#she NEEDS to get to that aerodrome

[mihotose]

taylor swift as a dolores dei archetype. discuss

#she NEEDS to get to that aerodrome #gemitus #disco elysium #if it isnt clear i dont know anything about this woman

[stingslikeabee]

@5judgements​ found the dancer . chapter 5

An evening to celebrate and honor the passing of another year of the Archadian Emperor, Gramis Gana Solidor, was an occasion that no citizen or imperial guest wished to miss. With the emperor’s health declining over the recent months, there was an additional care to ensure that the commemorations would be remembered by those in attendance, regardless of their ties to the actual ruling house of Archadia.

Judge magisters, the superior officers among their troops, the head scientists from Draklor, diplomats from allied nations, members of the Senate, military personnel serving as liaisons to occupied territories, the capital’s very own elite - everyone received an invitation for a ball held within palace grounds, which again served a double purpose as propaganda and suggestion of intent for those keen on threatening Archadia. Although there was no actual display of power from their best among military ranks such as the tournament held months before, security was impossibly high and Emperor Gramis decided to make an appearance, health concerns notwithstanding.

Melissa was there, among those graced with an invitation - something only possible thanks to the backing and meddling of the Marquis of Ondore, of course. For all intents and purposes, her season was supposed to have ended a few weeks before, when she was even transported to the Sky City with the 8th Fleet, a personal courtesy given the woman’s non-official diplomatic status in the city. However, the dancer returned a couple of days later with news of an extension - for a full year, with an exclusive contract with the local opera house.

While initially her role had seemed to be one to foster curiosity and goodwill for Bhujerba, Melissa explained that her craft had indeed drawn the curiosity of many from the Empire - enough to secure sizeable revenue for the venue promoters who sought to retain her as a fixed attraction. The Marquis signed off on such dealings, evidence of his continued support of the fragile but sincere collaboration of the Sky City and Archades. 

Behind the scenes, however, the intentions of the Ondore administration were very different - Melissa had met with him at their homeland, and explained the status of her assignment in a way to highlight that she needed time - only on the very eve of the meeting had she been successful in breaching Ghis’ final layer of armor and ensnaring him. The delay did not please the Marquis, but the account of her travel instigated him to continue with the charade - and Melissa was able to return with the fanfarre her created persona required, even if deep down she had no intention of following through with the Resistance plans anymore.

The Bhujerban had decided to use the time to find an alternative - anything that could help her country, but not at the cost of her beloved magistrate’s life.

The renewed season, the possibility of meeting Ghis frequently, the life in the capital to which she had been growing used to - all these things filled Melissa with excitement for the evening of the ball, Drace being immensely helpful with recommendations for a good seamstress as well as getting the woman in touch with those who could not only secure her an apartment but also a decent one (after all, a hotel was no longer suitable for the Bhujerban considering her long-term presence). Zargabaath had also provided counsel and the last weeks had been used to finalize her move into a new place, decorated to her preferences (with everything she had brought from the Sky City after her meeting with Ondore).

The only thing missing was speaking with Ghis - since they said their goodbyes at the Bhujerban aerodrome, she had not seen him again. Presumably too busy with the Marquis, and then dispatched elsewhere when she returned to Archades. Melissa was itching to share the good news with him - and to talk about what it represented for both of them; Ghis had hinted at a relationship before - would he still be amenable to it if they both lived in the same city? It seemed like a silly thing to fret over with war on the horizon, but her heart could yearn for nothing else.

However, his colleagues within the magister circle told her to not send word - both Drace and Zargabaath suggested doing so personally at the ball, which Ghis would be sure to attend (as well as all of them). Besides, Melissa’s fresh anxiety in relation to the oldest judge did not escape the trained eye of his peers - despite the dancer never outright gossiping about her trip with Ghis to the Sky City, she had alluded to certain events - Drace immediately understood.

So that brought the dancer to the night at the palace, for once dressed like an Archadian (it was the Emperor’s birthday, after all). Her dress was one of shimmering fabric mimicking the colors of the sunset, with crossed straps around the neck that turned into billowing twin capes trailing after her steps while leaving most of Melissa’s back bare. The front of the dress had no embroidery save for the right side of the waist, where crystals had been sewn into a delicate flower pattern, decorating a small section there where some skin was visible in a tasteful manner (but considerably less if one compared to her usual attire).

The slit for the right side of her legs offered ample movement - and combining with the soft fabric used for the outfit, there was a lot of freedom for her to walk as if wearing one of her own adored costumes. Her long, dark hair was styled with a half braid, the only Bhujerban concession being the jewelry added to her tresses, earrings and arms; nothing else on Melissa hailed from the Sky City, and if not for the choice of vibrant colors, she could perhaps be confused with one of the local ladies in attendance.

With a glass in hand, Melissa walked around the main room, looking for familiar faces - one in particular, which she had failed to locate despite the assurances of the other magisters that he would be there. It was a most curious feeling the dancer experienced then - almost like stage fright, but of an extremely personal nature; the woman felt hot and cold simultaneously, and longed to see Ghis’ face while at the same time hoping he would share her enthusiasm for the news. There was hardly anything she could do but wait more - but the weeks without contact had turned her into someone almost desperate for his presence, and, more importantly, his approval.

An assassin turned soft - if only Ondore knew how well his own agent had lied to him.

#5judgements #v: FFXII #t: sweeter than heaven #I am very normal about them #not at all excited we're here #only took us 130 notes and plotting forever #*flings this at u*

[cephalopodiums]

Analysis of 'Aska i vinden' in a Disco Elysium context

So, another post about a hbd-core Swedish song inspired me to finally make this analysis of 'Aska i vinden', a song mentioned in DE.

Game quote: [failed the Shivers check in front of the FELD-building] YOU - "I am trying to ask the wind." TRANT HEIDELSTAM - "Ask the wind or 'Aska i Vinden' is the name of a Vaasan lullaby," he remarks. "Maybe that helps?"

'Aska i vinden' does not actually translate into 'ask the wind', it means 'ash in the wind'. It also isn't a lullaby irl, it is a pop song and I have not found any mention of it being inspired by a lullaby, it seems to be a wholly original song. (Vaasa and Vaasan is the DE equivalent of Sweden (roughly) and Swedish btw, if you didn't know that.)

Anyway, on to the lyrics analysis below the cut

Swedish lyrics │ English translation │ [DE parallels]

Jag kan se att du nått din gräns nu I can see that you have reached your limit now [Parallels to Dora having enough of Harry] Jag kan se vart allt tar slut I can see where it all comes to an end [Parallels to the end of their relationship] Jag kan se alla miljarder stjärnor I can see all billions¹ of stars [Kinda parallels the Inland Empire portrait] Tändas upp bara för att dö ut Light up just to die out [This line and the previous parallels with the quote 'In dark times, should the stars also go out?' from the communist side quest]

Jag ser dig nere på T-centralen I see you down by the central station² [While not a metro station, I feel this parallels the aerodrome in being large/prominent transportation infrastructure] Du rycker till när våra blickar möts You flinch when our gazes³ meet [Parallels with the discomfort Dolores Dei/Dora felt when Harry talks to her when she tried to leave for the aerodrome] Jag ser hoppet i dina ögon I see the hope in your eyes [What Harry saw, or probably more accurately thinks and wants to have seen in Dolores Dei/Dora's eyes] Tändas upp bara för att dö ut Light up just to die out [Maybe this is what happened, Dora hoping for just a normal goodbye and then realizing no, Harry will try into the last moment to get her back]

Spring, spring för ditt liv, du kommer aldrig hitta hem Run, run for your life, you will never find your way home [Parallels the thoughts Lonesome Long Way Home/Hobocop] Spring, spring, spring för livet, vänd dig aldrig om igen Run, run, run for your life⁴, never turn back around again [Parallels the thought Cleaning Out the Rooms and the various warnings the skills give when Harry wants to find out about his past, for example the letter in his ledger] Spring, spring för ditt liv, för du är närmre än du tror Run, run for your life, because you're closer than you think [Parallels both that Harry is close to death at all times and that his memories are also close, sometimes just needing reminders or a bit of thought to return to him] Snart så är vi aska i vinden Soon we are ash in the wind [Parallels both the inevitable death of everything by pale if 'we' is used to refer to the people of Elysium and if 'we' is used to refer to Harry and Dora together, their relationship, being over to the point of only being ash in the wind, Harry and Dora no longer being a 'we' or an 'us' like Dolores Dei says: The atoms don't form us anymore: us, our love, our unborn daughters...]

Det finns en plats där alla minnen hamnar There is a place where all memories⁵ end up [Parallels the pale and the thought Cleaning Out the Rooms] Där allting rensas ut Where everything is cleaned out⁶ [Parallels Cleaning out the rooms to a T, and maybe the origin point of the pale, the nothingness, not the gradient or curdled milk] Kanske en plats där vi kan andas Maybe a place where we can breath [Parallels that Harry has a little more "room to breathe" now that he has lost the baggage of his memories and also this parallels the lung and breath imagery in Elysium] Där vi kan andas ut Where we can breathe out [Same as above, maybe parallels this line from Conceptualization about the pale: Instead of air, you exhale thoughts. There are no trees that eat thoughts.]

Och jag kan se att du nått din gräns nu And I see that you have reached your limit⁷ now Jag kan se vart allt tar slut I can see where it all comes to an end⁷ [Same as above, but I want to add a parallel to Le Retour, girlchild revolution and the end of an era] [Also just this line, I want to add the parallel to Harry knows about the end of Revachol] Jag kan se alla miljarder stjärnor I can see all billions of stars Tändas upp bara för att dö ut Light up just to die out [Same as above, but I want to add parallels to the communists in the revolution (having stars as a symbol) and also the disco stars of The New, they may not be billions but it is often used hyperbolically]

Spring, spring för ditt liv, du kommer aldrig hitta hem Run, run for your life, you will never find your way home⁸ Spring, spring, spring för livet, vänd dig aldrig om igen Run, run, run for your life, never turn back around again⁹ Spring, spring för ditt liv, för du är närmre än du tror Run, run for your life, because you are closer than you think Snart så är vi aska i vinden Soon we are ash in the wind [Same as above but I also want to add the parallels to these Shivers lines: SHIVERS - Your hair is an oily mess flecked with ash from neighbouring coal plants. Smoke stacks rise somewhere in the distance. SHIVERS - COME MORNING, I CARRY INDUSTRIAL DUST AND LET IT SETTLE ON TREE LEAVES. I SHAKE THE DUST FROM THOSE LEAVES AND ONTO YOUR COAT. (La Revacholière would carry the ashes of people to a nice place)]

So yeah, there you have it. There are some more parallels in the translation notes and I will put just the lyrics in a reblog on this post, if you want them alone without my commentary.

¹Billions in short scale specifically. ²T-centralen is actually a specific Swedish metro station, it is the biggest station for the Stockholm metro. I chose to translate/localize it to central station to aid in understanding the scale, importance and meaning conveyed by the word T-central. ³My translation is probably a grammatical bastardization of the idiom meet [somebody's] gaze, but you get the meaning of it and it stays truer to the Swedish version. ⁴The sentence 'Spring för livet' does not literally tranlate to 'run for your life', but it is it's meaning. Literally it translates to 'run for life'. ('Spring för ditt liv' actually does literally translate to and mean 'run for your life'.) I find the change of phrasing fascinating, as it can ad an additional way to read that line of the lyrics as 'running for the concept of life itself'. ⁵Here you can translate the word 'minnen' (it is in the definitive form) into both 'memories' and 'the memories' because they are both definitive, but the translations have different connotations. Both connotations are in the Swedish meaning of the word 'minnen' and there is no way to specify which one without use of additional explanatory words. I chose the phrasing of 'memories' to better fit with the parallel to the pale, but 'the memories' could also work well, as the connotation of that is that it is Harry's memories and it fits with the next line about cleaning out, as it is that what he does with his memories according to the thought Cleaning Out the Rooms. ⁶The phrasing 'rensas ut' (it is in gerund form, passive voice) can be more accurately be translated to 'is cleared out' (gerund form, passive voice), but 'is cleaned out' (gerund form, passive voice) is also a perfectly good translation and I chose it to parallel the thought Cleaning Out the Rooms. ⁷I did not foot note this earlier because it would make the grammar of the translation and the current word is more accurate in meaning, but... The word 'gräns' can not only be translated as 'limit' but 'border' as well. And idk, the word border reminds me of the porch collapse, especially with the next line about seeing 'where it all comes to an end', or the alternative translation 'where it all ends'. Which is exactly what you see at the porch collapse, you see where the world ends and the pale begins. So if we take these alternative translations and suppose the 'you' being referred/spoken to is the world, then you can think of it as the singer seeing the porch collapse, the approach of the end of the world. ⁸A fun thing just in the act of translation, not necessarily a meaning you can extract from the Swedish text but... If you literally translate 'du kommer aldrig hitta hem' it is 'you will never find home'. And you can read that translation as not finding a place that fits you, in the societal sense. Like the various Copotypes and political leanings Harry tries out/thinks about to try and find himself, who he is, and what titles/roles (places) fit him. He is trying to find home, in an identity sense as well. And it doesn't have to be *back* home, it just has to be home, a new one will suffice too. ⁹I think the word 'again' could actually be left our in the translation, to give it another connotation that is included in 'vänd dig aldrig om igen'. I interpret the meaning of the Swedish sentence as both the meaning 'never turn back again' implying the singer has turned around before and 'never turn back' which does not imply the singer having turned back before. But am a bit unsure of that though, so take it with a grain of salt.

#de #disco elysium #disco elysium meta #i think #aska i vinden #petra marklund #swedish #translation #if this is a lullaby in de; gosh that is a melancholic lullaby #but eh there is a common lullaby about keeping a wolf from eating your child in sweden so it wouldn't be too off base #Another swedish song that has DE vibes in my opinion is La Belle Epoch by kent; it has some very Sweden specific lyrics but the vibe man... #The duality of the bad and small good in society; the hope of working together for change; for a restart #Also the parallel of the title La Belle Epoch to The New #(I heard some people say that the name isola for the continents was inspired by the kent album isola but I'm not so sure about that #isola is just the Italian word for island; I think it comes from there honestly)

[57sfinest]

Clarification for the Crane Wives thing. I don't think that her leaving was an asshole move in fact it probably needed to happen. I just think the way she decided to go about things wasn't great.

right but that's part of the ambiguity of the last dream- we don't actually know *how* she left. the last dream implies that she just walked off to the aerodrome to catch her flight to mirova, and i think there are 2 distinct and likely possibilities based on that:

that's not true at all and was warped by his subconscious to match his feelings about her leaving, and they had a "normal" breakup after which she went to mirova at some point and harry took it personally enough that his brain cooked up this dream scenario, or,

it's true, and she did it because she was afraid of/didn't want to deal with harry's reaction, so breaking up with him and then immediately going to the aerodrome was her way of ensuring that he couldn't interfere with her leaving in any significant way

one of the really interesting parts of how they set up the breakup is that we really don't KNOW anything. harry is so fundamentally unreliable and the only time we get to see dora outside of his mind is through the payphone, and that conversation is limited by nature.

#she sounded so patient on the phone #but now she has the time and distance to allow her that patience #i really really need to write that fic about them lmaooo #god what i wouldn't give to know more about her #kiwipost #ask

[l2bbocsstuff]

WINGING IT

A short drabble from the prompts I was given on a Discord server I belong to,

Korra’s stomach was full of butterflies until she heard in her headphones, “Korra.  Sweetheart, we’re about to take off.  The engine will be pretty loud because of the open cockpit but if you want to talk to me just press the black button in front of you.  Your mike will turn on and then I’ll hear you.”

Korra did as she was instructed and pressed the black button.  “Asami, I’m a little nervous.  I’ve never flown in a small plane like this before.”

“Oh honey, I’ll never let anything happen to you.  Besides, I’m flying the plane and I don’t want anything to happen to me either.  We’ll just be taking a short flight along the coast.  The scenery in the summer here on Ember Island is fantastic and you’ll get a bird’s eye view.”

Korra relaxed a little although the seat straps still felt tight along her shoulders.  The engine roared to life and soon the biplane was speeding down the runway.  Although Korra couldn’t see Asami, she was sure her girlfriend was smiling.  If there was anything that Asami loved besides Korra, it was speed.  Asami loved to accelerate while driving, she loved to race her speedboat, and she loved to nosedive whatever she was flying.

It didn’t take long for the plane to become airborne.  Korra could tell because she didn’t hear the wheels on the pavement anymore.  Soon enough the couple were on their way to the seashore.  Flying west that afternoon into the glare of the sun, both women were glad for their tinted eye goggles.  Not only did they keep the wind out of their eyes, but the beautiful vistas were also less distorted than if they had to squint.

The waves were crashing on the shore; it was a lovely sight.  Asami clicked open her mike and said, “Korra, do you see the surfers?”

“I do!!  They look like they’re having a great time.”

Asami suddenly pushed the nose of the aircraft down.  “Let’s get a better look.”

Some of the surfers waiting for the next breaker looked up and waved.  Korra leaned out as far as she could and waved back.  Asami waggled the wings of the aircraft and it began to climb again.  Eventually, they leveled off.

They continued to fly along the shoreline and then over a small spit of land.  Underneath them were many people sunbathing.  There were men, women, and children all stark naked.  Korra couldn’t believe what she was seeing, she opened the mike and giggled, “I guess nudist colonies shun fig-leaf couture.  There’s no way in the world I could ever walk around outside naked.  I know my limits.”

Asami waggled the plane’s wings again and some of the au natural people on the ground waved up at them.

She banked the plane back to the east and headed back towards the aerodrome.  She responded, “I’ve been to that beach a few times when I was a teenager.  I wouldn’t do it now, but not knowing my limits was half the fun.” 

Korra envisioned Asami in the buff, lying on the sand.  She clicked the mike on and said, “Maybe we need to test out our limits when we get back to the ground.”

“Maybe we do!!”

#korrasami #korra x asami #asami x korra #tlok fanfic #lok fanfic #the legend of korra fan fic #lok #tlok

[lapsuslapsiis]

haha i'm gonna be predictable

i'm giving you Tacita!! Ex-Ash and has a history with the OoW, currently a smuggler in LA that goes by the alias Unica. She's outwardly friendly and flirty depending on what she wants from you, but ultimately she's fairly misanthropic and doesn't like to let people into her life, the exception being her friend Amica, who is like, 75% of her violent impulse control. Will threaten you with the flash of a dagger and a toothy smile if she doesn't like you or is simply testing you. She's not really interested in anything beyond a brief no-strings-attached relationship, but she can be in any of the relationship/friend/enemy categories!

You're gonna get a predictable one back, mostly because she also doesn't really let people into her life.

Maara is passes through Lion's Arch with some regularity as keeping the airship supplied is best done at the Aerodrome, and being a Priory officer also requires occasional check-ins with the HQ. She's never felt connected to the city, but she knows it very well.

What the Magister certainly isn't above doing is skirting around protocol to keep her team well equipped and ready for anything. If the Priory can't get their hands on something, she definitely knows people who can and will procure such equipment straight from the source. This, of course, means that knowing smugglers and exotic goods traders is good for when you need something hard to get.

I'd assume meeting Tacita could easily happen like that, perhaps in some seedy bar or some such place. Maara is exquisitely confident and authoritative and it's often hard to get a read on her, that said she'll happily sneak in a flirt or two if she likes someone. As such, friends or friends+ with someone happens fairly naturally. Threatening or testing her, on the other hand, can very easily get you on her bad side and she's quick to butt heads. If she sees it as a challenge, she'll walk right into it, but if she sees it as unnecessary antagonizing she'll drop it like a pile of bricks.

Ultimately how well or how badly they could possibly get along would depend on how that initial encounter looks like.

#ask #character talks #maara

[kirammama]

Growing Up Kiramman: Chapter 2

Seven-year-old Caitlyn Kiramman’s world has been turned completely upside down. Her mother, Cassandra, is the newest member of the Piltover Council, and between long work days and a seemingly endless list of official duties, she’s away from home a lot more often. And while Caitlyn does love all the extra one-on-one time she’s getting with her father, Tobias, things are just not the same without her mother around. Life in the Kiramman Mansion is changing fast, and only one thing’s for certain: this new normal is definitely going to take some getting used to.

Chapter One: Caitlyn

Chapter Two: Tobias

(on the sunny side of the street)

Tobias had expected his daughter to have a hard time saying goodbye to Cassandra when they accompanied her to the aerodrome that morning, but nothing could have prepared him for the way their family farewell actually ended up going down. It was a huge, heart-wrenching ordeal that he and his wife, as well as the handful of Piltovan bystanders who happened to witness it, will not be forgetting any time soon.

Caitlyn had been unusually but understandably quiet from the moment she woke up. She didn’t have any appetite for breakfast even though Tobias had personally prepared all of her morning favorites, including a special bowl of seasonal fruits and berries, in hopes it would cheer her up a little. The normally chipper, chatty child didn’t utter a single word on the carriage ride into town, nor on their walk down to the airship dock. Caitlyn stuck close to Cassandra, holding onto her mother’s entire arm rather than just her hand, while Tobias trailed a few steps behind them with the luggage.

And then, when the time came for Cassandra to board, their little girl fell apart. Caitlyn broke down into absolute hysterics and she cried – oh, how she howled – for her mother. There were tears, snot and sobs loud enough to turn the heads of several passersby. A complete meltdown, lock, stock and barrel. As Cassandra said her goodbyes, she tried her best to soothe Caitlyn to no avail. The girl clung onto her for dear life and refused to let go, so Tobias had to step in and pry them apart before Cassandra missed her flight. 

Tobias has been a father for nearly eight years, but he learned right away that there is nothing that pains his heart more than his daughter’s cries. Whenever Caitlyn gets hurt, he’s there to patch her up. Tobias has plucked many a splinter from tiny fingers and toes, carefully bandaged up scraped elbows and knees, and kissed more bumps and bruises than he can count. If it’s an emotional hurt, he’s there to lend a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, and lots and lots of hugs. As Tobias knows, one cannot simply slap a plaster onto wounds of the heart. But in situations such as this one, where the remedy is something only Caitlyn’s mother can give her, it leaves Tobias wishing he could do more.

For now, they just need a quiet place where Caitlyn can feel her feelings and cry for as long as she needs to. Lifting her into his arms, Tobias carries her to the waiting area of the dock where there are a few empty benches. The two of them rest together for a while, Caitlyn sitting backwards in her father’s lap, face buried in the crook of his neck, and Tobias holding her close, rubbing soothing patterns onto her back until her tears finally come to an end. 

Lifting her head from Tobias’ shoulder, Caitlyn sits upright and starts to rub at the mess on her face. Tobias passes her his handkerchief with a sympathetic smile and waits patiently while she cleans herself up. “Would you like to talk about her?” 

The child’s eyebrows knit together as a few different emotions flash through her eyes, and then her mouth twists and she lightly chews on her bottom lip, as though she does want to talk but isn’t quite sure how to start. Tobias’ expression softens in understanding. “I know, darling. It’s going to feel strange without her around, isn’t it?” 

Caitlyn sniffles and manages a gloomy nod. Her gaze drops to the crumpled handkerchief in her hands and starts to fidget with it.  

Tobias delicately removes the cloth from his daughter’s grip and returns it to his coat pocket. “It’s normal to feel sad, Caity. You and I, we both love your mother so much. When you care about someone like that, they become part of your heart. And when they go away, even if only for a few days, that part of you goes with them.” Tobias subconsciously moves his hand over the small object in the pocket of his slacks. It’s a golden pocket watch, a precious heirloom from Tobias’ side of the family that once belonged to his father, and his father before him. Flipping open its cover, Tobias gazes at it fondly for a moment before taking one of Caitlyn’s hands and gently pressing it into her palm. “Until they return, it’s nice to keep them close in other ways.”

Taking the pocket watch from Tobias, Caitlyn looks inside. Attached to the inner part of the cover is a black and white photograph of a young woman holding a tiny, cherub-cheeked baby in her arms. “Is that me?”

“It is,” Tobias answers with a smile. “You and your mother, on your first birthday.”  

“Mama’s hair was longer,” Caitlyn says, tracing a finger along the photo. Then, suddenly, something catches her eye and she looks up at Tobias with wide eyes. “Papa, she’s smiling!”

Framed family photos and portraits adorn tabletops and line walls within the Kiramman Mansion, but each and every portrayal of Cassandra depicts her in the same way. Shoulders back, head held high. Lips closed, jaw set. Exuding confidence and class. Always dignified, always serious. 

The photo Tobias carries with him is an outtake, one he secretly saved from the selection of shots Cassandra rejected. Their baby girl did not like the sudden bursts of light from their camera’s flashbulb one bit, and by the third photo she had started to fuss in protest. To keep Caitlyn from crying, Tobias had to act quickly – he called her name in a sing-songy voice and waved at her while making a variety of silly faces and nonsensical noises. Not only did his antics successfully distract their daughter and send her into a fit of giggles, but they also earned him a smile and a playful eye roll from his wife, who had tried but ultimately failed to keep a straight face. In the end, Cassandra was able to get her picture-perfect shot which now sits in an ornate frame on the mantle above the fireplace. And, sure, it’s a beautiful photo and Tobias loves it all the same, but the one he keeps in his pocket, the one where both of his girls are smiling, has a special place in his heart. 

Tobias hopes it will bring Caitlyn the same sense of comfort. “Why don’t you hold onto it for now?” 

“Can I really?” The girl perks up, hugging the pocket watch to her chest. Tobias nods and Caitlyn breaks into a small smile. “Thank you, Papa!”

Now that Caitlyn appears to be feeling a bit better, Tobias has an idea that he hopes will turn their day around. “How would you like to spend the morning in town? If you’re feeling up to it, we could go for tea and browse the shops for a while? I thought it might be nice if we got your mother a gift.”

“Oh, yes! Papa, could we?” Caitlyn clasps her hands together and her eyes sparkle with excitement. “What sort of gift?”

 “Something special, both to congratulate her on her new position and to welcome her home. I haven’t any ideas at the moment, but…” Tobias looks at Caitlyn warmly, “perhaps I could leave it up to you? If it’s from you, Caity, she’s going to love it no matter what.”

After dropping by Caitlyn’s favorite cafe for a couple of breakfast scones to tide her over until lunch, father and daughter walk hand in hand through the bustling streets of the shopping district towards Rockefeller Promenade, home of the most fashionable boutiques in all of Piltover. Caitlyn had decided that a necklace would be the perfect gift for Cassandra – one with a pretty pendant strung on an elegant chain of gold that her mother could wear to work every day. Tobias agreed that it was a splendid idea.

“What does Mama do on the council, anyway?” Caitlyn asks as they turn the corner onto another row of shops.

“Well, it’s a very big job, Caity,” explains Tobias. “Your mother is a representative of Piltover’s finest, working with government officials and powerful leaders all over Valoran to make sure we, the citizens, prosper and thrive.” There’s audible pride and adoration in his voice as he talks about Cassandra. “She’s a determined one, your mother. Focused and intelligent. Why, I haven’t a single doubt that she is going to make all of Piltover very proud.”

“I just wish she wasn’t so busy,” says Caitlyn, a hint of sadness seeping back into her voice.

“As do I. I know how much you love spending time with her. It must be hard not being able to see her as often, isn’t it?” Tobias gives Caitlyn’s hand a loving squeeze. “But, Caity, it’s going to be hard for her, too. Your mother cares for you dearly. You are her universe, darling, as you are mine. The moment you came into this world, our hearts became so, so full of love. In all of our years together, I have never seen Cassandra love any little thing as much as she loves you.”

Caitlyn is pensive for a moment while his words sink in, but then she slows to a stop in the middle of the walkway and looks up at him with troubled eyes. “What do we do, Papa?”

Tobias hurriedly shuffles Caitlyn to one side of the street so their stalling doesn’t disrupt the flow of pedestrians, then crouches down to her level. Caitlyn is old enough to understand the situation with Cassandra, so he wants to be plain and honest with her. He sighs. “All I know is that a councilor’s job isn’t an easy one. Such a great amount of responsibility is a heavy burden to bear, so we can only imagine how much pressure your mother will be under at times. That’s why you and I must be there to support her and help where we can. We can’t do anything to lighten her workload, but we can still be there for her.”  

“Do you really think I can help Mama?”

Noticing that Caitlyn looks somewhat unsure of herself, Tobias puts on a reassuring smile and smooths out her hair. “Of course. You’ve got a brilliant mind and a big heart, Caity. I’m certain you will come up with wonderful ideas. Have you got anything so far?”

Furrowing her brows in concentration, Caitlyn takes a minute to think. “We could… we could bake her those yummy plum tarts as a surprise treat sometimes. Remember? The ones she really loves. And… on nights when she comes home really late, I could draw her a warm bubble bath…” The child trails off, thoughtfully tapping her index finger against her chin. “Oh, I know! I could make her some tea!”

“See? Those are all lovely ideas,” says Tobias, chuckling. After standing back up and dusting off his trousers, he extends his arm to Caitlyn with a playful bow. “Right then, if that’s settled, shall we begin looking for that necklace, m’lady?” Giggling, Caitlyn takes her father’s arm and follows him back onto the path towards the promenade. Tobias’ shoulders feel a bit lighter as his worries about Caitlyn start to fade away. She already seems to be in a much happier mood and, considering how incredibly upset she was not even an hour ago, he can’t help but feel rather proud – and he knows Cassandra would be, too – of their little girl’s resilience.

And then, once again, Caitlyn abruptly screeches to a halt. “Papa!”

The sudden outburst startles Tobias out of his thoughts and he jumps slightly. “My goodness. What is it, darling?”

“Sorry,” Caitlyn apologizes with a sheepish grin, quickly resuming her steps. “It’s just, I was just thinking… if I’m going to start making tea for Mama…”

Tobias waits for Caitlyn to finish. When she doesn’t, he turns toward her with a quirk of his brow. “Yes?”

“I might need just a tiny bit of help with the kettle.”

Seven.

Tobias has now accompanied his daughter in and out of seven of Piltover’s finest jewelry shops in search of the perfect necklace for Cassandra, and despite Caitlyn’s meticulous inspection of every single necklace inside every single glass display, they’ve somehow managed to leave all of them empty-handed. They must have already looked at a few hundred necklaces by now, so many that Tobias is sure they have come across every style in existence. Gold and silver chains of varying lengths. Strings of smooth, milky pearls and glass beads in every color of the rainbow. Pendants with the most intricate designs, made of precious metals, gemstones and even hand-carved wood.  

It isn’t to say Caitlyn hasn’t shown any sort of interest whatsoever. A handful of times they did get very close to making a purchase, but as soon as the necklace was brought out from behind the glass and over to the register to be boxed up, Caitlyn ended up changing her mind. It just isn't the one, she would say. It needs to be absolutely perfect. Occasionally, a concerned shopkeeper would offer their assistance or make a recommendation, but Caitlyn politely declined them all, determined to make this decision all by herself.

Their next stop is the last building on the block, a small boutique on the corner with colorful stained glass panels in the front door. The bell hanging above the frame gives a cheery jingle when Tobias opens the door for them, but it’s not quite loud enough to mask Caitlyn’s heavy sigh as she enters the shop.

“Darling, are you all right?” asks Tobias, putting a hand on Caitlyn’s back. “We can rest a while if you’re getting tired.”

“No, I’m fine,” Caitlyn insists, keeping her eyes straight ahead and walking farther into the shop. “I don’t want to rest. I need to find Mama’s gift first.”

A glance up at the clock on the wall tells Tobias that it’s now almost noon. No wonder he’s starting to feel a bit peckish. He follows Caitlyn to the back of the shop while trying to come up with a way to convince her to take a break for lunch. The way Caitlyn’s voice has risen in pitch and how she’s dragging her feet ever so slightly are both telltale signs that she’s tired and borderline cranky. But Tobias is aware that once Caitlyn has set her mind on doing something, there is little that can stop her once she’s gotten started. The young girl has an iron will and does not like to quit halfway through.

Though, Tobias can’t say he’s surprised. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all. Caitlyn is so much like her mother – a mini Cassandra through and through. Tobias watches Caitlyn examine the small selection of jewelry on display, her arms crossed and mouth scrunched up in concentration, and comes up beside her. “What do you think? Could one of these be the one?”

“It’s not here,” Caitlyn laments, sighing dejectedly. When she looks up, she’s wearing an expression Tobias knows all too well. It’s the pouty sort of frown that she uses to get five more minutes of play before bath time or one more story before bed. “Could we go to the shops across the street?”

And every time Caitlyn stares up at him with those big, sad eyes, it makes it tremendously difficult to stand his ground. “We will, darling, I promise, but I think we’ve been at it for long enough. The necklaces aren’t going anywhere. We will continue after lunch.”

“But Papa–”

“Pardon my interruption,” comes a voice from behind the counter, “but if it’s a necklace you’re after, I’ve got a fresh shipment of fine jewelry in the back. Just arrived this morning.” The shopkeeper gives them a warm smile as he gestures to the storage room door. “Would you care to have a look?”

“That’s very kind of you, sir,” replies Tobias, grateful for the distraction. “Thank you.”

“Oh, yes. Thank you,” Caitlyn parrots.

The man disappears into the back room and returns shortly with a wooden crate full of velvet jewelry boxes in a wide assortment of sizes and colors. He unloads box after box, opening them to reveal their contents, and lines them up on the counter. Rings, earrings and brooches come out first, then bracelets and hair pins, all a brilliant gold and each breathtakingly unique. Before long, the entire length of the countertop is covered in jewelry boxes, but they have yet to come across a single necklace. Tobias tries not to show his anxiety. There has to be at least one inside that crate, for heaven’s sake. Please, he silently begs. For Caitlyn.  

“Ah, here they are!” exclaims the shopkeeper, cheerfully handing Tobias the box he just opened. It’s a stunning choker made up of miniscule diamonds. “I believe these other boxes should be necklaces as well.”

Tobias lets out an audible breath of relief. “Over here, darling! The necklaces are over here.” Caitlyn, however, appears to be preoccupied with something else at the opposite end of the counter and doesn’t hear him, so he tries again, a bit louder this time. “Caitlyn?”

“Papa, come quick!” Waving an arm, Caitlyn urgently beckons him over. “I’ve found it! I’ve found Mama’s present!”

“You have?” Tobias hadn’t been expecting to hear those words so soon. “But I thought you wanted a necklace? Those are–”

“I know, but look!”

Curious to see what all the commotion is about, Tobias goes over to his daughter, who’s pointing at one of the small boxes near the register. He takes a look inside and his eyes widen, breath catching in his throat. “Oh my, those are beautiful.”

For the first time that day, Caitlyn positively beams, her smile reaching all the way to her eyes. Turning her attention back to the jewelry box, she gazes at her discovery in admiration. “I think they would suit Mama really well, don’t you?”

“You’re right, Caity,” Tobias agrees, bringing an arm around Caitlyn’s shoulder. A soft smile of his own forms on his lips. “They’re absolutely perfect.”

#fanfic #arcane #cassandra kiramman #caitlyn kiramman #tobias kiramman #growing up kiramman

[rwbyvein]

Firen Lhain:  Chapter 910:  Fairy Dust:  Part III / III

"Target sighted." Taj said, "Location is mine site. Looking it up in the database. Registered to Schnee Dust Corporation."

"Naturally." Weiss stated neutrally, though the dark blue flush made it clear how she felt.

"If it's a mine, that means they have an aerodrome, or at least a pad to land on." Taj stated, and then looked back, "If you think they would let us?" He then looked back forward as Weiss thought it over. "Scratch that. While the land is staked for the Schnee Dust Corporation, the mine itself is not registered. They are probably not going to be happy to have visitors."

Weiss' dark blue flush started to turn light, "Motus Liberi."

"Liberace?" Nora asked.

Weiss breathed in deep, causing her flush to disappear as she looked at Nora. "I'm afraid not. It's the Huntress' right to freedom of movement."

"Doesn't mean you can just walk around on private property?" Taj asked.

"If they've staked the land that means they have the mineral rights." Weiss stated.

"The mine doesn't officially exist?" Taj asked, "Should I put off telling the authorities about it?"

"At least until we complete our soujourn." Weiss stated.

"Can I come too?" Nora asked, and Weiss turned back to her.

"Unfortunately, restraint is not your strong suit."

"That's one way to put it."

"We shall remain behind until they need our aid." Ren stated.

"And then I can come in with an explosion!" Nora exclaimed.

"Indeed." Weiss said with a smile. She then turned to Penthesilea. "Shall we?"

Wings appeared on Penthesilea's back. "I would love to." Penthesilea replied.

"Alright." Taj stated, and everyone looked at him, "Plan is to make the drop and take the fuck off. You two can fly over to the mine, and call me with whatever happens. I'll stay on station on the next valley over. ETA for return 4 minutes. ETA to drop, 30 seconds."

Weiss held her hand out to Penthesilea. Penthesilea eagerly took her hand. The side door opened up and they turned towards it. Penthesilea let go of Weiss' hand and rolled out of the door, her wings quickly picking up the air. Weiss uses a Glyph to launch herself outward, and another up at an angle, catapulting her to mine site. Penthesilea used a burn from her reaction thrusters to lift herself upwards until she was flying alongside Weiss as she slowly descended. Weiss used her Glyph to lift herself up a bit, and Penthesilea used another burn to catch up before using the gravitic thrusters to keep pace. This happened a few times before they started their final approach. The armoured mercenaries pointed their assault dusters at them, while one on a heavy auto duster racked and readied his weapon. They landed and stood elegantly as Penthesilea's wings withdrew.

"Who is in charge of the mercenary company?" Weiss asked.

"Don't worry your pretty little head." One of the mercenaries said. "He's on his way."

A shield appeared in Penthesilea's left hand and a long spear appeared in her right. The shield blocked his line of sight of Weiss while the spear was pointed at him. "That's the one chance you will have to say anything like that." The two nervously looked at each other.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?!" a well appointed soldier shouted as he approached.

"She just threatened to..." the first soldier.

"Not her, you! What the ever loving fuck do you think you are doing?"

"I'm just..."

"Just picking a fight with a Huntress!" the officer shouted. "Everyone lower your weapons and make the heavy duster safe." The soldier on the heavy duster racked it again before opening it up and reclosing it as the other soldiers lowered their weapons. He then looked at the first soldier, "You do know that Huntresses have the right to defend themselves, right?"

"She's trying to?.." the first soldier asked, and the officer looked at the Huntresses.

"What are you trying to do?"

"Trying?" Weiss asked, "We were looking for records to get proper clearance, and guess what we discovered?"

The officer sighed. "Just, please, let's get quick about this. You tell me straight, I give you a straight answer, and hopefully you two can leave as quickly as possible?"

"Is there something here you did not want us to see?" Weiss asked.

"Just, please?" the officer stated.

"You gave me an earnest proposal." Weiss stated, and he looked at her nervously, "And I will accept." With this Penthesilea's weapons withdrew and she stood with proper posture, moving beside Weiss. "We have had trouble contacting Klein Sieben."

The officer sighed once again, "Of all the dirty secrets we have, you had to pick the dirtiest one." He visibly sighed. "Alright, you two sit tight, and I'll go get him. Alright?"

Weiss glared at the soldier who had spoken to her, "I dislike him."

"Yeah," the officer stated, looking at him, "we're going to have a talk later, but for now, you're off shift. Get Macon to replace you." The mercenary glared at Weiss, "Is that clear?"

"Yes - Sir." she stated, and saluted. The officer aimed his weapon at him, and he stopped in his tracks.

"Drop your weapon." The soldier just stared at him for a moment before slowly putting her asault duster on the ground. "And your side arm and knives." The soldier slowly pulled out her pistol and placed it on the ground. She drew a straight blade and slowly placed it on the ground before doing the same for a folding knife. "You are under arrest. I'll see you at your court-martial." He looked to two of the other soldiers who walked up behind the first one. They quickly escorted her away. The officer looked back at the Huntresses, "It will likely take me a half-hour. If you would excuse me?" he asked. Weiss nodded, and he turned to walk away.

"Pardon?" Penthesilea asked, "Friend-Weiss? What happened?"

"Oh?" Weiss asked, "He saluted. In combat, it's referred to as a Sniper Check."

"How does it check for snipers?" Penthesilea asked.

Weiss turned towards her. "Well, first, you do not need to call me Friend-Weiss. I am well aware of our friendship."

"Weiss." Penthesilea said warmly, in way that reminded her of someone she used to know.

Weiss shook her head. "Snipers wait for a high-ranking individual to fire." This caused Penthesilea to gasp. "Indeed." Penthesilea reached her hands towards Weiss. Weiss let her take her hands, and Penthesilea pulled her in for a hug. Weiss was apprehensive, first about the hug, and then about the fact her face was being smoothered by Penthesilea's cleavage. The warmth and height involved did remind her of someone. Penthesilea gently pet her hair before finally letting her go.

"You do not know how long I have wished to do this." Penthesilea stated, "It seems from the moment I was reactivated."

* * *

Weiss and Penthesilea held hands as they stared into the skies. Penthesilea heard something and quickly turned around, jumping down from the relief she had been sitting on. She turned back to help Weiss down, and the two turned towards the officer, and a short man covered in grime. As he walked up, it became clear how utterly short he was. So short he even Weiss dwarfed him. She wiped a tear from her eyes as she flushed a dark blue.

"No tears, miss." Klein said to her with yellow eyes peering through the grime.

"But?.."

"But I'm tougher than I look." Klein replied with blue eyes. "I'll give you the short version, your father was less than pleased when I helped you to escape."

"And this is what happened to you?" Penthesilea asked.

"He could not fire me without cause." Klein replied. "If I wanted to keep my renumeration, I would have to do my job as best as I can. I will NOT give him cause to fire me."

"There is absolutely no way this is in your job description." Weiss gasped.

"This is your father, Miss." Klein stated, and his eyes turned black. "There is no one in Atlas who could stop him." His eyes turned blue again for a moment before turning red. "There is no way I could leave him to hurt you, miss."

Weiss wiped the tears from her eyes as she found Penthesilea hugging her from behind. She managed to breath in deeply, hiding some of her colours and managing to finding her voice, "And my brother?.."

Klein's eyes turned blue, "Unfortunately, the young master takes too much after his father." His eyes turned green, "With you and your sister out of the nest, he only has two people to turn to." Klein breathed in deeply, his eyes turning black, "But I'm happy with my life. I did what I could. You and your sister turned out wonderfully." Penthesilea kissed Weiss on the side of her face. "I'll work out my contract, and then likely retire. I do have significant savings." His eyes turned red, "And I'm not going to give him the satisfaction."

Weiss wiped her eyes once again, "Do come and visit."

"Sadly." Penthesilea said, "We did come here for a reason."

Weiss breathed in deep and quickly stood up properly. "Yes?" She asked.

Klein's eyes turned blue, "Miss?"

"We've come to invite you to my wedding."

Klein's eyes turned yellow, "Jaune Arc?" he asked, and Weiss gasped. Klein's eyes turned green, "You did speak about him at length while you were at home."

Weiss covered her mouth and silently nodded.

"I do have a good deal of leave saved up." Klein replied.

"Come and stay as long as you wish!" Weiss exclaimed.

"I think I will do just that." Klein replied.

"And your plus one?" Penthesilea asked.

Klein's eyes turned black and he gently shook his head.

#rwby #firen lhain #faunus au #pollinated knight

[tamorasky]

Rise to Me Chapter 12 - August 1943

Summary: 1947. It had been nearly four years since she had received a letter from her sister. Now with the end of the war and her impending wedding, Anna Rendelle is more determined than ever to find her sister.

1943. All her life Elsa Rendelle had been told to be good, know her place and to marry well. When an opportunity arises to make something of herself, finding herself in Occupied France as a part of a larger network of secret agents.

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Anna/Kristoff, Elsa/Honeymaren, Anna/Hans (Briefly)

AO3

She feels sick to her stomach as she and Yelana walk down the hall of the barracks, neither of them speak as they push through the door. Outside, a black car sits outside of the building. Elsa follows Yelana towards the vehicle. Both of the women climb into the back of the car.

“Remember the curfew in Arras has been changed to nine-thirty.” The older woman reiterates as they drive through the dark military base.

Elsa nods in response, tucking her hands into the pockets of a coat that isn’t hers; pulling out a cinema stub and a bus ticket from Givenchy to Arras, both printed in French. Things created to make her character more authentic; more so than Elsa has been in her entire life.

“This is for you.” Yelana passes Elsa a small leather purse. The younger woman takes it, glancing into the bag. It contains a compact, lipstick and wallet. These were all seeming toiletries but were in fact essential tools for her in the field; things she saw at her training at Rhubana lodge.

They pass an RAF guard holding a lantern and stop on the edge of the aerodrome. Elsa emerges from the car and walks towards the driver, who was unloading bags from the back of the vehicle. She grabs the case which contains her radio, but Yelana reaches forward to stop her.

“A-am I not supposed to?”

“The radio is too heavy for the Lysander. It will be dropped separately.”

“Oh…” Elsa stares at the suitcase, somewhat dismayed that she was departing with the radio that had been by her side over the past months. With much hesitancy she lets of the radio, glancing to the tarmac at the tiny Lysander. Her heart pounds in her chest at the thought that her wireless was too heavy to be transported on the plane but could carry her.

“It will be delivered to you,” Yelana explains. “Don’t worry. They’re very good.”

Though the older woman’s words were meant to reassure her, they don’t. Elsa doesn’t even know who these people are, how is she expected to trust them or believe Yelana’s words.

They stand on the edge of the airfield, the damp air chilling Elsa to the bone. Yelana turns to the young woman, grabbing her cuffs to ensure they are folded just so. As usual, the grey-haired woman is emotionless, but Elsa notices the way her hands tremble.

That is when her chest grows cold. Seeing Yelana’s fear sparks Elsa’s own. Yelana stares at her, giving her a nod before leading her towards the plane. The words Batting Order chalked on the side of the plane, followed by names she didn’t know.

“What are those?” She asks.

“It’s the priority of persons to be rescued if they are at the landing site. The plane only fits three people and can’t wait for more than a minute for passengers.” Yelana explains. Elsa nods, wondering why she is going overseas willingly while there are countless others trying to escape the continent. She wonders if she’ll ever be on a plane home to Anna. She hopes she will be.

“Your money.” Yelana hands her a neat stack of francs, wrapped in a rubber band. “Half your pay comes in cash when you’re in the field to use for things you need. The rest will be paid to you in pounds upon your return home. And this is for you.”

Much to Elsa’s surprise, Yelana hands her a necklace with a small silver snowflake charm. It is not a gift. Yelana unscrews the pendant next to the charm to reveal a small cyanide capsule.

“The final friend.” The older woman states. “Germans know the smell and will try to make you spit it out. So you’ll need to chew it quickly.”

Elsa takes it from Yelana with a nod. “Thank you.”

“You can thank me by getting the job done.” Yelana takes Elsa’s hand, squeezing it for slightly too long. She then turns and stalks across the field towards the waiting car without another word.

With shaking hands Elsa approaches the plane. She has never flown before and the small plane in front of her brought no comfort, it is intimidating.

A man sits in the cockpit, waving for her to come aboard rather impatiently. She wastes no time in entering the plane, settling herself in a narrow seat behind the pilot. Within moments the crew close the doors, sealing Elsa’s fate.

She had expected her pilot to be a military pilot, but his red hair is longer than military standard just barely touching the sherpa of his leather bomber jacket. Elsa can’t believe that the stubbled man in front of her is flying her to France. Hoping to god he is experienced enough to land her safely in France.

“There has been a change of plans.” He announces, revealing himself to be Irish.

“Oh?” Elsa inquires, trying to retain her composure as her stomach flips violently.

The pilot nods curtly. “You’ll be landing blind.”

She watches as the man turn back towards the control, pressing buttons and gauges she doesn’t recognize. Looking up from her lap, Elsa sees the propeller on the plane’s nose turn through the windshield.

The plane rolls forward, jostling her as it rolls along the uneven earth. The sound of the propeller and engine resounding loudly in her ears as they increase pace. Elsa takes deeps breaths, trying not to panic and convince herself that this is the right decision for her. There is no backing down from this. Landing blind. No one is coming for her when she lands, it is up to her to find her point when arriving in France.

She cries out as the ground slips out from underneath her. It is strange to the young woman, her hand pressed against the cold metal side of the plane. Taking a deep breath, she looks out of the small window; hoping to catch the sight of Yelana and the car, but they had already left.

Her eyes squeeze shut as the plane shoots up at a steep angle. Her stomach-dropping, she leans forward, her forearms resting on her knees, her head dropping between her legs. She felt as if she might be sick. Taking shallow breaths as they had been instructed to fight off nausea as they had been instructed. She cannot throw up in the plane.

The wave subsides, allowing Elsa to slowly raise herself from between her legs. Deciding to look out of the window as the pilot had stopped talking to her; not that they could hear one another over the engine.

She can’t see any houses below, even though she knew there were. The mandatory blackouts had managed to turn the entire countryside dark. Elsa stares at the countryside, her heart aching at the thought of her sister. Wishing that she could see London and at least imagine Anna walking down the street in that damn reefer coat.

Her hand clutches the jacket as the plane drops and turns sharply to the left. She places her free hand on the seat to avoid being sent forward by the jolt trying not to panic at the turbulence.

“Is something wrong?” She calls loudly to be heard over the deafening roar of the engine. The pilot shakes his head, glancing over his shoulder briefly to the woman.

“No, everything it fine. You just feel everything flying in this thing. God knows the Lysander isn’t the best, I mean the Germans could take this thing down with a rock.” He comments, spiking Elsa’s anxiety. “But I can put her down in any condition and quickly.”

He eases on the throttle as they reach the French coast, lowering the plane into a thick fog to encircle the plane. The pilot glances out of the window, trying to get a better view of the ground below.

“We may have to turn back.” He announces.

“We can’t wait till it clears?” Elsa inquires. Knowing that if they turned back, she wouldn’t get back into this plane.

He shakes his head. “Unfortunately, no. We need to be back in ally airspace by daylight. We won’t be able to fly fast or high enough to escape enemy fire.”

Elsa’s arm hairs stand on end as fear slowly creeps under her skin as it occurs to her, she could die even before landing in France. “A-are we turning back?”

“I think I can manage it. Seems like we’re close enough to the right spot. I’m going to make a go at it.” He states, his deep voice confident.

“That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.” She laughs nervously.

He turns to her with a smirk, shaking his head. “You’re going to want to hold on tight. This is going to be rough.”

The plane drops without much notice, causing Elsa to grip the seat once again as the plane shoots in a downward spiral. Her heart pounds in her ears, trying to convince herself that they are not crashing, just that the pilot might be a maniac. She closes her eyes, taking shallows breaths again as her nausea returns.

The hard jolt vibrates through Elsa’s body as the plane hits the ground, she hadn’t braced as she trained for although it only caused an initial shot of pain in her lower back. The plane glides along the ground, both the pilot and Elsa feeling every bump outside of the plane.

The plane jerks to a stop with the brakes squeaking loudly, Elsa wonders if someone could have heard them. The pilot stands, opening the door to glance outside of the plane. “As I thought, no one for return.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Elsa inquires, grabbing her purse, which had fallen on the ground from their journey.  

“It could mean a lot of things. But yeah, they might have been captured.” The pilot sighs. “Alright, head east for the train station. You need to keep low and move quickly through the trees. There should be a blue bicycle behind the station. There should be further instructions upon your arrival.”

“S-should?” Elsa stutters, her blood running cold. “A-and if there isn’t?”

“It’s Sylvestre’s circuit. Everything will be in order.” The man reassures her.

Elsa nods as the pilot watches her, waiting for her to leave the plane. He clears his throat, his gaze darting at the door and back to the young woman. With her heart pounding, Elsa has no other option. She has to leave the plane.

He watches the young woman as she stands shakily, offering her a sympathetic smile. “I’d come with you if I could. But I can’t leave the Lysander.”

“Oh, of course. No, I understand. Thank you for everything.” Elsa nods as she climbs out of the plane.

“Good luck.” He states. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

Elsa narrows her eyes at him, wondering if this was a test. “Marguerite.”

“I’m Will.” The pilot smiles at her with a nod. “But you best be off.”

“Of course.” She turns from the plane, feeling his gaze on her as she stalks away from the landing site. While inching closer to the treeline, Elsa glances over her shoulder to see the door to the Lysander closed. The engine revs and the plane begins to roll forward, picking up speed.

Elsa turns away before it takes off from the ground. She is totally alone now, stepping into the unknown. She walks across the field in complete darkness, searching for the cover of the trees.

The smell of lavender envelops her scent as if she stepped back into her childhood; of summers spent in Île de Ré. Running through fields on the coast at her grand-mère’s cottage on the isle. Elsa used to sit in the field of lavender outside of the house, while Anna ran around her in circles calling out for her; the very reason why she and Anna were often sent outside by their mother and grand-mère.

She finds the tree cover, standing among the dogwoods and pine trees, trying to recall what way Will had pointed when he directed her to go east. Reaching for her purse, Elsa slips her hand into the bag to find the makeup compact equipped with a compass. She squints trying to read the compass by the light of the moon.

Orienting herself east, Elsa meanders through the trees. She trips on a rock, landing on the forest floor hard. The wind becomes knocked out of her as she falls, a pain throbbing through her ankle. Sitting up, she thinks back to her first morning at Rhubana lodge, wishing now more than ever that Honeymaren would be by her side. With a huff Elsa stands from the dirt, wincing with her first step but the pain subsiding as she continues.

“Arrêt!” A voice orders. Elsa freezes, her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn’t believe it she had already been caught. On her first night, not even an hour into her mission. There is no way of telling if it is the Germans or French police; either way, she had failed.

Her hand flies to the necklace, her fingers brushing over the snowflake and her mother’s locket as she wonders if she should take the cyanide now. She never thought she would need it so soon.

She turns to see a tall, imposing man standing behind her in the dark. Her breath stops as his gun is levelled at her.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a fool.” The man growls in English. “You never listen to them, you either run or fight. But never obey!”

“I…uh…” She stammers. But without another word he grabs her by the elbow, leading her roughly through the wood. Instinctively she pulls away from the stranger, unable to stand his touch.

Her feet drag against the cold tile of the building, four hands holding her up as they dragged her back to her shared room, having no strength to stand on her own. Her head lulled up at the bright lights of the building as screams echoed through the hall. This had been all her fault.

“Come on!” He takes her arm again with a growl as if trying to lead a stubborn mule. “Unless you want to be found by the Milice!”

She hesitates, having no information about anyone she is to meet in this whole racket. According to the pilot, no one is meeting her at all. The young woman wonders as she is dragged through the forest if this man is actually one of them.

With no choice, Elsa follows after him as he urges her on. They walk through the forest, remaining completely silent as the moon shines down on them.

It could all be a trap, a member of the Milice dragging her through this forest to her death. Or worse to be tortured into giving information. She isn’t even sure if she had any information to give up to the Germans at this point. Her radio hadn’t come with her so there was no ability to use the wireless to contact the SOE, nor did she know anyone within the circuit.

They reach a clearing, with what must be farmland. The silhouette of the farmhouse noticeable in the distance. On the edge of the land stands a small windowless shed.

“You are to stay here tonight.” The stranger states, pulling her towards the structure.

“What? No.” Elsa objects, shaking her head. “I’m supposed to be at a train station and find a bike for my circuit.”

“Be quiet!” He snaps harshly, causing the blonde to shrink into herself. “You should never mention anything about a circuit! Never mention any names to anyone.”

“What about my wireless?” Elsa questions, insisting on answers. She isn’t used to this; she is used to Yelana standing by her side answering the questions.

“Follow orders and stay here.” He opens the shed, struggling with the lock. “Someone will be here to collect you in the morning.”

He opens the door, letting her into the structure. There is no light and the air musky, warm air. She steps inside as though having no choice, the smell of manure overtaking her senses with no bed or toilet.

Without any warning, the door to the shed closes loudly, the sound of a key turning in the lock echoing through the small shed. Elsa rushes towards the door, her hand clasps on the handle and attempts to turn only for it not to turn. She couldn’t believe there were locking her in, she can’t even believe what is happening.

Footsteps outside of the shed disappear with a loud huff, leaving Elsa in silence. She turns from the door at the sound of something scurrying across the ground. Either a mouse or a rat. Elsa didn’t care to know at this point; her bones aching and her skin crawling.

She sinks to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees as tries to calm herself in the dark. Her back resting against the wooden frame as her head hits against it with an audible thud.

Listening to the mouse or the rat scuttling, Elsa smiles thinking back to training. In which she had nearly destroyed the decoy set upon the woman by the instructor.

..............

They had been standing around in the lodge, listening to the instructor about various explosives. The next thing she knew, several women were screaming and scampering away from the animal in the middle of the floor.  

Elsa didn’t hesitate as she stepped towards the rat, ready to kill it in a second.  But stopped as she noticed something different with this one. She leaned over picking it up to see it was an obvious fake.

She held it up to the professor with a questioning gaze. The professor smiled at her, taking the rat from her hand.

“This!” He held it up to show the class. “Is a decoy

The girls gathered around their teacher, inspecting the decoy with interest as he further explained “The Germans will think it’s a dead rat until they get close.”

He walked away from the girls to the opposite field without another word, before rejoining them as he instructed them to step back. He pressed a button on a detonator held in his hand and without any other warning the rat exploded. Causing a series of gasps to erupt among the women.

..............

Elsa smiles at the memory. She and Honeymaren had sat on one of their beds that night, laughing at how most women scattered at the sight and how Elsa had been ready to destroy it without a second thought.

She wishes Maren would be with her now, there would be an arm draped over her shoulder and whispers of reassurance throughout the shed. At least with Honeymaren by her side, Elsa would have some confidence that she hadn’t fucked this entire mission up on her first night.

#kristanna #elsamaren #anna #elsa #kristoff #honeymaren #Rise to Me #Post WWII AU #WWII AU #frozen #frozen 2

[xxrainbow-princessxx]

The Return - Leo x Isabella (TRR/TRH AU)

Can Leo get to Isabella and the kids in time?

Chapter list:

Chapter 1: Enough

Chapter 2: Homeward Bound

Chapter 3: Band of Brothers

Chapter 4 Dearest Sympathies

Chapter 5: No Expectations

Chapter 6: Line of Succession

Chapter 7: Unspoken Truths

Chapter 8: Family Ties

Find links for previous chapters here! 

Tag list: @lorirwritesfanfic @drakewalkerfantasy @desireepow-1986@rainbowsinthestorm @lorircreates @itslaniquelove @liam-rhys @hopefulmoonobject @speedyoperarascalparty @kimmiedoo5 @rafasgirl23415 @kingliam2019@mom2000aggie @texaskitten30 @the-everlasting-dream

Trigger warning: Violence, death, premonition of death, sexual innuendo, swearing

Isabella struggled against Barthelemy’s guards to break free, running across to Natalia and Alessandra who were petrified. Stroking their faces, Isabella tried her hardest to hide her true emotion; she was just as scared as them but she couldn’t let her children down, “it’s ok... it’s ok...” she nervously smiled, her eyes darting to check them over visually from head to toe “Where’s Nico?” Isabella whispered but the girls didn’t speak, their hazel green eyes reflected their fear. Isabella wasted no time bringing them into a tight hug as she had to think fast, “Mama’s here... I got you...” Taking a deep breath, Isabella bit down onto her lip as she stood tall once again, placing her children behind her, “What is this all in aid of?” Isabella shouted as it echoed through the quiet throne room, with one hand holding her children behind her, her other hand gesticulated wildly, “Why are you doing all of this?!” Barthelemy simply laughed, “My dear... it’s simple... The Sons of Earth never could in a million years take over our wonderful Cordonia alone... each generation would bring its own obstacles and tribulations...” he smiled evilly towards his niece, “... but when your divorce was announced, Laurentia would make our base even more powerful and prophetic. With me as our leader...” Barthelemy’s brow raised, “We would become unstoppable in our defeat of the Rys bloodline...” The roar of the thugs he used to infiltrate the Laurentian Palace filled the room of joyous chanting, “...and unfortunately for you my darling niece... you also have become a part of that bloodline...” Barthelemy’s eyes darkened, glittering with a madness Isabella could only describe as horrific, “Please...” she begged, “Please spare the children... they have not done anything to deserve this!” Barthelemy began to walk towards Isabella before he looked over her shoulder towards the twins grinning cruelly “Maybe they can join Camille and Nicolás in our new world... we always need a few... spares in case it doesn’t work out...” Isabella’s eyes narrowed, her dark chocolate brown eyes darkening as she spat at him, “Give him back you fucking piece of shit!!”

Wiping his cheek, Barthelemy’s nostrils flared with rage, “You insolent bitch!” as he slapped Isabella across the face angrily screaming, “You will not disrespect me!” The Royal guards were in a political stalemate as Barthelemy made his claim to the throne, their pledge to protect the Crown at all costs left them divided but as Isabella fell to the ground, Barthelemy glared at all in the room, “One step... take one fucking step and you’ll not leave this room alive!” He kneeled down, lifting her head by her dark, mahogany curls, addressing the young Queen menacingly, Barthelemy grinned with an evil smile, “You’re lucky I only need to keep you alive for a few more days... and to think...” he goaded her, “I sent you flowers, this is how you repay my courtesy... Obviously your parents didn’t teach you manners...” pointing to a random guard, Barthelemy clicked his tongue, “Take them out of here as we begin our ascension into greatness!” Isabella’s dark, chocolate brown eyes glared with rage as the guard attempted to pull her arm, “Get off of me!” she screeched, her eyes narrowing angrily, “You’ll regret that!” The Sons of Earth guard simply laughed, “I somehow don’t think so...” as he pressed a gun to her spine, “Time to go...” he sneered as Isabella reluctantly gave into his threats, holding Alessandra and Natalia close to her. Looking over her shoulder, Isabella’s dark mahogany curls bounced as she took a final glance at her Uncle. With her cheeks sucked in, and a brow raised, the young Queen stared at him momentarily until she was pushed out of the throne room and escorted to the holding cells held in the catecombs. Isabella’s temper was renowned, but at that very moment she vowed if they made it through this, Barthelemy would burn for this.

“Shhhii...” Jimena’s eyes widened as she reached over Matthew’s mouth to stop him from speaking; both of them staring helplessly through the vents into the Palace’s throne room. Jimena glared at him, her voice barely a whisper as she spoke, “Shut up...” before her gaze returned to the room watching those still in attendance. Taking her phone, she began to briefly record Barthelemy and his army’s chanting, panning left and right. “We need to get out of here...” she muttered quietly, “We need to get to the Parliament building...” Matthew looking more and more confused as Jimena began to rummage through the lockers. With a satisfied smile, she turned to Matthew holding a guards uniform, “Hurry up and get changed...” Matthew raised his brow as he was handed the garment bag but knew better to question her. The Queen’s lady in waiting terrified him as Jimena stared him down, “What are you waiting for?” Her dark almond eyes narrowed, “...A standing ovation? Hurry up before we get caught!” She was bossy to the point it could be construed as rude and like an arrow, straight to the point. Folding her arms, Jimena pursed her lips as Matthew undressed, “I would like to not die today thank you...” stripping himself from his light grey suit, Matthew draped himself in the military regalia before Jimena moved forward placing the military cap on his golden head, “Much better...” she cooed as her hands delicately dusted off his broad shoulders, “Now follow me...”

As the Cordonian Royal jet landed in a disused aerodrome, Leo, Liam and Drake embarked immediately to a waiting vehicle. During the flight, Leo and Liam called in as many favours as possible to veil their arrival into the Kingdom, working with their neighbouring countries to free up their air space, allowing them to pass freely and undetected. Leo was well aware of the situation he found himself in. Not only was Barthelemy attempting to take over, there would be defiance in rank. “Your Majesty...” Javier smiled as he pressed down on the accelerator, “Welcome home...” Leo could only chuckle as he patted his trusted confidante’s shoulder, “You’re a sight for sore eyes Javier...” before he handed Leo an iPad, “This is the latest we received from Jimena...” The three men huddled around to watch the blurry video, moving back and forth as they tried to analyse it. “Your Royal Majesties... we also have news...” Liam and Leo immediately rose their heads, eyes widening with anticipation, “The Princesses are fine, they are with the Queen for now... but...” Leo and Liam’s hearts began to sink, there always had to be something, “...Prince Nicolás has been taken alongside Princess Camille but they are safe for now...”

Leo could feel his blood beginning to boil, his face reddening as he tried to contain his anger. “Leo... he’s ok...” Javier continued, “...the children are with the maids, no harm will come to them...” Leo glanced at Liam momentarily who felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, his daughter, his little Camille was so close he could almost feel her in his arms again. Liam sat stoically looking out the window as they drove to Parliament to meet the others. Barthelemy would regret the day he had taken her from Liam and Sienna and Liam was going to make sure that he felt every ounce of pain he had for months. “Li...” Drake quietly questioned as Leo and Javier we’re discussing the next course of action, “You ok?” Liam turned to Drake as Leo and Javier continued their conversation quietly murmuring, “How can he be so calm?!” Drake rolled his eyes to the left as Leo spoke tactics, “Li... he’s fighting for his family... his life... he knows he can’t be distracted from that...” Liam slowly bit down on his lower lip, “Drake...” he whispered, “I’m terrified... and I just pray to God my brother knows what he’s doing...” With his shaggy dark hair, Drake nodded as he reached out to grasp Liam’s arm to comfort him, “Li... he’s not the same Leo you grew up with; this has never been about him - it’s been about you. He is risking his own life to get Camille back...” Drake implored, “...without him, we’d still be searching...” With a sullen nod, Liam reluctantly agreed, he knew Drake was right but he couldn’t help but wonder what else was in it for Leo? He couldn’t have changed that much.

“Get you hands off of me!” Isabella’s nostrils flared as she struggled in the guards grip before lifting her foot and ramming her stiletto heel into his leg, the guard winced and clenched his teeth before grabbing her by the hair, “You fucking bitch!” he spat, “I can’t wait for them to fucking execute you and that husband of yours soon enough!” Isabella took a deep breath as she tried so hard not to scream out in pain but she barked back, “My husband wouldn’t even be allowed to speak to me like that!” Forcefully throwing her into one of the cells, the guard chuckled to himself as Isabella fell forward, caught by her two daughters, “Well guess what Your Majesty? Your husband ain’t here! Now be good girls and for once, do as you are told!” With two whimpering children and the metal door locking behind them, Isabella held Alessandra and Natalia as tight as she could, biting her tongue watching carefully as the guard walk off laughing to himself throwing the keys up and down in his hands. “Mi querida... mi querida...” she mumbled as her voice trembled, “It’s going to be ok... don’t listen to that crazy man... this is all...” she tried to smile, “...just a big mistake and Javier will get us out of here... I promise”

Alessandra and Natalia’s hazel green eyes glistened as they looked at one another quietly, “...mama?” Natalia squeezed her mother’s hand tightly, “mama... I’m scared... where’s papa?” Isabella blinked back tears as she brought her daughters closer, “Don’t be scared my beautiful girl... your father once he knows about this he will not...” she brushed the loose tendrils of her daughter’s chestnut brown hair from her face, “...he will not let a strand on either of your perfect little heads be touched, not by anyone... ok?” Each of them nuzzled into Isabella shoulders as they cried, struggling to understand what was going on. Their cries echoed throughout the dark, cold cells as Isabella rocked them back and forth to try to comfort them. She began to sing to them “Bailaba la niña alegre, en una noche estrellada. Movíase al son del aire, bajo la luna de plata. ¡Cómo bailaba la niña! ¡Cómo la niña bailaba!” She sang this song to her children every night before they went to sleep. “Cómo la niña bailaba...” she whispered as they sat in the darkness, only each other for heat and comfort.

Sucking in his cheeks, Leo proudly marched himself into Parliament, his sea green eyes scanned the room as he saw the Laurentian military gathered and standing to attention as he, Drake and Liam walked into the room. The crowd bowed as Javier stood next to him, “¡Atención!” he bellowed, “His Royal Highness, King Leo... The Queen and Royal family are still in the Laurentian Palace; we must fight together to reinstate normality...” Leo raised his hand stopping Javier in his tracks, “Sorry my friend... if I may?” Javier nodded as Leo addressed the many factions of military gathered, “I know I have no right to request; but my wife, your Queen and my children are under that roof. My wife has dedicated her life to you all, our daughters and son will do the same. This coup has came to our shores because of a self fulfilling prophecy embarked upon by those who were fantasists... Cordonian militants who I am ashamed to have called family once upon a time and have desecrated our home. I stand before you as a husband and a father to ask for your help to overthrow this madness...” Leo stood proud and tall as the military dropped to their knee pledging their allegiance. “For King and Queen!” their chants filled the Parliament building as Leo looked over his shoulder towards Drake and Liam winking at them as he smiled.

To blend in, all three Cordonian men were dressed in the same green military uniform as the others. Leo and Javier stood side by side as they reviewed the blueprints of the Laurentian Palace surrounded by Generals, Admirals and Royal Guard Commanders. “We make use of blocking the tunnel system as much as we can...” Leo’s voice was strong and authoritative, “The tunnels run from the Palace directly to here. The airforce and navy teams can help block off these tunnels, and work with the coast guard to review the ports...” Leo pointed towards the blueprint, “The army will surround the Palace as the marines and Royal guard will clear the entrances... allowing smaller factions of the army to follow behind... the main priority is to find the Queen and children to ensure their safety... the youngest according ton intelligence states they are with the maids, so should still be in the nursery...” The men gathered around the table nodded in agreement to the plan until they were interrupted by the banging against the Parliament Chamber door. Leo’s sea green eyes flickered to a shade of blue as he raised his brow before nodding allowing the heavy reinforced door to be opened. Jimena and Matthew stood with their hands raised as hundreds of rifles were pointed in their direction until Leo called them to a halt. The Laurentian lady in waiting was not pleased, her lips pursed as she confronted Leo, “Took you long enough!” Jimena barked as Leo chuckled, “I can’t teleport...” he looked over her shoulder and smiled towards the Englishman stood behind her, “New boyfriend?” Jimena bit down and tried her hardest not to giggle, “No... this is Lord Devereaux... Isabella’s lawyer...” Leo’s smile wavered as he looked the English Nobleman up and down, “I see...” he replied dryly, “Your services Lord Devereaux... are no longer required...”

#TheRoyalRomance #Choices #Leo x Isabella #King Liam #Drake Walker #King Leo #Playchoices #Trr #TRH #Choices fanfiction

[elliepassmore]

The Enigma Game Review

4.5/4 stars Recommended for people who like: action, WWII, historical fiction, multiple POVs, Code Name Verity

The Pearl Thief review Code Name Verity review

TW: period-typical racism, hinted homophobia (minor) I contacted Wein about a year or two ago asking if she'd ever write something about Jamie before he begins his Moon Squadron work, so I was delighted when this book hit Goodreads and itching to figure out what mischief Jamie had been up to. Ellen was another welcome face, as I had wondered what War Work she might do after I read Pearl Thief. Louisa was more of a wildcard and I was curious how she'd fit into things being only 15 and too young to enlist, but her work as a caretaker for Jane fit perfectly with the events of the book that her involvement made sense. When the book opens Louisa is newly orphaned and desperate to help the War Effort. Coming from a somewhat musical family myself, I can appreciate how attuned she is to it and the connections it helps her make throughout the book. And I love the detail that music helps calm her, it's one of those little things that makes characters more real. Though her actual job is a caretaker to Jane, Louisa has a brave streak a mile wide and gets involved in Ellen's hostage situation, not only keeping Ellen calm, but also calming the German pilot by showing a similar taste in music, eventually leading to the pilot informing her of the location of his Enigma machine. There are times in the book where she gets scared, mostly when there are nearby bombings or the time she's flying with Jamie's crew and a Messerschmidt pounces on them, but the notable thing about her fear is that she's able to work through it. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be historically accurate without period-typical racism, and so we do see Louisa facing some of that, sometimes more subtle than others, but it does occur multiple times throughout the book. Ellen is another narrating character in this book and it's jolly good to see her opinions about things, both about the war, the other characters, and the life of a Traveller in Britain. Ellen is a rather fierce character and is eager to get going with the Enigma once it's found out. She's working in Auxiliary Transport Services (ATS), meaning she gets to shuttle people from the aerodrome to wherever they need to go, and occasionally picks up stray passengers, like Jane and Louisa, if they're on her way. She's also big heart and is free with showing it, worrying over Jamie and some of the other pilots, enjoying time with Jane, and making fast friends with Louisa. Like with Louisa, Ellen also faces some prejudice, though hers is due to being a Traveller, which she takes great pains to hide in order to start fresh. Jane I suppose is technically a side-character, but she plays such an important role that I decided to include here here with the main characters, though she never does get a POV. Despite having a poorly-healed broken hip and needing canes to get around, Jane is an extremely spirited elderly woman who is more than happy to get involved translating German for POWs and the Enigma machine. She's also a huge troublemaker and willing to talk back and sass and get in on the action, even when it involves fires, guns, or exploding bombs (she's actually a bit what I imagine an old!Julie would be like). Jane bonds rather instantly with Louisa over their shared love of music and the two of them come into the habit of performing duets on the piano. Being German, Jane also shares some of Ellen's fear of being discovered, though it hardly comes up in the book. Poor Jane exhibits early signs of Alzheimer's, though they either don't have a word for it or don't recognize the symptoms, because it's largely written off as Jane being a bit of an escape artist or the assumption that she's trying to commit suicide (the people at That Place are the ones to suggest that, and there are times when it seems true, but other times where her actions do come across as just early dementia). And finally Jamie, whose full name we finally discover. He lives up to his characterization in the other three books, encouraging those around him, willing to square up to bullies, and mostly being a rather relaxed person. He's also a complete and utter rule breaker and it's a blooming miracle he didn't end up court-martialed before the events of CNV or Rose Under Fire. While Louisa knows she needs to turn the Enigma in to someone, and Ellen knows that Jamie can handle things w/ the Enigma, and though both of them want to keep a hold on it, it's really Jamie who suggests they keep it as their own private decoding device, using it to tally up wins for Squadron 648, his crew of Bristol Blenheims that's been seeing a bad streak and is rapidly losing pilots. He's still a bit of a loon, and we see that tendency of his to let civilians into operational missions, but we also get to see more of his older brother tendencies, wanting to protect Julie and Louisa even knowing it could blow back on him. Nancy Campbell, Jane's niece and the woman who hired Louisa, is one of the main side-characters and is actually rather rude to Louisa and Jane, but has a soft-sport for the pilots. Despite her tough outer layer, Nan really does have a big heart and is devastated whenever one or more of the pilots don't make it safely back. Phyllis is another side-character, though she works in WAAF like Ellen, only in debriefing. She's a steadying influence and seems to move with Squadron 648, growing as close to them as Nan, though with a far nicer exterior and a rather prim demeanor. And, of course, lovely Julie shows up about two-thirds into the book and my god it's wonderful to see her again. There are a few bits where she seemed unsure of her Intelligence role, which we don't really get to see in CNV, but I thought it was a nice touch for Wein to show us Julie isn't 100% confident all the time, and in a different way than that was showed in Pearl Thief. I really enjoyed the plot of the book, with the balance of keeping the Enigma machine hidden and still using the data received from it. There's a good bit of flying in this one, which is one of my favorite parts of CNV and Rose Under Fire and was unfortunately missing from Pearl Thief, though I suppose it wouldn't've made sense there. After reading this I'm desperate to know what Ellen and Louisa do for the rest of the war. Jamie, we know, goes onto the Moon Squadron per Maddi's recommendation, but since CNV tells a rather limited version of events from 1940-43, and Rose doesn't know Julie, or Jamie really, we don't get a ton of breadcrumbs about the girls. With any luck, Wein's next book will have something to do with one or both of them...or maybe we'll get an eventual reunion after the war. And not anything about the book itself but buckets of blood it took me forever to get my hands on this. It was published in the UK mid-May but doesn't get published in the US till November (thank you Waterstones), and despite the USPS claiming international mail isn't being put through quarantine, it definitely is and I was not notified, and only got the book last week after waiting near over a month for it.

#book #book review #book recommendations #the enigma game #code name verity #elizabeth wein #jamie beaufort-stuart #ellen mcewen #louisa adair #wwii #wwii fiction #ya fiction #historical fiction #ya historical fiction #character of color #traveller character #tw period-typical racism #tw period-typical homophobia #the pearl thief

[whiskeyworen]

Aspect V : Of Confusion and Identification

Events were starting to roll together, to cascade and collide with each other. It was inevitable; I could not hope to keep things isolated, keep my tracks covered. Not that I wanted or needed to try very hard. But there was no way I could keep these events secret for much longer. Event 1: Cyrus frowned as he looked at the data pad concerning supplies and resources being shipped through the Forsaken Aspect's cargo Asura gate. The gate itself was intrinsically tied to the Home Base, and the autofactory there, and only ever transported finished goods or accepted other goods to be used in the construction of finished product. One of which, according to the datapad...was incorrect. "What the hell?... Deldrimor Steel ingots? Corrogen filament bundles? Liquid crystal in suspension fluid?... why are these numbers wrong?" He scrolled back up the list, frowning further. The numbers weren't dramatically wrong, but for the last few weeks apparently, one item would have more than the usual amount shipped into the holds. But the sell-rates indicated the standard amount was being sold on market. "Every time, we're shipping in 120% of the amount we need...but we're just selling the regular amount. Where's that 20% going?" He checked the logs, and raised an eyebrow. There's no way she'd make a mistake like this...unless, is she skimming from the top? No... It couldn't be.

Cyrus set out to find Verula. If she was actually involved in this, it would mean she was lying to him. And that had not happened before.

Event 2:

In another part of the ship, Verula was noticing something too. It wasn't the incoming shipping invoice versus the outgoing. But it was the fact that the missing resources were being diverted to a different hold on the ship. Again, it was a little bit at a time, and never more than one kind of resource at a time.

"Hrmm... Was it a transportation error?" She grumbled, running a claw down the bridge of her nose in frustration. The one thing she hated doing was going into the program code for the transport golems and Watchworks that normally did things semi-autonomously. An error in item transportation might be the first symptom of either a program failure... or of the Watchworks beginning to truly think for themselves. Neither was a good outcome.

"At least I know where it's all going." She sighed and began to head from the weapons bay towards the massive cargo holds. Verula consulted her own datapad, and shrugged. "I'll have to ask Cyrus why he's authorizing it though. If he just wanted to spare some stuff as a supply dump, or for a nestegg or something, we could have easily made the adjustment. There's no reason for him to be sneaky about it."

"...why ship it to Cargo bay 4 though?" The thought perplexed her.

Event 3:

Tenna couldn't really understand what was going on. She'd just been passing through the ship's corridors, thinking about one thing or another, when she realized she'd wandered by the cavernous cargo bays that lined the belly of the Forsaken Aspect. It still amazed her how big the ship really was, and delighted her how surprised the rest of the world would be if they ever revealed it, but the cargo bays were downright massive on their own! She almost felt they were so big they could have their own weather systems!

But here she was at Cargo 4...and she couldn't get in.

It wasn't a case of the bay doors being locked or anything. Well, they WERE; she could see the door indicator glowing red. But it was the two nine-foot tall Watchwork Knights standing guard on either side of the door with their almost-as-huge energy halberds crossed like a big X in front of those doors that confused her. Why were Watchworks guarding the doors?

"Watchwork Knights. User Code: Gamma-Three-Tenna-Solar." She intoned in a commanding voice, hands on her hips. "Acknowledge."

Both Knights turned their gazes towards her, their optics glittering green. Both spoke at the same time, in the same chippy monotone Watchworks used when they didn't have their mimic fields on. "User Acknowledged. Tenna Danae Acknowledged. How can this unit help?"

"Why are there two Watchknights guarding this bay? If I try to proceed, will you attempt to stop me?" Tenna queried, looking from one to the other.

"This unit was assigned to prohibit entrance to Cargo Bay 4 until further notice. Attempt to gain entry to Cargo Bay 4 will be met by escalating resistance." It replied simply.

Tenna knew what 'escalating resistance' meant. If she tried to push past, they would at first pick her up and move her back to 'safe distance' before returning to their posts. If she continued to try, they would increase their aggressiveness. First would come a gentle tap with the handle of the halberd. Then maybe a harder hit. Then a jab with the energy-tipped end. If she pushed really far and kept trying, they would revert to their Nightmare forms which were FAR more capable of bodily harm, with their grab-bag of horrifying weapons that were normally kept neutral in their simulacrum form.

"Who ordered you to guard this bay?" Tenna was now curious and irritated. There had to be something on the other side someone didn't want anyone to see. Depending on what name was spoken, it would say a lot about that person.

"This unit was ordered by Cyrus Sigismund to stand guard." The automaton replied, its voice fuzzing for a second.

Tenna stared at it. Was that a glitch? I almost caught something there. It said Cyrus's name, but... was that some distortion in it?

Event 4:

Sonnya headed down the airdock after using the service elevator. It had taken her a while to make it through the bustling morass that was the Lion's Arch aerodrome, but she finally found the docks she had been invited to.

It was an out-of-the-way dock, on the backside of the Aerodrome, with no other docks nearby. She could see just from looking that the reason it was alone on this side was because of the mountains that flanked Lion's Arch on the southern edge, the ridges before BloodTide Coast began. Oh, she could see another handful of docks sticking out of the upper reaches of the aerodrome on this side, far up the sheer walls of the building, but this one was the only one down near the rocks. Parking any kind of ship here must be anxiety-inducing and aggravating, as a mere wind could blow a ship off course and into the jagged peaks.

Yet sure enough, there was a modern Airship parked at the end of the dock, the protective energy walls of its main deck and the band that held the airship's floatation bag certainly marking it as a post-Scarlet design.

As she got nearer, she could see there was a crewman standing by the hatch, apparently on guard, or waiting for her. He was non-descript as they come; if you looked up 'Standard human' in a library, this man could be on the page as 'Example'.

"Hi, I'm Sonnya Danae? I was invited to board the Forsaken Aspect at dock 43?" She asked him, unsure if she had the right ship. She hadn't seen the moniker written on the side or on the energy bands anywhere. Was this the right ship?

The crewman looked her over once, a blank expression on his face, and nodded. "Sonnya Danae. Please follow me. You are expected in Cargo Bay 4." He gestured inside, and followed her in, securing the hatch behind them. As the door secured, Sonnya stumbled slightly. Something was off. Immediately her in-eye HUD lit up, searching for threats, and she did a quick scan of her environment.

What the?... It had to be a mistake. This was a Pact-standard airship! She knew the dimensions of a ship of this class! Even the hall itself didn't look like a standard Pact ship. The deck was solid and smooth, not rivetted metal, and the walls were clean and seamless. It was like it wasn't constructed in the same shipyards as the Fleet at all. So then why were her sensors reporting that, rather than stepping onto the bridge from that hatch, that she had stepped into some long corridor in a much larger vessel? Why was her HUD filled with such distortion? In trying to compare where she was to the diagram of a Pact ship, her mapper was fuzzing out and asking to be shut off due to error!

"What...what kind of ship is this?" She asked breathlessly, as the crewman walked slowly and smoothly down the hall.  He turned back slightly to consider her, before repeating. "You are expected at Cargo Bay 4. Please follow me."

Unable to understand, and wide-eyed with amazement, Sonnya could only follow.

Event 1 + 2 = Collision

"Verula. There you are." Cyrus's voice was slightly harsher than he would have liked. It hadn't taken him long to cross paths with the Charr soldier, even on a ship the size of the Forsaken Aspect. He waved the datapad at her idly. "I think we need to talk."

"Indeed we do." Verula replied, holding up her own slate and indicating the offending lines. "Just why are you diverting goods to Cargo Bay 4? Or is this a glitch in the inventory systems?"

Cyrus frowned, and handed her his slate, while taking hers. His frown deepened. "What in the hell? I never authorized this! Wait.... these items..."

His gaze shot up as Verula grunted, skimming the slate he'd given her. "Yeah. These are the items that are got redirected. So it's a system glitch." Her eyes narrowed suddenly. "What... Wait a moment. Why is MY authorization on this? I would never do this.... Is someone trying to set me up?!"

"So...you're not bringing in 120% of the usual goods and skimming 20% off for yourself?" Cyrus asked slowly.

She just looked at him, hurt. Then she countered. "Well, are you taking that 20% and sending it to Bay 4? And if I was skimming, then why were you authorizing the skimming by moving the product there?"

They were both silent, staring at each other, before glancing at the slates. "... We need to get to Bay 4. I got a bad feeling about this."

Event 1+2 x 3 = Cascade

Sonnya didn't know where she was on the ship, but near an intersection deep in the hull, she and the crewmember ran into two rather recognizable people. The moment she saw them, her suit's database brought up snapshots for her vision. That's that Cyrus Sigismund! And... Verula Faithbreaker? What are they doing here?

In surprise she'd simply stopped walking, staring at them as they approached at a rather brisk pace. They seemed to be in a bit of a hurry.

Cyrus looked up from the slate he was consulting, noticing the asura and crewman standing in the corridor intersection. His troubled expression settled into a perplexed frown, as he flicked his gaze from Sonnya to the crewman and back. It might have been just an illusion caused by reflected lights, but she swore she could see a faint purple glow behind his left pupil. "....Verula, do you have any idea why there's a stranger walking the decks of my ship?" He asked not-so-quietly. "... Or why there's a Watchwork Knight with its Illusion Matrix on, to look like some kind of ship's crew?"

A growl escaped the Charr warrior, and she reached for her sword and axe. "I do not."

"Watchwork Knight??" Sonnya's fear was sudden and abrupt. It wasn't that she couldn't take something like that these days; it was the fact that there was one close enough to her that it was an actual danger that made her jump. That's when she realized he'd been talking about the crewman, so she turned to look at him, wonderingly.

The crewman was looking at her with that same, calm, almost blank expression -- right before the 'Illusion Matrix' deactivated, revealling a kind of WatchKnight she'd never seen before. It wasn't one of Scarlet's designs, with exposed gearing and slapped-together parts. It wasn't even like the Queen's new Watchknight 2.0s that had been revealled at the last Queen's Jubilee. Those had been sleeker, more refined, but still had a distinctly machined appearance.

This Watchknight had smooth, rounded panels, more akin to a human frame than a puppet, with silvered filigree etched into its golden frame. Its mouth was still a simple hinge affair, which she now could see open and shut as a monotone, female voice came from it. "You are expected in Cargo Bay 4. Please come with me."

That got Cyrus's attention. He stepped up to Sonnya and the Watchknight, looking from one to the other. "Wait a moment. What do you mean she's expected at Bay 4? What is a non-crew member doing onboard my ship."

"I was invited!" Sonnya protested. "One of your crew invited me on board last week, for some reason."

"How? We were in Elona back then. How could anyone invite you?" Verula asked, sidling up beside Cyrus and crossing her arms. "Who would invite you? HOW would they invite you? A letter? They'd have to have some pretty good timing!"

The charr's cynicism irritated Sonnya, so she pulled a device off her belt and tossed it less-than-nicely to her. "I got this via mail over a week ago. I don't recognize the design, but's a damned comm, furball."

Verula took one look at the unit in her hand and her eyes widened. "Cyrus... this is one of OUR comms. But I only made four of those. I don't... this isn't one of mine."

"This just keeps getting more and more mysterious." Cyrus muttered, scratching his chin. "It still begs the question; if someone DID make another comm and send it to... What's your name?"

"Sonnya. Sonnya Danae." She replied smartly. She felt a bit more relaxed now that the pressure was off her. But now this human and charr both flinched away from her at the mention of her name.

"She's a Danae?" Verula asked carefully.

"Apparently so." He considered Sonnya as if for the first time, taking in her features. "Yeah, I can see it now. The shape of the chin, the eyes, the markings. You are her sister aren't you?" He paused, thinking back almost six months. "Wait a moment... I ran into you back in Hoelbrak during Dragonbash!"

Sonnya paled, before blushing heavily. Oh god, it was him wasn't it. That nice person who found me blitzed out of my head and made sure I slept it off was him. Why did it have to be him? She shook her head, groaning mentally as she remembered. It was the first time she'd drank alchohol since she had her implants fully installed, the first time since the incident with the Shatterer. Things had not gone as planned; instead of dulling down drunkness, the implants had worked overtime and done the exact opposite. She'd ended up badly drunk in public after only a few drinks, wandering the thoroughfares in a blissful, hiccup-ridden stupor until she'd bumped into someone.

That someone had helped her get to an inn room, and stuck around just long enough to make sure she'd started sobering up before they left. She'd always thought it was just some human, but she didn't realize just who she'd run into. "I...uh, yeah. That was me. Sorry about the... Dragonbash thing. I didn't get to thank you for making sure I didn't hurt myself. Or anyone else, for that matter."

He smiled a little bit, waving her thanks aside. "Eh, it was nothing. I couldn't just walk away from someone that out of it. I didn't know you were a Danae sister though."

Sonnya nodded "Now that I think about it, I remember seeing you before that time too. You came to get my little sister after she met me and my other little sister for drinks." Her expression clouded at the memory. "She... wasn't happy. With me I think."

"Little sister?... Do you mean...?"

Event (1+2 x 3) / 4 = Cascade

Tenna was still puzzling over the guardian Watchknights when she heard voices behind her in the hallway. One of them sounded like a very irritated Verula, another Cyrus's voice. Maybe they'd be able to shed some light on what was happening in Cargo Bay 4.

As she approached, she called out. "Hey Cyrus! There's something weird going on."

"Tenna?..." A familiar voice asked tenatively as she approached the cluster of people in the intersection. "Is... Is that you?"

She skidded to a stop, unprepared to hear the sound of her older sibling here, on board. "S-Sonnya? W-what are you..." She took a breath and collected herself. "What are you doing here??" Sonnya reluctantly thumbed at the very patient Watchknight standing beside her, still staring down at her. In response, the Watchknight repeated its directions. "You are expected at Cargo Bay 4. Please come with me."

Tenna shook her head and gaped. That was exactly why she was here. What the hell was going on? She looked at Cyrus, who was obviously trying to puzzle things out. She knew that look on his face; he was trying to fit all the pieces together, and whatever he was thinking, it wasn't something he liked. "Cyrus, what the hell is going on? Cargo Bay 4 is under lock-down and guard apparently on your orders. You and Verula both look like you've been eating lemons, and apparently my sister's been invited on board by someone??"

Cyrus's hand was cupping his chin while he thought, but he idly flexed a few fingers in a dismissive fashion. "Seems to be the jist of it yet. Well, you didn't know about the resource allocation, or the fact that it's been going into that bay as well...apparently under me and Verula's alternating authority."

"What?!"

He sighed, took a deep breath and started walking towards the bay. Already he could see the nine-foot tall guardians watching him carefully. Behind him, he could hear every one following him. The pitter-patter of the Asura's little legs. The heavy clunk of Verula's armored gait. And the calculated tink tink tink of the Watchknight escorting Sonnya.

At the locked bay, he stopped, staring at the guardians for a moment. They stared back, halberds still crossed over the path.

"... Aspect, just what the hell is going on." He called out. "I know you're the one behind all this, now that we've gotten all the pieces. Was it you that invited Miss Sonnya here as well?"

Sonnya looked at him perplexed. "Uh... I wasn't invited by someone named Aspect. I was invited by--"

"I suppose I had better confess." A voice came from a wall mount. The familiar golem-eye extended, looking at everyone. "I knew I couldn't keep it completely secret, but I had hoped for a bit more time before this event. I will just have to work with what I have then."

Cyrus looked at the eye sadly. "Aspect, what have you done?"

The asuran Guardian gaped at the wall unit, recognizing the voice coming from it. "Hey! Wait, that voice! I know that voice! You're the one who invited me! But you called yourself--"

With that, the doors to the bay unlocked with a loud clank and began to trundle open. Both of the guardian Watchknights pulled back from their posts and knelt, heads down, mirroring each other across the passage. A thick fog began to spill from inside as the doors opened; it was warm, like the breath of a hotspring.

As the fog spilled out, it began to thin, and everyone there could make out a figure standing in the doorway. It wasn't a Watchknight, or any other kind of construct. It looked...human.

Stepping out from inside, into the light of the corridor, a slim, pale woman opened her eyes and looked at them all. A small smile touched her lips, and she shrugged slightly.

"You can call me... Alice."

Event (1+2 x 3) / 4  = Null.

I am here. I have no need to hide anymore.

#gw2 fanfiction #My characters #Cyrus Sigismund #Verula Faithbreaker #Sonnya Danae #Tenna Danae #Watchknight #Forsaken Aspect #Ship AI #Confusion #Deception #Evolution #Alice Spekt #tyrias-library

[sstaylor]

Read Chapter One of The Expeditioners and the Lost City of Maps

Chapter One 

“We’ll be arriving in Gryg City soon,” a BNDL agent called through the half-open door of the baggage compartment. “Mr. Mountmorris says you can come up to the front if you want to see our arrival.”  

I made my way through the piles of suitcases and trunks, and along the narrow passageway that led to the main passenger areas of the big government airship.  

The lounge in the central gondola was filled with people—black uniformed BNDL, or Bureau of Newly Discovered Lands—agents, government officials, and other trainee Explorers like myself from the Academy for the Exploratory Sciences. We were all on our way to Grygia, and we crowded around the floor-to-ceiling windows of the gondola to watch the jagged peaks of the Carpathian Mountains rise up below us. 

The airship was moving fast and for a terrible moment I thought we were going to hit the snow-capped mountains in front of us. But just when it looked like all hope was lost, we soared up and over them and then we were looking down at the wide white and dark green bowl of the Grygian Valley, the huge Grygian fir trees poking out of the heavy snow cover. It was early January, deep winter in Eastern Europe.

Grygia had been the first of the New Lands to be discovered, and its discovery had kicked off the New Modern Age of Exploration. Unlike us, Harrison Arnoz had made his way up and over these mountains in the early spring. He’d found a greener, more alive valley, filled with unknown species of ancient, towering trees, and the Grygian Tree Dwellers living in their intricately-constructed treehouses, complex networks of bridges connecting them to other trees and Tree Dweller communities. 

But I knew that I was seeing what he had seen—from a different vantage point—and it was thrilling. 

As we descended, the streets and buildings of Gryg City came into focus. The slopes of the mountains directly surrounding the city were covered with Grygian fir trees, but not far outside, huge swaths of the mountainside had been completely cleared. I could see big machines moving around in the logging camps. And at the other end of the valley, I could see the huge holes that had been dug into the hillside for the Gryluminum mines.  The Gryluminum pits and strips of treeless ground looked like wounds and scars on the surface of the mountains. 

 “Hey! Baggage boy, you’d better get back to your work. We’re almost there.” 

I looked up into the jeering face of my Academy classmate Lazlo Nackley, standing by the windows with his friend Jack Foster and another classmate, Kemal Asker.

“Come on, Lazlo, leave him alone,” Kemal said, giving me an apologetic shrug. I liked Kemal and I knew he hated the way Lazlo had been treating me.

“What? It’s true. Mr. Mountmorris is going to need his bags. And you’re his baggage boy.” Lazlo laughed. 

My brother Zander and our friend Sukey Neville came running into the gondola, Zander’s trained parrot Amerigo Vespucci on his shoulder. Sukey was wearing her uniform as a member of the trainee flying corps, an olive green flight suit, tall brown leather boots, and a brown jacket with a bright red “ADR Flying Squad Trainee” patch on it. Her copper-colored curls were pinned up on top of her head, but a few had escaped around her face. Sukey was a Neo, or Neotechnologist, but without her bright clothes made from synthetic materials, she looked just like all the other trainee pilots. 

Except for the tiny green lights embedded in her ear. They blinked at me a few times before resuming a steady glow. 

Zander was wearing his black ADR Officers Training Corps uniform, just like Jack and Lazlo. “Hey, Kit. They let us watch from the cockpit,” Sukey said. “It’s amazing. I thought we were going to hit the mountains, but we didn’t. Oh, look! There’s the aerodrome.” 

We were descending now, very slowly. Below, I could see the wide landing platform of an aerodrome. Smaller airships bobbed on their platforms. Suddenly, there was a loud rushing sound and a glider raced along the ground below us and rose up into the sky with a roar.  

 “It’s a flying machine,” someone shouted. “One of the new gasoline engine ones!” 

We all watched as it flew up dangerously close to the gondola’s window and then disappeared up into the sky. 

“Whoosshhhhh,” Pucci chortled, mimicking the sound of the flying machine. 

“It must be a test flight from the ADR base outside Gryg City,” Sukey said. The Agency for the Defense of the Realm was building military bases all up and down the border with the Indorustan Empire, and now that we were at war with the Indorustans they were moving soldiers and pilots to all of them.

I turned around and met Sukey’s eyes. She was on her way to finish her training at the base. It would be her in the flying machine in a few weeks or months. 

“Where’s M.K.?” I asked them. My little sister had spent most of the voyage down in the control room. I missed her. Sukey shrugged. Zander said he hadn’t seen her.

“See you later,” I told them. “The baggage needs me.” 

I headed back to the baggage compartment. I had to repack Mr. Mountmorris’s bags before we landed and then carry them off the airship myself. He didn’t allow anyone else to touch them, which would have been flattering except that I hated him and I found it a little humiliating to have to organize his underwear.

Another black-suited, scowling BNDL agent was stationed outside the door to the baggage compartment and he eyed me up and down as I approached and said, “Mr. Mountmorris wants to see you. He’s in his berth.” 

“But I thought I was supposed to get his bags together. We’re about to dock.”

“That was the order. You’d better hurry.”

Mr. Mountmorris was in the fanciest of the passenger berths. I had spent the voyage sleeping in a cramped box-like berth next to the baggage compartment, on the bottom bunk, beneath an engineer who snored and talked in his sleep about someone named Carla. 

When I entered, Mr. Mountmorris’s assistant, Jec Banton, nodded at me. Mr. Mountmorris was sitting at a table pulled up to the window so he could see the view. The table was laid with a teapot, cups, and a plate of cupcakes and pastries decorated with bright green frosting. 

“Hello, Mr. West,” he said, without turning around. “We are almost there. Exciting, isn’t it? Your first trip to Gryg City.”

His thin hand hovered over the cupcakes. Finally he chose one, plucking it off the plate as though it were a flower in a garden. I watched him lick the frosting from the top before putting it down. 

“It would be if I knew what I was doing here.” I paused. “Sir.” 

He turned quickly and fixed his eyes on me. He must have had lots of different pairs of colored lenses to go in his eyes. When I’d first met him, they’d been green. Today they were a deep shade of violet.

“You want to know what you’re doing here, do you?” 

“It would be really nice,” I told him. “I’ve been in top secret clandestine services training for the past six months. I’ve learned how to survive in the desert, to trail someone for ten hours without being caught. I’ve learned how to make a weapon out of a dinner fork and to make basic conversation in thirteen languages. I know how to find a meal in the rainforest and I can find a perfect hiding spot within twenty seconds of walking into almost any room. And now, I am on my way to Grygia as your ‘baggage assistant,’ which seems to involve a lot of organizing of your socks. Yes, I would like to know what I‘m doing here.” I’d been holding in my anger for a long time and it poured out of me now. It was hot in the berth and sweat trickled down my right temple. 

Mr. Mountmorris smiled and waved a hand toward the window, and Gryg City beyond. “You are here to carry out a top secret mission in accordance with your training,” he told me. 

“Oh, right,” I said sarcastically. “Yes, the top secret handling of the baggage. Will my mission involve socks or underwear today, Mr. Mountmorris?” 

Jec Banton raised his eyebrows in disapproval, but Mr. Mountmorris just smiled and chose another cupcake. 

 “Mr. West, do you know how much your training over the last six months has cost the Bureau of Newly Discovered Lands? No? Well, let me tell you. More than one thousand Allied Dollars per day. As you say, you have had courses in world languages, in self-defense, in code-breaking and cartography. You know how to find water in a barren desert and you know how to disappear in any city in the world.” 

He waited a moment, then asked me, “Do you think that we would spend that much money on you if we meant to have you manage baggage for the entire trip?”

I gulped. “No, I guess not.”

“Do you think that maybe, just maybe, we need to be careful about how we insert you into Simeria? Because there are many people who are interested in what our intentions are there and the moment you step off this airship you will surely be followed by clandestine agents of the Indorustan Empire?”

“I suppose that yes, that would make sense.” I kept my eyes on the green cupcake in his hand. 

“And do you think that perhaps this mission is all part of your cover? You do remember the lessons on creating a cover, an acceptable public identity that allows you to achieve your clandestine aim, do you not?”  

“Oh, this is all my . . . ? Oh,” I gulped. “Sorry.” 

“Apology accepted. Now, Mr. West, I was just about to tell you that when we have arrived in Gryg City and I have had the afternoon to settle in at the Royal Grygian Hotel, I would like you to come and see me in my suite and I will brief you on your mission.”

“O–o–okay,” I stammered. 

“And remember what I said about you being followed. For the moment, you must make no effort to go undetected. In fact, it would be good if you were seen walking around Gryg City. You are a trainee Explorer, coming along on my diplomatic mission as my baggage handler. You may act as though you are exactly that.” 

At that moment, the airship bumped gently against the landing platform. I heard a loud whoosh as the burners slowed. Through the windows, I could see workers scurrying around on the platform, securing the airship with ropes.

“Oh look,” Mr. Mountmorris exclaimed cheerfully, his face now as bright and joyful as a kid’s on Christmas morning. “We’re here!” 

#Expeditioners ExpeditionersLostCityofMaps SSTaylor

[demisexualnathanvuornos]

Phillip Anderson (Lucas Bryant) Frankie Drake Mysteries 1x8 The Pilot (2017)

Greg Mills: Phillip Anderson. 

Frankie Drake: The aviator?

Greg: Visionary, philanthropist, all-round golden boy.  

Frankie: Sounds like you know him. 

Greg: Hm. Our paths have crossed. 

Phillip Anderson: If you’d asked me when I was with the Royal Flying Corps if we’d be on the cusp of a new age in a few short years, I would have said no. But just look at the excitement that this new technology is generating. My aerodrome is just the beginning. Take my word for it, man is about to take off and soar above the clouds. 

Frankie: He is quite the crowd-pleaser. 

Greg: That’s very forward. 

Frankie: A girl can admire the pilot as well as the planes. 

Greg: Well, admire all you like, he only has eyes for his wife. 

Frankie: The perfect man. With the perfect wife.

Better Babies annoucer: And now, Mr. Anderson will announce the winner of the Better Babies of Leaside contest. 

Phillip Anderson: Well, it was so difficult to choose a winner from all these lovely, healthy babies. Not a blemish on one. But I had to, so ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this year’s Better Babies of Leaside contest.–[Frankie saves his son from being kidnapped] Good lord, that was some feat.  Who are you?  

Frankie: Frankie Drake. Private detective.

—

Phillip Anderson: Oh, Mrs. Drake– 

Frankie: It’s Miss. 

Phillip Anderson: I stand corrected. Anyway, I would like to commend you to your employer. 

Frankie: Commendation accepted. 

Phillip Anderson: Drake Private Detectives. 

Frankie: Mr. Anderson, I don’t want to alarm you or your wife, but we suspect the kidnapper is going to strike again.

Phillip Anderson: And that’s why I’ve spoken personally with the Chief of Police. A constable will be on 24-hour duty here at the house. Every available man will soon be searching for the culprit.

Frankie: Well, you have two available women right here. 

Trudy Clark: And Frankie is the only person to get a firsthand look at the kidnapper. 

Meara Anderson: Phillip, perhaps it would be a good idea to hire Miss Drake. 

Phillip: I appreciate the offer, Meara; kidnapping is serious business best left to the police. Now, if you’ll excuse me. 

Frankie: I think he meant to say best left to the men.

***

Phillip Anderson: Meara? My child — 

Meara Anderson: Our child.  

Phillip Anderson: Stolen from his own bed. How does this happen? Where were you? 

Meara Anderson: The police were supposedly guarding us. Maybe if you had cancelled your meeting and been here with us for once. 

 Mr. Anderson — 

Phillip Anderson: Why are you here?  

Meara Anderson: I hired them. 

Phillip Anderson: Why would you do that? We don’t need you. Please, just get out of here.  

Trudy: We’re not just going to quit, are we? 

Frankie: Not a chance. Anderson didn’t hire us, so he can’t exactly fire us. 

Trudy: Exactly.

***

Frankie:Stop! Mrs. Anderson? What the hell’s going on?  Where’s the baby? 

Meara: Somewhere safe. 

Frankie: Safe from who? 

Meara: My husband. 

Frankie: Why would your husband want to kidnap his own child? 

Meara: You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Please just let me go. 

Frankie: No one is going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on. 

Greg: Just leave her alone. She’s trying to protect her son. 

Trudy: From his own father? Why? 

Meara: Charlie’s deaf. Charlie was born that way, but we only found out two months ago. My husband changed after that. He wanted less and less to do with his son. 

*flashback*Phillip: It was so difficult to choose between all these lovely, healthy babies. Not a blemish on one.*flashback*

Frankie: He couldn’t let a defect be passed on to the future generations. 

Meara: I never thought that he would do something like this. 

Frankie: So he planned the kidnapping at the aerodrome to try to get rid of Charlie? How did you figure it out? 

Greg: Actually it was you that figured it out. That lucky charm in the kidnapper’s plane. But that just led me to Johnny Angel. The badge on the back, 15 Squadron Anderson was 15 squadron’s commanding officer. He would’ve known the kidnapper. He said nothing to the police.

Frankie: So then it was you who kidnapped Charlie. 

Greg: No, I told Mrs. Anderson of my concerns. We realised we had to get Charlie out fast, and the three of us came up with this plan. 

Frankie: Where is he now? 

Meara: Charlie is with his nanny at the family cottage near Caledon. 

Caledon. 

Greg: Problem? 

Frankie: The police told Anderson they saw the nanny close to there. He knows where Charlie is.

***

Frankie: Mr. Anderson? I know what you did. And I know why. - (BABY COOING) I’m here for Charlie, so hand him over. 

Phillip Anderson: Get out. 

Frankie: The police are on their way here to arrest you.

Phillip: For what? Taking an airplane ride with my son? 

Frankie: For murder. 

Phillip: What murder? 

Frankie: You killed Johnny Angel so he couldn’t tie you to the kidnapping. The police will find your gun. They’re gonna link it back to you. 

Phillip: Even if they did, there’s not a jury in the world that would convict me of shooting my child’s kidnapper.

Frankie: Just hand over the baby, and then you can fly off to wherever the hell you want to go. 

Greg: Listen to her. 

Phillip: You want Charlie, put the gun down and kick it away. 

Greg: Now, hand him over, Phillip. 

Phillip: For god’s sake, Greg, you know me. I’m not a monster. This is for the greater good. A man of your intellect should know that only the strong should survive. 

Greg: I see a man who isn’t living up to his responsibilities as a father. 

Phillip: Don’t tell me what I am! 

Greg: Look at him. He’s your son. You’re supposed to protect him.

No! [Phillip yells and pushes the tram away, hits Greg with a wrench and runs to his plane. Greg shoots at him/the plane, and he crashes down]   

#phillip anderson #frankie drake mysteries #lucas bryant #lucasbryantedit #nocticola art #caps from kissthemgoodbye.net #long post #hence under read more #nocti's caps #the credit and the goggles

[onwesterlywinds]

Linini Mooglesworn: Well, I suppose we don't have much to go on, do we? This will be difficult. Sylvan Rain looks down to her companion after scanning the area around them; smiling, she sighs. Sylvan Rain: I apologize if I'm little more use than some muscle, my friend. Linini Mooglesworn: All will be fine. We shall not falter. Though Rosenheim is the sort who cannot be found if he so wishes it, I am the sort of woman who is used to sniffing out all sorts of criminals.

Sylvan Rain: Hopefully my aetheric sense will be of some help to you. Linini Mooglesworn: I suspect it would! Are you familiar with our quarry's aether? Sylvan Rain: Each aetheric signature is unique in a way. It sort of... It speaks to you, in a way. Has its own voice. Linini Mooglesworn gazes upon Sylvan Rain in deep reflection. Linini Mooglesworn: Yue calls those auras. And I mean no offense to you, but I have heard quite enough of my own from her, so I will not ask of my aether's 'voice.' Do you sense anything of him now? Sylvan Rain steps forward and briefly scans the area again. Her eyes flutter closed and she takes in a deep breath as she reaches out to the aether. Sylvan Rain senses a general direction - north - but there is a crush of bodies in between her and her quarry, which makes getting a definitive read rather difficult. Sylvan Rain quickly looks to the north and then back to Linini Mooglesworn, noticing how much traffic is between them and what she sensed. Sylvan Rain: To the north, but... seems like we might have to push our way through. Linini Mooglesworn lets out a light grunt. Linini Mooglesworn: Hmph. Very well. It is raining by the time they leave the city's aerodrome, with Ivaan Arkwright scouting the city from above. The streets are made of dark stone, lined with metal thanks to the Garleans, and the vast majority of those in view are Garleans in uniform. Any native Dalmascans the pair see - Seeq, Bangaa, some Hyur - are almost certainly laborers. Linini Mooglesworn hates how out of place she and Sylvan look. Sylvan Rain: I could very well toss most of these people aside but I imagine that would not help our cause... Linini Mooglesworn: Yes, I suspect that would draw a bit of unwanted attention. You know he is north of us - but is he far? As Ivaan Arkwright returns, the party sense acutely that they are already being watched. In fact, it becomes clear that Valnain, far more than Rabanastre, /feels/ as Ala Mhigo did during its occupation: its occupants have learned to keep an eye on everything in their own vicinity, and to report any signs of trouble so as to relieve themselves of suspicion. Sylvan Rain looks back to Linini Mooglesworn, a look of surprise on her face when she sensed him so clearly just a moment ago. Sylvan Rain: Close... /very/ close. And I do not think we've gone unnoticed. Linini Mooglesworn: We can keep in touch via linkpearl. Sylvan Rain doesn't look back to either of them and instead quietly activates her linkpearl. Sylvan Rain: Put some distance, but let's keep in sight of one another. Ivaan Arkwright nods, quietly tapping on his before heading off. Linini Mooglesworn decides to trust in the Riskbreakers' linkshell encryptions as she makes her way north through the city, though using a more winding route than before. Sylvan Rain isn't actually shopping for anything, but she does take some genuine interest in the wares of this place. Every now and then, as she browses, she takes the opportunity to survey the area and who might be around; she smiles here and there, admiring the scenery and casually mutters to the linkpearl. Sylvan Rain: Have I mentioned I do not like being watched by unknown parties? Linini Mooglesworn: I cannot say I am not used to it, as a Brass Blade in Ul'dah. Ivaan Arkwright: Never has been a favorite of mine. Ivaan Arkwright pretends to rub his mouth with the palm of his hand to mask the movement of his lips. Linini Mooglesworn is trying to wade through a crowd of much taller people who are /not/ used to having to walk around many Lalafell. Sylvan Rain is soon observing the ships in the port, searching for any sign of something that might have stuck out to her. She puts on a fairly good appearance of someone pretending to admire the various ships. There's one ship which seems to be gathering more imperial attention than usual: several Garlean soldiers, not laborers, are working to load the ship. It could be important, or it could be nothing. Ivaan Arkwright, having found nothing of interest on his end, begins casually ambling roughly in the same direction he had seen Sylvan Rain and Linini Mooglesworn head in. Sylvan Rain notices the ship with a few Garlean soldiers and goes no further. As they hadn't seen her yet she continues to admit ships further down from them. Sylvan Rain: I've found some friends.. The Imperial kind. Linini Mooglesworn takes this to mean that Sylvan Rain had found a situation that could or already has led to combat, since their 'Imperial friends' were all throughout the city. Linini Mooglesworn: Do you need backup? Sylvan Rain purses her lips a bit and makes a sound as if she's thinking. Sylvan Rain: Mmm, no. They haven't seen me. I'm a ways away from them. They're loading a ship. Ivaan Arkwright kneels down, and sets about tightening his boot laces. Ivaan Arkwright: Loading? Anything of interest? Metal crates. A Bangaa approaches, gesturing angrily, and a Garlean hits her over the head with the pommel of his sword. Linini Mooglesworn comes upon an alleyway that is quieter than the street, and stops there for a moment to take a break from all the jostling pedestrians. Sylvan Rain steals a look at where Ivaan Arkwright was in proximity to herself before opening contact between the three of them again. Sylvan Rain: I can't tell what it is from here. Ivaan, do you think you could manage to survey from above unseen? All I can see from here is metal crates and-- Sylvan Rain: ...Bastard hit her. Linini Mooglesworn senses her sudden shift in tone. Linini Mooglesworn: Do not get involved. Do not endanger the mission. Sylvan Rain: I know better than that... Linini Mooglesworn closes her eyes. Linini Mooglesworn takes a deep breath. Linini Mooglesworn: I know. Apologies... I hate it too. The injustice of it all... Ivaan Arkwright: I will need to find a secluded place to take off from, and a place to aim for. If you can spot a place I could land without drawing attention? I can give it a try. Callous as it may sound, this Bangaa might provide the distraction I need. Linini Mooglesworn wants in part - the part most susceptible to the stone's influence - to intervene. Sylvan Rain: At least the weather is on your side. Take extra care before you leap. Linini Mooglesworn steps further down the alleyway, reasoning that Rosenheim would be the sort of man to explore the shadier places around town. Ivaan Arkwright rises to his knees, and sets off down the alley. He searches for any nook or cranny he could use to hide while he hops onto the roof of the building he is adjacent to. Sylvan Rain: When it comes to Rosenheim... I do not know him well enough. You could offer more there than I could, I think. Linini Mooglesworn has a hunch that he has gone down that alley, but no definitive proof. Linini Mooglesworn: I do not know the man well myself. Only what I have gleaned from Edge. Ivaan Arkwright: No time. Ivaan Arkwright is too exposed, with no time to aim for anywhere else. Kicking off, he aims over the largest swath of the docks he can cover... aiming to land in the sea. He is a strong swimmer. Should be fine, right? Linini Mooglesworn looks around. Ivaan Arkwright manages to land behind the ship without being noticed. He can see little; the rain suddenly picks up. At least he isn't seen. A gasp and a sputtering of water can be heard as he rises to the surface. Ivaan Arkwright: Augh... I am afraid it was wasted effort. I saw little more than I could from the ground. I am going to head back to land. Linini Mooglesworn looks down the alleyway, looking for any evidence of Rosenheim's presence. A sound comes from further north: a great temple bell, clanging loudly. From a distant part of the city, a column of smoke trails upward. Linini Mooglesworn: Sylvan. Do you sense anything from over there? Sylvan Rain senses that Rosenheim's presence seems to be coming from near the smoke. Ivaan Arkwright hauls himself out of the sea, climbing up one of the ladders at the end of a pier. Looking off at the smoke and the sound of the bell, he  waits for Sylvan's reply. Sylvan Rain turns toward the sudden sound of the bell; when she reaches out to the aether, there is an immediate presence by the pillar of smoke. Sylvan Rain: He's nearby there. Let's hurry. Keep distance, but stay within sight. Linini Mooglesworn glances at the temple as she rushes toward the column of smoke. As the party approach, the buildings in this area become much more nicer, much more well-maintained - and the people along the street, from Garlean nobles to laborers, stop and stare in surprise. Every soldier runs toward the blaze. Linini Mooglesworn: A diversion from something else, you think? Sylvan Rain: Maybe. Garleans are certainly on the move... Ivaan Arkwright heads off towards the temple, keeping a decent distance from the others and dripping wet with seawater. The party enter into what can only be a residential district - for the Garlean elite only. Yet so too, at the end of the main thoroughfare, is there a building reinforced with Garlean steel, around which soldiers and magitek are working to put out the blaze. Linini Mooglesworn is unsure of whether or not the fire is a diversion from something greater; she reaches into her cloak and grasps the stone, slightly warm to the touch. She deactivates her linkpearl momentarily. Linini Mooglesworn: Auracite, I beseech thee... what is your judgment? Where do I go? To which way do the scales tip? Sylvan Rain suddenly senses a strange yet familiar sensation crawls over her. An auracite? Linini Mooglesworn opens her eyes and clicks on the linkpearl again, her voice level and oddly detached. Linini Mooglesworn: A powerful being looms ahead. An arbiter of justice... here. In that Garlean building. Sylvan Rain says nothing about what she sensed but has a good idea of what had just happened. Sylvan Rain: Any ideas on how we get in? Ivaan Arkwright decides now is not the time to stress his misgivings about the auracite: it has been used, and nothing horrible has happened. Keeping Sylvan's red jacket in his periphery, he too draws closer, looking like just another bystander gawking at the scene. Linini Mooglesworn maneuvers around the crowd to the rear of the building, away from the fire. The blaze begins to spread, growing larger; the bystanders nearby don't seem to want to be caught looking at the building, but they are whispering amongst themselves. Linini Mooglesworn looks at the western wing, where she felt the presence strongest, and searches for a safe entrance. A door into the building lies ajar. Sylvan Rain follows close behind, keeping an eye out for any Garleans. Sylvan Rain: If any imperials show an interest in us I'll make quick work on them, but not until we're seen. Ivaan Arkwright: Agreed; let us not blow our own cover.

#Phantom Pains RISK #Linini Mooglesworn #Sylvan Rain #Ivaan Arkwright

[tsaomengde]

What Is Owed (3)

(Part 1) (Part 2)

           After a night on the stone floor of the guest quarters given her by the King, Alia is awakened by the appearance of a serving woman. The woman takes one look at her and says, “Is there an issue with the bed of which I need be made aware, milady?”

           With a low growl, Alia sits up.  Her head hurts, her mouth is dry, and everything is too bright and too loud.  This is not atypical of her mornings, but she is still in no mood for visitors.  “No.”

           “Milady, then why –”

           Alia climbs stiffly to her feet, turns, and sits down on the edge of the bed.

           There are low, ominous creaking noises, followed by sounds of splintering.  She keeps eye contact with the serving woman, watching the horror and understanding blossom on her face, wondering if she will demand Alia stand up before the frame cracks completely through or if decorum will win out and keep her silent.

           “Milady, please!  I do beg your pardon.  Spare the bed my foolishness.  I was told you were consecrated of Yeda, but I thought not what it might bode.”

           Alia pushes off the balls of her feet, impressed. The bed holds, and assuming its next inhabitant weighs less than she does, she doubts there will be an issue. “So, my good maid.  Are you here to insist I bathe and change my clothes once more, or simply to ensure that I am awake for our departure?”

           Her intruder actually cracks a small smile.  “I heard tell of your grand entrance yesternight, milady.  May I remark that none amongst us are over-fond of Nadia.”

           Alia puts on a shocked look.  “It surpasses me to envisage why.”

           “To make an answer to your question, milady, the good ship Astes does depart in two hours. It was thought you might desire to make acquaintance with His Highness Prince Andral aforetime.”

           Considering the proposition of sleeping for another hour, Alia is sorely tempted to just tell this woman to go away.  But she decides that if she is going to be stuck on a skyship for two weeks with this boy and his retinue, she should make the attempt to ensure the voyage is not too unpleasant.  That probably involves talking to him at least once.

           This, she decides, can be the once, if once it indeed is.

           “I must refresh and make myself ready,” she says. “You may wait for me outside. Then I will go with you to the Prince.”

           That interaction temporarily concluded, Alia goes and carefully uses the indoor toilet.  It is not a thing she is used to, but the maid has done somewhat to soften Alia’s feelings toward the Palace staff after her encounter with Nadia, and consequently she feels little desire to make their lives difficult.  Across from the indoor toilet there is a basin, and some device of smooth, curved marble which brings forth cold, clear water into it.  A recent invention, she knows; the last time she was in this Palace, some twenty years ago, none of the guest quarters had anything like it.  She does not know what they are called or how they work.

           Alia splashes some of the water onto her face, and drinks some until she feels refreshed.  The water is somewhat brackish, but it is serviceable.

           Feeling slightly more human, she allows the serving woman to lead her up through winding staircases and steeply sloped halls to the Palace aerodrome.  It is an ambitious space that also did not exist twenty years ago; Stryga has added much to the Palace since his coronation, it seems.  The top of the tower has essentially been sliced off, and a steel floor the size of a city block has been laid flat atop it.  Tall, arched pillars of black stone rise out of the floor high into the air, supporting a glass dome lined with airsteel struts.  The structure is truly massive, capable of engulfing even the largest skyships.

           Alia knows this construction is not just for its own sake; though she is mostly uninformed about the mechanics of skyship flight, she does know the conventional wisdom that it is easier to climb than descend. Most aerodromes are constructed as high up as possible, and this one is no exception.

           The aerodrome could accommodate several vessels the size of Astes, which is the kingdom’s largest civilian skyship, but it is currently the only one docked.  Alia quietly wonders at the wisdom of not sending the Prince aboard a military craft, but then considers the prospect of Oallans breaking the surface of the waves to look up at a vast floating fortress bearing down on them.  Friendly hands behind the guns or no, Alia knows firsthand the experience of looking up into the sky and seeing the black mouth of a hellcannon gaping down back at her.

           The Astes is like a silvery dart, chopped in half along its horizontal length so it is flat-topped, and then magnified to several times the size of a red whale.  At a glance, Alia estimates it can hold seventy people, including the crew, and several tons of cargo.  More people could take the place of cargo in its hold, but she has been aboard enough skyships to know that they would not be comfortable. She notes the cunning concealment of its heat vents in the craft’s smooth lines, its broad windows, the lack of any visible armament.  Like most civilian skyships, it has no top deck, containing the crew and passengers entirely within its hull.

           Ramps extend from the ship’s belly, its bow, and its stern.  Men in grey and brown uniforms are loading cargo through the belly ramp, while occasional knots of colorfully-clad civilian passengers – noblepersons, merchants, and artisans, Alia guesses – embark through the stern ramp.  The bow ramp seems reserved for the ship’s crew, and is unused, at least for the moment.

           Prince Andral and his retainers are standing at the base of the bow ramp, apparently having a discussion with the Astes’s captain, an older woman in sharp blue trousers and doublet.  Andral is only slightly taller than Alia, sharp-featured, imperially slim.  His skin is a shade lighter than his father’s, though still rich and coppery; his charcoal hair is long, braided, and gathered in a knot at the base of his skull to hang between his shoulder blades.  He wears a smart beard, neatly trimmed.  Instead of the traditional doublet and trousers, he favors a long, white overcoat, a green waistcoat and breeches, black hose, and thick-soled, practical boots.

           The serving woman bids Alia goodbye and scurries off. Alia watches her go, wondering at the seeming suddenness of her departure, then shrugs it off and heads for the Prince.

           As she draws closer, Alia can hear what he is saying to the captain.  His voice is controlled and precise.  “I desire no special regard aboard ship, Captain.  I require only that we come to Oalla as soon as may be.”

           The captain shifts her weight from one foot to another, clearly uncomfortable.  “Your Highness, by this do you mean we must make course for Oalla first, letting our other destinations fall by the wayside until such time as we have discharged our duty to you?”

           Andral crosses one arm over his belly, rests the elbow of the other atop the first, stroking his chin thoughtfully.  “How much time might be gained if you should do this thing?”

           “Perhaps five days, Your Highness.”

           “I sense reluctance.  Wherefore?”

           The captain looks down at her feet.  “Spoilage of certain goods we have taken aboard ship, Your Highness.  The rancor of certain travelers whose passage we secured with promises of swift deliverance to journey’s terminus.”

           “Gold may serve to assuage such rancor and soothe the sting of goods lost.”  Andral snaps his fingers, and one of his retinue, a middle-aged woman wearing the flowing robes of a scribe and numerologist, steps forward.  In one hand she holds a sheaf of paper, in the other a bloodquill.  “You may relate your potential losses to Ora, here.  My father will make recompense to you upon your return.”

           Alia sighs.  She was so hoping this might not be painful.

           Clearing her throat, she speaks up.  “Your Highness,” she says.  “I think that an ill turn.”

           Expression clouding, Andral whirls and scans her from head to toe in one glance.  “Who are you that should assume to dictate thus to me?”

           “Alia the Steelblooded,” she replies, not liking to use her full title but knowing she needs moral authority here and hoping that martial authority will do instead.  “His August Majesty King Stryga has charged me with your protection on this voyage.  To that end, I must caution you against this.  You risk the displeasure of the crew and your fellow passengers.  The captain cannot say these things to you, but I may.”

           Andral narrows his eyes, which for the first time Alia realizes are an unusually light shade of hazel.  “You presume much upon your relationship with my father, it seems.”

           “I hope not overmuch.”  Alia holds that bright gaze, not flinching.  She is as far from afraid of Andral as it is possible to be without being actively contemptuous.  He is, after all, just a boy, not even twenty years old yet.  She vaguely recalls people in the streets discussing the ceremony of his coming of age, some months ago, but that does not make a boy a man.

           With a slight sigh, Andral looks back at the captain. “Should I heed the words of Alia the Steelblooded, Captain?  Speak freely, with no fear of rebuke.”

           “Were I in your place, Your Highness,” the captain says, still looking at her feet, “I should be mindful of her most excellent advisement.”

           Andral looks back at Alia, holds her gaze a moment longer, then inclines his head.  “So shall it be, then.  I thank you for your wise counsel, Alia the Steelblooded.  Take sup with me this eve in my cabin.”

           Pursing her lips, Alia nods, deciding to ignore the peremptory tone.  He did thank her, after all, and she does not want to strain things any more.  “Until then, Your Highness.”

           He turns away with a sweep of his long coat and marches straight up the bow ramp, his attendants scurrying to keep up.

           “I must extend my sincerest gratitude, milady,” the captain murmurs quietly once Andral is aboard.

           Alia switches to the merchants’ jargon.  “Royalty are hippos.  Large mouths, large wakes, many attendant little birds.”

           That gets a chuckle out of the captain.  “And fierce tempers.  And no patience.  And a large number so dumb they shit where they eat.”

           “This one is a little smart.  He sees when he is being dumb, with help.”

           “Aye.  Gratitude again.  You are welcome on my boat.”  The captain gives her shoulder a squeeze Alia does not feel, and turns to go.

           Alia does not initially intend to stop her.  But she eyes the bow ramp, considering the prospect of dinner with Andral that evening.  “Captain,” she says, switching back to Fillorel.  “Before you away, there is a question I would ask.”

           “Yes, milady?”

           “In which part of your vessel do you keep the bar?”

#what is owed #my writing #fantasy