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blankdblank · 4 years

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Next Caller Pt 23

Looking up Thorin said to Dwalin, who was hanging out to keep from bursting in on Bilbo and Dis’ time to calm Mal to being around them. “Frerin just said he’s bringing Jaqi here. And she’s got some new wheels..”

Dwalin, “She bought a car? Thought she didn’t want to spend that much after the house?”

Thorin shrugged and Fili chuckled out, “I bet it’s adorably small.”

Kili, “Can’t be worse then Mal’s scooter. Can’t wait till we can get her an actual car.”

Dwalin said with a pointed gaze, “You’re not there yet in your courtship.” Making the pair huff.

Fili crosses his arms slumping more into his chair, “You’d say the same if you’d seen it. Can’t even take it on bridges or in tunnels.”

Dwalin, “She doesn’t need to get far to have to cross a bridge or tunnel.”

Kili, “Still not fair. And only one of us can ride with her but it slows it down.”

Thorin rolled his eyes and said, “I’ll wait in the garage.” Climbing to his feet luring the smirking trio behind him.

Behind Frerin’s sports car after securing your helmet over your brushed back bangs you turned over the engine and instantly heard the extra tiny bit of power in the scooter pulling away from the counter luring waves from the grateful team of guys who were able to assist someone on this blustery day. The mighty engine in the scooter cutting off any resistance you had assumed you might have due to any winds, powering through it to ensure the safety of its passenger. Behind him you rode back down the main street then turned onto the on-ramp and from there split off to the segregated lanes for bikes behind a trio of motorcycles. Keeping him in sight with his bumper lead in front of you allowing you to catch sight of his blinkers so you could know which exit to take.

And while the motorcycles slowed to yield for those taking the exit before they could continue on to the tunnel past the open split in the barrier you eased into the exiting lane and took the slope on the off ramp with ease behind Frerin. That loop took you to the road under the bridge you were on to turn right again and head on to another stretch of highway feeding across a bridge you followed for a few miles before it bled into another more decorative bridge sloping down to the back street paths he chose. At the final light he rolled down his window saying, “I take the red entrance and you take the yellow. 4th level is our floor they have a section for bikes.”

You nodded and he smirked looking forward again he led you ahead and at the fourth building on the left he turned for the red entrance while you eased over for the turning lane for the yellow a bit further down on the corner.

After two trucks drove past you took your turn and pulled through the open entrance of the garage and followed the wide path circling each floor of parking around the parked cars and openings to each bike section until you reached the fourth floor.

Along the wall the group waited chatting with constant brushes of their hair from their faces and smirks spread seeing Frerin pulling up to his assigned spot beside the second guest spot they had. Certain to have seen you already when Frerin got out of his car making Thorin ask, “You remembered to hit the gate behind you too, right?”

Walking over Frerin chuckled saying, “Didn’t have to.”

The sound of a telling engine had Thorin looking at his brother, “You did not take her motorcycle shopping!”

Frerin chuckled saying, “No, I didn’t. Just wait.”

Frerin caught your rise into their view in the bike path and said, “Got to be a scooter then. You got her a scooter?”

Frerin chuckled, “Nope. She bought it. Paid in full.” Thorin rubbed his face and Frerin poked him in the stomach, “She’s adorable on it and really excited about it.”

Dwalin chuckled patting Thorin’s back, “Least she’s got wheels now. That much closer to a car.”

Thorin lowered his hands and said, “A car can’t get swept or blown under anything. A car can keep you safe from the rain!”

Frerin poked him again, “We’re being supportive.” Turning with the boys to join them over to the bike section you pulled into, the elder pair exhaled and joined forcing grinning at least that you were here and they could feed you.

Fili’s hand dropped from his hair, “Oh that is cool!” He exclaimed as you pressed the pedal for the kick stands to lower so you could ease off safely and it wouldn’t be blown over while you were gone.

Kili, “If Mal had one like that we wouldn’t mind! That the new cobra?” He asked moving closer and said pointing at the decal, “These aren’t even widely on the market yet!!”

Frerin chuckled saying, “Salesman recognized me, helped to get my big sister a good scooter safe for the roads. It’s more powerful than the white one she tested, so no worries there this one can break 75 on the roads.” The label for you didn’t go unnoticed by Thorin, only he couldn’t do much past grumble as his eyes remained fixed on you.

Leaving your helmet on the dip in front of the seat you pocketed the key for it and bounced over excitedly grinning making Thorin’s grin bubble out seeing how truly excited you were. “So? Mr Mug Dealer? Whatcha think? I like it. Nice for what I need. Plus I haven’t had one since I was on base in training. Course that was the four, nothing as smooth as this, sometimes used to cut out mid ride. And you’d have to kick start it again.”

Dwalin chuckled out while the boys kept inspecting it, “They stopped making the four back in the First Age.”

You nodded, “Yup, they were vintage back when I had one, now they’re impossible to find. But we were drowning in them back then. Easy to gift out to each of us.”

Dwalin chuckled, “No doubt.”

Even with his scruples and objections against it you truly were adorable on it. And it was far safer to drive than what Mal had. “Just try not to test the winds with it.”

“No I know, it’s a fair weather transport, so other days back to hoofing it. But once these winds pass by road is mine.” Making him chuckle and grin down at you in your grin up at him.

Frerin parted your back, “For now, come on up, let’s get you some lunch.”

Lunch was called in and to the sound of the boys picking a film or show to watch Frerin showed you through the apartment. The two story modern marvel with mainly bright splashed of color on what used to be a mainly white background now with lively sea foam walls for the kitchen and living room. Frerin smirked along with Dwalin at your reaction while Thorin seemed to catch on that you weren’t fully comfortable with the modern style. Quickly your true impressions are masked and pleasantly you complimented things you passed and basic layouts and flows while the men distracted you with stories on items scattered about as well as more pictures.

Thorin however disappeared while Frerin showed you his room that was kept to its original color. “And thankfully Thorin didn’t go crazy and choose a color for my room as well. Can’t sleep with too much color around me unless it works flawlessly.” You nodded and he said in your glance up at him, “But don’t worry, I’ve seen your sketches for your rooms and I would love to stay in one of your guest rooms when they’re completed. Most likely the blue and orange one. It’s got a different vibe than the others. I like it the most.” The compliment made you smirk to yourself.

Fili and Kili showed up while you giggled passing Thorin’s room, which sounded like he was stashing things in his drawers to show an office on the end of the floor, “Not much room for a library but this will do for now.”

You looked at him, “For now?”

Frerin nodded, “Thinking about a house maybe. Who knows, I might find a little cave to call my own, the lads keep talking about trying to bunk on with Mal.”

“Not much room there,” you said making him chuckle.

Fili and Kili both said, “We can shrink down our things.”

Dwalin nodded with Frerin sarcastically saying, “Sure you can.”

Thorin opened his door looking to you all exiting the office and said after clearing his throat, “All clear. Had to, find my blanket. And Roac left a mess.”

The Raven in question began to cry out, “I make no mess in your dresser or floor Thorin! And my pictures are all displayed with pride not hidden with coatings for your appendages!”

In a giggle you asked at his twitch of his brow looking you over, “Blame the Raven? Bad move.” He stepped back and you said, “Let’s see what you flinch at me approaching, Mug Dealer.” Making the others smirk in his deep breath while you passed to keep from sweeping over the room again.

Navy blue walls with cubbies and shelves coated with books and trinkets sat around a large Elven sword he said, “From my service.”

“Orcrist.”

He looked you over, “Of course you can read the runes.”

After a glance up at his you pointed to the hilt of the blade, “That’s my Gramps’ rune. On my Naneth’s Vanyar side. One of the best smiths they have.”

In an almost dreamy murmur he asked, “You know this one particularly?”

You nodded replying, “There’s a rune for Pear etched in the end of the hilt. I put it there. He always had me help out with etchings and leave my mark on each blade I touched. How’d you get it?”

“Found a crashed Elf ship. This was wedged behind a bookshelf. My superiors let me keep it.”

You giggled and said, “He always loved to hide. Almost didn’t make the shipment out. Kept rolling off the mounts and tables. Gramps’ll be glad to hear it wasn’t bartered off and had a good home. All but ten came home again after the wars.”

Dwalin pulled out his phone showing you a picture he found of a set of daggers, “Are these his as well?”

Looking at the image you said, “No, that would be by my Naneth’s cousin’s grandson. That’s a Noldor dagger set.”

Fili asked, “Are they rare?”

“Wartime Noldor daggers yes, they couldn’t make enough in time, and most would end up losing theirs. Although depending on the smith these now could fetch quite a staggering amount. I would have to see the hilt to see who touched them. Celebrimbor’s are rarer than Curufin’s, and Feanor’s are just everywhere but if they have ruby accents you could buy an island with what others are willing to fetch them.”

Dwalin said, “There’s no rubies, there is something that looks-,”

He switched pictures and showed you the rune on it making you giggle, “That’s Cleo’s rune, Celebrimbor’s daughter. Only worked on three pairs, he found the others. Impossibly rare. Why looking for a buyer?”

He shook his head, “No, merely curious. Is Cleo quite the Smith?”

“She’s better now than she was then. She was still a teen then.”

Frerin, “Is it some tradition to have daughters etch blades for battles?”

“Depends on how distracting the daughter could be.” Making them chuckle again.

The supply of books by his bead heavily centered around his tea love with one odd standout on Vanyar culture and traditions his eyes trailed to once you had already passed it. Up in his window ledge you turned to spot his budding sprouts in adorable little pots fashioned together like egg cartons. The whole feel of the room was different than the rest of their apartment, bulky hand carved bed and mattress set with plushy deep armchairs around a warped piece of a stump sanded, polished and waxed to be a table between them. Homey and welcoming comforting for guests and the resident of said space, with the only touches of modern being the hanging cube shelves hung in zigzags down the whole wall.

The doorbell saved him from trying to distract you from asking about the Expo pamphlet propped up in the one on the end. One that had ‘gotten misplaced’ but held onto as a memento for your trip, as if he didn’t already have the developed pictures you had taken of each other and yourselves together underneath the pamphlet to be constructed into a photo collage when he found or made the right display for it to add to his other pictures. The first of many he hoped with next year possibly trying for a repeat with you even if he had to buy three tickets in case Dwalin demanded to go again to make up for all he missed.

Food blended into giggle and laugh filled stories and lingered until Frerin’s phone rang and the boys got roped into planning for their flight the following night for the day of press away they hoped wouldn’t blend into two so they could be back to rest amply before the festival. Stealing a poke in Thorin’s side while he cleaned up he chuckled shifting to look you over as you peered up at him, “Guess I better go. Leave you to your relaxing, or sleep.”

“Well I can walk you down at least.”

Dwalin, already by the door flashed you a grin passing you your bag left there you shouldered saying, “I doubt Bilbo and my Sunflower are still off racing about Mal.”

Through the door he opened you passed to their lift down the hall asking, “So does Frodo get his own art room?”

The pair looked at you when the doors closed and Dwalin said, “He has a playroom. When he’s older we could set up an art station. Why?” A curious grin tugged across his lips.

Pulling out your phone you brought up a picture with the foam fold together mats over a taped down tarp for half a room with hung rolls of parchment secured by shelving units holding art supplies. The cubbies for the paper set up with clips and a sliding safe slicer to separate the paintings that could be hung to dry or display on tall zigzagging strings on a bare patch beside a chalkboard painted section of wall coated in scribbles and tries for possible abstract masterpieces. “Cirdan helped me set this up for my sisters. Just an idea if you wanted one. There’s a station for each of them, ample supplies kept in order and they can ‘paint the walls’ to their liking in their art room. Sculpting and such is on the other side of the room.”

You pocketed your phone again eyeing his awed grin in his saying, “That is an incredible idea. I might just borrow an idea or two, we do have a good sized room off Frodo’s, and it could be half Bilbo’s sketch room too. I could have a corner for my clay. Thank you.”

With a shrug you said missing Thorin’s seeping dopey grin to your side deepening Dwalin’s, “Well you’re all saying I should share my ideas.”

He nodded in Thorin’s head turning rumble of, “As you should. We value your input and ideas.”

Down you went and after hugging his cousin in a trade of jesting grumbles for him to make a move Thorin followed you to the bike section where he watched you brush back your bangs from your face to add your helmet. “Please drive safe.”

Locking your eyes on him you sighed and said, “I will. You try not to drive Roac crazy with your accusations.” Making the grump chuckle to himself and watch as you swung your leg over the dip in front of the seat to sit down. Turning the key left just a press of the ignition switch on the handlebar, “See you tomorrow, Mug Dealer.”

“See you tomorrow.” He rumbled back forcing his grin to hold watching you release the kickstands and turn the front wheel to start off again heading back down in the garage after Dwalin flashing only another wave his way he glumly returned, waiting until he couldn’t hear your scooter anymore to head back inside. Locked between the truth of how you did seem to enjoy the dangerously adorable vehicle that you had chosen and his fears of what could happen to you even in this very bike conscious city with ample securities set for bikers to claim for protection. All the same straight to his room he went to set out the picture frames of you he had hidden apologizing to Roac once again before claiming the pictures from your trip to lay down with recalling before bed how it felt to sleep with you behind him and for a brief snippet across his chest.

Nearly died down completely the winds now faintly floated by once you were parked at the store. You only had a couple days and parking in a mini spot in the specified section for bikes you palmed the key and left your bike still carrying your helmet you strapped to the strap of your bag on the stroll in. Endlessly the store stretched and after a momentary glance around you were off towards the cosmetics section. Basic makeup you had an ample supply of, but for the festival you needed something different. Through the aisles you walked eyeing the various things, grabbing a black glittery lipstick in the nearly empty display. Turning around you looked over what scarce supplies they had and walked around to the next aisle where you found the glittery face make up you wanted but not in the right shade. A sighing head drop backwards had your gaze falling on the box up on the shelf with the other so called ‘already full’ merchandise making you glance around and spot the curious lanky teen who came over to see if you needed help.

“Hi,” you said.

With a grin he replied brushing his hair from his face, “Need help reaching something?”

You nodded and pointed, “You have more golden glitter paint up there, could I have one, please?”

He nodded and you stepped aside allowing the seven foot easy going teen to simply reach up and shuffle the small boxes to bring down the gold one he held open letting you pick the one you wanted. “Thank you,” you said then turned to find a new set of brushes you didn’t need but now had an excuse to buy.

“No problem,” he said stocking the rest before turning to grin at the next Hobbit sized customer in search of some long arms.

Teal brush set in hand you made your way to the paint section. Peering up at the brushes again you claimed another set of thin flat brushes along with some pen like brushes with fine bristles. From the display of premade paint you claimed a small peach and shimmering silver set before heading to the registers. Somehow in what had felt to be an empty store you found the other shoppers all in line. Aimlessly looking around taking in tiny details until it was your turn to hoist your things up onto the belt then wait by the bags to be able to hand over the bills you pulled out. Two bags you made sure to ensure wouldn’t split later and you pocketed your change making your way back to your scooter.

Adding the makeup and brushed to your satchel you set the paint on the dip between your legs and for the ride home kept them from sliding around on you. The sudden scooter had your neighbors turning and grins spread among those on watch who sent out word the new addition to their mini town had transport now that rippled from house to house. Into your driveway you pulled and slowed allowing your driveway door to rise after a press of the key fob for it you had clipped to the rear view mirror mount at the store. Straight in a loop you slowly rode the scooter inside to park off to one side in your ridiculously large double car garage. Across the street while you parked and shut the scooter off the neighbor aiding Thorin approached with a grin growing as you exited the garage smiling at him in return curious of why he was coming over.

“Hello,”

“Hello,” you said then bounced on your toes making him chuckle as you said, “I bought a scooter.”

“Yes, it is quite stunning, glad to see you have some form of transport now. Nice and quiet too compared to some other models.” You nodded eagerly and he pointed to your door, “Thought I’d tell you, you had a delivery earlier.”

Turning your head your grin split wider in saying, “Ooh, my shelves!” Turning back you said, “Thank you.”

He shook his head, “Not a problem. And congratulations.” Parting waves came with your trot around the fence to unlock the door hanging up your satchel, bringing out the paint brushes you carried with the paint and the first of the two boxes larger than you that you carried into the garage soon to be joined by its twin. Leaving the door open those milling by could see your new wheels and wave as you assembled the shelf sets quite easily just leaving the backings to add.

Opening the paint cans however on the four across four high shelving set you started in the first row working down. The top and bottom of each cube with the strip between shelves was painted peach all the way down. In the next row the left and right sides were done in each with the strips between peach as well. For the third you were back to top and bottoms, finishing off the last with the sides again. A pattern you mirrored in the second before turning to the backings. Across the simple white backing you used the finer brushed to paint freehand vines spreading out with flowering bundles of stars.

With that same brush while the paint dried you carried the silver paint and brush over to your mailbox to add the finishing touch there. Diagonally you painted the rune for your last name on the side that had been sanded clean of the former clan’s name on the log shaped mailbox. The final touch spreading grins across the faces of your neighbors seeing you were settling in even more to your spacious abode. Brushes washed you double checked the paint then hammered on the backing and with the help of an eager trio of teens passing by the shelves were brought inside your sisters’ room to be the start of their storage system. Out they headed to finish their trip to their friends house complimenting you on the shelves and scooter. Flipping the switch for the garage to close you ensured the paint was sealed and set on the workbench built into the back wall beside the brushes.

From the store you got more ideas to add to your collection of notes for your book that by dinner you had finished writing down complete with sketches. With dishes put in the washer you ran your first full load and to the hum of the machine were off to bed once the locks were double checked. Buried nice and snuggly in your covers you were deep in sleep for a time, at least until midnight, when your eyes split open to the doorbell that halted Kuu’s latest song.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!” Brushing the covers back you huffed feeling your tank top falling around your hips over your shorts on the tiptoed trot to the front door grumbling all the way as your messy bun only drooped lower down your neck.

Under the lights of your lanterns once the door was cracked your brow twitched up at the eight foot silvery white Great Owl staring at you with amber eyes. “Hello,” you softly said in Vanyar tilting its head in looking you over.

“I heard singing.” The eyes shifted inside when Kuu had begun again and into your arm holding the door her head pressed in a step forward to enter your house, “That is not my mate,” once past you her head turned around as you closed the door again triggering her to turn her body around to ask, “Have you seen my mate?”

“I,” instantly it clicked in your head and you asked, “His name wouldn’t be Hector, would it?”

Instantly her feathers puffed up and she shivered excitedly, “You know my mate! Where is he? I have been searching. We lost our nest, we must nest again soon. We have no time.”

“Well, um, let me get something and I’ll be back, you can talk to him.” Stepping around her she moved as you did following you to your bedroom inspecting everything along the way while you grabbed your phone and dialed the Aviary’s direct office line. Lifting it to your ear you guided her back out to the dining room where you set the laptop on the table readying it for a video chat, “Hey Drued, ya I understand it’s late.”

“Is something wrong with your owl?” Your eyes shifted to the owl holding her head closer to your phone to listen in to the odd device making her let out an awkward croak.

The sound halted Kuu’s song and curiously he tapped on Belly’s house to wake him starting their path to inspect the house. “No, but I need to talk to Hector.”

“At this hour?! You know he has a schedule!”

“Yes, but his mate showed up at my door.”

“His-,” a moment he paused then said, “I’ll set up the video chat, hold on.”

“Yup,” Turning on your seat to the sound of ruffling feathers you found Kuu eyeing the larger owl now turning to look him over while Belly flew to your shoulder. “Guys, this is Hector’s mate. I’m getting him on a call now,”

The phone had been left on hold but a bloop from your laptop had heads turning to it post mini argument Hector surely had given. A few circling dots and you tapped accept on the call and waved to Drued, the man who said, “Hey Jaqi,” Though his eyes shifted to Belly in his own wing stretching moment to wake up some more before seeing the duo of owls both coming into view.

Through the screen Hector came into focus and the mates chirped and croaked awkwardly in a happy joint ruffle of feathers to be partly together again while you stroked Kuu’s head and said, “I’ll make you some peas.”

He hurried to fetch his bowl and came back to hear all he had missed, though once caught up you heard your name again on the laptop, “Jaqi?”

Back to her side you went in her irritated huff at the conversation being halted, “Ya?”

“I just got off the phone with the big bosses and it seems they want me to load up Hector to bring him over. Now I know Beryl is a drive-,”

“I moved, sorry, meant to update the address,”

“Ah, closer or farther way?”

“Cerulean Circle, not too far from the Aviary.”

Giving him the full address his grin eased out and said, “Shouldn’t take more than an hour to get him out there to see her, if you can keep her calm till then.”

Over your shoulder however you watched her turn and mumble, “I shall ready and locate a nest.”

“Nest?” you repeated as she left the room to explore the house.

Drued asked, “What, what did she say?”

Looking to him you said, “She said she’s looking for a nest.”

“Do you have space for a Great Owl nest?”

“I, don’t know. I mean I have space, I just don’t know where she would pick to nest.”

Kuu joined her saying, “I shall aid in her choosing.”

You rolled your eyes and said, “Just, do what you can, I’ll keep her busy here.”

He nodded and wet his lips, “One more thing, you never mentioned you had a Zebra Striped Raven.”

“I told you about-,”

“Your raven, yes, but not a Zebra Striped one.”

“Is that, a problem? I have him registered-.”

“No, in fact, we have one here, Darling, she’s no doubt older than him. Only, she’s refused to mate with any of our other males we’ve brought her that weren’t striped and she’s recently stopped flying.”

“Oh that’s bad.”

He nodded, “Usually means they’ve given up on surviving from loneliness. Would you mind if we bring her?”

“No, I mean if it’ll help her perk up, to stay or just a visit?”

“Well hopefully they would hit it off and she could stay to nest. Though, she won’t go anywhere without her adopted sister. Dot.”

“Ok,”

“She’s got freckled wings and tail feathers and is just as stubborn as they come for mates.”

Belly again was at you side on the table and cocking his head, “Mates?”

His golden speckled green eyes landed on you and you said with a grin, “They have a Zebra Striped Raven at the Aviary, her name is Darling. They’re asking if you would want to meet her?” Instantly his feathers ruffled in excitement and you added, “She would only travel with her adopted sister though, Dot, so there would be two new friends for you. The sister has freckled wings and tail feathers.”

In a glance around Belly replied, “We could ask over Roac no doubt he could bond with Dot.”

Drued asked, “Roac?”

Belly delved into Roac’s qualities Thorin had shared with him and chuckling at the bird matchmaking service Drued had to end the call to help ready the trio coming over. With another wiggle on his feet he flew off, “I shall ready my nest!”

Shaking your head you grumbled and lifted your phone to make a call.

Pt 24

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shesakillerkween

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

#Thorin x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr #Frerin #Dwalin

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deepsubmission · 5 years

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Healers - Part 1.0 (The Chase)

I’m not a writer, but this came to me in a dream. I’ve transcribed it to the best of my ability. There are 6 or 7 parts so far.

An eyeful of dreams rotated from forefront to behind, though still at the surface of my mind. A thick blur blanketed the morning as I struggled to awaken. This would be the filter of the day. A hazy washout glazing my vision, graying out clarity between what is and what isn’t. A part of me has stayed behind, refusing to engage in the physical world and the reaction to it by my senses. I pause now, unsure if I have just awakened or haven’t slept at all. Or if I’m still asleep.

The over-sized carport opens up into a covered breezeway to the lodge. The floor is covered in large square tiles made of limestone and separated by wooden planks in a grid pattern. The walls are made from cedar planks, generous windows on the sides. Looking behind me, there is no wall. An opening, three cars wide to allow anything to come or go.

There is no driveway, just a long road that goes nowhere. Except here. Mammoth sequoias line the road. Only ferns and broad leafed foliage can collect enough sun to survive underneath them.

It seems we’re running. I’m driving fast and paranoid from the danger presumably pursuing us from the bullfight.

***

Ernesto’s glory days were behind him, that’s for sure. The formerly great matador still carried himself with pomp and swagger. His black and silver sequined outfit demanded it, and he was more than eager to deliver on it. The wall had been removed from the ring today. I sat in the front row with Lacy. She looked pretty and well kept as always and was dressed in a nice pair of navy shorts, a preppy white blouse, and some expensive sandals. She looked older than I remembered. And somehow friendlier. The crowd was sparse, as is usually the case for a matinee. Ernesto strutted over to me before the show was to begin and wedged himself between Lacy and me. He was looking at me and then whispered into my ear. Inappropriately close and almost intimate, like a lover might. His breath was rancid and I was glad when he stood up and stepped away. He laughed loud enough for everyone to hear, making a show of the fact that he thought he had just told me something of great amusement. “He is so disgusting,” Lacy whispered.

“Yea, you’re not the one who had to smell his breath.”

I felt a pinch on my ear. “Amigo.” Long pause. “Show some respect,” came the slow Spanish accented voice from behind me. “Who the fuck are you, huh? HUH?”

Lacy’s eyes were bigger than normal which is really saying a lot, as her eyes always were big and beautiful. One of about a hundred reasons that I was secretly in love with her. I was more annoyed than afraid. I pulled my head slowly away to release the fingers that held me. I turned and looked. There were three men, all of them with dreadful stares. The man directly behind me was dirty and unkept with dark hair draped loosely over his eyes, the other two with lighter hair, thinner and taller, and less Spanish looking then their counterpart. They carried solemn, serious faces and looked hard into me in a way that I could almost feel something actual and physical penetrating my body.

I looked them down, stood and took Lacy’s hand. “C’mon.”

We exited slowly up the steps. The stares felt like burns in my back. When we reached the concession area there was a big group of men dressed in old football uniforms with leather helmets. The place was open and uncovered, but presumably fenced in somewhere beyond my view. I realized that I didn’t remember coming in. A group of several dozen people were chanting “Hold that line” and the chants grew louder as their number grew. Today was the day the coach would be making his final cuts. There were wooden folding chairs in a line, apparently one designated for each player. I was asked to light them all on fire at the bottoms of the legs “To the best of your ability, don’t spare a single one,” the coach said to me. I nodded my head and did as he asked. It took only about a minute for all the chairs to become completely engulfed in orange fire, as the wood was porous and very flammable. Lacy tugged at my arm indicating it was time to go. Someone wanted us out of there. I was oblivious, but she knew. I turned and saw a posse forming at the portal to the ring. The three men were yelling to each other and to the others that had gathered, everyone’s heads careening around hastily trying to spot us.

“Whoa, wait a minute. We’re not leaving. I haven’t done anything and I’m damn sure not in the mood for running away.”

“A, there might be more happening than you know here,” she said in a curt, cautious tone. “More than you might recollect or understand.”

I let a nervous “ha” slip from my mouth. But settling down on me was a familiar realization, the one you get when you’ve been found out. I’ve had it more often than I’m proud to admit. The hair on my neck stood stiff like hackles, they were coming for me.

We walked briskly, staying roughly on a line to an exit that kept the fire between us and the portal, hoping that it would block their view. When we got out the door Lacy ran top speed to the car, which was an amusing sight for my normally proper and calm friend.

We had left the top down on the old, white Carerra and both of us leaped over our doors into the car. I thought us inconspicuous but for the loud engine, and didn’t see anyone following from behind. To the right was a covered walkway separating two parking lots, which I presumed was used during the rains. I had heard people talk about the sudden storms and floods here, but it was always arid and dusty whenever I had visited.

As we approached the end of the walkway, a red Bronco pulled out from behind it and turned to face us. I braked and saw the dark haired guy from the arena behind the wheel, one of his sandy haired companions in the passenger seat. We made eye contact and I heard his motor rev. At the same time, instinctively, I threw the car into reverse and flew backward a few hundred feet and turned hard into an perpendicular aisle, almost losing control. There was not enough time to make an attempt at going forward, as the Bronco was nearly on our front bumper. I kept flooring it in reverse, the engine whining hard and made another fierce turn at the next aisle. In just a split second I was able to throw it into first and spin out forward, the Bronco just missing slamming into the side of us as it spun around the turn close behind. I heard a crashing sound and in my rear view mirror saw that they had clipped a couple parked cars making their turn. I focused, gripping the wheel with clenched hands, made a few quick rights and lefts, darting in and out of rows of cars. With Lacy bouncing and swaying in her adjacent bucket seat, we made it to the exit and cut hard right onto the main road, spinning wheels as I threw it into second gear.

I floored it and quickly put some distance between us and our pursuers. But just ahead there was some traffic coming up and cars stacked about five deep in front of a red light. There was no oncoming traffic, so I swerved into the oncoming lane and looked frantically both ways and then darted left at the traffic signal through the red light just between two cars. I almost hit the one that I squeezed in front of and the driver laid on the horn. I felt sweat on my chest and looked back to see the Bronco stopped at the light, but forcing its way through, lots of cars stopping and starting, all of them honking at them.

I floored the Carerra again and quickly got it up to about 90, which was pretty fast for a commercial area. Thankfully there were not many cars around. Lacy held her hands in tight fists raised just above her thighs and I could see that she was shaking. I thought of saying something light hearted, but didn’t. The exit ramp to the freeway was just ahead and a swerved around the car in my adjacent lane and took it. I had put maybe a quarter mile of space ahead of the Bronco and pushed the car faster. On the freeway I got up to 130 without much trouble. Within five minutes I couldn’t see them at all.

“Any one of these exits can get us to the woods,” Lacy said flatly. We were headed north, desert all around except to the west, where there were tree lines and hills in the distance. I took the next off ramp and left under the bridge onto a two lane road. The road was dead straight, presumably a straight shot into the trees. I drove fast, but not at an unreasonable pace, the sun dropping in front of us just left of center.

At the entrance through the line of trees, the forest swallowed us immediately. The road seemed to turn old, there were no signs, no lines on the cracking pavement. The Carerra was reasonably equipped to handle the narrow and winding roads through this mature forest. I should have been nervous, but I felt a calm certainty in my body and soon forgot about our pursuers. The top was down on this warm, comfortable day but I looked up to see almost no sky at all. Just late afternoon light flickering through the giant trees. A thought passed my mind that there are mini ecosystems high up in those branches. Evolved species that live hundreds of feet up in the air, never to touch solid ground. Rodents and bugs and other plants that grow out of the over sized branches. My next thought was how I would be able to navigate without being able to see the stars tonight. This is how the mind of a runaway operates. Curious, creative at times, and always looking for exit signs.

“Left ahead,” she said, breaking my thoughts. I nodded and followed her directions. These were her woods, not mine.

“Protectors, Athan. They’ve watched your every step. They guard and defend without care as to who is right or wrong. I know you know this, but you’re acting like you don’t. You have to be careful. You’ve got to keep your distance no matter how tempted you are.”

I sighed as a flood of memories rose like flood waters in me. Unwanted, invasive, inescapable memories. “God dammit.” I felt betrayed. I wanted to fight, to kill. But the numbers were stacked against me, not to mention otherworldly forces they wield. A band of brothers designed to protect the deity I left behind. I had been allowed in, ushered in, actually. Allowed to be loved and to love back. It was real, all of it real, and then somehow it went horrendously wrong. There were a thousand ways to blame myself, and yet another thousand to blame. Looking back, I could see now that everywhere there was a guardian. In the woods a vulture and black wolf, in the castle a host of magicians and dragons. All kinds of defense mechanisms, alter beings designed to force me into a mold or to force me out. I left willingly without a word. Maybe that was not acceptable.

***

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avengers-nextgen · 6 years

Text

Prometheus I

Enzo was waiting excitedly in the hangar. They’d gotten word that Thalia was on her way home with some people she wanted him to meet. He didn’t know who exactly, but he was eager to find out.

“You have been in here for hours!” James called down at him from the overhead scaffolding. “How are you not bored?”

“I’m excited. What if they’re really cool?” Enzo smiled, rocking back and forth on his heels. James rolled his eyes and smiled-Enzo was a piece of work.

After nearly another hour the hangar doors creaked open sending sharp rays of sunlight leaking in. Enzo let out a cheer of excitement, jumping up and down before running to greet the jet. The ramp lowered slowly, and it had barely completed its decent before Enzo was sprinting inside of it.

James watched expectantly until Thalia emerged holding Enzo in a bear hug. Her laugh was loud and boisterous much to his amusement, and Enzo was already rattling off series’ of questions. “If it isn’t the warrior herself, Thalia Odin.”

“Hello James!” Tucking Enzo under one arm Thalia waved happily at the older boy. “You look wonderful!”

“You too,” James snorted. Thalia had slimmed slightly, and she looked like she was made purely of lithe muscle. He watched in amazement as a few others hesitantly exited the jet, but they looked out of sorts. An odd group of people that James wouldn’t have pegged as Asgardians.

“Tell me everything,” Enzo insisted, tugging on his cousin’s arm, “all the details.”

“So, this is your youngest cousin?” Enzo looked over at a tan skinned woman who watched him with an expression of amusement. “Nothing like his father that’s for sure.”

“I like to think I have his better qualities,” Enzo informed her with a sly smirk.

“I love him. He’s mine. Sif, can I keep him?” Valkyrie ruffled Enzo’s hair affectionately. “Sif?”

James glanced over his shoulder to see Thor standing frozen in place with his eyes wide, mouth open, and eyebrows arched in disbelief. “Uh...you good?”

“Oh, oh yeah.” Thalia mumbled, “maybe should have warned dad about us coming by.”

“Hey uncle! Look at this!” Enzo cluelessly gestured to everyone. “It’s so cool! There’s so many of us.”

“Yes...I-well, I can see that.” Thor forced a smile. James gave Thalia a questioning look, and she made it clear now was not the appropriate time to explain. “For now, maybe we should get everyone settled.”

“Good idea.” Enzo decided as he ran off to find rooms for the visitors.

— — —

Alex was stuck on the treadmill for her physical testing of the month. Wires hung all over like a web, suction cups kept them in place, a mask measured oxygen intake, it also measured carbon output, a heart monitor was strapped to her chest, and she was determined to beat her old records.

“Bump it,” Alex breathed. One of the on hand doctors pushed the speed button bringing it down to 4:30 mile pace. She matched the acceleration with a bit of effort, trying to keep her arm swing normal, and her knee drive high.

Everything was going great until the Med Bay doors slid open. In an instant Alex ripped off all monitoring devices, wires, and timers to greet her friends. Sprinting to the entrance Alex tackled Nathaniel and Piper in a hug.

“Nice to see you too,” Nathaniel laughed.

“I didn’t know you guys were coming back.” Alex smiled giddily like a little kid.

“Turns out we had the same flight home,” Piper laughed, “I feel a bit bad for the flight attendants.”

“How is everything? What’s been going on?” Nathaniel held up a polite hand before Alex could ask anymore questions.

“I will tell you everything once I unpack,” Nathaniel gave the sweaty girl a quick hug before racing off to his long missed room.

“Never have I seen him run so fast,” Piper teased, watching him go.

“Only for doughnuts and juice.” Alex remarked. Both girls laughed and Piper slung an arm around her friend. “So, did you sort things out?”

“About what?” Piper asked in confusion.

“You know, you and Gen.” Alex shrugged.

“Oh, yeah...that.” Piper sucked in a sharp breath. “Not exactly. I think we both kind of pretended it didn’t happen.”

“Piper Stark!” Alex smacked her friend’s arm causing the other girl to wince. “You did not.”

“Well I didn’t know what to say,” Piper admitted, her cheeks turning a faint pink, “I mean it’s not like I can just say ‘thanks, that was great. See you at school.’”

“Well of course you can’t say that.” Alex chuckled. “Oh Piper, how I’ve missed your unfortunate antics and life crises.”

“Don’t patronize me you little shit,” Piper snorted, only to be playfully shoved in return.

— — —

The place was abuzz with excitement. Penny and Enzo were doing their best to get stories out of everyone. They took an immediate liking to Valkyrie and her theatrics. Chloe was secretly trying to scribble all of it down into one of her notebooks.

Arthur was more intrigued by Piper’s travels. He liked learning about other cultures and he’d never been able to experience much of them on his own. Not to mention it seemed like Piper had some pretty crazy adventures to share.

“Yeah, so apparently I have a niece,” Nathaniel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Awe, come here.” Nat tugged him into a hug and kissed the top of his head. “You’ve got family here too, don’t worry too much about it.”

“I know,” Nathaniel nodded and smiled. Steve gave him a few words of wisdom before James came to tackle his long time friend. “Hey, dude. What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” James grinned, “you look tired as hell.”

“Jet lag.” Nathaniel winced.

“I bet.” James nodded.

Fox watched from the shadows like usual. She didn’t know any of them really, hadn’t bothered to get to know them, and when she had interacted with the group it’d been as an enemy. Still, it was good to see such excitement. It livened up the sulking place a bit, but she was sad. She’d never had that sort of reunion with any of her friends and family.

“Hey, I got snacks. You want any?” Enzo asked, with a cheese stick stuffed in one cheek. He held up a platter of assorted packages.

“I’m good, thank you though.” Fox pressed her lips into a thin line.

“No problem.” Enzo smiled and bounded off.

— — —

Around lunchtime Bucky called in with good news. He and Bianca were heading back home. It was strange seeing Bianca so lively and involved with the festivities, but Bucky said their mission had been fruitful.

Bianca set out a series of folders on the coffee table. With careful hands she rearranged the contents, and with a satisfied nod she stepped back. “That’s my mother right there.”

Bianca pointed enthusiastically at a picture. The woman was charming with straight brown hair the color of damp soil, her smile reached her eyes, and she looked young and full of life.

“She’s so pretty,” Nathaniel smiled. “Hang on, look at me.”

Bianca did as she was told, and the older boy studied her face with an intense scrutiny. “What?”

“You have her nose.” Nathaniel decided.

“And those glorious eyebrows,” Penny added.

“You think so?”

“Totally,” James nodded, “what’s her name?”

“Olivia Jackson,” Bianca said the name with a tone of affection. “She’s incredible. She used to renovate homes in places like Mexico for poor families.”

“How does a generous person like her end up with such bad people?” Alex asked sadly.

“She has a friend, she’s no longer alive I’ve been told-I suspect foul play- but her friend was having trouble conceiving. My mother offered to help, but...it wasn’t what she thought. At least the surrogate aspect of it. M.A.D used her contacts as a ploy.” Bianca chewed anxiously on her bottom lip.

“I can’t believe it,” Piper’s eyes looked sadly at Bianca, “why do good people get screwed over?”

“I don’t know, but before she died she wrote this.” Bianca gingerly picked up a piece of paper. A careful cursive was scrawled across the lines. “I hope one day you learn the truth about all of this. About me, about yourself, and I hope you do not hate me. Whatever the circumstances, no matter how I felt at the time, you’re still mine. It’s hard not to get attached to something you’ve loved and waited to hold for months. While this isn’t what I planned, or had in mind, I am your mother. Please, don’t lose your humanity to these people. You’re far too precious. Love, Mom.”

“That’s amazing Bianca,” Alex whispered giving the girl’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, “she’d be more than proud of you.”

“I hope so,” Bianca smiled.

— — —

The group of kids spent the rest of the evening looking through the documents with Bianca. Occasionally, Bucky joined in and explained a riveting detail of their journey.

From the parents’ perspective it was nice to see them all invested in one another. So caring, kind, and loved. They really were a small family in and of itself.

A buzz from Tony’s phone caught his attention. “Well I’ll be damned, if this day isn’t any luckier already.”

“What is it?” Pepper frowned, peeking over his shoulder.

“Little Scouty is on his way home.” Tony laughed. “Look at Wanda. What a dork.”

“Let me see!” Steve begged. Sure enough Wanda had taken a picture of Scout and Vision passed out in the rental car. “Awe.”

“He’s going to be mad when he realizes he wrinkled his book pages,” Nat noted slyly.

“We cross that bridge when we get there!” Tony scoffed in fake irritation.

While the kids had their own reunion the parents did as well. Wanda-the baby of the group-was greeted excitedly by everyone. Scout, shuffled into the room looking half asleep still, but he was woken up soon after by bone crushing hugs. “Hey guys.”

“The news has been showing clips,” Alex rambled, “sounds like you guys were doing some awesome work.”

“Awesome, maybe.” Scout shrugged, “it’s a bit gruesome if I’m honest. Definitely a reality shock.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t think of anyone better for the job. I can’t imagine how many people must be thankful for you guys stepping in to help.” James clapped his friend on the shoulder. “It makes me proud.”

“Someone is awfully sappy today,” Piper joked, “good to see you Maximoff.”

“Likewise, Stark.” Scout nodded, “who else has come home?”

James patiently explained everything he’d learned in an attempt to get Scout up to speed. The boy took everything in with ease and shifted through it with little effort at all. “Did you get all that?”

“Yes, of course,” Scout smirked, “did you forget about my wit James?”

“Not a chance!”

— — —

Grand entrances were part of the Quill family tradition. Hence the loud music blasting from a ship descending into the hangar with Orion jamming out on the open ramp. “Thunder! Oh wha oh wha oh oh. Thunder!”

“AC/DC!” Piper cheered.

“Not surprised at all.” James laughed, too relaxed to avoid joining in on Piper’s spontaneous dance party. Soon the entire hangar room was full of dancing teenagers, and even Chloe was dancing though Arthur held her hands and made her participate.

“Fireworks!” Orion yelled pressing a button on some sort of hand held remote. Sparklers exploded from the sides of the ship, and he leapt down onto the hangar ground with his arms open as if to say ‘I have arrived’. “Confetti!”

“Oh my god!” Penny laughed hysterically. “I love this man!”

“Ladies and gentlemen I have returned,” Orion took a cocky little bow, flourishing his arms, “the fun can officially begin.”

It only took a sly little wink from Orion to have Scout tackle him in a hug. “It’s good to see you!”

“Like wise!” Orion shouted over the music. “I see the squad is back together?”

“More or less,” Scout nodded. A lull in conversation followed with both boys trying not to stare at one another. “This is really awkward.”

“You think?” Orion laughed.

“Well yeah. That’s why I said it!”

“You dork,” Orion rolled his eyes before grabbing the sides of Scout’s face, “you need to learn to stop thinking.”

“That’s literally imposi-“Orion pressed his lips against Scout’s forcing him to shut up. “-ble. Did you just kiss me?”

“Yeah!” Orion nodded.

Disgusting...do it again.” Scout decided.

“OH MY GOD! YES!” Enzo ran excitedly in place. He dissolved into a yelling mess and told anyone he could that they were kissing. Of course, everyone had already noticed by now. (End of Part I Part one 😂)

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ecotone99 · 4 years

Text

[FA] [UR] The Idol - Episode 1 of Eternal Payment Serial Season 2

pdf link at the bottom for whoever wants to download.

The tires screeched and slid violently around on the asphalt. I spun the steering wheel hard to the left to avoid a dumpster and make the turn down a side street. The last thing I needed to do was make a wrong turn and end up in a cul-de-sac or a dead-end or something. Getting cornered with a pack of pissed off warlocks on my tail would be bad news. “I hate this city,” I murmured to myself and stomped on my car’s gas pedal.

Technically it wasn’t my car. It was Jonathan’s black Impala, but he had been missing since we took down my witch of an aunt. I meant that literally. My aunt was a witch, not the devious and evil kind, but the blast you with spells kind. Actually, thinking about it, she was totally the devious and evil kind too. Either way, Jonathan was an angel, but him being probably the worst angel ever created, he spent more time in trouble up in the heavens than down here, so I stole his car.

I felt a little guilty about some of the extra dings and scratches that had appeared since he left, but I needed the wheels. Besides, that part of my guilty conscience was in the minor leagues compared to some of my other character flaws.

A big gray SUV made the corner I had just pulled away from. It didn’t have the turning radius the Impala had and had plowed into the dumpster sideways. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw the whole passenger-side door dented and scratched up. “That’ll probably make them so much happier with me,” I mumbled again.

This dialogue wasn’t just because I was batshit crazy. I mean, I was crazy, being held hostage in Hell for a few months did that to a person, but I was used to having conversations with myself before that. I had a demon sharing my head with me. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Beth. They’re gaining on you. Let me out,” I said although the words came from my demon.

“Shut up,” I growled and spun the Impala to the right and down another side street to break my pursuer’s line of sight.

A second car packed full of angry warlocks waited for me on this street. Somehow they had managed to flank me. I briefly wondered how many red lights they had blown through to get far enough ahead of me to make the turns needed to face me down here. This one wasn’t an SUV. It was a BMW with a sunroof which it opened as the driver floored the car in my direction. The street wasn’t wide enough to go around them. They were trying to box me in.

Instead of playing chicken, I threw the manual transmission in reverse and pumped the clutch down and up as my other foot slammed down onto the gas. Pumping the clutch that fast should have killed the engine easily, but the reason I liked Jonathan’s Impala so much is that he had somehow managed to enchant the thing never to die, oh, and it only needed gas every six months or so. The angel was an idiot most of the time, which got him into some major league hot water, but occasionally he had a good idea.

The BMW kept coming at me, and a warlock popped his head up from the sunroof and started waving his hands in some mystical gestures that were sure to make me have a terrible day. Since I hadn’t made it very far down the street, I rolled down the passenger side window and ripped the wheel around to the right while still moving backward. The twist put me into a backslide to the left.

The SUV with the busted door appeared in my rearview mirror again, and it was getting way too close for comfort. The ninety-degree reverse turn put me going in the right direction on the previous street and lined up a shot through my lowered passenger window towards the oncoming BMW. I picked up my bright blue painted sub-compact pistol and fired three rounds at the BMW’s tires.

I slammed the Impala back into first and then just as quickly shifted up to second and third as I tore off. I didn’t stick around to see if I had hit my target on the BMW. I knew I did. Those bullets were super expensive because of the enchantments on them. They didn’t miss whatever target the shooter desired as long as there was even a slim possibility they could hit. They were my lucky rounds. I only had a few more, but they were worth the price. I always kept a magazine of them on hand for just this kind of situation. This kind of situation seemed to happen a lot more to me than I thought was fair.

“Well, you do put yourself into these predicaments — no one to blame but yourself. Let me out, and I’ll get you out of it,” my demon suggested.

“I thought I told you to shut your trap.”

The SUV was still on my back bumper. I had to do something about that, but I couldn’t risk knocking my ride out of the fight either. This pack of warlocks had more resources out there, and I couldn’t afford to get caught with my pants down in the Atlanta suburbs. The car was the best chance I had to get out of town undetected. That was the glory of the city; there were a whole bunch of small highways into and out of town. I just needed to get to the loop and out of these stupid suburbs.

The windows on the SUV lowered, and rifle barrels poked out. “Oh, shit.”

“I can’t let you die. I’m in here too, remember. Let me out. I’ll take these assholes,” the demon pleaded.

“Not a chance,” I replied and kicked the Impala into a series of swerves as the warlocks opened up with the rifles. I heard several dings of the jerks putting holes in my back bumper and trunk.

“But Beth,” it said, this time mentally since I was concentrating on driving too hard to speak.

I turned out onto a two-lane street with a grass median in the middle. I hopped the curb and went over the median. There were a few cars on the other side, and I knew if they kept their speed, I’d be fine, but the SUV would lose momentum going around them. The curb cut my speed, and the suspension groaned, but the plan worked. The SUV had to drive in the grassy middle for three seconds more before they found an opening and cut over to me. Those seconds gave me enough time to weave back into traffic going the wrong way.

Horns blared at me, and I saw a pair of police cars idling at a gas station. Both kicked their lights on and came to life as I passed. I knew this main road would take me straight to the highway, but I wouldn’t make it with both the police and the warlocks on my ass. I had to figure something else out.

I weaved around a sedan and flew through a red light going the wrong way. Luckily it wasn’t a super busy intersection, and I made it. However, the police noticed my pursuing SUV still had its rifle barrels pointed in my direction. The police shouted over their loudspeaker, ordering the SUV to pull over. Of course, the warlocks ignored it and kept firing at me.

I turned and cut across a gravel parking lot and hopped another curb. The SUV attempted to follow me, but one of the police cars decided they had enough of the gunfire and tapped the SUV’s rear right fender just as it hit the gravel. It spun out and caught an abnormally large rock which kicked up and put a hole in the police car’s windshield. I grimaced, hoping they were alright. The SUV couldn’t correct its spin in time and overcompensated. The momentum carried it up and over its side, and it slid on its driver’s side about fifty feet, digging a deep furrow into the parking lot. The second police car pulled up next to it, and I lost sight of them as I continued.

I heard the third vehicle before I saw it. That was because it was roaring like my demon trying to claw its way out. Flares of green light splattered on the street in front of my car. They immediately dug deep potholes as an acid ate away at the asphalt. The car then came out of a side street and pulled up beside me, matching my speed.

One of the warlocks leaned out the window. “Give us back the idol,” he screamed over the wind. I flipped him the bird and smiled. “Have it your way,” he said and fired one of the acidic green blobs at the Impala. I figured he would do something like that. People don’t tend to take kindly to rude gestures after you’ve stolen something from them. Besides, that idol was locked in the trunk. How did he figure I would give it back to him even if I wanted to. I definitely wasn’t going to pull over and hand it to them. The whole stupid group would probably chop me into pieces.

The acid blob sailed clear over the top of my hood as I slammed both of my feet on the brake pedal. I had made it to my getaway spot. Maybe that wasn’t the right word. It was more of a hideaway or a bolt hole. It was a small pocket dimension I had set up the day before, just in case I needed to keep a low profile on my way out of town. There was a tear, in reality, one block east of here. It was only detectable by practitioners, but even though they could sense it, they couldn’t open it without the pendant I had used to create it. In a way, it was locked. Lucky me, I had the foresight to put the entrance and exit in different locations, so even if they monitored this one, they wouldn’t see me come out. The exit was right next to an entrance ramp to the highway out of town.

I cranked the wheel around and fished the pendant out of the glove box. With a word and a slight push of power, I opened the dimension, and the Impala sailed inside. I stopped the car and closed the opening before the warlocks could follow me in. Using my power left me slightly nauseous. My demon tried to force itself out every single time my mental defenses weakened, and using my power to open and close the portal definitely weakened my defenses, at least momentarily.

My aunt, Katarina Glostiva, was a nasty piece of work. Although she wasn’t able to cause any more trouble now, I was still dealing with the fallout of her insanity and ambition. I would be dealing with it for the rest of my life. Auntie Kat, in all her infinite wisdom, decided to trap a demon, but she didn’t have any vessel handy to hold onto it. So she used me instead. When I figured out what was happening to me, naturally, I went ape shit. We had a huge argument where I demanded she banish the demon and that I never wanted it. I had asked auntie Kat for power like hers back when I was young enough and naive enough not to understand how that power came to be. She took that as consent even years later when I was in college.

Most people got pretty regular college experiences like hating boring classes, going to a couple of parties, and getting way too trashed on some disgusting punch. I didn’t have anything like that kind of luck. My best friend, Violet, tried to get me to open up and share some of the baggage I had carried around, but when I told her, she couldn’t relate. Auntie Kat wasn’t someone an average person could comprehend. Don’t get me wrong, Violet had thought I was crazy for a good while there, but after I showed her some of the cool magic I could do, her demeanor changed.

College had started to work out my sophomore year. I did the whole party thing that my classmates had gotten out of their system the year before, and Violet had decided on a journalism major. She had been spurred on by her eagerness to learn all about the magical underbelly of society. Just as I was getting into the swing of things for the first time in my life- and right when I had my back turned- Katarina enspelled my mind and scrambled my brain before dumping me in prison in Hell. She had wanted the demon to finish me off, and then it could have complete control of my body. Her plans changed with the shifting winds, and when she saw an opportunity, she sent Jonathan to break me out and tried to repair our relationship so she could continue to manipulate me. It didn’t take, but now I was picking up the pieces.

I got my defenses back under control just in time as my phone rang. I wasn’t on the material plane. That meant if my phone were ringing, it would have to have been someone calling who could send me a message even here. That could only be a few people. “Beth Rastin, speaking,” I said as I picked up the line.

“Beth,” the voice said, smooth as silk on the other end of the line. “I assume you have the idol?”

“Yeah. I just picked it up. Where would you like me to deliver it?” I asked. The person on the other side was not one to keep waiting, and the sooner I got rid of the thing, the better off I’d feel. There was sickening dark magic emanating from it so strong I could feel it from the front seat. The warlocks used it to conduct their more advanced magics. It was the kind of rituals that a person couldn’t manage by themselves. Somehow over a few decades, the idol had become stained with the residual magic from uncountable spells.

“It is a dark artifact. I will secure it once it is cleansed. I’ll text you the address,” Patterson said.

“How big of a deal is this idol anyway?” I asked.

“It’s not that important. It was more useful because it scrambled the warlock’s bigger workings. It should slow them down enough for us to get a squad over there to lock down any nefarious plans they’ve got,” the angel replied.

“You’re angels. Why can’t you go immediately?”

Patterson scoffed on the other end of the line. “We’ve got a million cases piling up that outclass this one. It would have been a bigger problem if the warlocks kept the idol, but now we can afford to let it ride a little longer while the teams take care of the more dangerous and pressing matters.”

“I bet you and Jonathan could have taken care of it,” I said. I knew it was mean, but I was tired, and my demon loved it when I was exhausted. It got to force a little of its vileness through the cracks in my defenses.

“I’m stuck working the phones and riding the desk, and you know it, Beth,” Patterson said. I had hoped she would slip up and mention something useful after the jab, but she was careful as always.

“Are you bringing a kit, or do you want me to pick one up?” I asked. Patterson was Jonathan’s old partner, and even though I could tell she knew exactly what was going on with him up in heaven, she refused to tell me anything. That had put a severe strain on our relationship. She didn’t think I should be privy to Angelic business, especially since I had a demon straining against me. Although I knew she had a point, I also didn’t think it was fair for her to keep me in the dark. I wanted to know what was going on with Jonathan because if the Angel Corps sided against him, they were probably going to come after me too. I would like some warning if that were to happen, and Patterson was holding out on me. She told me her bosses tied her hands about it, but ever since that conversation, our friendship was in murky waters.

Don’t get me wrong, Jonathan was a friend, but he was also an angel. He’d be fine. I had to look after myself because I was much less immortal than he was. I didn’t get extra chances and new bodies every time a monster blew me to bits. The beast just blew me to bits. It occurred to me that Patterson shouldn’t even be letting me help in the small ways I had been, but it helped ease my guilty conscience about a large number of the side effects of my aunt’s dark plans. The thought that she was even doing that much for me- while stonewalling me about anything else- frustrated me even more. Minor retrievals be dammed. It would take me a long time to tip the scales back in my favor doing small-time stuff like that. I couldn’t risk doing anything major league, or my demon might break free and make an appearance. That would undo everything I’d been working towards and then some.

“I’ll bring the kit,” Patterson replied and hung up on me.

I stared down at my phone for a second after she was gone. “What a bitch,” my demon said, and I couldn’t help but agree. The phone dinged again as a text came in. It looked like I had quite the drive ahead; I was off to New Orleans.

Hope you enjoyed the first episode from this serial I'm starting. Please let me know what you thought in the comments. It really helps drive the story.

https://gallery.mailchimp.com/9bc87e210399bcf2fd71d1dab/files/9b1e0def-e74a-4467-a196-08d54d874954/EP2_CH1_Preview.pdf

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recordstorefanatic-blog · 6 years

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Record Seeking Road Trip

(Originally appeared in Automotive Traveler)

Without music, life would be a mistake.--Nietzsche

Two milk crates were tossed into the back of the Cayenne Red Nissan Juke, and the journey began. With a full tank of gas, a six-pack of bottled water, and a tight schedule planned, the whirlwind tour was greeted by a surprise October snow storm. The weather be damned, our intrepid travelers would not be stopped on their musical mission. Slowed, maybe... but not stopped.

The heroes of this story were embarking on a nearly record-book-worthy adventure. In about 14 hours, as the plan was, they would visit seven of the best record stores the American Mid-Atlantic has to offer. A circuitous route weaving through Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Maryland was intended to maximize the time in each store and cram everything into a single day.

While it seemed slightly counter-intuitive, the pair and their crimson coach would wander from west to east before heading north and then south. No, it's not how MapQuest, a GPS, or a strictly rational person would plan such a trip. But with some of the stores open earlier or later than others, travel time and retail hours dictated the route.

Opening earliest that morning, the Record Connection in Ephrata, Pennsylvania was first on the itinerary. Hidden in a quiet strip mall in Lancaster County, this indie record store opened in 1985 houses a remarkable inventory--providing a history of the music industry that should be a lesson to its executives. Artists were once given time to develop a following and find their sound. Today, pre-packaged products are foisted on the public as the "latest thing," even if they have nothing new to give us. But here at the Record Connection, we have a time capsule of an age when music was good, and artists were in charge of their own sound.

Racks and racks of records fill three rooms, in addition to the room overflowing with CDs. The "pop" room contains music from nearly every top-40 artist from the 1950s into the 1990s. In search of Donnie (and Marie) Osmond albums, 10 different records surfaced, priced at $3 or $4 with one $8 selection. Other finds included the 1984 comeback album from Slade (known for misspelling song titles, such as Cum On Feel the Noize and Mama Weer All Crazee Now) titled Keep Your Hands off My Power Supply and the relatively obscure British act Charlie's 1979 release Fight Dirty. Another room gathered soul, blues, and country, in addition to a small grouping of hard rock. Little records--once known as singles or 45s--populated the last area.

Friendly, helpful, and knowledgeable staff readily assisted in our search for that lost classic. Minutes from the Pennsylvania Turnpike, the Record Connection's only drawback is that it's hidden away in Amish country. For those vinyl fanatics looking for great-condition discs from the pre-CD period, this is a must-find shop.

A few dozen records placed into the milk crates, hatch closed, and the Juke was heading east toward the City of Brotherly Love. Even with freezing rain, the Nissan competently sailed across Interstate 76, otherwise known as the Schuylkill Expressway. A turn up the Vine Street Expressway leads to the Ben Franklin Bridge and then New Jersey, but exiting the highway before the bridge gets our music-loving travelers to the next stop.

Destination number two was A.K.A. Music on North 2nd Street, Philadelphia's largest independent record store. Although A.K.A.'s collection of music leans more toward CDs, they do have a wide selection of LPs. In the newer music, the store features alternative and local acts. Their used collection has some great finds and wonderfully tempting bargains. Among the rack of 99-cent to $3.00 CDs, were rare (rightfully so) pieces such as B-movie actress Kari Wührer's 1999 release Shiny and central Pennsylvania act the Badlees' 1995 River Songs (for two-bits!).

The hour devoted to A.K.A. Music on the day's schedule was nearly over, so the adventurers made their way to the front counter. Found among the collection here was the album Fickle Heart by Sniff 'n' the Tears with its classic road tune Driver's Seat. And perfect for Halloween was Mike Oldfield's legendary album Tubular Bells, with the title track instantly recognizable as the soundtrack to the horror film The Exorcist.

Quite possibly, the most significant find of the day came from this store. Among the 99-cent records was Cheech & Chong's second album Big Bambu. Noteworthy for the Sister Mary Elephant bit on track one and its nomination for a Grammy award (losing to George Carlin), this LP is notorious for its packaging. Designed to look like a pouch of rolling papers, Big Bambu came from the factory with an actual rolling paper about 10 inches square. Four decades later, finding a copy of this record is difficult. Finding one with the rolling paper intact is nearly impossible. Finding a complete one for under a buck makes the entire trip worthwhile.

Foreigner, Howard Jones, and Eddie Money joined the lot in the Sealtest crate, and the Juke box rejoined the highway. This time, headed north on I-95 as the rain comes down harder. Approaching the next stop, the Juke passed more and more vehicles whose drivers had overextended their cars' capabilities. One after another, drivers found their rides sliding onto the shoulder or into the median. With proper care, however, the Juke arrived in Bordentown, New Jersey unscathed.

Packed on the narrow streets of this little hamlet were dozens of cars and trucks. You'd think it was January--except that the snow- and ice-covered trees still had much of their fall foliage. Even with parking spots at a premium, the Juke's luck continued when a space right in front of the next stop opened.

Farnsworth Avenue is Main Street America. Little mom-and-pop shops fill the tree-lined street, and that's where you find The Record Collector. This indie music store so embodies the specialist retailer spirit that they even reimburse students for their public transportation costs if they purchase more than $25.00.

As we entered the store, the owner was on the phone trying to decide whether or not to cancel that evening's live in-store performance. Posters on the wall and racks of records up front illustrate the level of musicians who have performed at The Record Collector. From local acts to artists known around the world, they've played here among the vinyl.

Up the ramp into the rear of the store, records are organized alphabetically in stacked shelves, just like your local library keeps their books. Only here, the records are in amazing shape and run the gamut of music halls of fame the world over. It's among these shelves that big-buck records can be found. An original copy of Johnny Cash at San Quentin, for example, and the rare Prince box-set Royal Jewels. Even a 12-inch single of Prince's Purple Rain-era I Would Die 4 U/Another Lonely Christmas was snagged.

Still unsure about that evening's performance, the store's owner offered a fond farewell to the travelers as they added more loot to the treasure chests stashed in the tail of the frog-eyed crossover. The little Nissan Juke continued its journey north.

After the highway dumps the explorers off onto the surface streets, they slip through the campus of Princeton. Students roam around, on foot and on wheels, trying to keep clear of the thick, wet snow that has blanketed the hallowed halls of this Ivy League school. Avoiding more than one oblivious driver, the Juke made its way to Tulane Street (barely an alleyway, really), home to the Princeton Record Exchange.

The parking gods blessed the rosy vessel once more with the prime spot right in front of the entrance. For a Saturday afternoon with a football game and rowing competition in town, this 32-year-old indie music spot was surprisingly alive with customers. Crammed with records, CDs and even tapes, the Princeton Record Exchange moves music hunters up and down the aisles as they pleasantly excuse each other's gentle bumps.

Unfortunately, the storm took control of our featured duo's quest and shut down the power to that side of Tulane Street. Less-hearty souls quietly left the darkened shop, but the more determined fired up their cell phones for just enough light to read an album cover or three. This would bear fruit in the form of the neo-swing CD Hot from Squirrel Nut Zippers and Cheech & Chong's first LP to match the previously discovered sophomore release. With the electronic cash registers and credit card readers silenced, it was a cash-only day at the Exchange. One CD and one LP came to a grand total of five bucks and change.

Downing a slice at Iano's Pizza, topping off the tank, grabbing a box of Munchkins, and the refueling was complete. It's at this point that the weather finally took its toll on the music-themed road trip. With the freak snow storm now traveling rapidly up the East Coast, driving back into eastern Pennsylvania would have stalled the rest of the trip. For this reason, Double Decker Records in Allentown, Pennsylvania was bypassed. Perusing the wares at that indie retailer would require a dedicated trip.

Instead of heading north, the Juke pulled a 180 pointed south on I-95. Temperatures eased a bit and rose above freezing, changing the sleet into rain. Almost as suddenly, New Jersey gave way to Pennsylvania. With four stores and two states down, there was one more state and two more music vendors to go. Across the Mason-Dixon Line, the Juke wound its way to Baltimore.

In a nondescript building on Hickory Avenue resides The True Vine. Settled deep in a comfy chair was a man flipping through a lapful of old records. Record memorabilia plastered every wall, with the most prominent visual the 1960s-era three-record set that forms a three-foot long picture of a nightgown-clad blonde.

With its racks and racks of blues, soul, country, and rock albums, The True Vine looks like it could have been plucked out of a movie set where the script called for a "period record store." Selection and pricing are excellent, but it's the atmosphere at this indie music retailer that evokes the sense you've stepped back in time to when record stores formed the center of the hip culture universe.

Mixed in with the top-notch Sixties artists were some unexpected Eighties pop platters. Priced well, copies of records from Split Enz, Blondie, Heaven 17, and the Motels found new homes.

Back in the car, it was time to seek out the final destination of the day. Across town waited the one big record store on the list that was open until midnight. Saturday evening on Thames Street draws Baltimore's in crowd. Men and women dressed to the nines eschewed coats despite the particularly cold evening so as not to cover their best duds. With so many people parading across the cobblestone road, the nearest parking space was three blocks away.

Between Duda's Tavern and The Horse You Rode In On Saloon, The Sound Garden, in business almost 20 years, offers a wide selection of CDs. Stretching deep into the building, well-organized CDs in all genres are available for casual perusal. The college-town staff, complete with the requisite piercings and black nail polish, provide the kind of aloof attitude you would expect from such a store. If vinyl was the medium of choice--and it was--the place to be was the front section.

Up there, the room is filled with numerous modern vinyl releases. Vinyl records have been the odd highlight in an otherwise dour music industry, but annual national sales of just over one million records keep the discs hard to find. At The Sound Garden, the selection of high-quality records was impressive. The hard-core vinyl-phile will find a rare treasure here.As the day came to an end, the Juke's headlights pointed north on I-83 and Baltimore faded in the distance. A trunkful of records and CDs, rumbling bellies, and a gas tank begging for a refill were the remnants from a successfully productive day with a singular focus. The anticipation of spinning the black circles and dropping the needle pushes the pair homeward.

We remember so many events by the music that's playing. A road trip with a carload of friends or family belting out songs. Dad at the family piano tinkling out a tune on the ivories. The song playing on your first date, your first dance, or your first kiss. A great music collection helps keep those memories fresh. And stumbling across a great find in an independent record store can be like pulling a long-forgotten love note or photo out of a drawer. I remember when...

https://automotivetraveler.com/magazine/viewer.php?path=2012/04/Record-Seeking_Road_Trip&page=1&acc=2

#Vinyl #Records #Music #roadtrip #Philadelphia #Baltimore #Princeton #Ephrata #Bridgeton #Pennsylvania #NewJersey #Maryland

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blogamyamykinslove-blog · 7 years

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I arrived in Agra by train in the morning, got settled in at N Homestay, and at the suggestion of their guide/driver Mokul, I took the rest of the afternoon to visit Fatehpur Sikri- home of the Jama Masjid mosque and Mughal palace predating the Taj Mahal. Little did I remember that the entrance fee for the Historic palaces had gone up to 500 INR, so I only had enough money for it, and to take the bus back to Agra (and maybe a bag of chips). Lunch consisted of the leavings of my goody bag from Simla. Luckily I did bring a scarf (I had completely forgotten my hat) because the Jama Masjid is an active mosque. I have also been using my water purification drops when filling my water bottles from the tap, and so far, so good. One could go broke keeping up on drinking water here in India. Also, I paid $20 CAD for this water purification kit, so I might as well use it. TRAVEL TIPS TO FOLLOW, SO NECESSARY FOR SURVIVING FATEHPUR SIKRI.

Arriving in Agra, I knew right away I had officially arrived in India, and gone were the days of orderly, friendly, clean little towns. It was a madhouse of Autorickshaws around the train station, and all of the drivers clamoured at me “taxi? taxi? hotel, miss? hotel?” Basically one has to say “No,” firmly and give an emphatic shake of the head about a million times or or ignore them completely running the gauntlet until you find your driver, – which will happen, seemingly by magic. After riding the regular public bus from Agra (very hot and dusty- bring a scarf just to put over your nose to filter some of it out), there are tour touts waiting for you at the little bus depot in Fatehpur’s bazaar. If your hotel or homestay has a driver/tour guide and offers to take you to Fatehpur Sikri (hereafter “FS”) for 700 INR or suchlike cost- DO THIS! Learn from my mistake. I decided I didn’t want to spend the 700 INR for my own private autorick and tour, and simply took the 40 INR bus ride from Agra. I thought I was being really smart by forgoing the extra cost…

There is a direct path straight up from the bus depot in Fatehpour’s bazaar towards the gate to the mosque, but one is essentially walking a path of garbage, so I took the long way around and took a second look at the bazaar, which was full of vendors and services of every sort. Traffic slowed to a crawl those last 50 meters from the beginning of the bazaar and the bus depot. The road above the bazaar leading up to the mosque and palace grounds, though, is wide, free of traffic, and lined with ice cream and goodie vendors, so Indian families take full advantage of the refreshments before going into the so-called abandoned city. Walking up the ramp to the entrance of the huge and extremely impressive Buland Darwaza (Victory Gate) entrance to the Jama Majid mosque, I couldn’t help but laugh at the frolicking and leaping goats combing the ramparts for goodies left by tourists.

As soon as I entered into the mosque, a young man calling himself a “guide” offered to show me around. These guys (and there are a lot of them) are touts, not guides. They will indeed take you around the mosque, they’ll show you all the different parts of the grounds and tombs, they have good information, and they will even take really nice photos of you and for you while on the grounds, and will be very pleasant- but they will conclude their tour at their own little blanket set out with the souvenirs they sell- usually carvings in soapstone or alabaster. There’s nothing wrong with buying from them except they’ll give you the hard sell and you will have to haggle within an inch of your life, and there’s nothing wrong with not buying from them and tipping them for their time instead. They’re not as happy with the tip as they would to sell you their stuff, but whatever. Bazinga. I saw all the parts of the mosque- was encouraged to do all the little things that people do when they visit, like tying a string in the lattice screen of the white marble tomb of Shaikh Salim Chishti and making a wish (NO TELLING), and genuinely enjoyed my tour. I found the cemetery and the crowded ladies-only cemetery behind lattice screens interesting as the marker stones were very compact. The honour of being interred within the mosque was only conferred to family members of the saint. The white marble tomb with the reflecting pool before it, and single tree growing beside it within the broad expanse of the mosque complex courtyard was genuinely beautiful. I explored the courtyard of the mosque once I left the young tout, and there is no angle from which this little building is not striking and a spot of visual coolness in the expanse of baking redstone. It was also a constant hub of activity as people came to pay their respects, tie their string, make their offering of thrown perfume or rose petals and some rupees to the saint. Directly outside a group of musicians crouched in the shade, playing and singing their devotions. I noticed that the tomb had gutters leading directly to the pool, so that rainwater would be collected there for both its beauty and utility.

Exiting the mosque from the King’s Gate, I then proceeded into the expansive palace grounds, paying the entrance fee at that point. The architecture and gardens were unlike anything I had seen before (or would see again in India), especially the 5 tiered Panch Mahal, and it’s no wonder for King Akbar who lived here encouraged unique designs melding Islamic, Hindu, Christian and Buddhist elements and imagery in the decor. King Akbar decreed that each religion was to be respected equally, and to “seal the deal” he took a queen from each faith. The special audience hall (Diwan-i-Khas) and the decorative pool in front of his palace use a quartered square design illustrating the new faith he developed, called Din-i-llahi (God is One). Wandering around this place was genuinely enjoyable. There were lots of arcades in which to shelter from the sun, gardens to refresh the eye from all the red sandstone, and wonderful spots from which to view the surrounding farmlands. Within the palace grounds, I also discovered the striped chipmunk-like squirrels, wild green ring-necked parrots and many songbirds and swallows (and pigeons) that inhabit India. To sit in the shade from the softening afternoon sun and breeze, journaling and watching the parrots and other birds race from buidling to building to tree was a real joy.

I was really glad that I had come out to FS and explored these amazing buildings. Until I was foolish enough to NOT run and catch the bus I saw leaving the bazaar as I came down to the corner. “Busses run for another two hours,” I told myself, “I’ll grab a quick snack and catch the next bus.” Famous last words. I waited at the bus depot and no other bus arrived. I had a snack, wrote in my journal and exchanged a few pleasantries with a couple of the touts there who were brothers… and then it started getting dark. The young Islamic touts started to look a little uneasy on my behalf and gently remonstrated me “Why didn’t you run for that bus?” Finally one of the young men said “I don’t want you sitting here after dark. Tourists have been stranded here before by the bus. I have seen it and helped them get back to Agra before. Maybe the last bus will be here at 5:45, but if not then you should let my driver friend take you back to Agra because none of the tourist taxis come here.” This was factually correct and not an exaggeration on his part, I hadn’t seen a single white car with the blue and yellow “Tourist Taxi” emblem painted on the side since arriving in FS, and there weren’t even any Autoricks. Two of the young touts arranged someone to drive me back and they tried to quote me double the price of what my homestay driver had offered for the return trip. Boy was I mad at myself and a little annoyed with them as I tried to discuss the discrepancy with them. When he finally admitted that what he was really including in the price was a commission for him and his brother who had both kept me company for two hours while I waited, and arranged my ride, my frustration vanished. I was happy to give them a commission, but I was not happy about being ripped off for a drive back to Agra- qualitative or semantic difference, as either way I was out a lot more rupees than I wanted to be for the day, but I don’t have a problem with rewarding people for taking their time to help me.

As it was, there was a massive traffic jam on the road back to Agra, and my driver was fortunately able to get out of the jam before too many vehicles boxed us in from behind, so we took a link road around the blockage and made it back to Agra with only a little delay. It was a bit of an adventure itself and when I experienced some acute culture shock (see next entry). I tried to not kick myself too hard for having to pay so much money to get back to the homestay, but on the other hand FS is a good hour outside of Agra, and I was very relieved that I got back safely and in comparative comfort. Who knows when I would have got back to Agra if I had gotten on that bus. For all I know, it was the thing causing the jam.

Matriarch Naghma of N Homestay had a wonderful thali dinner waiting for me when I got back to their place, and was kind enough to sit and chat with me while I ate. She told me the interesting history of her family home, how happy and content she was to share it with travelers, and how this was definitely the best part of her life with her sons grown and one of them recently married. After eating, I was grateful to retire to my very spacious room, shower and wash my clothes and retire to bed.

Tomorrow is the Taj Mahal at dawn.

Fatehpur Sikri (Agra) Oct. 15 ’16 I arrived in Agra by train in the morning, got settled in at N Homestay, and at the suggestion of their guide/driver Mokul, I took the rest of the afternoon to visit Fatehpur Sikri- home of the Jama Masjid mosque and Mughal palace predating the Taj Mahal.

#Agra #Fatehpur Sikri #Jama Masjid #N Homestay #Tomb of Shaikh Salim Chishti

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