitch and scratchy, and I genuinely can’t tell if he’s being bad on purpose or not. Everyone starts laughing and I can’t help but join in. 
When he gets to the end of the first verse, he takes Diana’s hand and gives the back of it an exaggerated kiss. We give him a round of applause as he takes his seat. Jake gives Kyle the hat while we take our drink for the round.
It doesn’t surprise me that Kyle chooses Thomus, I only worry what he’ll make him do. He’s looking around, trying to come up with an idea until his eyes land on Thomus’ drink in his hand. 
“Malfoy, I triple doxy dare you to… finish yours and Alder’s drinks in one go.”
Thomus scoffs. “And here I thought you were going to pick something difficult.” He quickly finishes the rest of his punch in a few gulps before trading glasses with me. “Tada,” he proudly announces after easily downing the rest of mine, then he stands holding our four empty glasses by the rim in one hand. “Drink up.”
As Thomus goes across the room to refill our punch, Kyle leans forward, staring at me intently. 
“We need to get him drunk,” he hisses low. 
I blink at him in surprise, then jump my gaze first to Thomus’ back and then to the rest of the group. No one seems as surprised as I am. Even Roosevelt, who I overheard someone refer to him as Eric, doesn’t bat an eye. Is everyone in on this plot?
“That’s your plan?” Will asks incredulously.
“It’s the start of one,” Kyle answers. “Get him so drunk he passes out and she can just… leave.”
“Just leave ?” I ask. I look to the windows, searching for that shimmer from the magical barrier from before. “What about -”
“The tattoo doesn’t work here,” Jake quickly adds. “And there aren't any additional wards to trap you here.”
Everyone is looking at me, waiting for my response. My heart has leapt to my throat to block any logistical questions I have before Thomus swoops back into his seat.
“What’s that look for?” Thomus asks me. I quickly snatch the glass he hands me to swallow my thrumming heart back into my chest. 
Diana jumps in for my rescue. “I was just telling her about my ex.”
“Oh Merlin,” Thomus groans, slumping back against the loveseat. “It’s not a story about me, is it?”
What? Jesus fuck, these people keep smacking bludgers at me one after another. 
I try not to react outwardly to the news that Diana and Thomus used to date, even if this news is just as jarring as the imminent plan for my escape from him. I focus on her, really taking in what she looks like. Extremely tall and willowy with big round hazel eyes and a cupid’s bow mouth. Jealousy flares up inside because I can’t help but compare us. Her thighs combined are the size of just one of mine. 
She flips her long dirty blond hair over her shoulder and crosses her legs, perching an elbow on the armrest of her chair. “No, but I ought to, shouldn’t I?”
“Definitely not,” Thomus says, quickly sitting forward with a hand outstretched towards Kyle. “Pass me the hat.” He settles the white faux fur rim of the Santa hat over his dark curls. 
“Aye aye, Captain!” they all shout. I’m too anxious and fixate my eyes on my drink, still fizzing on the coffee table in front of me. My mind is racing with all that could potentially happen. Where would I go? How long could I hide? Could I be summoned back because of the tattoo? If the idea is to get me close to Voldemort, wouldn’t fleeing just put a target on my back? I wonder if I’d be able to get a message to Hermione about -
Thomus’ hand brushes down my arm. “Melisa?”
My eyes snap to his, focused on me, and I swallow around nothing. “Yeah? Sorry.”
He gives me a sly smile. “It’s your turn.”
“Alright,” I sigh, making a face. “Lay it on me.”
He takes a deep breath and I expect it to be something genuinely challenging, but in all honesty it’s a bit underwhelming. “I dare you to sing the alphabet… backwards.”
I snort. “Jokes on you because I was taught that in the second grade.” 
“Oh, I’m sure,” he grins. “Let’s hear it, then.”
Looking at him, I feel less nervous about making a fool of myself in front of everyone else. So I start to sing, keeping my eyes on him or on his person, because after a few moments the prolonged eye contact makes my face heat. 
Even after I’m finished with the letters, I keep going with the end of the song. “ Now we know our ZYXs’, next time we will go to Texas. ”
Will laughs. “Why the fuck are we going to Texas?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Ask Mr. Morley.”
“Who the fuck is that?”
“My elementary school music teacher,” I reply smoothly. “Now drink the fuck up.”
Jake is the first to finish his drink, so he stands to get a refill. “We should play something else. All our dares suck, no ones gotten out yet.”
“I’ve got a good one,” I say quickly. I’d taken a drink, too, because why not? Who wants to make hard decisions sober?
I pluck the Santa hat off Thomus’ head and slip it over mine. “You ready, Will?”
Will squares his shoulders, facing me dead on, expression serious. “Born ready.”
“I dare you to recite a poem - any poem, but you -” I start to blow a raspberry with my tongue in between every word “- have to talk like this.”
Will snickers. “You got that from Spongebob.”
“So what if I did? You still gotta do it,” I smile. “And I don’t think I heard my ‘aye aye, Captain’.”
Jake and Kyle are the only ones who don’t say it. Kyle is lost in his thoughts if his dead eye stare at his drink is evidence enough, and Jake is too far away at the food and drinks table to care.
It’s hard to keep the grin off my face as Will complies with my dare. “ Mosquito lands on my cheek. I try to slap her, but I just slap me. ” He finishes by standing with a bow. 
“That’s it?” Diana protests. “It was so short.”
“It’s a haiku,” Thomus explains. “A type of Japanese poem.”
“Oh, yeah that’s right,” she says. “Do you still work for the Daily Prophet? Or has that taken a backseat for… other things?” 
“A bit of both, really,” he sighs. “The Dark Lord hasn’t required much of me lately, so I’ve been helping Barnabas Cuffe with editing. In addition to helping my sister-in-law with the New Year’s Eve Gala she’s hosting.”
“Speaking of,” Jake says, rejoining the group, “why weren’t we invited?” It’s obvious he’s not really offended, just genuinely curious. 
Thomus sighs and speaks with a hint of resentment. “Only the Sacred Twenty-Eight and whoever’s crawled up through the Dark Lord’s ranks, I’m afraid. Not even the Lots are allowed to be present.”
“Well, if you’re free, Melisa,” Diana says, speaking to me. “You’re welcome to come to a New Years Eve party here. It would just be us and a few of my girlfriends from Oxford.”
I’m genuinely shocked and flattered that this goddess is inviting me to a party, but I know that this has to be a backup plan for escape if tonight doesn’t go as Kyle wants it. I don’t even get a chance to respond because Thomus puts a possessive hand on my leg, wedging his long fingers into the tight space between my thighs. 
“Unfortunately, that’s not possible,” Thomus says, speaking for me with a tone of finality, and doesn’t even bother to explain why.
She peers at us curiously for a moment before realization dawns. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot.”
The tray with all our mini shot cauldrons fill back up as Thomus just gives a silent nod of acknowledgement. 
We play another couple rounds of Captain before all the drinks finally start to do their job and loosen everyone up. I know I’m starting to feel it, especially when I stand to go find a bathroom. 
Thomus insists on accompanying me, especially when I steer towards the bathroom down by the kitchens. He takes me back out to the lobby, showing me where the bathrooms are there. Secretly, I’m glad, because I don’t think I’d be able to make it up and down all those stairs without tripping at least once. I don’t think Thomus would either, based on how many times he bumps into me. 
He even follows me into the women’s bathroom, insisting that it doesn’t matter since we’re the only ones in there. 
“I didn’t realize how clingy you were,” I tease, saddling my way into one of the stalls to do my business.
He slides into the one next to me. “Oh, poppycock. I’m just being a gentleman and making sure you don’t fall in.”
My laugh is sharp and loud in the echoey bathroom. “That actually happened to me when I was in preschool. The seat wasn’t down so my butt got all wet and I just sat there waiting to be rescued by a teacher.”
I hear his warm chuckle. “How old were you?”
“Four,” I say as I finish and leave the stall to wash my hands. He joins me a moment later, still chuckling to himself. “What?”
He shakes his head absently. “Nothing, you’re just… adorable.”
I snort as I reach for a paper towel. “Right.”
He dries his hands too and quickly reaches for me as I try to pass him to the door. He leans back against the counter, a hand on my hip and one on my cheek, pulling me towards him. I don’t resist and lean into him, our lips quickly meeting. My arms snake around his waist, wanting a hug at the same time, because it strikes me that if I leave tonight… this could be it. 
I still have a million doubts and questions that need answered, but right now… right now he wants me and I need to bask in it for as long as I can, while I still have the chance.
I deepen the kiss and I boldly slip one of my hands to the front of his jeans. He’s already semi-hard, but at my touch, he groans and bites my lip. 
“You want to do this here?” he asks, his voice husky.
I nod, my other hand coming around to undo his pants and slip my hand inside. “I want you so bad.”
He drags kisses along my jaw and down my neck. “It’ll have to be quick.”
“And hard,” I breathe, practically panting with want already.
Determination in his movements now, he flips us around until my fupa is pressed against the sink counter and he’s grinding against my ass. He moves my hair away from my neck, sensually kissing the soft spot below my ear. Over my sweater his hands slowly grope down from my chest, then my stomach and the fleshy “handles”, as he’s called them before, where my fupa meets my hips. 
I push my ass back against him. “I thought you said we had to be quick.”
He bites my neck, wringing a moan from me. “Patience,” he warns. 
One hand lets go of my handle and slips underneath to firmly cup the junction between my legs. I sigh heavily and whine, rocking my hips, increasing the pressure on my clit. 
“Fuck,” he groans out. Finally he hooks his fingers into my waistband and yanks my pants and undies down to my knees. I push my ass out towards him when he takes a step back to pull his cock out. He moans when his tip pushes through my lips, feeling how wet I am. Then he doesn’t waste a second longer and slides home. 
I cry out, biting my lip in an attempt to keep it muffled. I plant my hands on the smooth cold counter and immediately start rocking back and forth, desperately impatient. With a hand on the center of my back, he pushes me forward while snapping his hips to my ass, seamlessly sliding into the pace I’d set. Quick staccato slapping echoes around the room as he thrusts hard and deep. My eyes roll back into my head, hardly aware of the noises I’m making because I’m too busy losing my mind to the pleasure.
He slows all too soon, pulling me back up to attach his mouth to my neck again. My back bends to accommodate him, and while still keeping him buried to the hilt, my chest juts out. He takes advantage of the position and pushes my sweater up until his fingers find the band of my bra and he pushes that up too. My heavy breasts fall into his hands and he groans, pinching my nipples, and fucking into me with slow, but hard thrusts. 
My eyes flutter open briefly, a sudden urge to see. He’s fucked me in front of a mirror before, but he hasn’t done it since I’ve gotten my sight back. Admittedly, I have a bit of an out of body experience, looking at what’s happening instead of feeling it. I hate what I look like, of course. Sometimes in my head I look different than I really do and seeing myself in the mirror can be pretty jarring. 
But then I look at Thomus’ face. He’s so… wrapped up in me, hands full, mind clearly numb with ecstasy. 
I close my eyes again, grimacing, swallowing down the sudden onslaught of longing and loss. It’s probably all the alcohol, but tears fill my vision because I just can’t bear losing this. I quickly blink them away, avoiding looking in the mirror again. 
I don’t want to ruin the moment, so I start pushing back against him again, urging him to pick up the pace. 
He obliges me for a few moments until he slows to a stop. He’s still panting and holding me against him before he sighs heavily.
“Darling, you feel amazing, but I don’t think I can finish,” he murmurs hesitantly, sounding regretful. 
I nod, sniffling. “It’s okay, we can stop.”
He pulls out and I swiftly right myself, pants back over my hips, bra holding what it should, sweater in the right place. It’s only then that I look in the mirror again. Luckily he didn’t bite me too hard, so there’s no hickey to cover up. I just wet my fingers and run them through my hair before flipping it back over. Leaning close to the mirror, I check that my makeup is still good.
“Were you crying?” he asks point blank, staring at me in the mirror. 
“No,” I lie, but I feel a river about to gush out of my nose, so I quickly snag a paper towel and blow into it. “I just had to sneeze real bad and didn’t wanna ruin the moment.”
Fully dressed again, he slides a hand down my butt, gripping it appreciatively. “I’d be happy to help you finish,” he suggests.
I shake my head. “No, it’s okay,” I say, forcing a reassuring smile on my face. I rock up onto the balls of my feet to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Still scratched that itch and felt amazing.”
He takes my hand, pulling me to the door. “Then let’s get back. Hopefully they won’t give us too much grief for taking so long.” He smirks down at me and winks. Actually winks . It's such a quick thing, but it makes my heart contract in my chest with the need to be wrapped up in him again. 
God I’m so fucked.
~*~
As predicted, when we return Will and Jake are quick to wolf whistle. They’re over by the music and Thomus joins them while I sink into his seat next to Diana. My face has got to be as red as my sweater, but Diana doesn’t comment on it. She just hands me a full shot cauldron with an understanding look. Grateful, I take the shot. Getting dicked down sobered me a bit more than I wanted.
Eric is busy scribbling away in a little notebook and next to him is Kyle and his stupid judgmental face.
I ignore him and focus on Diana. “So what did you study at Oxford?”
“I studied Art History,” she says, “but I didn’t get, like, a degree or anything. I just wanted to know a little more about the art I was seeing in the museums here.”
“That’s one thing I haven’t done since I’ve gotten to England,” I say. “I used to love going to museums.”
She tilts her head, looking curious. “Were you meant to stay long?”
I shrug. “I had an internship at the Daily Prophet, which I’d been hoping would lead to a full time position at some point.”
“Oh, so you worked with Thomus then?” she asks. “You knew him… before.”
“No, actually,” I say, reaching over for my punch. “I… He wasn’t around all that much while I was there.” 
“What gives with the Deathly Hallows mark on the tree?” Kyle asks out of the blue. “You know it’s just a story, right?”
Diana, who’s clearly much more sober than Kyle is right now, looks at him without mirth. “It’s very real.”
I nod along, knowing all too well the truth behind the Deathly Hallows.
“Grindelwald murdered a lot of our family with the Elder Wand,” Diana continues. “Not to mention, I’ve seen invisibility cloaks with my own eyes.” She grimaces. “And yes, I know what I just said is an oxymoron.”
With another pull of my drink, I feel gutsy enough to ask something that’s been on my mind for a while. I lean closer to her and lower my voice. “So… has your brother… always been… “ I sigh. I feel silly saying ‘on our side’, but how else can I put it? “I don't know, I guess I'm asking about allegiances.”
Kyle gives me an ‘are you serious’ look. “Of course he’s been in on it,” he says, as if it should’ve been obvious. 
“The entire time?” I ask skeptically, distinctly remembering how not nice he was when we met the night Montague got beat the fuck up by Thomus.
“He’s playing the long game,” Diana explains. “Jake’s very good at wasting The Great Order’s time.” 
Her eyes are on the three men in the corner and I turn to look just as the three of them take a shot. “Does Thomus know?” I ask, my voice low.
“Thomus is under the impression that Jake just has reservations about certain things,” she says. 
“Participating without actually participating,” I surmise.
She nods. “Exactly.” Her gaze is drawn to Eric, and she stares at him for a moment before she asks, “What happened to your hand, Eric?”
Eric looks up, seeming to have forgotten where he was. He looks around and finds the three of us looking at him. Then the question seems to sink in and he looks down at his hand. Bandages wrap around his palm and twist up his two middle fingers.
“Oh, I uh, had a bit of an accident a few days ago,” he says. “Working on the…“ He eyes me for a second before looking back at Diana. “On the thing.”
“You don’t have to speak in code,” Kyle says to him. “She can handle a few more secrets.”
I nod in agreement, though really it has nothing to do with how good I am at keeping secrets. I’m just too nosey for my own good.
“Right, sure, yeah,” Eric says. He looks down at his notebook. “I’m having a bit of a timing issue. I think I’ve got the explosive strong enough, but it seems the stronger it gets, the less time I have before it goes off.”
I quickly glance back at Thomus, catching him downing another shot, before turning back and whispering, “You’re building a bomb?”
He nods. “Something powerful enough to break through Anti-Apparition wards.”
My eyes widen. “That’s a thing?”
The corners of his mouth turn up in an amused grin. “I’m definitely trying to make it one.”
“Do you have the recipe?” I ask, a bit eager. “I’ve had a similar issue with magical film developer. I might be able to help.”
“Yeah, here.” He flips through a couple pages until he lands on a spread that’s definitely got more use than the rest, then passes it to me.
As I scan the page, I see that a few of the core ingredients are the same, just how they’re incorporated is slightly different. The measurements are also scaled down for testing purposes.
“If this were to scale, how much willow root would you add?” I ask. 
“The entire root, but I chop it up.”
“If you grind it down into a powder and then weigh it, it’s easier to be more precise with the amount you add,” I explain, not looking up from the page. “And you’re not adding nearly enough bursting mushroom powder.”
When I look up, Eric’s head is tilted, his eyes unfocused, his mind clearly running away from him with this new information. “Interesting,” he says. 
“Magical film developing potion always implodes on itself. It’s just a fact. But I’ve made it so much that I can time it down to the second it’ll implode,” I explain. “Would you… want me to write the recipe down for you? Then you can compare.”
He blinks back into focus, nodding eagerly. “Yes, please do. Here.” He passes me his pen and I quickly jot down my recipe on the next available page in his book.
By the time I’m done, the music gets turned up, and the three in the corner start making their way over to us. I toss down the rest of my drink before reaching for Thomus’, but Kyle stops me. 
“Don’t,” he warns.
I quickly put two and two together. “What did you put in here?” I demand with a hushed voice.
“Relax,” he says, standing. “It’s just something to speed things up.”
Completely oblivious, Thomus plops right down next to me, swinging his arm around my shoulders. 
“Is that mine?” he asks, not bothering to wait for my response before he grabs his drink and chugs it. He audibly plonks the glass onto the coffee table and turns to me, grinning mischievously from ear to ear, looking like he has a dirty secret he can’t wait to share with me. I return his smile with a hesitant one of my own. 
He leans close to speak in my ear, though he’s not exactly quiet. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
My face immediately flushes because everyone heard that. I look around in panic to find everyone staring at us, too. Their expressions aren’t of disgust, though, just surprise.
“Oh my god,” I say, covering my face with my hands. I shoot to my feet. “I need a drink.”
As I speed away, I hear Thomus ask, “What did I say?”
I glance over my shoulder to see Diana covering her mouth in a fit of giggles and Jake shakes his head. “Dude.”
I’m munching on one of my red cookies when Thomus comes up behind me, his hand drifting down my back to settle on my waist. “What’s the matter?” he asks.
“Nothing. You just -” I glance up at him, noting his dilated pupils and flushed cheeks. “I guess I’ve just never seen you so relaxed. Especially around other people. And we’re acting like we’re…” My heart’s thundering in my chest as I force the last few words out. “Like we’re a couple.”
He turns to face me and leans a hip on the table. “You’re right, it is a bit out of our usual routine,” he admits, his expression serious. “I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”
I sigh and shrug a shoulder. “No more than you usually do.” I put my hand over his where it rests on the table, pushing the tips of my fingers against his knuckles. “And I don’t hate… this, how it feels, you know? It’s just hard to pair it with everything else,” I say. “If that makes sense.”
He nods slowly, looking down at our hands. “This is all new for me, if you can believe it,” he says softly. “I just wanted you to enjoy yourself.”
I bump his hip with mine. “Hey, we fucked in the bathroom. I’d say I'm having a decent time.”
He snickers and leans in to kiss my cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
I don’t know how to respond to that, based on tonight’s agenda, but luckily Will calls us over from a card table Jake summoned to play Exploding Snap.
~*~
A little while later we’re all sitting around the card table. I’ve elected not to play since I don’t have my wand and technically Thomus doesn’t know that they know I have my magic.
Throughout the game, Thomus gets noticeably drunker than everyone else, despite only sipping his drink. During one round while waiting for his turn, I guess all the drinks and whatever Kyle spiked his drink with, finally catch up with him. He passes out with his head propped in one hand and the other loosely clutching his cards. 
When they notice, the room goes silent except for the Christmas music still playing. Kyle slowly reaches over and shakes Thomus’ shoulder, making his head fall right onto the table with an ominous thunk that does not match the vibe of McCartney’s Wonderful Christmastime .
I stare at his face, overwhelmingly anxious about his well-being, when an uncharacteristic snore breaks through the silence between songs. 
“Finally,” Jake sighs, tossing his cards onto the table and running a hand over his face. “You sure about this, Kyle? There’s no turning back from this.”
Kyle stands, pulling out his wand. “Trust me. This is the only way.’
“What happens now?” I ask. 
Kyle moves Thomus’ unconscious form into the air where he hovers with his arms and head dangling.
But he doesn’t answer me. 
“ Kyle ,” I press, “what happens now?”
“Now, we put him to bed and by the time he wakes in the morning, you’ll be long gone,” he answers, moving with Thomus towards the stairs on the other side of the room.
I stand too, quickly following him to demand answers. “Where, exactly, will I be?”
“That’s up to you,” he answers casually. “You can probably get away with hiding here in this massive fucking house until he leaves.”
“What, you think he’s just gonna accept that I’m gone?” I ask. “No questions asked?”
“Yeah, we’ll just tell him you must’ve left in the middle of the night or something. What room am I putting him in, Jake?”
We’ve gotten to the stairs and it’s only then I realize everyone has followed us, with Will right behind me. 
“Three doors down from the top of the stairs,” Jake answers. “On the left.”
I realize it’s the same room he put us in before and my face heats at the memory of being bound to the wall and fingered within an inch of my life. We get into the room and I rush forward to pull the velvety soft duvet back from the pillows. Kyle gently lowers him and I make sure he’s settled properly to avoid potentially choking on his own vomit in his sleep. 
“What now?” I ask, pulling off Thomus’ shoes and tucking his legs under the blankets before pulling up the unfitted sheet to his chest.
“Merlin,” Kyle exclaims. “Will you quit it?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “ No , I won’t,” I say tightly. “We need this figured out before there’s no going back.”
“Fine,” he says, mimicking my stance and leaning against the wall. “What’re you so worried about?”
I take a deep breath, trying to speak calmly. “What makes you so sure he’s not going to find me?”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s literally the Death Eater’s best tracker.”
“He hasn’t found George Weasley,” Will says.
“I’ve no fucking idea how George has managed to avoid getting caught by anyone , given how much of a high profile he has, but there’s no way I could do the same and be close to Voldemort like you want. A missing Lot? The Death Eaters are gonna go apeshit.”
“What about that Lot that escaped early on? Killed her owner and everything,” Kyle says.
“I’m pretty positive she’s straight up left the country,” I say, talking with my hands. “And I don’t think any of us are on board with killing him.”
Kyle nearly rolls his eyes. “I never said we had to kill him,” he says. “You’re here, out of your wards. There’s no need.”
“Okay, well me leaving the country is the exact opposite of what we want,” I say and start to pace. “How long would I be hiding?”
“I don’t know,” Kyle answers, shrugging. “Could be months.”
“Great, so you’re just gonna come get me when it’s time to, what, attack Hogwarts? Do you really think there’s gonna be another fight there? Or are we waiting for him to make an appearance somewhere?”
“I’ve heard he’s pretty reclusive right now, actually,” Will pipes in. “He hardly leaves the school.”
“Great!” I exclaim with fake enthusiasm. “So I’ll just camp out in the Forbidden Forest, then? Take my chances at running into Dementors, Death Eaters, centaurs, fuckin’ giant spiders , for fucks’ sake?”
“Girl’s got a point, Kyle,” Jake says, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning against the ornate bed post. 
“Well, what else is she going to do? She’s useless to The True Order just playing house with a Malfoy,” Kyle says.
“Hey, I’ve done stuff,” I protest. “I’ve passed important notes to the Order, hidden a fugitive right under Thomus’ nose, and it was me who got the word to that safehouse that it was going to be raided.”
“ What ?!” Jake looks at me absolutely stunned. “That was you?”
“Yes! Who else in that room from the meeting would’ve tipped them off?” I ask. “ And I’ve managed to become immune to that scary as shit magic suppression potion. Have you ever taken that shit? It’s utterly terrifying to not have your magic.” I stop my pacing and look around at all of them. “To be completely at the mercy of someone who couldn’t give a shit whether you lived or died? We’ve all been sterilized and raped and branded as property. ” 
I pull my left sleeve up, bearing the tattoo and the scars Bellatrix left me. Diana’s visibly horrified and everyone else just looks mildly uncomfortable. “And these are just the scars I’m willing to show you.”
I force myself to calm down, breathing deep in through my nose and out my mouth. “I’m not going to jump headfirst into a plan held together with Spellotape and superglue,” I say after a moment. “Thomus trusts you guys. Aren’t you his best friend, Jake? Are you really gonna break his trust by losing something he obviously has put a lot of time and effort into keeping alive?”
Kyle is glaring hard at the carpet and Jake's intense focus jumps between me and Thomus. 
Jake exhales heavily. “She’s right.”
My shoulder’s sag with relief. “Thank you.”
“We have to think of a legitimate way to get you away from him,” Diana says. “Do you think he’d ever… let you go?”
I frown. “Like… set me free?” 
She nods. “Then maybe you could get scooped up by another Death Eater or something, someone who works more closely with You-Know-Who or who’d… loan you, I guess.”
I turn around to gaze at Thomus, sleeping soundly, and recall every possessive look or grab he’s given me. “No,” I say softly. “There’s no way he’d let me go willingly.”
Kyle snorts. “Yeah I second that. The asshole nearly slits my throat if I even talk to her when he’s not around.”
“Even if I could convince him somehow,” I say, “it wouldn’t matter what he wanted. I know he’d use the Death Eaters as an excuse. He couldn’t pretend I was gone if someone saw me. The Malfoy’s reputation and the trust the Dark Lord has in them would be put in jeopardy. There’s no way he’d risk the lives of his family.”
“Is there anybody that out ranks him?” Will asks. “Someone who could make that choice for him.”
“I’m not sure, really,” I admit. “I’m sure there is, but I don’t know who. Someone older, like his brother maybe?”
“We just need a reason for them to take you from him,” Jake explains. “Like a change of… ownership.”
“Who, though?” I ask. “And why?”
“Probably best if that’s something for us to figure out,” Kyle says pointedly. “Just in case.”
I sigh heavily and start heading towards the door. “Whatever. All I care about is that it’s legit, okay? Something that’s not gonna get any of us killed.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Will agrees, stepping out of my way. “Where’re you going?”
“To stand outside and pretend that I’m free.”
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aetherhollowarchive · 2 years
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The Aetherhollow Archive is a steampunk romance soaked in a gallon of magic. It is set in Summersmead, the fictional empire from the book you are sucked into. 
Four hundred years after the Chosen One failed to save their world, you find yourself in the shoes of the presumed, and freshly murdered, villain of the story - ostentatiously called Sovereign. You embark on a journey to unfold the mysteries of this new world and find a way home. But with your killer lurking in the shadows, who can you trust?
Genre: Steampunk, Fantasy, Romance, Mystery. Warnings: This story will be rated 18+ for depictions of death, violence, strong language, sexual themes, alcohol consumption, blood, etc. DEMO - Chapter 1, 23 October 2023
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Fully customizable MC.
Uncover Sovereign’s murderer.
Help the Chief of Police save the citizens from a mysterious drug.
Deal with the air pirates and their insufferable leader!
Fight an automaton army!
While you might be going slightly mad, too.
Fix (or destroy) the world. No pressure.
Six romance options (1 NB male, 2F and 3M - one straight).
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Romance Options
Elian “Eli” Cabello -  the Hero [NB, he/they] ???
The new dashing hero of the story. As the younger sibling of the late Chosen One, Eli has the best motive to have killed Sovereign. Leader of the rebellion and with a knack of putting themselves in danger, will they come to finish the job?
Face claim: Miguel Angel Silvestre
Keyon Dalgliesh - the Advisor [M] ???
Sovereign’s trusted advisor and confidant. Keyon is an all-knowing (if not all-wise) polymath, well-versed in history, science and several languages. He can come off as a bit of a snob, but he might just be the only person who had Sovereign’s back. But will he consider you an impostor? 
Face claim: Tom Hiddlestione’s Loki
Rae Fairburne - the Mercenary [F] 25
The scruffy mercenary Sovereign signed a contract with right before dying. Cold-hearted and opportunist, Rae is top on the list of enemies, but she does not seem to care much for neither the politics nor the city. Could she have a better offer for your head?
Face claim: Cara Gee’s Camina Drummer
Blythe Haywarde - the Inventor [F] 27
The brilliant Inventor Sovereign was sponsoring. She spends most of her time in the workshop tower, tinkering and creating all sorts of devices, and obsessively cleaning her tools. As gentle a soul as you can find, Blythe seems to care more about the strays she saves than the world outside. Could a killer hide underneath the doe-like eyes?
Face claim: Anna Diop
Thane Winthrope - the Guard [M, straight] 34
The new head of the Guard. Stoic and built like a brick wall, Thane is a man of few words. He has recently been promoted following the death of many palace soldiers. You feel his eyes follow you everywhere, but that’s just his duty as your newly appointed bodyguard. Right? 
Face claim: Sebastian Stan
Alder - Pirate king [M] 38 Flirty and boisterous, the king of the air pirates seems like a ray of sunshine on a first glance. You really don’t want to get on his bad side, the man is positively unhinged. Face claim: Tom Hardy
Other notable characters:
Angelica Cabello - The Chosen One [F] 32, deceased
Eli’s sister and former Chosen One. She had been sent on a journey to save their dying planet by an ancient prophecy. Angelica was betrayed and murdered at the end of the expedition by one of her companions who named themself Sovereign and took the promised power.
Face claim: Frankie Adams
Carling Powlett - Chief of police [F] 50
Madam Powlett is the long standing chief of Summersmead Police Department. She cares less for the nobility, but keeps an extra eye out for the less fortunate. She never hid her distaste for Sovereign. 
Face claim:  Shohreh Aghdashloo
Gytha - The Maid [F] 2
The clockwork maid Sovereign commissioned some two years prior. She’s soft spoken and delicate for an automaton, with an amazingly realistic porcelain face. She also makes incredible good tea.
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DEMO  :  TBA  |  CHARACTER SHEET  |  LORE TBA  |  MUSIC  |
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gwensfreak · 1 year
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Botany…Of Course, Pt 2
Summary: Peyton is the new botany teacher at Nevermore. They are a telepath. They find themselves on a trip with Principal Weems. They discover what happened the year before they came to Nevermore, amongst other things. Tw: alcohol consumption, description of Larissa's poisoning?
Note: I'm so glad you all liked the first part of this fic! I can start a tag list if anyone wishes to be on it :) @alder-saan ~3700 words
Link to Pt 1
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Friday
You were in your hotel room getting ready to explore the scene. Last night when you arrived Larissa went to bed and you stayed up and watched a movie. Larissa was at her conference bright and early this morning, and she would be finished around 5pm. You put on your maxi skirt and crop top. It was warm but not too hot, you loved the weather here. You took your notebook and set out to the conservatory. The whole hotel was nothing but botanical gardens and restaurants. There were beautiful waterfalls, huge rocks, ponds with fish and lily pads, and an abundance of different trees and plants. It was gorgeous and calming. Although it felt like you were outside, everything was covered by a skylight. It smelled so good, fresh almost. You got to the coffee shop and ordered an iced chai tea latte and a soft pretzel. You walked around until you settled by a waterfall underneath a large rock. It was a bit hidden, like a cave, which you loved. As you ate, you wondered how the conference was going. You wanted to surprise Larissa with something, or plan something fun to do. You knew this was a work trip, but that didn't mean she couldn't also have fun. She deserved it. Walking around the conservatory, you figured you would go through one garden a day and scope out some interesting plants that might be good additions to Nevermore. You loved the palm trees and banana trees, some were 60 feet tall, reaching to the second level. Unfortunately, those would never fit in the conservatory at Nevermore. There were rare international blooms and southern species, many that you hadn't heard of before. You sketched a banana tree from Madagascar, a huge Bird of Paradise from South Africa, some succulents, and Physostigma venenosum from tropical Africa. For a good part of the day you sketched plants and researched them, taking notes in your book. At 2pm, you figured you would go for a walk outside. It was a beautiful day, you wished Larissa could walk with you. You found some thrift shops and headed into one. They had antique houseware, clothing, jewellery, everything you could think of. You ended up buying a ring and pants for yourself, and a vintage scarf from the 60s for Larissa. There were so many things you thought she would love, but you couldn't choose what she would like most. You set out again and ended up in a liquor store. You bought some red wine, you knew Larissa's favorite, and some rum then headed back to the hotel.
You had a few drinks and walked around the conservatory again, admiring the fountains and the lights that covered the ceiling and trees. The rooms all had balcony's overlooking the conservatories, it reminded you of a painting. You settled down at a table under a pavilion next to a large fountain. You got out your notebook and started sketching the scene in front of you. A beautiful building to your left, a pond and fountain to the right, pretty sky lights and a pathway littered with plants on both sides. Walking down the pathway was Larissa. She was adorning her matching cream colored outfit with her lip brooch and kitten heels, admiring the plants as you were admiring her. She wasn't really there of course, you were imagining her, drawing her. You looked to the time, she would be done in 30 minutes. You ran back to the room, cleaning yourself up and cracking open some wine. You had in mind some fun things you and her could do around the hotel if she was up for it, you hoped she was. You were flipping through your notebook and you felt giddy about her return. You liked being alone most of the time, but you really liked being in her presence.
She returned to the room after what felt like forever, looking pretty tired. "Long day?" you said trying not to be too obvious that you were happy to see her. She put her things down then turned to you and smiled, she looked adorable. "Yes, it was very eventful, but it was a lot" she let out a huff and plopped down on her bed across from you. You sat on the edge of your bed and looked at her. She was wearing the cream coloured outfit you had thought of earlier. You took a minute to admire her as you knew her eyes were closed. You started smiling big, ear to ear. You couldn't help yourself, you were a bit drunk. She heard you giggle and opened her eyes, catching you staring at her. She sat up and kicked at your foot with hers, "What are you giggling at?" she laughed, knowing you were admiring her. You pretended you weren't just looking at her, you turned your head and quicky said "nothing" in a joking manner. Larissa looked to her feet and huffed and you realized she wanted to rid her heels. You knelt to the floor and took them off of her feet, placing them away. This surprised and flustered Larissa, like you knew what she was thinking. She was taken back by you doing this, nobody cared for her in such small but meaningful ways before. You knelt back down by her feet, you knew this could look weird, like you were worshiping her. You didn't want her to think that's what you were trying to do, although in reality you would. You took a chance, "Do you want a foot rub? Not in a weird way" you laughed. She blushed and looked down at you, "Well, if you're offering" she said shyly. You did so, coming to learn that her toe nails were the same color as her fingernails. You got up and poured her a glass of wine, "Wine for you my dear" you said while handing it to her. She looked up at you, eyebrows raising questioningly. "Yes, I bought your favorite wine, and yes, I may have had a few drinks while you were gone" you laughed, grabbing your wine and sitting on the bed next to her. You opened your notebook "But, I also did some work. I sketched some plants, I think a couple of these would be good additions back home." She viewed all of your sketches and notes from the day as you explained what you had learned. "These are amazing Peyton, I wish I could have come with you." You looked up at her, eyes lit up. "Well, we can walk around tonight, it will probably be even more beautiful." She smiled and placed her hand on your back, it felt nice. You quickly got up, remembering the scarf that you got her. It was a cream color with some neutral brown tones and small blue flowers. You held it out to her grinning, proud of yourself for finding something you thought she would like. "I went to an antique shop across the street, they have so much stuff that I think you would love. We should go if you have time." She took it from you and admired it, "Is this for me?" "Of course, the blue matches your eyes perfectly." You were shy now, nervous that she would think that you thought of her too much, or that you were being too interested in her. "I mean, I think your eyes are blue, right?" you said while tucking your hair behind your ear in an obviously sarcastic manner. Larissa let out a loud laugh, and your heart filled with joy. "Thank you so much darling, I love it." Larissa would never let on, but her eyes were watering at the thought of you buying this for her. She didn’t get gifts often, and she cherished that you thought of her when she wasn't with you. You saw her eyes glisten, but you didn't say anything. You were happy that she appreciated it. Sitting back on your own bed, you fell down onto your back and stared at the ceiling. Larissa watched you, she knew you had something on your mind. "What are you thinking about love?" You absolutely loved when she called you cute names, you blushed and rolled away from her so she couldn't see your face. "Are you hungry? Maybe we can get dinner and go for a walk?" you said as you sat up to face her again. "Sounds like a plan."
You went to a restaurant in the middle of the hotel. It was surrounded by a pond with fish, lily pads and a waterfall, and trees of course. It did look more beautiful in the night, it was all lit up and you could see the stars through the skylight. Larissa started, wanting to get to know you better. You seemed to know a few things about her, but she felt like she didn't know you. "So Peyton, I saw you with a handsome man the other day at the Weathervane. Boyfriend perhaps?" You looked at Larissa, mouth full of pasta, and almost started laughing. Keep it together Peyton, don't spit your food out. The only man you could remember being with was…OH Cal, your cousin. For some reason you decided to mess with her, "Oh Cal? Yea me and him were together, but he cheated on me with a man, so we broke up." Larissa's eyes went wide, her hand covering her mouth in total shock. Her expression made you laugh, you could only be serious for so long. "LARISSA I'm joking! He's my cousin, he's having trouble with his boyfriend, we were just talking." She let out a breath you saw her holding in, and hung her head in relief. "Oh my god, you had me for a minute there." You both laughed, you were so geeky sometimes. "Yea, I don't have a boyfriend. I like-" you stopped yourself, you didn't really know if you wanted to tell her that you liked women. "You like what?" "Nothing, um, so do you have a boyfriend?" you said looking down and picking at your pasta. She looked down at her food as well, "No, I'm not really interested in that sort of thing." That sort of thing? Like a relationship? "I get it, relationships can be hard, and tiring" you tried to be reassuring. "Very true, the most serious I've gotten was with this girl once, but that was so long ago." Sorry, did she just say girl? Larissa Weems, the Larissa Weems likes girls? A huge smile crept on to your face, and you looked up at her, she was still looking at her food, thank god. "Did you say a girl?" you stuttered by accident, voice low and raspy. She looked to you, worry now written on her face. "Yes, I- I did" she said in an unsure tone. You didn't mean to sound like that was a bad thing, you were just really surprised. Maybe that joke about Cal wasn't the best idea, you weren't trying to make fun. "Well Larissa, maybe we should find a new girl for you" you said with a smile looking at her pretty face. She smiled back, and nodded slightly. You wanted to scream, you weren't the only one at Nevermore who liked girls! You still didn't want to tell her though, not right now. Changing the subject, she started, "What do you like to do for fun?" "Well, lately I like to mess with my powers honestly. I keep finding out I can do things that I didn't know about." Larissa was intrigued, but you didn't know why you told her this. You had hobbies and liked to do things, but you found them rather embarrassing. "Oh, like what?" she prodded. You knew she wouldn't let this go now, so you told her. "Um, well I can give someone a piece of knowledge, or I can erase knowledge or a memory from someone's brain. I can see other peoples memories if they have strong emotion, but only if they allow me to. I also recently obtained the ability to know if someone is lying, but it just comes on at random." She was in awe of your abilities, these things could be a lot of responsibility. "So, if I allow you, you can see my memories?" "Yep, if it's very joyous, traumatizing, or emotionally strong enough." She thought for a second, "Can I see it too? When you look at it?" This was the upside, you thought, to seeing peoples memories. They didn't know what you were seeing, just that they allowed you to see it. "No, you can't see it in time that I do. I don’t do it a lot though, there's no point." She looked like she wanted to say something, had something on her mind. There was silence for a minute, then she just looked away. "Do you want to show me the plants now?" she said excitedly.
As you walked around the conservatory, you showed her every plant that you knew something about, and jokingly told her that she was as tall as one of the trees. Larissa smiled at how cute you were when so caught up in something you loved. She used to love hearing Marilyn talk about the conservatory plants, but unfortunately, who she thought was a real friend turned out to be an enemy. She didn't know if she would ever get over that. "This one is Alsophila latebrosa from Singapore, and this one is Physostigma venenosum from tropical Africa. It has Physostigmine, which is a highly toxic parasympathomimetic alkaloid, it can cure deadly nightshade if taken in the correct dose. I thought that might be good to have in the conservatory.." you cut yourself off as you looked up at Larissa. She was staring into space, not listening to you anymore. "Larissa, are you okay?" you said, really worried about her blank expression and even more pale than usual skin. A minute later she snapped out of it, looking down at you, who was holding her hand staring up at her. "Oh, sorry love. What were you saying?" You were confused, but you continued. "I was saying that I think we should have this in the conservatory at school. It’s the antidote to deadly nightshade." "We don't need it, we don't have Atropa belladonna anymore" she quipped quickly and seriously. This made you more confused, "Yes we do, it's just a small plant. I found it in a locked cabinet behind the desk." Larissa's mouth dropped open, they must have missed it when they searched through the conservatory last year. "Oh, um, Peyton, can you do me a favour?" "Sure Larissa" you were worried about what the favour was going to be. "When we get back to Nevermore, can you bring that plant to me, and if you ever find more in the conservatory, get rid of it immediately." Her tone was strict and demanding, you felt like a student who did something wrong. "Oh, sure Larissa, I can do that" you said quietly but sure. She then realized that you were new to the school and had no clue what this was about, or why you couldn't have this plant. She drug you back to your room, not saying a word.
You were sitting on your bed. Larissa had instructed you to sit and stay as she went to the bathroom. You were wondering if she was mad at you, or if you did something wrong. Searching in your notebook for Physostigma venenosum, you thought of something. She said to get rid of the deadly nightshade, like we weren’t allowed to have it anymore. Something must have happened when Marilyn, or Laurel, went crazy. Why would it be locked up otherwise? Larissa came out of the bathroom in her satin pajamas and sat on her bed. She just sat there, looking down at her lap. When you noticed her staring at nothing again, you sat up to face her. "Peyton, I want you to consider doing me a favour." "Sure Larissa, I'll do you a favour" you said with a hopeful smile. She looked at you, sadness written on her face. "Will you consider erasing a memory for me?" You went wide eyed, you had only done that once before. "I, um, I've only done it once before Larissa, I don't know if it's a good idea" you said in a nervous and sad tone, you felt sorry for her. If she wanted you to erase a memory, it must have been a bad one. "If you consider erasing it, I'll show it to you first, if you want." You pondered for a minute, was it the memory you think it was? "Larissa, is the memory from last year? You know, Marilyn?" Her eyes met yours and she nodded her head. You got up and sat beside her, taking her hands in yours. "I'll see it if you want me to Larissa, but maybe it's better that we don't dig it out any further." In reality she wanted you to see it, she wanted someone else to see it, to feel it. She wanted Marilyn to feel what it was like. She wanted someone, you, to tell her she wasn't crazy for being scared. "I want you to see it" she said in the lowest whisper you had ever heard. You moved closer to her and with an "Okay," you were in her mind. This was the only memory available for you to see, she really did want you to see it.
*The Nevermore Conservatory, last year*
You were in the conservatory, a red head a couple feet in front of you and Wednesday by the desk. You looked down at yourself, you weren't Larissa. You looked like a, boy? "I never made it to the station, heard enough?" Wednesday said, eyes switching from the read head to you. The read head, who you suspected to be Marilyn, turned around to look at you as well. Her face dropped as you felt yourself getting taller. You looked down at your body, jacket and jeans turning to a matching dress and coat set. You were, shifting? You weren't a boy anymore, now you were sure you were Larissa. "Your slave is probably still at the station" Wednesday chirped. "Please don't make this more difficult than it already is, Marilyn" your voice, well Larissa's, sounded with regret. You felt sad, betrayed, like you just lost a friend. Like you failed at bringing the outcasts and normies together, you were stupid for letting a normie in the school, an idiot for not seeing the danger. "My name is LAUREL" the red head belted before bringing a needle to your neck. You had no time to run, you felt a sting, and then you couldn't move. You fell to the floor, you couldn't breathe very good all of the sudden. You could feel your heart beat fast, vision going blurry, and you were gasping for air. Your mouth started foaming, and the last thing you saw was Wednesday over you, calling your name. When you looked up at Wednesday, all you could think about was her mother. How you two had drifted apart, how you two fought, how you loved. You spent most of your life with no partner, no friends, just taking care of the school, and recently taking care of Wednesday. You didn’t regret it, of course, but you still had so much more to do. You were scared, then everything went black.
You opened your eyes gasping for air, heart pounding. You realized you were in your hotel room, Larissa was beside you holding your shoulders steady, staring at you in concern. She didn't want you to be burdened by her memory, she just wanted to get rid of it. The thing about taking memories or knowledge from a person is that by taking it from them, you got it. The memory  had to go somewhere, right? Of course, they aren't your memories, so it wasn't as traumatizing for you to see them. You looked at her, your eyes watering, you tried to blink the tears away. You didn’t believe she lived through that. Marilyn had stabbed her in the neck with nightshade?! What the hell! You were glad she was dead, you would've killed her yourself. Larissa noticed you were crying and pulled you into her arms. You cried into her shoulder for a minute, then took her face in your hands when you cooled off. You were so shaken that you spoke unevenly, you couldn't even talk loud. "I'm so sorry Larissa, I didn't know. I'll consider erasing it for you." She pulled you against her again as a tear fell down her face. "I'm sorry too little one, I didn't know how much that would hurt you." In truth, it hurt you so much because you cared about Larissa. Some peoples memories weren't that bad because you knew they weren't yours, but hers, hers felt real. You connected with her so easily, and you wanted to help her. You pulled away, "Wait, you're a shapeshifter?" She let out a quiet breathy laugh. "Yes, I suppose you learned two things about me tonight, please don't say anything though, not many people know." You nodded, you wouldn't tell her secret. "Can we lay together?" you muttered, praying that she would say yes. "Of course love." You both laid in her bed, you felt way better being in her arms. You were so glad that she didn't die, but how did she survive? You wanted to ask her more questions and say that you were glad she was alive, but you didn't. "That's so cool" you mumbled, turning to face her. "What is?" she questioned, eyes meeting yours. "Being a shapeshifter. What can you shift into? People? Animals? Does it feel like anything when you really do it?" She smiled, stroking your hair, "I can shift into people. And no, it doesn't feel like much." You looked in her eyes, she was still adorning her makeup, and her lips were still painted red. Her eyes were so bright and daunting, her lips looked so soft, her skin so smooth, the little creases in her mouth and eyebrows were so cute. Uh oh, you thought. Turning back over, you took her hand and put it to your chest, then you closed your eyes. You felt her pull you closer, a soft "Goodnight Peyton" was the last thing you heard.
Link to Pt 3
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translunaryanimus · 1 year
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Some splash text and doodle pages for the Orphan’s Path based minecraft TTRPG i’m working on. There are a LOT more than just these but i’m not spoiling the whole thing as of now because it is FAR from finished.
I’m planning on starting up a discord server for feedback and gameplay purposes, and anyone who playtests the system will get their character properly and fully drawn out (like you see in my other drawings) in a thank you page at the back of the pdf. The entire system will be completely free to download and play for 2 reasons.
1: The lore is based off of a fanfiction as well as a copyrighted game so i’m going to keep it free to respect copyright & wishes of the authors/game developers
2: Not everyone can afford a $30 book
Feedback is appreciated!
Read orphan’s path here
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Review: Two Twisted Crowns (Rachel Gillig, The Shepherd King #2)
Rating: ★★★★★/5
"There once was a girl, clever and good, who tarried in shadow in the depths of the wood. There also was a King, a shepherd by his crook, who reigned over magic and wrote the old book. The two were together, so the two - I couldn't go on. Elspeth. No. I'm not ready. Not yet. Finish the story, dear one. My voice shook. The two were together - Together. So the two were the same. The girl, he whispered, honey and oil and silk. The King... We said the final words together, our voices echoing, listless, through the dark. A final note. An eternal farewell.And the monster they became."
This was such an incredible first physical read of 2024. Starting off on the right foot in pretty much every way; this is a magical, misty, angsty Gothic story full of twists and turns and intrigue and the highest of stakes. I fucking loved it.
The Twin Alders. The final Providence card, the last step to uniting the deck and lifting the mist that envelops Blunder. Elspeth and Ravyn have gathered the other cards, though at a steep cost. The Nightmare is in control, and only he can lead them to their salvation - or their doom.
This one took things in a direction I didn't expect after the ending of ODW. I assumed we'd still be focused on Elspeth, still mostly in her head, and instead, I was SO pleasantly surprised and delighted to refocus on Ione and Elm and get to know them.
I fucking love Elm. He is the perfect dark prince with a past full of hurt who only wants to be loved, but only by one person: his yellow girl. Ione's journey with the Maiden and how she breaks free of Hauth and her past are so satisfying and emotional, and I just lived for the chapters focused on these two. The romance is ON. POINT. And just spicy enough.
And continuing to unravel the mystery of the Shepherd King and get glimpses into his past through Elspeth's eyes was SO intriguing and well-done. Talk about getting us to root for this villain character despite the fact that he literally took over our MC's body. I was so interested in how our main group was related to him, and I was not disappointed with the answer.
What I love most about this series, though, is the vibe. This is the perfect Gothic fantasy. There's mist and darkness and monsters lurking in the dark. There's swoony romances to die for. There's characters who have experienced such hurt in their past opening themselves up to the potential for more, but having to go through hell first. There are villains that turn out to be characters you root for and villains that you absolutely loathe.
What more could a person ask for?
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yuridovewing · 1 month
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Darkest Night Diagnosis: F
I think that's our first F tier. Should I be making a tierlist. Whatever.
I think this book singlehandedly killed the Warriors hyperfix, for better or for worse. I will now be significantly slower with this reread because of this book.
Look... as frustrating and bad as Apprentice's Quest, Thunder and Shadow, and Hawkwing's Journey were, they had redeeming elements. Sparkpaw is a joy when shes doing things in the Apprentice's Quest. Twigkit and Violetkit's tragic relationship is really compelling in like a meta way in Thunder and Shadow. And while that first half is god awful tedious bullshit, the second half of Hawkwing's Journey when they're actually on said journey gets really interesting, and it also had Curlypaw who is the best character.
There's... nothing like that in Darkest Night. I was bored and annoyed and miserable from start to finish. Nothing got my creative juices flowing. Nothing got me thinking about how the plot could be compelling with certain headcanons without just changing the entire thing. There is like one nice scene with Sparkpelt talking about Larksong to Alderheart and it's sandwiched in between Alder screaming at her for emasculating him and pointing out her being ooc for the sake of being a strawman, and then her getting brutalized by a dog so Alderheart can win his pride back. It's not an offensive book but it is mind numbingly boring. It's an unbearably slow read and most of it is spent meandering about.
Characters like Sparkpelt are twisted from their original portrayal for the sake of contrivances. SkyClan is miserable. Mistystar is made into an idiot for the plot to work. Things just happen without rhyme or reason. Barely anything of actual substance even happens and the things that do happen are contrived and aggravating to read about.
I know Warriors doesn't really have intentional themes, and the consistent ones are.... really, really bad. But it felt like at every turn, this book was contradicting itself, Twigpaw's arc being the biggest example. I've said it over and over, but the way this arc is trying to claim a cute found family story with Twigpaw and ThunderClan is so jarring. We're just supposed to accept that ThunderClan was good to her because... they're ThunderClan. They're The Good Ones. Every clan is awful and weird and bad compared to ThunderClan. No Matter What. Please don't talk about all the times her clanmates called her deadweight and considered kicking her out bc of her heritage if she wasn't a prophet.
And they can't even commit to "found family vs blood family" either. They hook Twigpaw up with her adoptive brother and dismiss his adoption as never having been all that important in the face of his "real" family. They dismiss and downplay Twigpaw's biological relationship with Tinycloud and her new litter for the sake of emphasizing that Twig is alone (while contrasting Violetpaw meeting Cherrytail and Hawkwing's nobody sisters). And they ship off Hawkwing and Violetpaw for most of the book so that Twigpaw can talk about how alone she feels and how it's so sad that Jayfeather isn't verbally abusing her anymore. If anyone thinks that Twigbranch has a compelling found family relationship with ThunderClan and her arc is about grappling with chosen family vs biological family, they didn't actually read the book.
And you see this with Alderheart and Sparkpelt too, sort of. They're trying to go "xenophobia is bad! Alderheart and Sparkpelt are split over their political differences!" But the book only sees Sparkpelt as bad because they've deemed xenophobia against SkyClan specifically as a bad thing. Alderheart's dismissiveness and hatred of kittypets is not only not questioned, but reinforced several times. So it's kind of weird that people paint this as like a thing where Sparkpelt is uniquely bad when Alderheart is arguably a whole lot worse, but hes not xenophobic to a clannnn. So it doesn't count I guess.
Speaking of Sparkpelt though, wow I can't blame her for wanting SkyClan gone, because I don't give a fuck about these nobodies either. They are so boring, put them back in the gorge so I don't have to keep reading about them please <3 I don't care about Leafstar or Hawkwing or any of these guys. I don't even have that much to say about them, they're just annoying and boring and I wish they'd go away forever.
Anyways, first F tier book. First book where I was just bored and miserable the whole time. I don't expect AVoS to get better from here. In fact, poll time.
If I get no, I'll just read the wiki summaries, and maybe seek out specific passages from the pdfs. Yes is for reading the whole thing.
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dapplemoth · 1 year
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Bramblestar x Jessy hypos?
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I never actually finished reading bramblestar's storm so I had to skim Jessy's page a bit.
They have only one kit, a tiger clone named Sharpshade
ft. half siblings Sparkkit and Alderkit :) (originally I intended him to be a young apprentice here but then I realized the timelines don't mesh up so he's a manlet lmao)
More info under the cut
Squirrelflight and Bramblestar do not have a romantic (at the time anyway) relationship in Bramblestar's Storm, it is strictly professional. Because of this, Jessy decides to join the clan and becomes Bramblestar's mate for a while. However the two come to realize that they don't work well together and decide to split up by the time Sharpkit is weaned. They're both able to come up with a custody agreement where Sharpkit will primarily be raised by the clan but Jessy can visit her kit as much as she pleases. Not everyone is happy with just letting an ex classmate barge into camp whenever she wants but eventually they all shut up and get used to it.
Sharpkit has a... relatively happy childhood all things considered, he gets to grow up having three parents (bramble, squilf, and Jessy) and is overall a pretty mellow little guy. Although he's far, far closer to Jessy and his step mom than he is to Bramblestar. He can't help but feel Bramble may...resent him a bit with how much of a black sheep he is when compared to the rest of the Bramblesquirrel family, this fear grows even worse when Squirrelflight reveals she's expecting kits and suddenly Bramblestar barely talks to him anymore. Unfortunately, he is not immune to the warriors trope of 'not telling anyone anything' and decides to distract himself by helping out in the medicine den.
When Squilf's kits are born he does everything he can to make sure she and the kits have the best of care. He almost acts as a second nursery queen, often covering for Squirrelflight whenever she needs to get out and stretch her legs. Bramblestar even starts talking to him more frequently, and he learns new, exciting things about fathers past during their chats together..although some tension still remains.
He is a very good brother to both Alder and Spark throughout their entire lives and always makes an attempt to stay in touch no matter how busy he gets. I don't think he'd ever have a pov role but hes a nice supportive presence within the clan.
In Squirrelflights Hope/ The Broken Code he'd have a more prominent role. In those books he'd be less 'mellow lil dude' to 'I'm breaking every bone in your body if you say something to me or my family one more time'. He calls out Bramble for his treatment of Squilf and starts purposely putting himself between them if he senses things are going south. Sharps relationship with Bramble is already deeply shaken but by the time the imposter situation comes about the damage is irreversible. Like, he realizes Bramblestar was not in control of his actions and technically not at fault but he can't look at him the same way anymore. Sure, he still cares for Bramblestar and loves him, but he can't ever forgive him..not after everything thats happened.
He almost considers leaving Thunderclan for good and living with his mother, Jessy, but ultimately decides he wants to be there for Squilf and the rest of his clan born family.
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angryforestkitties · 1 year
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[ Alderheart is a sturdy dark ginger tom with a white-tipped tail, and amber eyes. ]
so i have not read most of the more recent wc books, the last one i actually read was thunder and shadow, the second book of a vision of shadows. i never finished avos and i havent read anything past that 😭 so i have very little knowledge on alderheart and many of the new generation cats, im gonna try to pick up reading the series again eventually but who knows when ill actually get around to doing that lol
this design was inspired by @/boygirldude so go check em out!! their design for alder is top tier
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tanadrin · 1 year
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To Ocalla of Darsei, 9th house of the winding lane The 34th day of spring
Itachiye, my friend, and I hope this letter finds you well, and your kinsmen and family, and your friends; but I write to you with a low and darkened spirit, for many things have passed since last I wrote. And the guilt of failing to answer to your letters has grieved me, though you have been indulgent of my silence. I am grateful; and I shall explain that, and more, I hope, herein. Ah, Ocalla! It has been a long time since we walked under the alders together at Karmassa; and yet I hope year after year, foolish though it may be, that it will not be so long before we do so again.
When last I wrote it was to tell you of my new address in Ladai, and little more, for I was in a very great hurry. You expressed concern at the cause of my relocation, and on that, at least, I can reassure you that it was for fortunate reasons–perhaps the last truly fortunate thing that has happened to us since the autumn. There had been rumors for some time that the Soxha chancery wished to open a new charterhouse to serve the growing villages in the west. I had hoped to participate in this project, if it were true, since a new charterhouse is something I have often spoken in support of, but all I had heard in the weeks prior was rumors, with no definitive plans. Then one evening one of the senior clerks came to call on us–I thought it was nothing more than a social occasion at first–but over tea he confided to Peria and I that he hoped I might lead the new charterhouse–that, indeed, I should be its governor! My consistency in supporting the idea had impressed the senior clerks, he said; my zeal for the education of young people was evident, and they thought there was no one in the local chancery who was better suited to the task.
I cannot overstate the extent of my gratification at his words, or, for that matter, my surprise. I had thought that perhaps I was only being indulged as you might indulge a child who has a fancy they will not relinquish; and though I have always cared deeply about my work, I had not thought that I had much distinguished myself in it. Needless to say, I accepted at once; and the formal announcement was made a few days later. In the following weeks, we were all consumed with preparations. Peria and I at home, arranging the move, preparing to visit Ladai to look for a residence, and assuaging Kiya’s fears about the change, which were not inconsiderable. At the chancery, more work still–arranging for books and equipment, surveying the surrounding villages to determine how many instructors we would need, and of course actually choosing staff, and much more besides. It was the work of many months; and your letters sat on the corner of my writing-desk, reproaching me for my laziness; but I never thought I could really give them the attention that they deserved.
The actual move came in midwinter, and was the start of real trouble; there was heavy rain, as a result of which the roads were very bad, and what should have been only a journey of two days took five. The packet-coach was bogged down in the mud several times, and broke down completely on the morning of the fifth day. Impatient, I was able to procure the loan of a horse from a kind farmer and ride ahead, so I was at least in Ladai before sundown. I slept the night in a small hostel in the middle of town, and turned up to the chapterhouse the next morning.
What I found filled me with disappointment. The chancery had acquired a great old house on the outskirts of the town (which is not very big), and though handsome enough from the front, it was in a state of some disrepair. That much we knew; and we had hired workmen to renovate it, which should have been finished well in advance of my arrival. But I arrived to find them not halfway done–some of this was disorganization, but much of the delay was because the building was in much worse shape than we had thought. The uppermost storey, which was intended to be dormitories for the students from the furthest villages, proved to be entirely uninhabitable; the south wing had been damaged badly by a storm the fortnight prior; and because of the weather, there were delays in supplies for many of the most urgent repairs. I, of course, had no inkling of any of this beforehand, and I must confess I flt a deep fear in the moment that the senior clerks would regret their choice of a governor, and would decide to recall me to Soxha.
But, as you have often counselled me, the best solution for chaos is to tackle it head-on. So I marshalled the staff who had already arrived, and we took up paintbrushes and hammers and buckets to help in the repairs–some complained they knew nothing of carpentry or bricklaying, but, I reminded them, they had arms and could always carry things. I think some of the workmen were rather amused to see chancery-clerks carrying planks to and fro; but hard work has a knack for bringing even very different souls together, and once they were comfortable giving us direction, things began to get back on track rather quickly.
It took two weeks, and a ruined shirt, but we did get the repairs to the building back on track, more or less; we were a little short on space at the beginning of term, but not too badly to manage; and the boarding students had a warm and comfortable place to sleep. Peria and Kiya arrived shortly before the term started; and it seemed Kiya’s apprehension of moving to Ladai had mostly disappeared. She had found the trip (which went far better for her and her mother) to be a delightful adventure, and was thrilled with the picturesque village, which was full of children her own age. It grieves me terribly now to think of how little time I had for her then; but I was consumed with the business of the charterhouse, and even Peria only saw me for a few minutes each morning and evening.
I shall pass over most of the troubles that cropped up at the beginning of the term–none really stand out now, all belonging to the general difficulties of bringing together a new group of people for a significant endeavor. It wore on me, though, I will admit! I remember you once told me to beware of anyone who tries to bestow authority on you–and though I told you at the time that that admonition reflected your habits more than mine, there was some wisdom in it I must now admit. I care deeply about education; I enjoy it. Teaching is, outside my family, the thing that I find most rewarding in life. But the governor of a charterhouse does very little teaching! At his best, he supports others in their teaching, and perhaps takes a lecture here and there for himself, as his other duties permit; but in worse circumstances, he is a manager of clerks, a settler of petty disputes among the staff, a court of appeal for the disciplining of unruly pupils, and a manciple whose position is ornamented by the addition of a fancy hat. Those are tasks that, though a few of them might be moderately satisfying in the moment, have little in common with the thing I actually love and find satisfaction in, and owing to the circumstance there was more of each of them than there really had any right to be; more, it seemed, than any man could address in the finite hours allotted to each day.
You have accused me of being relentlessly, even belligerently cheerful at times; well, you might have taken some small satisfaction that by the middle of the term my spirits were decidedly beginning to wilt. I had known this would not be an easy job; yet it seemed, by then, that the celestial powers had returned from their eternal journey just to personally afflict me. Peria suggested that we go up to her sister’s cottage by Lake Halda during the midterm vacancy, and I eagerly accepted. At first, Kiya planned to stay in the village–she had made many new friends at the charterhouse, and they were already inseparable, in that way that only children in their unselfconscious way can be. But at the last minute I changed my mind–I missed my daughter, and I wanted to spend a few days with her before the breathless tumult resumed. Stupid! Selfish! And the worst part is that Kiya seemed only a little disappointed. Maybe if she had argued–but it does not matter now.
Lake Halda is fine in late spring; the water is clear, since the streams that feed it all come down from the icy mountains to the south. There is a long meadow along the western shore, not far from the cottage, where the flowers go down almost to the water’s edge, and the woods nearby are full of songbirds. The water is cold, even in summer; but while we were there the sun was shining and the sky was clear. If you ever have the opportunity, it is worth a day or two; I do not think I will ever go back. Our first few days were calm, quiet, relaxing–a thoroughly welcome reprieve for me. I felt like I had been away from my family, as though I was a sailor at sea, or a soldier at war; seeing Peria every morning, talking with Kiya over breakfast, going for walks together along the forest’s edge–it all filled me with more energy than I had had in months.
Our fourth day, we decided to have a picnic; we packed a lunch, and walked up into the woods. There is a trail there that goes to a low hilltop–a shoulder, really, of the higher hills behind it that rise gradually to the snow-topped mountains beyond. That hilltop forms a clearing rising out of the trees, with broad, flat stones that are warm when the weather is fair, and which give you a view of the whole lake and the valley beyond. It is only a few hours’ walk from the cottage; and when we reached the hilltop, it was only an hour or so past noon. We ate lunch, and Kiya went roaming among the nearby trees; and I lay back on the stones, with my hat for a pillow, and took a nap.
My memory of the rest of the afternoon is and poor. I woke to Peria shouting my name–Tatha! Tatha! Quick and ragged, in a way I had never heard before. I bolted upright and looked around, disoriented. By the sun, maybe two hours had gone by; I had been deep asleep. I remember running toward the sound of Peria’s voice; and I remember Peria, crouched over Kiya, who was lying still in the underbrush. Her hands and face were streaked with something, purple and black. She was not still; her small body convulsed as I approached.
Blueberries and raspberries grow wild by Lake Halda; in summers past, we have picked them with her aunt. Always together; we have never sent Kiya on her own. And I have warned her, in the past, not to eat things she finds in the woods, unless she is sure that they are safe. She forgot, perhaps; or she was sure, but nonetheless mistaken. It didn’t matter; in the moment, I was conscious only of how far we were from home. A couple of miles from the cottage; miles more from Ladai; and Soxha, the closest hospital, miles more beyond. I drew up Kiya in my arms, and I began to run as fast as I could.
I remember Peria saying she would go to the village; I remember laying Kiya down in her bed in the cottage; I remember Peria arriving–not long after, I think–with the local physician, a grandfatherly figure with thick glasses and a serious face. I remember him saying that nightshade grows wild in the forest–that from time to time the unwary mistake them for blueberries. How much had she eaten? Had she vomited? Neither Peria nor I knew.
Not enough, in the event, to kill her. We did not tarry at the cottage. At once we brought her back to Ladai, on the physician’s recommendation; there is a small sick-house there, and he had only a few medicines in his little village surgery. She languished in a coma for days; and I cannot tell you how great my relief was when she finally opened her eyes and looked around the room.
But that was not the end of my grief or my worry. I do not know what the usual course of nightshade poisoning is like; but Kiya struggled terribly, even after she came out of the coma. She was at turns feverish and delirious or both; the doctors worried she was also suffering from an infection or some kind of food poisoning, from some contaminant on the berries. Convulsions came and went; and on the few occasions she tried to speak, her words were unintelligible. I should, perhaps, have gone back to the charterhouse–they certainly had need of me, and there was little I could do at the sick-house. But I found that it was simply impossible. Neither Peria or I left her side, not even to sleep. The only thing worse than the fear, perhaps, was the guilt; but Peria did not blame me, nor could I blame her. We each privately reproved ourselves–mercilessly, I have no doubt. But that was all that we could do.
After six days, the worst of the symptoms seemed to have subsided. Kiya was taking food and water, sleeping and waking normally; but she still seemed terribly confused. Her memory was clouded–she did not recognize me or Peria, or any of her friends that came to visit her. She did not know where she was, or her own name. She seemed to regard almost everything around her as strange and bizarre, from the foods she was given to the clothes she wore. Her hands still sometimes shook, and she seemed to be brought nearly to tears by the smallest frustration, and everything frustrated her.
The physicians encouraged us to take her home, to return her to familiar surroundings; or as familiar as the house in Ladai could be. We showed her her books, her toys, her pencils and her drawings; she regarded them blankly, like they belonged to someone else entirely. We made her her favorite foods; she ate them with no particular satisfaction or disappointment. Her friends made one more effort to visit; but she couldn’t remember their names, and they went away, regrettably but perhaps understandably, confused and distressed.
I tried to return to the chapterhouse then; but I confess, my heart was not in it. I was distracted, unable to concentrate or care on most of the problems brought to me; and the other instructors seemed to notice. I think once or twice I came into a room when they were talking about me–their voices low, heads bent over, as if exchanging gossip. They stopped when they saw me. But it mattered very little to me; all my concerns were focused on Kiya.
I spent as much time as I could talking with her, trying to engage her memory or at least her attention. And, at first, I thought some progress was being made. Her ability to focus on what was happening around her improved; her tremors faded; her irritability and mood swings also gradually abated. Her memory seemed to be getting better–she remembered me, she remembered Peria. But her mother and I had spent nearly every waking minute with her; how could she not recognize us? I talked with her about the recent past–about the move to Ladai, about how the term had gone so far, about Lake Halda and the cottage–and she seemed to respond. She did not smile or laugh; but she said she remembered all these things. It was Peria who noticed–she was lying. She asked Kiya about a nonexistent friend, about details of the house in Soxha that were untrue. Kiya just nodded along. Hoping to avoid our anxious looks and our unhappy whispers. Peria wept that night, as we lay next to each other; I held her, and said nothing. What could I say?
Now, Ocalla, I will tell you something that I have told no one else. It happened only a day or so later. Kiya had fallen asleep early that night, just after dinner; Peria and I had stayed up a little longer, trying to enjoy what we could of a warm and fragrant evening. I woke in the night, thirsty, and went downstairs for some water, when I heard something moving in the front room, and saw the glimmer of a lamp from underneath the door. Concerned, I went in.
Kiya was sitting with a book propped up on the arm of a chair, poring over it closely. I could see her eyes–they were not reading, scanning back and forth. They glanced around almost as if at random; and the look on her face was one of incomprehension and growing frustration. I went over to her.
“Kiya, what’s wrong?”
She ignored me at first, and continued flipping through the pages.
“Kiya?”
“What are these?” she asked. I looked at what she was pointing at. She was holding a volume of the Chancery Pandect, open to an article on the Karyistene ruins.
“Inscriptions,” I said. “From very old ruins, to the east.” I pointed to the caption. “See? It tells you what they mean here.”
She did not look at the caption. She turned the page again.
“These?”
“Maps. Of Karyista.”
“Where is that?”
I paused. Kiya had always excelled in geography. “To the east,” I said. “About four weeks’ travel by road.”
I sat quietly for a moment. “Kiya,” I said, “can you read what the book says?” When she was four, she used to sit on my lap and read from the Pandect aloud. One day, she said, she was going to write for the Pandect.
She did not reply. I could see tears beginning to brim in her eyes.
“Kiya, do you remember your geography lessons, from the charterhouse?”
She turned the page again. Then again. Then she froze.
“Tatha, what’s this?”
It was a star-chart, spread out over two facing pages. The constellations were outlined in ghostly figures, and all the names of the brightest stars were marked.
“It’s the night sky,” I said.
“The night sky where?”
“Here,” I said. “Here in Ladai. And Soxha. We’re in the northern hemisphere–” I pointed to the left-hand page “--so this side is our sky. There’s Daashe, the dancer. Utamna, the herdsman. And there’s Rafei, the Great Horse–”
I stopped; Kiya’s tears were falling onto the upturned page one by one.
“Kiya, my dearest child, what’s wrong?” I set the book aside, and wrapped my arms around her; a heavy, dark weight seemed to fill my chest.
“It’s not right,” she said.
“What’s not right?” I asked.
“The stars.”
“The stars aren’t right?”
“The stars are wrong! It’s all wrong!”
She twisted out of my embrace; I let my arms fall to my side, though I wanted to weep myself.
“I’m starting to remember things,” she said. “And none of it is right.”
“Kiya, what do you mean?”
“I can’t–I don’t know how to explain,” she said. “But that’s not my name. That’s not who I am. That’s not how the sky is supposed to look. I don’t–I know there’s no such place as Karyista. Something’s changed. I don’t know you, or Peria, or this place. Or this house. It’s all wrong, like somone’s taken all the pieces of the world and turned them into something new.”
At that, she broke down sobbing; and all I could do was try to comfort her; and finally, when she was exhausted, carry her to bed.
Since then, I have resigned my position as governor of the charterhouse, and we are in the process of returning to Soxha. There are doctors there who specialize in the treatment of disorders of the mind, and chronic afflictions of the body. Whether Kiya suffers from the former, in consequence of the trauma of her sickness, or whether its lingering effects have resulted in the latter–or in some combination of the two–I hope, I pray, I dream that they can help to heal her. But in my most secret thoughts, I have a fear that seems too dark to even write–that some changeling spirit has stolen into her, and she is lost to me forever.
My daughter is not dead–it is important that you know that, Ocalla. But it is true that something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. That child that you once knew–that smiling, laughing, singing baby you once held on your knee–is afflicted by sorrows I cannot begin to understand. It may be that there is no help for us in Soxha, and if so we will go to Vallas, to the capital–I have already written to my brother there about the possibility. If that happens, I shall of course let you know; in the meantime, send your letters to my former address.
With love and unending well-wishes, Tatha
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anonymississippi · 1 year
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Talder fanfic ideas I have to post or I will forget them:
1. Bake Off Au - like… every fandom I’ve ever been in has a bake off au ruminating
2. Tally is the singer Sarah booked for the USO tour overseas and Sarah has to escort her band through the different conflict zones and they discover tally might just be a witch with a voice like that and they might! Just fall! In love!!!??
3. Sarah knows so many famous people (historical figures and pop culture icons) . This isn’t an AU, just a head canon that can be worked into an AU.
4. Triple Crown AU - Drunk and aging jockey Sarah Alder comes out of retirement when young owner Tally Craven calls on her, specifically, to ride her prized Thoroughbred, the General, to the finish line in a series of races that forces Sarah to overcome her demons and Tally to wisen up in the cut-throat world of racing.
5. Art thief and Art forger au. Tally always wanted to be a painter, but growing up in a non traditional household meant a lot of self teaching and getting by without a lot of resources, so art school was out of the question. But when the famed art thief The General knicks a famous Vermeer to sell on the black market, it’s only her clever eye for detail that alerts her to the fact that she’s stolen a forgery. An excellent forgery, but a forgery nonetheless. Or, the Leverage-adjacent au.
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thekeepersgrove · 3 months
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Rye's Floating Bookshop - 1st of Bloom
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I am Rye Everbloom, a harvest mouse and the second child of Juniper and Alder Everbloom. I was born under the brisk moon, on the fourth day of Awaken (Brisk 19th), and raised in the town of Undertree nestled at the root of the tree from which the town gets its name, some weeks of travel outside the region of the River.
I was a traveller once, never settling in one place and doing odd jobs to find room and board for the time I spent at my destination. But after the passing of my brother Moss I have chosen to take over his bookshop on The River, both to honour his memory and as my old bones tell me it is time to end my travels and settle down.
It is with a heavy heart that I begin this next step of my journey. The weather—mild and sunny, hinting at the thaw that creeps ever closer—lifts some of the gloom that has settled over my day. I still mourn the loss of my brother Moss, but I find some comfort in continuing the work that he loved.
I find the shop moored in the lovely town of Hurst, which is currently preparing the celebrations of the holiday Rinse, but I have some work to do before I can join the holiday cheer of the townsfolk.
As I enter the bookshop—struggling a bit to open the door which has jammed in the cold weather—I find it just as Moss left it; papers can be found strewn across the front desk, the books from the latest restock stacked high next to them, and the bookshelves are messy and out of order. My brother was never the tidy kind. The shop shows the signs of his passing, with a layer of dust covering everything in sight, muting the colours.
Although it saddens me that my nieces did not want to take over their father's business, I can somewhat understand their decision as I stand in his bookshop and feel the ghost of his presence and the weight of his absence.
I spend a few hours cleaning up—dusting, organising papers and cleaning up the mess of books that my brother has left. It is simple but hard work, distracting my thoughts from the grief. I could not escape it entirely, however, as the sight of his blue jacket hanging by the door and his favourite mug in the kitchen—bearing the words "River's Best Dad"—halts my activity and forces me to take a few minutes to overcome my emotions.
Once my task is done, the shop clean and my few belongings in place, I look upon the shop with satisfaction. While I have left much as I found it—the jacket still hangs where he left it—I have also made it my own. There is no point in forcing myself to linger in the grief, leaving the space untouched. A shrine can now be found in my living space off the side of the bookshop, dedicated to the Smiling God and centered around the figure I brought. Behind the front desk I put my odd decoration, the skull of the three-horned beast that I once came across in the travels, and I hope that it does not scare any customers who come visit.
I take a moment for quiet contemplation, breathing through my thoughts and feeling, before turning outwards. It is the first the day of the new year and the preparations for Rinse have been ongoing in the town outside. I exit my new floating home and look upon the town with its squat buildings, which add a certain charm to the surroundings. Animalfolk of all types can be seen milling around the riverfront, gathering around lit fires to get a break from the cold, and finishing opening the hole in the ice, which will be used for the celebrations.
I join the crowds, enjoying the chatter and the laughter of young children running around. Some have already started the celebrations, as I can hear yelps from the river as some start their Rinse, their swim in the river to wash off the remnants of the year left behind and cleanse themselves for the new year. While most do no more than a quick dip in the ice-cold water, some animalfolk take their time, enjoying the cold and the contemplation. Everyone, once they've risen from the water shivering and cleansed, join the groups warming up and enjoying the warm and spiced apple cider being handed out by volunteers.
I doff my clothing and walk into the water, joining the yelps of others as the cold hits me. I do not stay in for long, as the cold awakens the ache in my damaged knee, but I do take the time to ponder what it is I want to achieve this year. When I leave the water I have made a decision; this new year I will spend not wallowing in my grief, but instead live my life as my brother would have wanted. I will work on once again finding joy in the little things, of the daily ongoings, and the small joys in life.
As I join a group gathered around one of the fires, huddling under the blanket and enjoying the heat that slowly brings the warmth back to my body, a hare approaches. He is tall and lanky, and his brown fur shows similar signs of age as mine. As he hands me a mug of the warm cider he introduces himself as Angus Thisledown.
We talk for a while; I speak of my coming to the River and the bookshop—he remembers my brother and offer his condolences—and he tells me about the town and a bit about himself. He looks over at a group of hares around an adjacant fire fondly as he talks about his daughter and three grandchildren, who are also here celebrating. As he leaves to rejoin his family, he offers his warm welcome and hands me a memento, a bottle of the spiced apple cider to bring with me home.
As I walk back to Moss' bookshop—now mine—I feel the seeds of hope within me that perhaps this year will be better, more manageable. I spend the rest of the evening getting used to my new home—the soft lull of the river around me, the quiet creaking of the wooden frame—and have a simple meal before curling up with a cup of tea in the rickety rocking chair with its maroon cushion, enjoying the silence. It feels weird to slip under the covers of what used to be my brother's bed, and I can feel the vice of grief around my heart. But this too will pass, and I hope this coming year will bring healing. This year will be better.
| Belonging received: A bottle of spiced apple cider. | | Total customers: n/a | Books sold: n/a (Inventory total: 500) | Earnings: n/a (Till total: 100) |
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thewiddershinsme · 13 days
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Finished An Enchantment of Ravens by Margaret Roberson. Had a very interesting take on the fae and their relationship with human Craft. It was the most refreshing take on the fae I've read in a while, in which the fair folk still felt inhuman and other and couldn't lie (compared to other books where the fae just felt like regular people with some superhuman abilities)
Spoilers:
It felt like a good standalone until the very end. I felt like the ending was going for happily ever after, but honestly just felt like it was a happily for now ending. Isobel becoming Queen of the Fair Folk was odd considering how much she still hated fair folk in general even at the end. It was unclear whether she would be exercising any sort of real power or change (as Gadfly seemed to imply) or it's just a means to make Rook King of the Fair Folk. And while Rook and Isobel will no longer be put to death for loving each other, there's nothing to suggest she isn't going to age and die in a normal lifespan, while if Rook becomes like the Alder King he'll have a lifespan even crazy long for immortals. While I very much loved Isobel's practical nature, I got the impression at the end that in about 10-20 years later she's gonna break things off with Rook, which while perfectly practical is not the love story I got the impression the book was going for. And again, kinda surprised that a standalone ends with our mortal heroine becoming Queen of the Fair Folk with no follow up on that very intriguing premise.
Overall did enjoy it, and am planning on checking out her other book A Sorcery of Thorns. Oh and lowkey disappointed never learned Isobel's true name
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nanowrimo · 1 year
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30 Covers, 30 Days 2022: Extra #1
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A little something extra! Leonardo De La Rocha was a fantastic backup designer this year, going above and beyond by surprising us with three designs when we asked for one! While we weren’t able to use one of his backup designs, we wanted to make sure it got showcased anyway. So without further ado, let’s cheer for Science Fiction novel The Alien at The Bus Stop by YWP Participant Zoe Alder!
The Alien at The Bus Stop
Life on Earth changed completely when the aliens came. Now it’s autumn of 2023, and half of the population of major cities are comprised of aliens, who happen to be very friendly and only slightly annoying. Skylar is having the worst day of her life when an alien tells her something that will turn her life upside down. An extraterrestrial genius is threatening to destroy her world and everything in it. Can she and a group of high schoolers figure out a way to stop him?
About the Author
Zoe Alder loves to read and has always wanted to write. You will normally find her with her nose stuck in a book, playing her violin, playing her fiddle (they are two completely different things, after all), listening to music, singing songs from Broadway musicals, knitting and crocheting, watching videos of foxes, and learning ASL. She isn’t published, but hopes to be someday (when she finally finishes her novel).
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About the Designer
Leonardo is a developer turned designer turned design exec, currently serving as Global Head of Design for Spotify Advertising. Formerly at Intuit, Facebook, and Yahoo, his expertise orbit around commercializing enterprise products and instituting systems for building at scale. Working from his home in sunny San Jose, California, Leonardo spends his free time illustrating, fidgeting with type, advocating for respectable cocktails, and assisting his partner in raising two beautiful children towards beautiful adults, through and through.
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phoebeamorryce · 1 year
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Blood for the Altar, Part Two
Continuing my @inklings-challenge Four Loves Fairy Tale story! Part One here | Part Three | Part Four
It was well into harvest time when Marta asked her father the question she had most longed to ask; at least, the safest of the biggest questions: “Why is it called the Altarwood?”
They had just finished breakfast, and The Schedule dictated that her father change into his riding clothes and commence his weekly review. This week’s review, as Marta had overheard on her way downstairs that morning, included a survey of the farms in the valley.
(Marta was not given to eavesdropping, but she could not help how the steward’s voice tended to carry, nor how the acoustics in the wood-paneled front hall further amplified this.)
Marta’s father paused in the act of folding a letter. He received a good many letters—more, she thought, than he had received at their house in town. She squinted across the table at the signature of the letter in an effort to avoid her father’s gaze.
The question had just slipped out! She hadn’t meant to speak, and she especially hadn’t meant to ask him a question. She might have asked Cook, or one of the country maids; even her governess might have known the answer. Why did she—
“Some people say it used to be called the Alder-Wood,” her father said, breaking into her panicked thoughts.
Like a flock of startled pigeons, those thoughts scattered pell-mell, leaving Marta to stare at him while her cheeks flushed.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Marta held her breath and waited for her father to retreat. She might as well have flown at him like a startled cat.
Instead, putting down the half-folded letter, her father asked, “Would you like to come with me?”
“Oh, could I?”
A second question! It was as if she had lost her senses. But the joy of hearing her father’s voice, with a miraculous hint of laughter behind his own question, was too much for Marta. To ignore it would be like ignoring Cook’s suggestion that they make a tart with the last of the fresh apples.
And her father had meant it! In short order Marta had found a maid to help her sort out her riding frock—a costume she had received for her birthday that spring and never had a chance to wear. By the time she was ready, she fairly flew down the stairs, afraid her father might have left without her.
He had, but only to go as far as the stables and have Jack saddle the little gray mare for her. Jack stood ready to lift her into the saddle. He tossed her up with one of his merry laughs and wished her a good morning.
It must have been a magical wish. Marta drifted through that morning on a cloud of happiness. Not only did she finally meet the villagers she had smiled at in church, but she got to see their cottages and their gardens and the cluster of buildings that made up the village proper. She was introduced to the millpond and the pastures, and the low stone wall all hung over with greenery that lined the north-bound road, and she learned the names of several sturdy autumn flowers. They watched the farmers cutting hay and hedgerows, and stopped their horses alongside wheatfields to trade news, little of which Marta understood.
She had the sense that some of the little things she’d seen were things she ought to learn, however. They reminded her of the many quirks of the household’s original servants: certain arrangements of herbs in cottage gardens; bits of iron where you wouldn’t expect them; and strange phrases and gestures from the villager, which cropped up in the middle of sentences, full of a significance Marta couldn’t pinpoint.
She forgot all of this almost as soon as it passed, because in all of this activity, her father talked to her. He asked how she liked her room, and what she was learning in her lessons, and if the mare suited her. He complimented her aptitude for the menus and how well she got on with the servants. He listened while she explained the dance her governess had taught her and the books she had read and how much she loved the view from her bedroom window.
Marta could have wept with happiness. Here was the father she had missed all that summer. Here was the man who strode about with purpose and knew his mind and cared about the happenings in his family and his home. Here was the man who made folks stand taller when he looked at them, and now he was looking at Marta, and for the first time in months he seemed actually to see her.
And then they came to the wood itself.  It crowded up against the pasture fences in a way that made Marta shiver, calling to mind a dog she had met once, who looked mild and friendly up until it’d almost bitten her. 
Here at last, Marta’s father lost the mild smile that had dominated his face through all of the other introductions. He turned his gaze from her to regard the wood with a cold, keen eye.
“The land was named for the Altarwood, and indeed most of our property is made up of the wood.” He did not look at Marta as he spoke. “But you are not to enter the wood alone, do you understand? Not even the hunters enter the wood alone.”
Marta dared her third question of the day, which seemed to her a vital one. “Why? Is it dangerous?”
“Very.” Finally he turned to her. His hands were so firm on the reins that his gelding snorted and tossed its head. “Children have been lost in that wood. I don’t mean to alarm you, but fear is the best deterrent. You will come to know the land, to understand its whims and ways, but the wood is unknowable. And it is best left that way.”
They turned away from the wood without greeting the trees that marked its border. 
The magic of Jack’s wish was spent. In contrast to his energy that morning, Marta’s father entered the afternoon in a dull mood. He did not speak, not even when questions were put to him directly. He only nodded or shook his head, or sometimes he gave one of his grunts. He went upstairs immediately following supper, in direct defiance of The Schedule, as if a morning of introductions had exhausted his strength.
For the next week, Marta only saw him at meals, the table a river dividing them. Their brief happy reunion seemed to have ended.
Marta found she needed more now than lessons and chores and the menu to distract herself. On the third or fourth morning after breakfast, she put on her sturdy walking boots, called one of her father’s spaniels, and went on her own survey of the land.
She hadn’t been brave enough for this undertaking before, but her father’s introductions served as a template for her wanderings. She visited the lambs in the upper pasture, laughing with them while their tails wagged happily. She said hello to the few villagers she met, though she did her best to avoid people. Mostly she rambled. She rambled with a fervor that defied her clouded thoughts and her grief—for her father and herself—and her rambling was so fervent that she outpaced the spaniel and a breeze warmed with summer’s last breath and then, quite unaccountably, she rambled directly into a brook.
Marta stared at the water staining the toes of her boots. The brook burbled onward, heedless of the minor obstacle. It ran quite doggedly along its bed of black dirt and polished stone, straight down from the fields and on into the shadows of the Altarwood. Its merry voice chattered away into the dark, undaunted.
Marta stared at the trees.
The trees seemed to stare back. At least, they loomed in the way the steward loomed when he wanted her father to pay attention.
Marta paid attention.
She noticed how that last breath of summer rustled among the browning leaves, and how the leaves rattled irritably at the breeze’s tickling. She noticed the strange color of the nearest trees, their grooved bark blending from rich brown to a silvery gray that caught the light. She noticed the chirp of a bird, somewhere along the same line that the brook had taken.
She noticed a spot of yellow just beyond the treeline.
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