#the one with pale blonde hair is Serena | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

corner-stories · 3 years

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for it isn't a dream (not a dream after all)

Calem. Serena.

Love At First Sight. Origin Stories. Impoverished Patricians.

19th Century Period Drama But Make It Pokemon.

13123 words

(ao3.)

…

(in my life)

…

Calem Bellamy-Beaufort had been born from diamonds, but raised in the dirt.

At birth he was named Baron Calem Xavier Trevelyan — his middle name representing his paternal grandfather who had earned a war fought generations ago, his surname representing the Galarian Viscount that was his father. Said Viscount had won over Calem’s Baroness mother on an endless wave of charm, promising a life of wealth and prosperity if they started a life together.

Had Calem’s mother knew what the deceitful nobleman truly had in store for her, she would have never let him into her world. Viscount Trevelyan had drained the Bellamy-Beaufort fortune, squandering the riches on horses and wine and women despite the wellbeing of his wife and child being at stake. Nowadays Kalos did not recognize the title of Baroness Bellamy-Beaufort, especially after her husband abandoned her and her four-year-old son to join his lover back in Wyndon. The impact of his actions had been enough to sully the Bellamy-Beaufort name, causing his once affluent wife and child to live in squalor.

As a result, Calem has few memories of his father. He only knows that the peaceful life he used to live in Camphrier Town had suddenly ended when his mother sold all her belongings and moved them to a desolate shack outside of Coumarine City. He was too young to comprehend what exactly his father had done, only that all the shouting matches between his parents had culminated in the man leaving and his mother breaking down in heavy tears.

From the moment Calem could walk, he began to work. Before he could read, he learned to shine shoes, usually cleaning the boots of soldiers and brogues of noblemen. His efforts had earned him enough francs for food as well as the affectionate nickname “Xav” amongst the troopers stationed near Coumarine. He earned coins by selling newspapers to the citizens of the city. He would stand on street corners with a paper in hand, giving out news of Kalosian Lords and Dukes as if he was never one of them in the first place. His mother took up honest work in a manor, where she served those who turned their noses at her and would never even think that the scullery maid ever lived a life amongst the diamonds.

At the age of thirteen, Calem had decided that his future resided in the heart of Kalos. The stories of the great city of Lumiose had clouded his mind and refused to leave. He did not even know exactly what he wanted to do with his life, just that the key to his life resided in the city of lifes. All he needed to do was actually make the move to discover that dream. His mother told him to stay with her, as she believed otherwise and that his future was by her side, but Calem persisted until his mother gave in. All young boys left home eventually, she just didn’t think that it would happen so soon.

To fund his move, he began working harder — selling more papers, shining more shoes, and even taking up work at a nearby Skiddo ranch to earn extra francs.

Calem went from a quiet little boy who shined shoes in street corners to a tall, admirable young man. His hair was black like the night’s inky skies, his face was sharper than the blade of a soldier’s sabre, and his eyes were blue like the water off the Ambrette coast. In another life where the world would acknowledge him as the handsome young Baron of Rivière Walk, he would have made strides within the Kalosian ballrooms and could have attracted many pairs of eyes to his angelically handsome face.

He left at age fifteen and never looked back. He kept his mother in his heart and sent letters to her as often as he could. He promised her that he would send a small percentage of his earnings, praying to Arceus that it would somehow keep her afloat.

Calem was not formally educated, but he could read and write and his arms and legs were as strong from his years of physical labour. He first found work at a shoe shining stand near Lumiose Station, occasionally playing with the napping Skiddo between shines. Six months later, his employer let him go due to the Kalos monarchy’s insistence that its citizens pay even more taxes. That left Calem to find work as a courier, where he would travel the city delivering packages and messages to Lumiose’s countless citizens and visitors.

…

A year into his stay in the city of lights, Calem comes across something digging through the garbage in the alley behind his apartment. Despite his muscles aching from a long day of work, his curiosity gets the best of him and he approaches the rummaging stranger.

After getting closer, he discovers that the thing rifling through food scraps and broken furniture is a little creature no taller than his knee. Its body is brown, but the claws on its feet are pale white and the spikes on its head are green. Calem is taken aback, as he has never seen a creature like this before — it differs greatly from the Skiddo and Gogoat he had grown up around.

Eventually, the tiny creature stops rifling through the pile of trash and looks up at Calem — its eyes are black and beady and frightened. It shows fear in the presence of a person who means no harm.

Calem acts on his first instinct.

“Hungry?” he asks. He reaches to his satchel and pulls out a half-eaten loaf of bread, a tip granted to him from a particularly happy client. The bread is unlike the soft and buttery brioche given to the more fortunate, but the few bites Calem has taken has given him enough strength for the day and he no longer needs it.

So Calem kneels to the ground, holding the bun out to the little creature with green spikes on its head.

“There is nothing good in the garbage,” he explains. “That’s for sure.

Curiously, the creature takes a few steps towards Calem and sniffs the bread curiously. Before he knows it, the creature starts nibbling on the loaf. Judging by its reaction, the bread is clearly more desirable than the rotten cheese and veggie scraps in the trash.

An hour later Calem has brought the creature into his minuscule apartment — a living space that only really has room for a cot, a desk, and a stove. He has nothing else of value on him but a few borrowed books, a stack of stationary, the blue overcoat his mother had given him before he left, and a little bit of food to get him through his days. He lets the little creature have some grapes and cheese while he reads his books, attempting some research to better understand the situation. After flipping through enough notes written by men more brilliant than him, Calem finds some information on the creature in his room.

Its official name is Chespin — the green spikes on its head are soft but when flexed grow hard enough to pierce a rock, its curious tendencies get it into trouble, its optimistic nature makes it an uplifting partner creature for anyone to have.

It takes no time before Calem decides to keep it.

…

(she has burst like the music of angels, the light of the sun)

…

On an autumn’s day, Calem is seventeen. The soles of his well-worn boots slap the cobblestones as he heads towards Jaune Plaza. At his feet is a never-ending ball of energy that refuses to stay down, yet Calem absolutely loves it to pieces. At one point, Chespin climbs up the tails of Calem’s coat and perches on the young man’s shoulders, garnering a soft smile from his master.

“The view must be better from up here, is it?” he says.

The two walk south on Hibernal Avenue, where the whole street is aglow with citizens and creatures. Locals argue with food vendors, tax collectors roam around alongside their fearsome Houndoom for protection, and scholars walk upon the cobblestones with a vacant pondering in their eyes.

Calem passes by the more well-dressed men who walk alongside well-groomed Furfrou and pampered Pyroar. In his heart, he knows that they would never look twice at a young man like him, with his ratty blue overcoat and scuffed boots. Yet somehow, Calem finds himself listening in on their conversation. For all the disdain they may show him, his curiosity persists.

He hears the two men talk of books and writings that are only valuable to those who can afford it. They are too old to be students, so he guesses that they are perhaps professors, maybe of medicine or art or breeding of the creatures that surround them in this world.

Soon enough, the two wealthy men pass him by. Like the young man had suspected, they do not look at him twice.

Calem then hears the sound of splashing.

He glances across the street to see another creature running amok — this one is short, blue, has a cape of bubbles hanging off the back of its neck, and owns a pair of bright yellow eyes that crinkle as it smiles. The creature currently splashes about in a puddle, rolling around as if it were an infant just learning how to move. Calem can’t help but stop and watch it go — he’s never seen a creature like that before.

“Froakie, you silly thing!” says a voice.

The creature rolls out of the puddle and shakes the water off its skin. Using its skinny legs, it hops over to the bottom end of a dress skirt and leaps into the arms of the wearer.

Then Calem sees her.

Her hair is golden blonde and sways in the wind, her eyes grey like steel, and her smile as she holds her creature is absolutely delightful. She wears an immaculate black dress and ornate hat in a scarlet hue, something that could seem so common yet makes her stand out like she’s the only person on the street.

Like a fool, Calem can only stand there and stare. To say that she looks beautiful is an absolute understatement. His heart beats faster than a star falling from the sky, his world feels like it’s spinning around.

Then she looks up.

The stranger’s eyes meet his. They widen slightly just like his as she takes him in from across the street. As she holds her creature in her arms, her mouth is open but still, as if she’s looking for the words but does not know what to say. Calem doesn’t know what parts of him make her look at him that way, but he doesn’t question it.

The two make no sound as the world of Hibernal Avenue moves around them like a clock.

An older man then taps the young woman’s shoulder. Just like her she is very well dressed with a spotless tailored coat and a top hat that makes him look rather tall. She looks to him as one would to a father and he motions for them to go down the street. She nods politely and follows, giving Calem one more longing glance before disappearing into an alleyway.

But as she walks, Calem notices something falling from her person, an item seemingly slipping out of the basket she carries.

Acting indifferent to his own rationale, Calem takes a few steps forward. He arrives at the spot of the dropped item and picks up, soon learning that it is nothing more than a simple white handkerchief. With the little cloth now in his hands, he looks down the alleyway in search of the girl with the golden hair.

But to his despair, she’s gone.

…

Calem meets arrives at a Jaune Plaza Cafe, a small establishment that sells things like ale and wine and a stew that is rather palpable as long as one doesn’t question what’s in it. He finds his friends sitting at a table in the corner and takes the empty chair on the right. Chespin then hops off his shoulder and decides to sit on his master’s lap.

His friends do not press as to why he arrived late and continue their conversation like nothing has changed. As Calem orders a meal, he hears one of his more talkative friends tell an amusing tale.

Shauna Jan is a short girl of only fifteen, her eyes are bright green and her hair is deep brown and long enough that it goes to her waist. When she speaks, she always does so with a happy spirit to her high-pitched voice. When she smiles, her eyes get small and crinkle at the corners. She works at an Inn in South Boulevard, an establishment run by her parents that is a far cry from Hotel Richissime, but known to the common-folk as a safe place to stay in such an unpredictable city. Her partner creature is a chipper little thing called a Skitty, which prefers to nap near its master’s feet as opposed to doing anything else. She currently tells a tale of an incident earlier today where she caught a customer trying to pilfer some wine bottles that he did not pay for. Calem listens and learns that Shauna got to chase the man away with a broom, something her father was rather proud of her for doing.

The story garners a laugh from Calem and his other two friends. Sitting beside Shauna is Tierno Todaro, a paunchy seventeen-year-old who loves life as much as he loves a good waltz or schottische. With a grin, he puts an arm around Shauna and congratulates her for a job well done. He then goes on to say that his job — a sanitation position at a shop on Hibernal Avenue — is not remotely as interesting. The most amusing thing he sees is rich merchants and scholars roaming the streets all day, as if their lives are so unfulfilling that they must walk around the common folk to feel alive again. Even his own partner, a clawed creature referred to as a Corphish, gets more out of its own existence than the wealthy.

When Tierno expresses his thoughts on scholars, Calem looks over to the more silent friend of the group, the shy and brainy Trevor Pascal, a young fifteen-year-old who is shorter than Shauna and has a head of bright orange hair. He is the quietest friend of the group, but that is only because he does not speak unless he sees it necessary. He’s a boy who dreams of studying Pokemon and prays that his job selling newspapers will somehow fund it. Knowing that it is Trevor’s goal to become a scholar, Calem wonders if the boy will say anything in the event of Tierno’s comments about them, but upon glancing over he only sees Trevor with his eyes glued to the pages of a book. Even his partner Flabebe seems more interested in reading than paying attention to anything else.

Calem and Trevor’s dreams are awfully similar, the only difference being that Calem simply wants to discover what other creatures the world has to hold, whereas Trevor is content with studying what humanity has already found.

The friends continue to talk about their current lives. As the conversation goes on, Calem feasts on a bowl of stew — or as Shauna likes to call it: brown mush. The taste in question is rather unremarkable, but it’s something Calem looks forward to after a day of work. It’s his usual meal when he doesn’t have any extra coin on him, meaning that he eats it quite often. Despite the dubious origins of the stew’s meat and vegetables, it has kept him alive for this long and his stomach has yet to reject it. Even his Chespin doesn’t refuse it when Calem offers up a spoonful to his partner.

As the friends talk, Calem stirs the brown mush boredly as the sound of his companions and the cafe’s other patrons turns into plain ambiance against his ears.

“Calem?” says Tierno’s voice.

He does not hear him the first time.

“Calem!” Tierno’s voice says once more. He reaches over and taps his friend’s shoulder. “What’s wrong with you today? You’re not usually this silent.”

“Have some wine,” Shauna suggests, motioning to the bottle in the middle of the table. “Tell us what’s going on.”

Calem glances up and meets his friend’s gazes with his own. Even the shy Trevor looks worried for him.

“I had a long day,” he tries. He pats his Chespin on his lap, as the little one has started to nap. “We went all over the city searching for one customer.”

His friends nod along. They understand his job, as it’s a hair more physically more involved than their own. He spends his days running across the streets of Lumiose with packages or messages in his satchel. People call on him to deliver because they know he’s fast and dependable. When they need an object or letter sent inside city lines, the citizens of Lumiose simply call for the boy with the blue coat and the head of dark hair.

Today was no different, as it took Calem and Chespin hours to track down a man named Clemont Charpentier, an apparent inventor who dreams of making mechanisms to improve humanity’s life among the fantastical creatures.

Calem tells the tale and hopes that it will be enough for his friends. His better judgement tells him that they do not need to know of who he saw today, and how in a single moment, his entire world felt as if it had changed.

…

Throughout history, the strange creatures that inhabit the world — despite all their differences — had one shared trait: an eagerness to fight. So in the basement of the Jauna Plaza Cafe is an illicit operation, a tournament of sorts where people put their partner creatures against others. What started as a form of entertainment for the commonfolk evolved into a game for people to play in order to show off the strengths of their creatures. Tournaments like this were popular with the more wealthy folk, but are nigh impossible for a working person to spectate, let alone participate.

Despite his young age, Calem has built a reputation for himself in the basement of the cafe. Every week, he and his Chespin will see what opponent they can take on. The first had been a man with a creature called a Litleo, another had been against a winged being called a Noibat, and the most memorable was against a bulky pink beast referred to as an Audino. Those who do not know him as the messenger boy in the blue coat know him as the one commanding the mighty Chespin to victory. Although he gets mere coins for his fights, Calem accepts any winnings in stride and tucks them deep into his pockets.

Tonight is no exception, as after the meal, he and his friends head down to the basement where a world of competitors awaits him. Tonight he and Chespin go against a creature they have never seen before. The opposing creature’s master calls it an Azumarill and despite its stubby legs and floppy blue ears, it proves to pack quite the punch.

But Calem and Chespin persevere. In the cramped walls of the cafe basement with a crowd of people cheering them on, Calem and Chespin ride on a wave to victory. Calem fights as if he is a soldier and keeps up a sense of honour as if his family’s title had never been sullied.

…

Night comes and Calem walks Shauna to her home on South Boulevard. Skitty and Chespin walk in front of them like guards in Parfum Palace. Calem keeps his hands in his coat pockets as Shauna leads the way and proceeds to chat his ears off. They walk down the street and pass a street performer, a young girl no older than ten who sings a wistful song for the citizens of Kalos to drop coins into her tattered brown hat.

Lumiose is always dreary at night, a harsh contrast to the lively city it becomes during the day. What once was a bustling metropolis feels like the depths of the desolate woods once the citizens retreat indoors. The street lamps can only do so much to let the life of the streets survive.

Calem cares for Shauna like one would a little sister. He protects her like a young Pancham that has only been brought into this world. He watches over her like any big brother would.

It helps that she knows of his past, knows why he has come to Lumiose, and knows why a child with a double-barreled surname like his has been taking up work as a lowly courier in a tattered coat. She knows that his mother gave her own name in order to avoid any association with his bastard of a father.

“Calem, what’s wrong with you?” Shauna suddenly asks.

He blinks, then eyes his friend as they continue to walk. “What do you mean?”

“You’re still lost in that haze,” Shauna says and she knows she’s right. “What’s really wrong with you today?”

Calem sighs and digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He knows that Shauna will simply press even more in any attempt to hide. Most people see Shauna’s excitable and impatient nature and assume she is not as bright as her disposition, but those people would be very surprised to discover just how good she is at getting secrets out of a person. The Kalosian Army would make a good spy out of her.

“Promise you won’t tell the others?”

Shauna puts her hand on her heart. “Not a soul.”

“I saw a girl today,” Calem explains. He tries to remain calm as if his words mean nothing at all.

Shauna begins grinning like a fool. “Was she pretty?”

“She was…” Calem starts, but then struggles to continue. “She was a girl I have never seen before.”

He thinks back and tries to remember the face of the girl, from her long flowing hair to the wistful look in her pretty eyes. He tries to recall if he had ever delivered letters to either her or the older man who appeared to be her father. For the life of him, he can’t remember a thing.

“I only saw her for a minute there,” Calem tells Shauna. “And she was gone.”

Shauna lets out a laugh of disbelief. “Good Arceus, is Calem Bellamy-Beaufort in love at last?”

Calem eyes her quizzically. “What do you mean by that?”

“She must have been heavenly to have caught your eye,” Shauna suggests, motioning forward to Chespin and Skitty in front of them. “Tierno says that you carry yourself like you’ve never seen a woman in your life.”

He scoffs and sharply says, “That’s absolutely preposterous, my mother raised me.”

Shauna lets out a laugh and Calem finds himself smiling. He avoids her gaze and looks down to the Lumiose cobblestones. “That girl though, she wore a black dress and a red hat… and I may never see her again.”

“A love story for the ages,” Shauna comments in a playful voice. With a cheeky grin, she strides forward and leads the two on their way down the streets.

When they get to South Boulevard, Shauna asks Calem a simple question.

“Can you tell Tierno I won’t be able to make it next week?”

Calem nods his head. “Are you busy?”

“I have to take some extra shifts,” she says in a tone that’s less bright than her usual voice.

Concerned, Calem begs another question: “Is something wrong?”

Shauna looks down. “My mother has fallen ill. Father needs me to cover more shifts so we can afford medicine.”

To see Shauna looking so downtrodden is strange. She may very well be the most cheerful person that Calem knows, yet even her sunshine demeanor is susceptible to the reality she exists in.

Calem starts to think, which causes eyebrows to knit. As he and Shauna get closer to her family inn, a choice dances in his head. He turns to Shauna and looks her in the eye.

“How much money do you need?”

Shauna blinks. “What?”

“How much does the medicine cost?” Calem tries again. He turns to her and speaks with conviction in his voice. “I can cover it.”

Shauna shakes her head. “Calem, I cannot take anything from you.”

Calem stops walking and begins digging through his pockets. He pulls out some coins and a single banknote. It’s nothing compared to the fortune his father gambled away, but he holds it to Shauna like it’s fit for a king.

“You can pay me back later,” he says. “Shauna, I trust you.”

Shauna looks hesitant as she eyes the money. Eventually, she starts counting in her head, then takes most of the coins that her friend holds. She counts the coins with the same unsure look in her eyes. Once she’s done, she looks up to meet her friend’s gaze. Although she still looks uneasy, she says:

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Calem says, nodding his head.

“I shall pay you back as soon as I can,” Shauna promises. “If there is anything I can do for you now, please tell me.”

For a second, Calem thinks. He then says the first thing on his mind. “Actually… is there someone you can find for me?”

…

Calem’s apartment is a hole in a wall in the otherwise vast city of Lumiose. For all the city’s talk about beauty, the accommodations for the commonfolk were often dingy and infested with small creatures they referred to as Dedenne. Calem’s place in particular is cramped and constricting, but it’s enough for him and his partner.

When Calem returns to his abode, his Chespin is absolutely exhausted. He removes his coat as his partner creature stumbles through the room and hops onto the bed.

Calem wastes no time in finding the loose floorboard by his bed and lifts it up, revealing his hiding place with all of his valuable belongings, like his life savings and the wedding ring that his mother told him to save for an important occasion. He empties his pockets and places the money that he has next to the rest. He then replaces the floorboard back over his valuables.

As his Chespin naps, Calem goes to his writing desk, procures a piece of paper and a pen and writes a letter to his mother apologizing for not being able to send funds this month.

…

(tell me child, what is your name?)

…

Serena Johanssen was born in the dirt, but raised among diamonds. Nowadays she lived a happy life under the loving eyes of Augustine Sycamore, a scholar who had taken under his wing and loved her like they were father and daughter.

Of course, Sycamore wasn’t her actual father. While their eyes were the same shade of grey, her hair was bright like honey, his was dark like a shadow. Her smile was soft and gentle, his was charming and alluring. She spent her days reading stories and reports from lands beyond the city, he spent his days researching and studying. But that did not matter. They might as well have been related by blood because Sycamore raised her like she was his own.

They had met years ago outside of Lumiose, at a time of Serena’s life that was very unlike the way it was now.

For as long as Serena could remember, she was not like the other girls she knew. Instead of having ribbons to tie in her hair, she had shoes so thin that her little toes would turn red in the cold. Instead of having a loving Mama or Papa, she was watched over by the owners of the Dendemille Inn, a husband and wife who had taken her from a children’s home and promised her shelter as long as she did what she was told.

Serena could not remember her life before, even the supposed memory of her living amongst other orphans and street rats felt fuzzy in her head. All she could ever really acknowledge was that despite Kalos being a region of beauty, Dendemille was a city under constant cover of clouds. Even if snow would not descend from the frigid skies, the ground would be cold.

Sometimes Serena asked her caretakers where she had been before she had been placed in the children’s home. What they told her was that they were actually old friends of her Mama, that connection being the reason they were able to adopt her and have her live in the Inn. When Serena asked about her Mama, her caretakers would never answer beyond giving her name, which was Grace.

Serena’s days were often cold, but the nights were even colder — during evenings where she would sweep and scrub every corner of the Inn with her tiny hands, she would huddle near the hearth of the fireplace in a desperate bid to bask in the remaining warmth of the embers. Her meals consisted of a thin gruel that was varying shades of grey and brown but mostly grey.

Sometimes Serena would let herself dream. There was a shop in Dendemille with an open window, and in that window was a doll clad in a pretty pink dress and blue bow. Its hair was tied in a braid and its feet were small, just like hers. She dreamed that maybe one day if she saved enough coins from Inn guests, she would be able to buy the doll for herself. At the very least, she would have a friend with her while she slept at night.

On a winter’s evening when Serena was eight, the Inn was exceedingly crowded. Travellers from near and far had gathered in the main tavern to eat the food her caretakers provided, that being a bowl of stew with meat of a questionable origin and a cup of wine diluted with liquid of a questionable origin. Serena walked around the tavern, gathering dirty dishes as the guests around her told tales of adventures from far away. Serena often liked working on nights like this because she could eavesdrop on conversations from the travellers, then later on as she slept on the hay in the stables, she would dream about the stories she heard. The travellers often spoke of creatures she could never even imagine — dragon-like beings that could circle the globe in one second, long serpentine beasts with flesh of stone and steel, large avians that could soar through the sky.

At one point of the evening, Serena’s caretaker pulled her aside, reaching into her dress pockets for extra coins. The wife of the Inn ordered her to get some water from the well, which anyone would have abhorred on a freezing night like this, let alone a small child.

But she couldn’t say no — or risk the firm hand of the husband of the Inn — so barefoot in the snow Serena grasped a bucket in her hand as she headed up north to a place colder than the town, a cavern of frost that not even the locals ventured into.

The world around Serena was cold, yet as she trudged through the snow, she knew she was not alone. The creatures she found up in the woods were not as fantastical or viscous as the ones she heard of from the mouths of travellers, but they were no less sentient and alive. As Serena fished up a bucket of water from the well, a small horde of ice creatures surrounded her. She had seen some of them before — a few little white bears with runny noses, short pink birds with yellow hair and an adorable waddling gait, and the most peculiar of them all, a seemingly sentient chunk of ice with purple around their bright eyes.

Serena called these creatures her friends because she had no one else. Not even the people who were supposed to act like a Mama and Papa to her. She sang sweet soft melodies to them as she did not know any real songs, but they listened and appeared to be enjoying it as they gathered around the little girl by the well.

Then suddenly in the midst of the night, Serena saw a figure walking in the dark. One of the bears with the runny noses alerted her, and when she saw the person walking she gasped, dropped her bucket beside the well, and hid behind the closest tree she could find. Her creature friends fled as well, scattering back into the woods.

“Fear not, I mean no harm!” said the voice of the stranger. He took a few more steps, the moonlight illuminating his face. He wore a clean, fancy coat that reminded Serena of the richer travellers that would stay at the Inn, as well as a pristine top hat that only exuded the idea of wealth. Even if this man was not as rich as he dressed, he could still afford many comforts.

Serena stayed hidden behind the tree, peeking out just in time to see the man removing his hat, a sign of respect if she ever knew one.

“Bonsoir, my name is Augustine Sycamore,” he told her in a soft voice. He knelt down to her, yet kept a good distance away. His eyes were unlike the ones she was used to, soft, gentle, and inviting. “You can call me Gus. Tell me, Child, what is your name?”

“I am called Serena,” she told him.

Augustine smiled, then noticed her bucket on the ground by the well. “That looks very heavy, Serena. Would you like me to help?”

“You do not look very strong, Monsieur,” Serena said, still hiding behind the tree.

The gentleman laughed. “Oh my, what an honest child you are. It’s nothing I cannot handle, though.”

Serena thought for a few seconds, then stepped away from the tree. Together with Augustine, they fetched a bucket of water from the well, then with one hand on the handle and the other around hers, escorted her back to Dendemille Town. Although they were strangers, Augustine was warm — the way he looked at her made Serena think of the Papa or Mama she had been dreaming off her whole life.

When they got back to Dendemille, Serena showed Augustine some of her favourite parts of the place because he would listen — like the street lamp that glows the brightest even in the late of night or the doll in the shop window she would always look at.

Then as they approached the Inn, Augustine looked down to Serena and put on a more serious face. “Now, Serena, listen close to what I have to say. I am an old friend of Grace’s.”

“Of Mama’s?”

A soft, but sad smile crept onto Augustine’s lips. “Yes, of your Mama’s.”

A rush of excitement ran through Serena’s heart. “Is she coming to be with me?”

That was when Augustine’s face got more and more dour. He stopped walking, then kneeled down in front of the little one. “Serena, it breaks my heart to say that your Mama is not with us anymore. She is… she is no more.”

Serena went still. Her arms felt like ice colder than the snow in the city. She did not know what to think now and could only look into the eyes of Augustine, the dark pools that almost glistened in the moonlight.

“But in lieu of death, there is space to make life,” said Augustine. “And I promised her that I would take care of you… but only if you, and your caretakers, will let it be.”

Serena thought for a few seconds, then asked curiously, “So you’ll be my Papa?”

“Of course,” Augustine assured. “Like a Papa and a Mama to you. Is that okay?”

And with his hand in hers, he took Serena to the Inn where she lived to talk to her caretakers. Serena did not hear much of the conversation, only that Augustine had a letter from Grace allowing Serena to be with him. He tended to move around the region for work, but had the means to make sure that the little one could be cared for wherever they went. Serena’s caretakers ignored his main intentions and tried to bring him into the Inn for some gruel or watered-down wine, but Augustine refused. Serena sat by the hearth, taking in the last bit of warmth by the fire as the adults spoke. Eventually, she witnessed Augustine nod sternly and pull out a wad of bills from his pocket. He counted off a rather handsome amount of francs, then handed it over to the husband of the Inn.

Then without waiting another second, he made his way to Serena by the fire. He took off his coat and put it over her. “We are to go now, Serena,” he said, taking her hand.

With a nod, Serena stood up and walked with him to the door of the Inn. Behind her, she could hear the sounds of feigned cries from both her caretakers, something that felt as unreal like the creatures she heard about from faraway lands.

Before they left Dendemille, Augustine made use of the time before their carriage arrived. With Serena’s hand in his, he brought her to the store with the doll in the window, handed the old clerk another fraction of the bills in his pocket, and took the pristine doll in his hands. Then immediately, he knelt down to Serena and held it to her.

Serena could only stare in surprise. So many things had happened, some felt as make believe as a dream, yet others reminded her that this was very much real. She looked at the doll, then up to Augustine’s eyes.

“Take it,” he told her in a voice as gentle as a little fall of rain. “It is a gift from me to you.”

With a small smile, Serena took the doll, holding it like it was made of gold. It was heavier and bigger than it looked in the store window, but she held it tight nonetheless. As they waited for their late-night transportation, Serena held the doll close to her like it was her line between life and death. Augustine asked if she wanted to play with it, but she replied that holding it tight to her was playing.

Once the carriage arrived, Augustine carried her on board. His plan was for them to stay at a place in Couriway Town, a settlement known for the gorgeous waterfalls that cascaded off the cliffs. With her new doll in her grasp, Serena leaned her head on Augustine, closing her eyes as she let the gentle lull of the carriage’s wheels put her to sleep.

Her heart felt warm and full of light, the world around her was cold yet somehow she could feel the chill slowly seeping away as she entered her new life. All at once in the midst of the night, Serena finally understood what it was like to be loved.

…

Years later and Serena is fourteen, yet there is only an echo of the lonely frigid girl she used to be. She proves to be rather tall for her age, rapidly growing from a small underfed child to a young girl rapidly on the path to womanhood. Augustine even jokes that at the current rate she just might become taller than him.

Augustine is not of noble birth, but he is from considerable wealth. His great-grandfather had concocted a formula for a pristine tonic that would bring life to even the baldest of heads and a wax that could tame even the wildest of hairs. After charming a horde of Kalosian nobility with the product’s effectiveness, the Sycamore family had amassed enough wealth to allow Augustine to spend his life travelling throughout Kalos and researching the creatures that live in the region. And of course, his wealth allowed him to keep Serena as safe and as loved as he could. Although Serena is not a Sycamore by name, Augustine makes plans to change her name legally to guarantee her inheritance in the wake of his death.

When Serena is not travelling around with Uncle Gus, she’s being taught by various tutors in as many subjects as possible — literature, latin, arithmetic, calligraphy, history, art, science, and music.

Ever since she learned to read, she had been absorbing the words in the books that Augustine uses for his studies. Each one is full of wonders and sketches of creatures around the Kalos region and beyond. There’s something called a Bunnelby with floppy ears and a coat of short grey hair and there’s another called Dedenne that’s so small that one could fit it in the pocket of their coat.

She cannot help it, there is something exceedingly alluring and fascinating about the creatures. In particular, she comes across a page in a book regarding a trio of green and red and blue. According to the notes scribbled in the margins, the creatures hold abilities connected to grass, fire, and water. The tiny fire fox-like one is said to spout fire from its mouth, the blue frog can leap dozens of feet into the air and generate bubbles at a whim, and the one with the green head can shoot spikes of wood. It’s fascinating to think that creatures like this can live all around the world, but it’s even more fascinating for Serena to acknowledge that they very well may live outside of her window.

One day when Serena and Augustine are staying in Lumiose City in an apartment connected to a gated green garden amongst the sea of cobblestones. After a calligraphy lesson with her tutor, the young girl heads to a lab on South Boulevard where she had planned to meet her Uncle for an afternoon stroll. Upon entering a building made with white marble beams, Serena discovers an unusual sight for such a well-structured place — shards of glass are scattered upon the floor in the foyer. There are a handful of maids cleaning up the mess and they urge her to be careful or risk pricking herself upon the sharp edges.

A confused Serena holds onto the hem of her dress as she dashes through the building, searching around the rooms in a fervent haste. She heads to the second floor and soon finds who she is looking for at a room at the end of the hallway.

It appears to be a library of sorts, as various thick books line the walls. Augustine is standing with a group of other well-dressed men, no doubt the scholars he spent his days studying with. On the ground are more shards of glass, all culminating in a broken window above the highest shelf.

“Uncle! What happened?!” Serena asks with the utmost worrying in her voice. “Were you robbed?”

Augustine takes his eyes away from his notes and looks at his ward. A similar look of fear slips into his gaze. He walks to her, setting his hand on her shoulder and quickly guiding her out of the library.

“Let us speak outside,” he suggests in a soft voice. He takes her out into the hall, where things are more quiet.

Once they are out of the room of scholars, Augustine tells her what he can.

“You can rest assured that we have not been robbed,” he starts. “We simply had an accident, nothing more.”

His words do little to quell Serena’s fear. “What in Yvetal’s hellscape happened in there?”

“I can assure you that no one was harmed,” Augustine continues. His gaze upon her is plagued with intensity, such a vast change from the warm way he usually looks upon her. “We brought some specimens into the lab and they may have… escaped.”

“Exactly what specimens did you bring?” Serena asks, her fear now changing into curiosity.

“Ones in the books that you read so much,” Augustine says. “A Chespin, a Fennekin, as well as a Froakie — fine specimens, they are, such a shame we could not keep them under control.” He places a hand on her shoulder again and plants a kiss upon her forehead, something he had been doing since she was a young girl. “I know I promised you a stroll by the tower, but I must tend to this matter. Perhaps we can meet in an hour?”

Serena shakes her head, then leans in to give him a hug “Do not fret, Uncle. Take as much time as you need. What exactly made the specimens run?”

“I do not remember that well,” Augustine admits. “But you know how some creatures like to fight — we believe that they have taken things a bit too far. The Chespin apparently took some food from the Fennekin and they got a bit… rowdy.” He pats her on the shoulder again, “But this should not bother you, please head home and I shall meet you there.”

Serena nods her head. After Augustine gives her another forehead kiss, he walks back into the messy library to rejoin his colleagues.

Serena leaves the lab with much calmer steps. As she passes by another broken window by the front of the building, she begins to wonder just how far a small trio of tiny creatures could go in a city so vast.

She had read in her favourite books that Chespin liked to live in forests underneath trees, but the closest forest to Lumiose is outside of the city lines. Fennekin enjoyed living in fields, but Lumiose had no such things. Froakie would often make their homes in rivers and lakes and ponds, but the river that ran through the city seemed too touched by man to let nature thrive.

With her bonnet over her head, Serena makes her way back to her and Augustine’s home, an apartment north of Autumnal Avenue. She makes her way through the city streets, passing by merchants and street performers and students. Even under the current circumstances, she appreciates the liveliness of the city. Lumiose had its own heartbeat, very much like a human body made of flesh and blood and bone. Even the imaginary stories she read often spoke about how Lumiose could hold the key to one’s heart.

Serena walks with the wind blowing through the ends of her hair and the hem of her dress. She comes through Bleu Plaza, one of the least crowded plazas of the city. Unusual for the place, there is a group of people huddled around a fountain in the middle of the street. In no time her curiosity gets the best of her and she walks towards the horde, her heart practically begging to find out what’s going on.

In the fountain that has garnered such attention is something that surprises her — playing in the water is a creature with blue skin and large yellow eyes. It is rather small, but its legs are strong and bendy, allowing it to jump in and out of the water with ease. Its hands are white and on the back of its neck are a small collection of white bubbles reminiscent of seafoam.

Serena knows for sure that it is a Froakie. It is much more lively than it could ever be in writing or sketches — it breathes the same air that she does, it lives in the same place she does, and it is made of flesh and blood and bone like she is.

Her gut instinct tells her that the Froakie currently frolicking in the Blue Plaza fountain is one in the same as the one that had escaped a building filled to the brim with scholars. Serena reaches into her satchel and pulls out a slice of pound cake wrapped in old newspaper, something she had bought for her and Augustine but would give to a friend if they really needed it. She breaks off a piece of the sweet treat and holds it out towards the creature in the fountain, ignoring the prying eyes of the Lumiosians around her.

When the Froakie notices her, it is quick to stop hopping about in the water. Its large eyes settle on her with pure intrigue.

“You look like you’ve come a long way, little one,” she greets, giving the adorable creature a smile. “Why don’t you come along with me?”

…

The rest of the day is filled with Serena dashing through Lumiose City like an explorer on an adventure with a Froakie perched upon her shoulder. She tries to think of where a Fennekin and a Chespin could end up in such a place. She searches through a street lined with vendors, wondering if a little hungry creature would try to steal a bite of food from an unsuspecting merchant.

The little Froakie proves its skill when it hops off Serena’s shoulder, urging her to follow as it heads down South Boulevard. In no time the two come across a Fennekin basking under one of the trees in front of Lumiose Station, bits of bitten twigs scattered around it as it sleeps.

Happily, Serena rewards Froakie with a few more bites of cake and gently scoops the napping Fennekin into her arms. The creature proves to be a heavy sleeper and does not protest.

Serena and Froakie look around even more, wondering if the third missing creature will make itself known. But despite all their efforts to find a wandering Chespin in the city of lights, the two are unable to find a single clue. Serena ends up heading back to the marble building of scholars with only a Froakie on her shoulder and a Fennekin in her arms.

When Serena comes back to the second floor library with a broken window, she is greeted by Uncle Gus and a gaggle of his very surprised colleagues. They thank her dearly for her help, one older scholar in particular smiling like a fool and planting a kiss on her cheek. Uncle Gus pulls her into a hug, smiling at the wit and talent of his young ward.

One bespectacled scholar takes the sleeping Fennekin out of her arms and returns it to its large roomy cage. When another scholar comes back to take the Froakie perched on her shoulder, Serena feels the creature suddenly tightening its grip on her. Its tiny hands grasp onto the material of her dress and bonnet, clearly resisting any intention to drag it away from her.

Augustine is quick to notice the phenomenon in front of him. With an honest smile, he places a hand on his ward’s shoulder and looks his colleague in the eye.

“It’s no use, Marceau,” he says. “I believe Froakie won’t be able to help our research after all — this little one has found its match.”

Marceau looks unsure. “But what are we to do then? Find another water creature in the middle of Lumiose?”

“I shall figure it out,” Augustine assures. He looks at his ward with pride, then gently pets the top of Froakie’s head. “It would break many hearts to know I had to separate two friends.”

Marceau can only sigh, but without further questions he nods his head and leaves Augustine and Serena be. When Augustine looks at his ward, he is quick to see the look of confusion in Serena’s eyes.

“Uncle… I’m not sure what you’re implying,” she says. She reaches up and pulls Froakie off her shoulder to hold the creature in her arms, where it is very happy to be. “Do you want me to take care of this little one for a few days?”

“You can if you want. However, I was implying that you take care of it for a lot longer.”

Serena’s eyes widened in surprise.

“That is, if you want to,” Augustine clarifies. “You would be caring for this one under me, my dear — I can help if you need it.”

With a bright grin on her pretty face, Serena looks at the Froakie in her arms with glee, then looks up to meet her beloved Uncle Gus’s gaze with hopeful eyes and a nod of her head.

…

(and my life seems to stop as if something is over and something has scarcely begun)

…

The citizens of the city are caught in a buzz as news regarding King Lysandre V has reached the streets. The beloved leader of the country would be leaving his home in Parfum Palace to spend a week in the city of lights, apparently to learn more about the people he rules over.

Calem believes it to be a load of Skiddo droppings, seeing as that same King lived in luxury as the working-class of Kalos slave for a meger wage, only for said wage to disappear once the tax collectors come around. It is moments like these that make Calem rethink the life he could have had, the one where he would have been so wrapped in a world of opulence that he was blind to the suffering of the people. Sometimes he thinks his family name becoming disgraced is a blessing in disguise.

At the end of a day of delivering gossip-filled letters and fortune-filled packages Calem and Chespin get challenged to a battle in an alleyway. There’s an old Sot from the Jaune Plaza Cafe claiming to have seen Calem in one of the basement battles — the Sot is tall and gaunt, his face tinted light pink after one too many glasses of wine. He approaches Calem with a wobbling gait and a creature that he has never seen before. Its body is pill-like and on its back is a pair of bright pink wings. The Sot calls it a Vivillon and Calem thinks it’s one of the most fascinating creatures he’s ever laid eyes on.

His fascination with a new creature aside, Calem and Chespin accept the challenge and engage in a battle. It becomes quickly evident that some of Chespin’s attacks do not work on the Vivillon. The spikes of green that shoot out of Chespin’s head are nearly worthless against the winged creature. Vivillon releases a shower of sparkling purple powder down onto Chespin, when it graces the bipedal creature’s arm, the poor little one cries out in pain, causing a sudden rush of fear to pulse through Calem’s veins.

The two are forced to find other ways to fight. Chespin proves to have a fighting spirit stronger than a thousand hussars. The creature rolls itself into a ball and bounces off the walls of the alleyway, using its speed to dodge its enemy’s wind and powder attacks. Building momentum, it manages to ram its spinning body directly into Vivillon, sending the two tumbling to the ground with the winged creature taking most of the impact.

With a lively grin on his face, Calem sings the praises of Chespin as the creature rolls back towards its partner and hops onto its feet.

The Sot is left aghast, falling to his knees next to his Vivillon. Calem picks up his Chespin and approaches the drunkard, reaching a hand out to end the battle peacefully. To his surprise, the Sot swats Calem’s hand away. With a look of disgust on his wrinkly face, he throws a handful of coins at Calem and soon leaves the alleyway, picking up his fainted Vivillon as he goes. He bitterly mutters words about challenging Calem to a rematch, vowing to beat him that time, then disappears from sight.

Without a battle to continue, Calem shrugs his shoulders and gathers up the fallen coins. Although battles between creatures is something only done in dark alleyways and basements, a certain kind of etiquette has developed in place — it is expected for the losing person to give the winner some kind of reward, whether it be an extra flagon of frothy ale or a handful of coins or a stomach full of food.

As Calem slips the coins into his pockets, he notices that something is wrong with Chespin. He looks to the little one and cradles it in his arms, asking what may be wrong and checking its every limb for any abnormalities. Soon enough he spots a collection of purple powder sticking to Chespin’s left paw, most definitely a remnant from Vivillon’s attack.

Without hesitation, Calem immediately cancels his plans to meet his friends at the Jaune Plaza Cafe. With Chespin in his arms he rushes directly to his apartment, knowing that time is of the essence if he wants to keep his partner alive.

…

Between the walls of his small apartment, Calem tends to Chespin. The poor thing’s breathing is laboured and uneasy, its energy sapping away as the moments pass. Calem’s books tell him that his partner has been poisoned, so Calem rifles through his collection of berries until he finds the one that can act as an antidote. After feeding his Chespin a handful of pink fruit, the little one starts to feel better. Its breathing evening out as its strength returns. Calem lets his partner sleep on his bed, covering Chespin with a blanket and patting its head with the gentlest touch.

His heart is beating fast as unknown anxiety pulses through him. Even though Chespin appears to be making some semblance of a recovery, Calem cannot help but fear the worst. He ends up opening a cheap bottle of watered-down wine to calm his nerves, something that stings and burns on the way down but manages to keep him sane. To satiate his own hunger he digs into a bag of apples he has on hand — it had been a gift from a happy client he had met on a delivery job, while Calem decided to use it as food for Chespin it ends up becoming his dinner for the night.

The night drags and Calem keeps himself huddled in his own corner of Lumiose. As Chespin rests, the building’s landlord comes up to the apartment to deliver a letter that had arrived earlier that day. Calem sits on a chair by the open window as he reads the latest update from his mother, his hair a disheveled mess and the upper buttons of his collared shirt remaining undone. Her loopy handwriting tells him of a recent interaction from his father — Viscount Trevelyan had sent a letter all the way from Wyndon asking how his son was. Calem is used to sporadic updates from the man who disgraced the Bellamy-Beaufort name, he no longer has the energy to get emotional over them. His interest is piqued when his mother’s message tells him of an invite to travel to Galar, as the Viscount is curious to know if the young man would like to meet his little half-brother — the honourable Victor Trevelyan.

Before Calem can contemplate a theoretical trip up north, he hears a familiar voice calling from the city streets below.

“Calem! Calem! Are you in there?”

He puts down his letter and glances out his window, leaning on the ledge as he looks around. On the cobblestones is a large woolen overcoat with Shauna standing inside, she looks exhausted enough to make him wonder if she had sprinted all the way here.

“Calem! You weren’t at the cafe tonight!” Shauna calls up, ignoring the various Lumiosians walking around her.

“I could not,” Calem explains, looking down at her from three floors up. “Chespin was hurt, did something happen?”

“I shall explain inside!” Shauna declares. “I am coming up now!”

After a few moments Shauna arrives at the apartment, evidently having run up the stairs. She catches her breath and he offers her a seat at the chair at his desk, wondering if he should get her some water or wine. She refuses his attempts at hospitality and once her breathing evens out, she says:

“Calem, I found her.”

“Who?”

“The girl,” Shauna elaborates. She walks to him and gestures wildly with her hands. “The one you asked me to find, the one with the red hat and the black dress that was so divine to have made you fall head over heels with her! That girl, you fool!”

There is a beat of silence between the two friends, then Calem replies dryly, “Well… you certainly make me sound daft when you put it like that.”

“That’s not my point,” Shauna prods. “The point is that I found the girl you ran into. Or at least… I think it’s her.”

Calem eyes her suspiciously. He usually trusts the information Shauna can overhear from her family Inn, but he cannot help but inquire just a little further. “How do you know for sure?”

“There’s no way to truly tell,” Shauna explains. She reaches into the pocket of her ratty overcoat and hands her friend a piece of parchment crumpled and compressed beyond all measure. “I wasn’t able to find her name, but I have this.”

When Calem slowly unravels the paper, he finds a hastily written name of a garden written on the page.

“Autumnal Gardens,” Shauna says. “It’s just north of Rouge Plaza. Rumour has that a girl with golden hair visits on some nights to watch the stars. By day she dons a black dress and a red hat, just like your description, but at night she is said to be clad in white. It’s not much, but if you come there tonight then perhaps you may find out the truth.”

Calem is unsure what to do. For the briefest moment he paces across his apartment, running his hand through his dark hair as he thinks and further rumpling it. He begins to contemplate the logistics of such an act — wondering what it will be at best or at worst. To quell his raging thoughts, he walks over to his desk and searches through the drawers — what he finds tucked away is a simple white handkerchief, the unspotted square of cloth that he kept in his pocket for a week, then finally hid away thinking he would never find the owner again.

“The least I can do is return this to her,” he says as he eyes Shauna.

She gives him a nod as Calem puts on his coat. Once the garment is on, he steps towards his friend and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you.”

Shauna seems more amused than anything else. “It was nothing, really.”

Calem glances to his bed, where his Chespin now sits awake with a curious glow in its beady brown eyes. He walks over and kneels down to the little one.

“Mon amie, want to go on an adventure?”

…

(so many questions and answers that somehow seem wrong)

…

After dinner Serena finds herself in the apartment drawing room. She is dressed down for the evening, free of her stays and clad in the linen fibers of her chemise. On the floor by her bare feet is Froakie, currently napping on the rug without a care in the world. In her left hand is an embroidery hoop and in her right is a needle — with the use of the two she attempts to guide a piece of scarlet thread through the stiff canvas. When she pricks her finger and draws blood for the third time, she lets out an utterly loathsome groan. Frustrated by a piece of thread and canvas, she stands up and goes to the nearest drawer to dispose of the damn thing. She shall deal with needlework tomorrow.

In the moment she slams the drawer shut, Augustine enters from his study. To come out of hours of work to see his ward so fraught has caught him off guard in a rather entertaining way.

With a lively grin on his face, he asks: “What’s gotten into you?”

Serena puts her ring finger in her mouth to stop the bleeding. “Needlework,” she tells him bitterly.

Augustine lets out a laugh. “Nice to see that you have taken to it well.”

Serena seems unconvinced. However, she spares shooting him the glare she’s tempted to give in favour of looking at the open door of his study. “Mind if I take a book?” she asks, quickly slipping in.

Like always, Augustine nods his head. “Of course.”

Inside the walls of the study, Serena moves past the various notes of her Uncle’s research in favour of perusing his collection of books. She has always found that he has good taste in tomes, specifically the ones about old Kalosian legends. She ends up picking one that depicts the tales of Kalos’s past, a saga of a raging war between life and death that could only be quelled by a creature of order.

When she returns to the drawing room with a book under her arm, she finds Augustine rifling through the cushions of the couch, possibly on the look for something.

“What are you doing?” she asks curiously.

“Have you seen my white handkerchief anywhere?” Augustine questions. “I have not been able to find it for weeks.”

Serena can only shake her head. “I will be on the look for it, Uncle.”

With that said, Serena heads to her bedroom and Augustine keeps looking around the apartment. He soon gets to the drawer housing the cause of Serena’s previous ire, promptly fishing up Serena’s less-than-stellar embroidery project. When Serena gets a second look at her dreadful work, she notes that it looks worse than before and sighs like a dour ogre.

On the other hand, her beloved Uncle thinks differently. “Do not fret,” he assures in a voice soft like the sun. “You will get better with practice.”

Serena can only stare at the floor with a bitterness in her eyes. “I do not see why you think I would be good at it.” Her voice is low.

Now Augustine is the one who was unconvinced, yet he still gives her that same cheery smile and says, “Your mother was good at it.”

“Or so you say,” Serena retorts sharply. When her eyes meet his, she is less downtrodden and more… curious, as the mere mention of her mother has a habit of awakening this side of her.

The truth remains that she still does not know much of the woman who brought her into this world. She knows that her name was Grace, she knows that Augustine had befriended her back in their youth, she knows that Grace had been shunned for becoming with child while unwed, she knows that needlepoint was a favoured hobby of hers, and she knows that she loved her to her last breath, having begged Augustine to promise to care for her flesh and blood before she left for another world.

But Serena knows not much else, such as her mother’s favourite colour or how she wears her hair or how she likes her tea. She doesn’t even know who her father might be, only that he spent a summer by Grace’s side but was gone when autumn came.

So standing in front of Augustine now, Serena looks her uncle in the eye and asks:

“Why won’t you tell me anything else about her?”

The scholar looks uneasy as he glances away from her. “Serena, you are too young to know,” he tries. He faces her again, taking a few steps closer. “It will make you sad and pensive, something you should not be.”

“But I know so little about her,” Serena reiterates. “Give me something, Uncle, something more to dream of.”

Hesitence hangs across Augustine’s face. But yet he shakes his head. “Not tonight,” he decides in an affirmative voice. He then presses a kiss to her forehead like he always did at night when she was young. “You should sleep.”

Without another word, he retreats off into his bedroom and shuts the door.

In her loneliness, Serena can only languish for more. Her grip on her book tightens as she mutters, “So many questions… yet not enough answers.”

She considers for a moment staying in her room to submerge her mind in tales from the past, but a look outside at the clear Lumiosian night makes her think otherwise. She ends up walking over to her napping Froakie, gently nudging her partner awake.

“Come,” she says. “I need some air.”

…

(i’m doing everything all wrong)

…

The city is dark as Calem rushes across the cobblestones. He fears nothing with Chespin on his shoulder, yet as he gets closer and closer to Autumnal Avenue, he feels the knot in his stomach growing tighter and tighter. His breathing tightens as he goes more and more north, a fear that he is not used to feeling. In his coat pocket is the handkerchief that he has been holding onto for weeks, his hand grasped around it so firmly that it may permanently warp the garment. With his nerves getting dangerously close to taking control of him, he starts to regret not taking in another goblet of watered down wine as good luck.

Soon enough he arrives at the Avenue. As he walks down the streets, the buildings around him change from shops and offices to homes — some eons more lavish than the ones in his own neighbourhood and some dreadfully uncared for. As Calem wonders if he is lost, he suddenly comes across a large metal gate taller than two men, on the other side of it are the overgrown greens of a lush garden, an oasis of nature amongst the city’s stones.

And in the depths of the flora on this clear Lumiosian night sits a girl with golden hair amongst the daisies and lilies and violets. Her shape is cloaked in a spotless white dress and protecting her from the chill of the night is a large woolen coat that looks a few sizes too big for her.

Shauna’s words prove to be true.

The knot in Calem’s stomach gets bigger.

…

(for it isn’t a dream, not a dream after all)

…

In the garden between buildings are vines that cling to the sides of the apartments and flowers of many colours (Serena fancies the red ones the most). In the center of the flora is a bench made of stone, a place often occupied by the tenants of the connected buildings. But at night it is empty, leaving Serena to enjoy all the space to herself. She sits on the bench with her book in her lap, alternating between reading some of Kalos’s folklore or staring up at the twinkling stars.

There is also a bird bath near the bench, something meant for the Fletchling that visit the garden during the day, but is often used by Serena’s faithful Froakie for a midnight soak. As Serena reads in peace, she can hear the sound of her companion splashing around. She looks up to see Froakie clinging to the rim of the bird bath, happily basking in the water and giving her a smile.

“I guess the water needed changing anyway,” she says, feeling joyful like a fool. She gestures for her beloved partner to come to her and Froakie obeys, hopping off the bath and skittering over. The creature climbs up her nightgown and perches itself on her shoulder, as if to read along with her.

With a grin, she playfully strokes her Froakie’s chin. In her mind she cherishes moments like this, times where she could feel close to someone who knows her for who she is. Not to say that Uncle Gus doesn’t know her at all — he knows as much as any good guardian would. But there’s some kind of unspoken understanding between her and Froakie, an acknowledgement of her unmasked self — a self that dislikes needlepoint and dreams of adventures beyond her own existence.

Sometimes the way Uncle Gus looks at her makes Serena think that he still sees her as the helpless little girl he had met on a winter’s night. Sometimes he tells her that one day she’ll grow up and become a woman, perhaps finding a successful, suitable husband and settling down with a family.

But part of her knows that it’s not her — in her heart all she wants is someone who sees her for who she is, whether it be a friend or a lover. Not even her beloved Uncle seems capable of that.

Suddenly Froakie leaps off Serena’s shoulder. The creature hops across the grass of the garden with startling speed. It takes mere seconds for it to arrive at the gate of the garden, where apparently something is so interesting it warrants startling Serena.

“Froakie!” Serena yells. She closes the book and drops it on the bench, dashing after her partner with haste. “Froakie! Come back!”

When she gets to the gate, she sees Froakie situated at the bottom of the structure, down there it looks through the metal bars to greet another creature. Said creature is small, roughly a foot tall, and has a brown body and face with pointed ears tipped with green. The creature looks rather familiar to Serena, as memories of her Uncle’s research books start to jog in her memory.

Dumbfounded, she says, “It can’t be, is that-”

“Chespin!”

Startled, Serena looks up and sees someone running towards the gate of the garden. His features are illuminated by the lights of the street lamps, proving him to be a sharp set of eyes upon a youthfully charming face and a head of dark hair pushed back and barely combed. Despite the elegance of his features, he looks just about her age and stands just a bit above her. He dons a blue coat with signs of wear over a corduroy vest that has seen better days.

The young man looks at her and he looks just as stunned as she is. The mere look of the awe in his eyes is enough to make Serena remember. There’s just something about the boy behind the gate that looks familiar.

Serena grasps onto the metal bars as if to steady herself in the storm she’s become trapped in, and then he speaks —

“Bonsoir, uh… forgive me, dear Mademoiselle,” he greets, giving a polite — albeit nervous — bow. He then lets out an unsteady laugh, as if to alleviate the situation. Had he a hat on then perhaps he would have tipped it towards her. “I cannot control the little one sometimes.”

“It’s not a problem,” Serena tells him. Her grip on the bar tightens, but she doesn’t know why.

The two then look down to the pair of creatures — Chespin and Froakie appear to be getting along fine. Judging by the little croaks and squeaks the two make at one another, it is fair to say that they are getting along.

“Curious,” Serena says.

The stranger looks up. “What is?”

“They seem to know each other,” she explains, meeting her eyes with his. “Or they just get along well.”

The stranger nods in agreement. “Connections can work like that sometimes.”

Serena’s grip on the bar of the gates loosens, as with every word she can feel her initial fear fading away. “Forgive me, Monsieur, but what is your name?” she decides to ask, feeling somewhat brave in such a moment.

“I am called Calem,” says the stranger. “And you are?”

“Serena.” Subconsciously, she moves just a bit closer to the gap in the gate, her forehead barely an inch away from the iron rods. “You…” she starts, but finds herself stuttering. How unladylike of her. “You… uh, you look rather familiar.”

“I would say the same to you,” Calem says. Suddenly he reaches into the pocket of his coat, digging around for moments before pulling out a white handkerchief. “Perhaps you will recognize this.”

Serena is surprised, but smiles widely. “Uncle’s handkerchief!” she exclaims. “He’s been looking for that for weeks!”

Calem seems caught off guard. “Uncle?”

“I borrowed it for a day,” she explains fervently. “It broke my heart to tell him I had lost it — I’m glad that it managed to turn up somewhere.” Moments pass and her mind finally slows down enough to put the pieces of the puzzle together. “That means…” she begins, then a look of enlightenment takes her eyes. “You were the boy I saw at Jaune Plaza! That’s where I know you from!”

Calem nods his head, a small simper forming onto his pretty face. “It is good to hear that you remember.” He holds the white handkerchief up and through the gap in the gate. “I suppose you would want this back.”

A rush of hesitance surges through Serena’s every nerve, an abrupt sensation that surprises even her. Coyly, she eyes the handkerchief, then looks up to meet his gaze. She reaches over slowly, taking the cloth in her fingers. Their hands graze when they pull away from each other, something that makes Serena’s skin twinge in a way she cannot quite understand.

“Thank you for returning this,” she eventually manages to say. She looks down at the fabric, feeling the soft material in her palm. “Gentlemen like you are a difficult find nowadays.”

Calem looks amused, then lets out another laugh. “How brave of you to think that I am anything near a gentleman.”

“You are much too modest,” Serena remarks, unconvinced of his words.

After another honest chuckle, Calem absentmindedly places his hand on the bars of the gate. When his fingers graze hers, both Serena and Calem pull away from the cold iron. It is a quick event that is over as soon as it starts and Calem quickly thrusts his tingling hand into his coat pocket. Serena avoids his gaze, her hand touching the gate again but only to slide down to where the metal is forged into a spade-like shape.

“Perhaps I should go,” Calem suggests. His voice is shaky, nervous.

When Serena finally glances up, she is quick to see that he is avoiding her gaze too. A part of her begins to wish that she had not looked away.

He speaks once more, “Have a nice night, Mademoiselle.” With his last word stated, he turns around and begins walking away, the soles of his boots tapping against the street and his loyal Chespin following at his feet.

Serena is quick to call out —

“Wait!”

Calem halts his strides and turns to eye the girl behind the gate.

Serena is uneasy as she speaks, every nervous pang in her body fighting to get the better of her. “You came all this way to return my Uncle’s handkerchief,” she starts, fighting back her own fears. “There has to be something I can do to repay you. Would you perhaps… like to come up for some tea?” she suggests. Then restlessly, she begins to retract her offer very slightly. “If you drink tea, that is.”

Calem’s unease fades into a smile. “I drink tea,” he answers, relieved. He turns around to face her. Even in the dark of night, the look on his face is astronomically bright, something that highlights his angelic face even more. “Something warm does sound heavenly right now.”

Excitement pounds in Serena’s chest as she goes to undo the lock of the gate. Once the barricade has swung open, Chespin runs back to Froakie and embraces the creature into a hug like they are old friends. Serena motions for Calem to follow and trailing behind her, the two young Kalosians escape the cold of the city to head upwards to a beacon of warmth. In her heart Serena thinks not of her future or her life or even any thoughts of her mother — but instead she thinks of the moment she is trapped in now and how curious she is to learn more about the young man by the name of Calem.

#kalosshipping #trainer calem #trainer serena #kalos #serena pokemon #calem pokemon #xy #pkmn xy #in which i write too much and make things looooong

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saintslipsarchive · 3 years

Text

QUESTION: what is the closest thing to divinity?

a soon-to-be grandfather places a hand on the swollen turn of a soon-to-be mother’s stomach, feeling the curves and pointed edges of a spine all the way down to her navel. “you can feel the lad’s backbone already,” royce says with a grin. “he’ll be a strong one, i can tell.”

aurelie only sighs, leaning back on the cushions of the chaise. “he’s tortured me this entire pregnancy. stars above, why would any woman want to be pregnant?”

a soon-to-be father laughs, the kind only a doting husband would have for his most dearest wife. “because creating life is the closest to godhood any of us shall be,” julian answers, brushing a golden curl behind her ear. “because you are a queen and we must have an heir, and you are glowing brighter than stardust.”

“i don’t feel very close to godhood, right now,” aurelie says. “only sore.”

“there’s nothing like holding your son in your arms.” royce pats julian’s shoulder. “he is my pride, my joy, and my legacy. from the day you and your brother were born, you gave me purpose.”

“did you truly think so highly of us, father?” julian asks, wry smile on his lips. “i remember many times when you told us you’d sell us in a heartbeat if we didn’t behave like the princes we were.”

“it’s easier to praise you now that you’ve grown into a man,” royce teases. “a noble man, worthy of being king. i know this little prince will be as well.”

ii.

julian lays aurelie on her back, his hand sliding from her heart to the base of her stomach. long, thick white marks cover her where she once held their son, once held other children who never lived to fruition, and julian can see it as nothing but beautiful. magical. even goddesses have scars, battle worn and unruly. aurelie is no different. he presses his lips to her skin.

“i ask a gift from you,” julian says, kissing his way slowly up her body.

“i would give you anything,” the promise spills forth like rosewater.

“i saw a shooting star today.” his lips touch the underside of amelie’s jaw. “i want another child.”

“the act of creation certainly thrills you.” she giggles like summer, opening up like a morning glory. “what if we lose this one as well? it pains us both…”

“i’ve dreamt it, my love. a little boy and girl, beautiful, honorable, and kind. i want to meet this daughter i’ve dreamt of. she looks so beautiful, just like her mother. i truly believe it.. they will continue the work that i’ve begun, opening solelle to the rest of the galaxy.”

“and so they will.”

iii.

“hold on to me.” aurelie’s grip is weak, and undulates by the second. this is too early, but the medical droids insist. otherwise they shall both be lost. “don’t let go.”

august is only a boy waiting outside, legs kicking on the chair next to a council member who wouldn’t know what to say to a boy who’s mother dies, so he prays that she lives. he’ll meet his littler sister sooner than he thought, and that’s exciting. how many times did he sing for her while she floated in their mother’s womb? he is eager to see this little girl, whom it is his responsibility to protect.

there’s more blood than either of them ever seen, and both little girl and woman are barely breathing by the end. this is the only place a goddess can perish, dancing too close to divinity. julian cradles the girl in the bed beside the woman. both are silent. aurelie’s seams have come undone and the little glimmer of stardust in his arms struggles to breath, let alone cry. she’s taken by the medical droid and julian wants to shout no! she needs me!

but he doesn’t.

and it’s by some miracle neither girl nor woman leave him, not yet.

ANSWER: it comes at a cost.

roses bloom brighter in her presence.

SHE: little, blonde, named after a grandmother who cried the first time she saw her. breathing is difficult when she gets worked up, her droids used to carry a pail for her to either pile blossoms in or lose what little snacks she ate in.

some said she wouldn’t live a year, then that she wouldn’t live three. five years come and go, and serena is still small, still weak — but she is growing. and she is alive, against every expectation she is alive.

a legacy lives deep within his bones.

HE: a man grown at only a tender age, duty and honor set deep into his veins. ichor must flow there, not the blood of the normal man. tall, blond, and autumn at its most beautiful and dormant. he knows what kind of road lies ahead — hardship, hard work.

he is a boy of summer, no matter how hard he tries to force winter into himself.

HE: smiles at her, and only her.

SHE: is braver when he is there.

he is a prince. she is a princess.

and they are julian’s life.

ii.

aurelie can’t function the same. he’s gone too often, coruscant is so far away — she covets their children, keeps them in the palace and holds them close. only august ever sleeps in his own bed anymore; serena shares the largest, canopied one with her mother.

(august stays up all night reading, learning, studying the force that aurelie wishes serena would swallow then spit up. ignore it, she tells her. i can’t, serena always cries. i want to know what it is!)

he is too old to be owned, so he does it for her. lets her practice feeling his thoughts, lets her guess what he’s wanting (it’s always the same thing; make their father proud). august watches her float a rose, shaking and her forehead scrunched, across a small space into his fingers.

“mama said i need to stop,” serena says. “but i hear them. the voices, and the visions. i think it’s calling for me.”

“the only person calling for you is me,” august replies, hand brushing her pale gold hair from her crown to the tips of her curls. what visions are from the force, and what voices are created from her own mind?

“your voice is the loudest.” his little sister giggles, tiny bells chiming in the air.

iii.

the end of story is like this: you pay a price for godhood. you pay for the life you create.

julian’s blood seeps into the streets of coruscant, the holo jagged and serena’s screams piercing. people crowd but no one helps. aurelie falls from her tower of stone; did she fall, or did she step into the unending abyss?

#star wars verse u w u #◞ ⁽ ⠀ ♡ ⠀ ⁾ ⠀ ⠀ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄 ⠀ ⠀ —— ⠀ ⠀ may these memories break our fall.

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kourumi · 3 years

Text

Oc Details Meme

I’m going with the Warcraft specific version of the Doc here! Tagged by @heartstriked! Tagging whoever i didn’t tag in rae’s! Name: Doctor K.M. Bel

Alias/Nicknames: Karen Bel, Lady Bel, Doctor

Gender: Fluid

Age: ♾️

Zodiac: n/a

Abilities/Talents: A deity of justice- they have the inability to lie, know when someone is lying, conjure the “truth” of something, fly. Some minor magical talents like minor wound healing, fireball and conjuring chains from the ground.

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true

Religion: Sun worship, and affiliated with The Light

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

Languages: All

Family: Parents and siblings are a secret. Uther the Lightbringer (husband), Cleric Elinore (wife), Alonsus, Serena, Luciana (youngest children)

Friends: Brann Bronzebeard, Harrison Jones, Elise Starseeker

Sexuality: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other

Relationship Status: single / partnered / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating / it’s complicated

Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

Build: slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy / other= tall

Hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / other

Eyes: brown / blue / gray / green / black / other

Skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / dark / other

Height: 6′ 0″

Scars: Most prominent one, that they hid 90% of the time is a thick, deep scar running from lower ribcage to just under belly button. You will not find out how it was received unless you’re married to her.

dogs or cats || birds or bugs || snakes or spiders || coffee or tea || ice cream or cake || fruits or vegetables || sandwich or soup || magic or melee || sword or bow || summer or winter || spring or autumn || past or future

Five songs that remind you of them: "Staying Up" by The Neighborhood “Vagabond” by Tommee Profitt/Alexandra Petkovski ft.FJØRA (that’s all i can offer, i can’t find their playlist sorry aaaaaa)

#karen bel #warcraft #mulitverse

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eddsworld-headies · 3 years

Text

Eddsworld Girlfriends| Tudor Mansion Part 1

Me being self indulgent with OC's cause I can >:)

Part 1

“Hey there, Teddy bear! What’s up?” Mayleen asked, her phone set on the coffee table and the connected earbud resting in her ear as she fixed the pillows on the couch and watered a few of the nearby plants. Her green apron contrasting her tan sundress and pale skin, long blonde hair pulled up in a temporary bun and straight bands curling nicely against her round face.

“Hey May,” Edd said softly, sounding flat and down. She frowned slightly, moving over to the coffee bar to water the flowers underneath the top. “You sound down. What’s wrong Pookie?” She asked, setting the green watering can on the table top as she moved to behind the bar to clean up her area with customers passing by the window. “ Well, you know that big commercial I’m working on?”

“The one with Cola! I’m so excited to see it, Edd! Your animation is so creative, I would’ve neer been able to put together something like bacon and butterscotch!” She praised, bright smile wide as he wiped her bakery goods display case down. “ That’s sweet of you muffin, but the company wants to meet with me and schedule some more commissions.”

Mayleen stopped, getting up from her kneeled position and letting out a sharp laugh as she smiled. “ Oh my god. Oh my god! Edd! That’s amazing sweetheart!” She said excitedly, physically jumping a little in brown heeled ankle boots. “I can’t believe it! This is gonna be it, Eddy! This is gonna be the one that gets you big, I just know it!” She moved around the counter and back to the coffee table to grab her phone. “ Butter-cup,” He breathed from the other end of the phone.

“They want me to come this week. They've got a plane lined up and everything to bring me over.”

Mayleen stopped for a moment, sitting down.

“What?”

///////////

“I’m so sorry, Darling, but the modeling agency just sprung this on me! A big brand wanted my gorgeous face to model their make-up.” Matt said, voice slightly loud as Serena pressed her phone between ehr ear and shoulder.

Her black wolf mullet pulled back with a hair clip. She smiled nicely at the customer as she packed up his amethyst mirror and vintage jacket, waving him goodbye as she pressed her glasses up her tan nose. “Matthew! It’s okay, Sweets! This is good for you!” She said, her accent originates from her earlier years in Venezuela, but her most recent years seem to dull the pronunciations.

“I know, My darling. I just hate to cancel this week! Our whole trip that we’ve planned for months! Ugh- It sucks.” She laughed at her boyfriend's whining, pulling up her low rise jeans and straightening her band shirt as she walked to the back room. “ I know. It sucks. We spent so much on those rooms too. I mean, how many people get to rent out a thousand year old castle in Scotland? It would’ve been perfect.” She said, reaching up onto the top shelf in the storage room to grab another amethyst mirror to set out.

“I mean, it could still be perfect.”

“How so?”

“ You should go anyway.”

////////

“Tord, baby. I’m not going away for the week with a bunch of people I don’t know.”

“ It’s not a bunch of people, Ness. You’ve met Edd a couple times-”

“I thought you said Edd couldn’t make it.”

“ He can’t. But Mayleen is gonna be there! You know Mayleen!”

Ness put the jacket hanger back on the rack as she made her way past two girls fawning over a new dress, her long pink hair straight and down to her elbows as she shuffled her bags up to the crooks of her arms.

“ So what, it’ll just be us girls? I’ve hardly met any of them! What if they're uncomfortable with a Trans-chick using their bathrooms or something?”

“They aren’t like that, Baby. Mayleen is sweet, Serena is super clever, and-”

“I know. They're all great. But have you met me? I’m extreme, Tord. Too extreme for certain people.”

“ Not these ones, I promise.”

She sighed as he persisted, setting her things down on a nearby bench as multiple people walked through the mall. Some gave her a few odd looks. She was 5’8 with chunky pink heels, looking especially awkward with a white t-shirt and jeans shorts. But she paid good money for her figure and got a few ribs removed to look as good as she wanted.

Let them stare, she looked fucking good.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll go.”

“ Yes! I swear you’ll have so much fun!”

“ Yeah yeah. I just hope we’re not gonna be all weird and awkward the whole time.”

////////

“I promise you it won’t be. You’ll have a great time!”

The brunette sighed, running her hand through her short, spiked hair as she set down her snacks and drinks by her gaming set-up, her stream on break and a little timer set for when she’d be back to the game runthrough.

“ I dunno, Tom. I feel kinda weird. I don’t even know these girls, and you know how I am. I don’t do the- Girly girlfriend thing. Unless I’m looking to strike out but I don’t wanna steal one of the guys' ladies friends.” She joked her american accent was a clear contrast to the brit she was talking to.

“Relax, Cansinova,” Tom chuckled from over the phone. “ You’ll be fine. I’m sure they can handle your butchness.” She rolled her eyes as she put the phone on speaker, setting it on her desk and pulling up the sleeves to her blue zip up hoodie and pulled the red sleeves underneath down so they contrasted. Even though she’d probably shove them back up in mere minutes.

“ It’s just weird. What does Tord need your help with anyway?”

“ He has some charity event for inventors that need a few musicians.”

“Ooooh, moving up the chain. Don’t forget us peasants down here when you’re a big famous musician.” She smiled as Tom laughed over the phone, shaking the cuffs of her jeans to get them to unroll. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

“ I mean, does it even matter if I go? It’s kinda weird, right? Going with Edd’s, Matt’s, and Tord’s girlfriends and I’m just- like some girl you knew that you're sending over.” She said awkwardly.

“I mean, it’d be a real waste of money and a good time. Besides, you’ve been dying to meet Edd’s girlfriend for months. This is a perfect bonding opportunity!”

“Well yeah. He’s my brother. I’ve gotta have the little sister ‘ If you hurt my brother I’ll scalp you’ conversation but.. I mean, this is like a girlfriend thing. What if they think, I'm like, yours?” She asked. “Would that be so bad?” He asked lightly. She flushed. “No. Of course not. But, it’s not true. I mean, haven’t you been seeing that Casey chick? You sure you don’t want her going?”

“Oh, Case? She’s.. Cool.. But Edd and I would much rather have you girls going than no one at all.” He reasoned. “You guys will be spending a lot of time together anyway, ya know. They're always over and you’re looking for a place, maybe it’ll work out for all of us.”

“Yeah, right. What’re the chances we all move in together?” �� I dunno, we’re pretty good with odds. Remember that time-” “ You guys went to hell and met Satan himself? I swear ya’ll were tripping on acid.” She joked. “ Excuse me. My acid is perfectly legit.”

She laughed as she sat crossed legged in her gaming chair as the stream countdown reached 3 minutes. “ Gonna have to cut you short, dude. Starting back up in a few minutes.” “ Alright. I’ll make sure to stop by on my break. Maybe donate a little.” “ Ooooh, dinner and a movie first, Buddy.” She teased, turning to her desk.

“ Yeah yeah, maybe after you guys come back.”

“ I’ll talk later.”

“ Bye Bridge.”

“ Later, Jehovah.”

“ Oh god, now Tord has you saying it-?”

#eddsworld #ew edd #ew tom #ew matt #ew tord #OC #ew oc #Eddsworld OC #writers on tumblr #writing #tord's girlfriend oc #tom's girlfriend oc #edd's girlfriend oc #matt's girlfriend oc #Maylene #Serena #Vanessa #Ness #Bridget

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440mxs-wife · 3 years

Text

The Hunter’s Princess- Chapter 3: Winchester Castle

Pairing: Dean x OFC Kira (eventual), Prince!Dean x OFC Lady Kira. Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Prince!Sam Winchester, Castiel, Rowena, Gabriel, King!John, Queen!Mary, Lucifer and assorted minor characters.

Chapter 3 Word Count: 3145+

Warnings: Dean nightmare, Prince!Dean jealous, fluff with Castiel. Each chapter will have individual warnings as needed.

A/N: This is from some material that’s been rattling around in my head from another project that changed direction. Couldn’t let all this content go to waste, though, so here it is. It’s a work-in-progress, and I will try and update as regularly as I can. If you want to be tagged in this series, send me a message!

Thank you and happy reading!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two days later, the carriage reached the gates of Winchester Castle. Once inside its walls, Kira was in awe of how much larger it was than her own humble dwelling. As they passed the stable area, Kira saw a short, white-haired man brushing down one of the horses. "Pardon me, sir?" she called.

The man wandered over as the carriage rolled to a brief stop. As soon as he saw who was in the carriage, he removed his cap and gave the ladies a deep bow. "My name is Collins, Lady Kira. I am in charge of the stables. How may I serve you?"

"It's very nice to meet you, Collins," she smiled. "You may help me, kind sir, by letting my driver know where he can park our rig. I need to report for the Princes' Challenge, and I'm sure, be shown to our quarters," she finished.

"It would be an honor, Lady Kira," Collins grinned and winked at her as he proceeded to give the driver the directions he needed.

"Thank you very much, Collins. I hope to see you again, as I love horses. I don't get to ride as often as I'd like, but maybe while I'm here, I'll get an opportunity," Kira remarked.

"Our stables are at your command, Lady Kira. Whenever you fancy a ride, please come down to the stables and ask for me. I would be honored to assist you," Collins replied, with a twinkle in his eye.

Kira laughed and bid him farewell, as the carriage continued to its destination. She and Rowena were shown to their rooms, where they were each assigned a lady's maid. Rowena's was named Katherine and Kira's was named Sarah. When she introduced herself, Kira felt a little dizzy as a feeling of déjà-vu played in her mind. Sarah looked concerned, but Kira assured her she was fine, just needed a drink of water. Sarah quickly poured a glass from the pitcher on the dresser and handed it to Kira, who smiled gratefully, and promptly drained the contents.

"Thank you so much, Sarah. I appreciate it. I think I'll do some unpacking now," Kira said as she moved to open the trunk.

Sarah intercepted her before Kira could put one finger on the trunk. "I will do that for you, Miss. Please, relax. You're competing in the Princes' Challenge, so you'll need to save your strength," she reminded Kira. "Dinner will be at 7 o'clock for any of the competitors who have arrived. May I suggest you wear this?" Sarah held up a pastel green silk empire-waisted gown with cap sleeves. The skirt was dotted with pale pink mini-rosettes embroidered throughout.

Kira marveled at the selection, but did not recall packing such a dress. Rowena. Kira shook her head in amusement as her fingers brushed the locket around her neck. "That will do very nicely, thank you Sarah," Kira responded. "I would like to freshen up a bit from our long carriage ride. Can you please arrange a bath for me in a couple of hours? I'd like to tour the grounds for now, if that's all right," she added.

"Yes, Miss," she said as she curtsied lightly. Kira gently put her hand on Sarah's arm. "When we're in here, just us or with Lady Rowena? You don't need to curtsy. I may be 'Lady Kira', but I'm a little less....formal than most royals, if that makes any sense," she chuckled lightly. This seemed to put Sarah a bit more at ease. "Thank you, Miss. I'll try to remember," she said as she smiled warmly.

Kira decided to check in with Rowena and find out if there were any other surprises in her wardrobe. As she turned around from closing the door, Kira nearly slammed into a raven-haired woman, a little taller than her, dressed in a red satin gown. "Pardon me, I didn't see you there," Kira apologized.

"Then you should watch where you're going," she seethed. "If you don't want to end up on the floor, that is," she smirked.

"Now, Serena, you need to control your temper a bit. It's not her fault she's so clumsy," a man's voice calmly broke in. Kira looked and saw a man with ice blue eyes and sandy blond hair. Lucifer. Her mouth ran dry and she excused herself before he could see the look of absolute terror on her face. Kira hastily knocked on Rowena's door and as soon as it opened, she rushed in, her entire body shaking.

"Och, Kira dear, you look like you've seen a ghost!" Rowena exclaimed. One look at Kira's face told Rowena that she was not far off the mark. "Katherine dear, would you please excuse us?" Katherine nodded and exited the room. "What's wrong, darlin'?" Rowena asked.

"I was coming out of my room, and bumped into someone. I apologized, but she was rather rude about the whole thing. Told me to 'watch where I was going if I didn't want to end up on the floor'. Then a man came up behind her and it was Lucifer," Kira explained.

Rowena's eyes got wide, then she seemed to collect herself again. "I was hoping we could avoid him, but it seems not. Listen to me: you must keep that locket of yours in your possession at all times. No exceptions," she ordered.

"Why? It's just a locket from my mother's jewelry box that she never got around to giving me. What could Lucifer possibly want it for?" Kira asked.

"Darlin', that locket is a very powerful charmed object. It's what brought you here. Your dear mother didn't get a chance to tell you anything about the locket and all of its power. You know as well as I do that if Lucifer got his hands on it, his power would know no limits. He could do the same as you, move freely about the multiverse."

Rowena continued. "Just think of all the trouble he'd cause in those other dimensions, which might even affect our home dimension at some point. Let's face it: we all know that Lucifer is not exactly the poster boy for 'self-control'. It is imperative that you keep hold of that locket, Kira," she finished.

Kira thought back to how the locket glowed in her hands just before she ended up here. Lucifer is a powerful enough archangel as it is. If he were to get hold of the locket....there'd be no stopping him, Kira thought. To her, that was unacceptable. Not to mention, it's her only ticket home after accomplishing whatever it is she's supposed to do here. In that moment, Kira vowed to Rowena that she would protect the locket with everything she had.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean went to his room in the bunker to try and get some sleep, at least his usual four hours. However, all he could think of was Kira and how far away from him she is right now. He'd give nearly anything to see her beautiful smile or lose himself in the depths of her soft, hazel eyes. He missed hearing her sing in the kitchen while she was making dinner. The bunker was way too quiet with just him and Sam in it.

If Dean really stopped to think about it, he'd been in love with Kira for quite a long time. Probably started after she started showing him up on the firing range. Dean was never truly upset about Kira being the better shot, but how else was he supposed to get pie? Besides, when she shot the targets better than he did, it always made her smile. And damn, did he love to see her smile.

Where are you, Kira my love? Dean silently wondered. Suddenly, her face appeared before him, but it was like she was looking through him to what was behind him. The look of terror on her face made his blood run cold and was enough to make him turn around to see what it was. Lucifer. Dammit, he was with Kira wherever she was. Oh, Kira darlin', hang on.

Dean was jolted awake and scrambled to sitting upright in bed, taking in huge gulps of air. A sheen of perspiration was on his brow and his T-shirt was soaked.

"What?? What is it?? Dean?!?" Sam shouted as he burst through the door. He heard Dean cry out in terror, which brought him to the door. Sam took in his brother's disheveled appearance and knew he'd had a nightmare of some kind, one involving Kira.

"I saw her. Wherever Kira is, I saw her, Sammy. And she's not alone. I also saw Lucifer," Dean rasped.

"No....." Sam whispered. "Okay, while you change into a dry shirt, I'm gonna call Cas. See if he's come up with anything new, or if Gabriel's been in touch with Cas instead of us," Sam muttered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After her encounter with Lucifer, Kira was still a little shaken up. There was no way she was going to catch a nap before dinner, so she decided to tour the grounds a bit. She started in the gardens, which were breathtaking, to say the least. There were so many beautiful flowers that it would take a lifetime to sample each of their fragrances.

Kira lingered most over the lilac bushes, as they were her favorite scent for the brief time that they are in bloom. Kira sat down on a stone bench near the lilac bushes. She closed her eyes and just listened to all of the sounds of nature happening around her.

"Did you know that a honey bee visits 50 to 100 flowers during a collection trip?" a gruff voice behind her said. Kira shrieked in surprise and nearly fell off the bench.

"Wh-what did you say?" she turned to see a man with dark hair and vibrant blue eyes. Where have I seen him before? Kira asked herself as she regained her composure.

"I am sorry to have frightened you, Miss--" he started.

"Lady Kira. And you are?" she responded.

He immediately knelt before her, bowed his head and drew his right arm across his chest. "Forgive me, my lady, I did not realize who you were when I disturbed you. My name is Castiel, head of security and friend to Princes Dean and Samuel. With your permission, I will take my leave of you," he said, rising to his feet.

Kira placed her hand on Castiel's arm to stop his retreat. "Please, Castiel. There's no need to leave. I was on a self-guided tour of the grounds. Besides, I enjoy learning something new every day. For instance, did you know that a honey bee can fly for up to six miles and as fast as 15 miles per hour?" Kira asked, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.

Castiel's face broke out into a huge grin and his blue eyes seemed to sparkle. "No, Lady Kira, I was not aware of that. Perhaps I could accompany you? I could act as your tour guide," he suggested, holding out his hand.

"That would be lovely, thank you," Kira smiled, took his hand and rose from the bench. He guided her hand around his arm and tucked it close to his side. "Shall we tour the marketplace next?" he asked.

"Excellent suggestion, Castiel. Please lead the way," Kira replied.

The pair wandered through the marketplace to see what treasures they could find. As far as they could see, there were all types of merchants within the castle walls. Some sold food and drink, some had bolts of vibrantly colored fabrics for sale, still others offered books and jewelry. Kira didn't have a lot of spending money with her, but enough to have some fun and maybe pick up a few trinkets for her house and pub staffs.

As they passed a man selling apples from his cart, Kira's stomach rumbled rather loudly. Castiel looked down at her midsection then back to her face and chuckled. "Well, that was interesting," he grinned.

"And most un-ladylike, I'm so sorry," she grimaced. "How much for the apple?" she asked the man. He quoted the price, and Kira dug out enough coins for two. "Pick one, Castiel," she said.

He chose his apple and Kira chose one. She smiled and gave her thanks to the vendor, who bowed as they left his cart. She turned to Castiel and said, "Okay, on three, we both take a bite of our apple," Kira commanded. "One....two....three!" she counted as they sank their teeth into the fruit.

It was the most amazing apple Kira had ever tasted, tart at first, then giving way to a sweet finish. She groaned in appreciation and looked over to Castiel, who was having a similar reaction. He nodded and smiled at Kira as he enjoyed his apple and they continued their marketplace tour.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean and Samuel had just returned from a ride out into the country, enjoying the gorgeous weather. They guided their mounts through the marketplace on their way to the stables. All of a sudden, Dean stopped and Samuel pulled up to a stop beside him. "Look, Samuel. There she is, there's Lady Kira. And she's with Castiel?" he wondered.

The princes watched as Castiel and Lady Kira stopped at a milliner's cart. They took turns trying on different hats, each one more outrageous than the next. When Castiel put on a hat obviously made for a woman, Lady Kira burst into giggles at first, then full-on laughter. At that moment, Dean decided that if he could only hear one sound in the world for the rest of his life, it would be Kira's laughter.

Both princes observed the scene playing out in front of them. Kira seemed so at ease here, not so guarded as she seemed in the pub when the princes had first met her. That night, they heard she'd had to throw out a drunk patron. The man tried to take a few too many liberties with her and one of her staff. She'd also had to deal with two last-minute customers, but both men had to admit, she'd handled both situations with grace.

Samuel looked over at Dean, who had been so relaxed during their ride, now seemed to be genuinely annoyed. Is he....he's jealous! My brother is jealous of his best friend, who at this moment appears as if he's making a move on Lady Kira! Prince Samuel smiled to himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean dismount and quickly walk over to the milliner's cart. Sam caught the attention of one of the stable hands, Logan, and motioned for him to take the horses to the stables. He dismounted as well and handed the reins for the two horses over to Logan.

"Prince Dean! Prince Samuel!" exclaimed Castiel as his face beamed. "How was your ride today?" he asked.

"Good afternoon, Your Highnesses," Lady Kira greeted as she dipped her head and curtsied.

"Good afternoon, Lady Kira, Castiel," Dean said tightly. "How lovely to see you again. What brings you to our doorstep?" he asked.

"I am here to compete in the Princes' Challenge, Your Highness. I only arrived this afternoon, and have already been shown to a room. I was on a self-guided tour of the grounds, starting in the gardens. That's where Castiel found me and has since been graciously acting as my tour guide here in the marketplace," she explained.

With rapt attention, Castiel and Samuel watched the exchange between Dean and Lady Kira. Sam recalled what he and Dean had found out about her from Collins. After what he saw with Kira and Castiel in the marketplace, he was beginning to see why Dean was so captivated by the woman. Sam found himself wanting to know more about her.

"So, you've only seen the gardens and the marketplace so far?" Dean asked, to which she nodded. "I would be happy to step into the role of tour guide now, if you wish. It would be my honor," he finished.

"I deeply appreciate your kind offer, Your Highness. However, it was a long trip to get here, and I am feeling a bit tired at the moment. I had hoped to get some rest before joining everyone for dinner. Perhaps you and I could continue the tour another time, if I may request?" she asked.

Dean paused for a moment and his face broke into a genuine smile, one his brother hadn't seen grace his features in quite some time. "It would be my pleasure, Lady Kira," he said softly. "May I have the honor of escorting you back to the main hall of the castle?" Dean asked.

"The honor would be mine, Your Highness," she said as she curtsied. Dean offered her his arm, and when she gave him her hand, he kissed her knuckles before tucking it close to his side. A pink blush crossed her features, which made her all the more lovely, if that was even possible. As they made their way to the main hall, Castiel and Sam followed behind. This Princes' Challenge is certainly going to be interesting, Sam thought.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Where am I? Oh dear, this is definitely NOT the pub, this is someone's bedroom, the woman thought as she surveyed her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was that she was just about to pour a beer for someone, then she woke up here. Wherever "here" is, she thought.

She sat up in the bed, which turned out to be kind of a bad idea, as a wave of dizziness crashed over her. She groaned at the dull ache in her head and waited for the woozy feeling to pass. After it had, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and gingerly tested her ability to stand. Once she was satisfied that she wasn't going to fall over, she took a few tentative steps towards the door.

On the other side of the door, she heard male voices, three distinct ones, in fact. One sounded heartbroken, like he'd recently lost the love of his life. She felt a pang of sympathy for the man.

Another man was trying to comfort the first one, to assure him that whatever was going on, they could fix it. The third man had an authority to his voice, confident that a solution would be found to the first man's problem.

As she cracked the door open, all three voices simultaneously stopped and three heads swiveled in her direction. She quickly closed the door and ran back to sit on the bed, her knees drawn tightly up to her chest. The first man carefully opened the door to see who or what was on the other side. His eyes widened as he regarded the woman before him. "Kira?" he whispered.

Part 4 here!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags: @janicho88 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @swiftlymoniquesblog @lyarr24 @miss-nerd95 @distefano123 @hobby27 @deanwanddamons @jessica-noel94 @wayward-mikaelson @jawritter @gabrielslittleangel @jensengirl83 @deangirl93 @ellewritesfix05 @supernatural-jackles

The Hunter’s Princess Series tags: @flamencodiva

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #au!dean winchester x reader #au!dean winchester #spn #au supernatural #The Hunter's Princess Series

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honeycombwerewolfe · 3 years

Text

long post: About Muse below the cut

About

(This is a fictional character RP blog. I do not make gifs: I use ones from tumblr posts that are reblogged here)

Major Berenice “Bernie” Griselda Wolfe. One of the Country’s Best Front Line Surgeons. Big Macho Army Medic. Not Maria von Trapp. Age: Old enough to show you a thing or two Height: 5’ 8" Gender: Female “she/her” Sexuality: Lesbian Appearance: Blonde hair, Brown eyes, Pale complexion Family:

Son: Cameron Dunn age 25

Daughter: Charlotte Dunn age 28

Exhusband: Marcus Dunn

Fiancé: Serena Campbell

Personality: Not the best homemaker, ambitious, confident, stubborn, workaholic, playful, no-nonsense attitude at work, bit brusk, straight shooter in most cases, not the best bedside manner…and not the best with confronting emotions. ________________________________ Backstory: A roadside IED changed her life. After surviving simultaneous open heart and spinal surgery followed by a TB scare, she was forced to choose between going back to her career or making a go at saving her marriage. She chose the latter but things didn’t play out as planned. Taking a job at Holby City, she struggled to adjust to life outside the army. Her attempts were only exasperated when Alex Dawson showed up on the ward. Bernie decided to stick it out and give Holby a chance…her marriage however not so much. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Marcus the real reason but the rumor mill at Holby soon did the job for her. Bernie had been having an affair with Alex while they were working together in the army. Her two children, Charlotte and Cameron took his side…and to a degree she understood. She had caused so much pain…but they were still her kids and she missed them….missed talking to them.

The first time she heard from her son Cameron after the divorce was when he showed up in Holby as a car crash patient. The first stone laid in repairing one of the many bridges she had burned down to the ground.

Her daughter took a bit longer to come around but even that relationship was on the mend.

One tentative bridge she seemed to keep having to repair before it was even finished being built…was with Serena Campbell, her co-lead in the AAU department at Holby. Bernie kept making mistakes…kept taking the cowards way out when she just wanted to keep from hurting more people..from losing more friends. Bernie tried and tries still to do better.

Years brought challenges to the couple: the death of Serena’s daughter Ellie, long distance relationships with the occasional breakup peppered in, and Serena’s own indiscretion with an F1 named Leah. In the end, Bernie and Serena chose to own up to their mistakes and work on being better for each other. Bernie gave up her home and job to come back to Holby…back to Serena.

Verses:

v:early days – Before Ellie’s death.

v:after ellie – After Ellie’s death but before Bernie joined Serena in the South of France.

v:thumb twiddling – Between Bernie Leaving Holby and Bernie leaving Serena. Jason has moved out of Serena’s and has his own life with his new family.

v:on secondment - Time period where Bernie is working on loan at other locations.

v:together at last – After Leah and the breakup, Bernie returned and the two moved in together finally admitting that they wanted a life together more than anything else.

#in which I now realize mobile doesn't do pages...soo #for mobile #squirreltalk

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sarunohadaki · 3 years

Text

Lovestruck Summer Days

Fandom: DQXI but can be read fandom blind! (or so I hope lol)

Summary: A casual volleyball player and resident cool man (or, not so cool anymore, given the heat) meet at the beach. What happens next will shock you. (Especially when the hot surfer boy enters the picture).

Word count: 6,446

Read it on AO3 here! An excerpt is under the read more.

There’s only so much reading you can do under the flimsy protection of a sun umbrella in July heat before it starts to become unbearable. At hour two, Erik slathers another layer of sticky sunscreen on his pale skin and slides shades on over his eyes. He lays back in his lounge chair with his hands clasped over his bare stomach, trying to catch some zees.

That plan works for all of one minute before there’s a loud crash, followed by all-over pain at the sudden weight on Erik’s body.

It feels like a fat man has belly flopped onto him. When he opens his eyes, however, Erik sees a flash of blue sky from beyond his canvas cage. He struggles out of the blue and white stripes, arms flailing a little for something to hold onto, when he feels soft hands curl around his and heave.

Erik crawls out of the destroyed umbrella and stares up at his perpetrator and savior.

She has a blond braid over each shoulder, with little bow ties at the bottom. A straw hat sits over her head, casting her lilac eyes in shadow. Erik only takes one glance at her figure, concluding that yes, she’s athletic enough to be the one who almost took him out with a volleyball.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so terribly sorry about all of this,” the girl says. “Are you alright?”

A big part of Erik knows what he should say. But dammit, it’s summer break, and he’s going to take his shot.

“Pretty much, though I wouldn’t mind a kiss to make it better,” he says, accented with a wink.

She pauses a second, blinking, then brings up a hand and giggles. “Where does it hurt?”

“Right here,” Erik says, and points to the soft skin of his cheek.

He closes his eyes as she leans forward and kisses his cheek. Then she pulls away, the cutest blush covering her cheeks.

“Serena! Stop dawdling over there and get the ball!”

A shout draws their eyes over to the volleyball field where the girl's friends patiently wait for her to return. The one who’d shouted her name looks awfully similar, though with more something to her posture that rubs Erik the wrong way.

"Coming!" Serena shouts back, then turns to Erik with a smile. "Do you mind helping me find my volleyball?"

"Sure," Erik says.

They scour through Erik's destroyed patch of sand, pushing aside bits of broken umbrella, including the punched canopy and the tilting metal pole that suspends it. They eventually manage to get Erik's belongings into some semblance of order, finding the volleyball lodged under the lawn chair in the process.

Once Serena has it back in her arms, she rises to her feet and turns to Erik.

"So sorry again for interrupting you," she says.

"It's no biggie," Erik responds. "Your name's Serena, right?"

"Yes! I'm here on summer vacation with some of my friends. What's your name?"

"Erik. It's really nice to meet you."

He can tell from the blush on her cheeks that he's got this one in the bag. She flips her head back toward the net then to Erik. "Do you want to join us?"

"I'd love to."

Erik follows Serena across the sand, eyeing her as they meet her friends.

---------

By the time the sun has started to set, Erik's spent most of the evening with Serena's friends. From the way it was explained to Erik, they’re all part of the same church group. That's not a huge shocker to Erik, given the way the others took one look at his pierced ears and wild hair and sent him a few disapproving huffs from their noses.

But if there's one thing Erik knows how to do it's charm people into liking (or at least tolerating) him. And Erik has a real huge propensity for brown-nosing, since it can get you pretty far in life.

Erik's helping to take apart the net, arms stretched above his head as he reaches to unlatch it from the pole, when Serena approaches with her arms behind her back and a shy smile on her face.

"Hey Serena," Erik says.

"Hi Erik," she says back. She clears her throat. "I was wondering if... if you wouldn't mind hanging out with me this evening?"

Erik arches an eyebrow. He drops his arm and the net follows, hitting the sand with a shhhft.

"Sure. You down for dinner at the Crab Shack at six thirty?"

Serena's eyes light up and she grins. "Oh, that would be splendid! Let's do that then."

"See you there," Erik says.

Serena bends down to gather the net up in her arms and Erik moves to the other end to help her. Once they have folded ends of the net in their hands and moved to the center to join the pieces together, Erik reaches for Serena's hand and kisses the top of her palm, savouring the way her face lights up once more.

Once Erik returns to his own spot in the sand, Derk's there with his hands on his hips, gesturing to the destroyed umbrella.

"What did you do?" he asks.

Erik grins. "I was taking your advice and talking to cute girls."

#PolyamShippingDay #Serevenerik #my writing #Serena/Erik/El #summertime vibes #DQXI #i was gonna write this anyway but then i saw the post for shipping day so the process was expedited

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iruludavare · 1 year

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"I wish it was within my privileges to relieve you of your pain. Alas, that is sadly not my domain. All that remains for me to aid you with, is be here as an open ear, if you so choose to want to connect."

What an odd way to start a conversation. Unique, much like the flakes of snow that dust the air around them, glinting in the rays of the sun before meeting the ground. A mixture of ice and hair obscuring the corner of the heroine’s vision, even if most remains tamed by the navy hat settled atop the young woman’s head, she cannot truly perceive the form of the stranger beside her. They are not a known face, that much is certain, yet the feelings that radiate from them, why they are gentle enough to cause alarm to neither the Lucario sitting beside her, nor herself. It is soft, warm, inviting. Like what she would imagine a character from a book or film might feel when a loving parental figure comes to the side to offer words of encouragement. Or when the spirit of one who has existed for centuries, yet still carries nurturing instincts, makes themselves known to her. Ebbing and flowing like the waves, welcoming and yet a little otherworldly.

So very vaguely like when Xerneas speaks to the heroine, or wishes to soothe her soul.

“…Thank you, but… you do not need to feel sorry for me,”

Gloved hands collect themselves atop of the blonde’s lap, nestling in amongst a rather lush coat matching the accessory atop her head. Words escape like whispers upon the wind, as though afraid that anything louder might know the snow away, or send its contents to someone nearby. The stranger appears to be addressing something so specific and yet so vague. Something that Serena has not told another person about, and refuses to believe they could have gleaned in any way, shape or form. Perhaps, she thinks, it is all coincidence—the Fates crossing their paths, and letting the other say the words that Serena desperately wishes to hear, unbeknownst to them. She clears her throat, slate blue eyes drifting off to the other side, so that they might rest on Florian’s own questioning stare.

“I did what I did because it had to be done. Because someone needed to stand up and put themselves in danger if we wanted any hope of stopping it.”

A nod. Of course he would agree. Though different in personality and temperament, it cannot be denied that they share the same values—of a deep sense of justice; of standing up for those who cannot; what is right, what is wrong, and what is just good or bad. All of her team, and the trainer herself, share it. Truly, a group of souls separated upon creation who have found one another at the appropriate time and place to fulfill a specific purpose.

“Whatever the consequences of that have been… I wouldn’t ask anyone else to shoulder them for me.”

And then, finally, Serena turns her head, attention honing in on the stranger. A smile seizes the ends of pale lips, lifting them up to form a smile warm, but soft—like the rays of sunlight creating glittering specks among the snowfall.

“But we all need others to lean on, I think. So… the offer you give me, I’m also extending to you. I don’t know if I can open up about much… but sometimes, the company is enough. Sometimes… helping others… that’s enough to help me.”

#❀⊱⦃ ⏤ {queue.} ⦄⊰❀#❀⊱⦃ ⏤ {ic.} ⦄⊰❀#❀⊱⦃ ⏤ {asks.} ⦄⊰❀#exnusquam #{Arceus.}#{brb crying}

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rosepyrearchive · 3 years

Text

star wars verse specific drabble, reposting from old blog x

QUESTION: what is the closest thing to divinity?

eirene only sighs, leaning back on the cushions of the chaise. “he’s tortured me this entire pregnancy. stars above, why would any woman want to be pregnant?”

“i don’t feel very close to godhood, right now,” eirene says. “only sore.”

“it’s easier to praise you now that you’ve grown into a man,” royce teases. “a noble man, worthy of being king. i know this little prince will be as well.”

ii.

julian lays eirene on her back, his hand sliding from her heart to the base of her stomach. long, thick white marks cover her where she once held their son, once held other children who never lived to fruition, and julian can see it as nothing but beautiful. magical. even goddesses have scars, battle worn and unruly. eirene is no different. he presses his lips to her skin.

“i ask a gift from you,” julian says, kissing his way slowly up her body.

“i would give you anything,” the promise spills forth like rosewater.

“i saw a shooting star today.” his lips touch the underside of amelie’s jaw. “i want another child.”

“the act of creation certainly thrills you.” she giggles like summer, opening up like a morning glory. “what if we lose this one as well? it pains us both…”

“and so they will.”

iii.

“hold on to me.” eirene’s grip is weak, and undulates by the second. this is too early, but the medical droids insist. otherwise they shall both be lost. “don’t let go.”

there’s more blood than either of them ever seen, and both little girl and woman are barely breathing by the end. this is the only place a goddess can perish, dancing too close to divinity. julian cradles the girl in the bed beside the woman. both are silent. eirene’s seams have come undone and the little glimmer of stardust in his arms struggles to breath, let alone cry. she’s taken by the medical droid and julian wants to shout no! she needs me!

but he doesn’t.

and it’s by some miracle neither girl nor woman leave him, not yet.

ANSWER: it comes at a cost.

roses bloom brighter in her presence.

a legacy lives deep within his bones.

he is a boy of summer, no matter how hard he tries to force winter into himself.

HE: smiles at her, and only her.

SHE: is braver when he is there.

he is a prince. she is a princess.

and they are julian’s life.

ii.

eirene can’t function the same. he’s gone too often, coruscant is so far away — she covets their children, keeps them in the palace and holds them close. only august ever sleeps in his own bed anymore; serena shares the largest, canopied one with her mother.

(august stays up all night reading, learning, studying the force that eirene wishes serena would swallow then spit up. ignore it, she tells her. i can’t, serena always cries. i want to know what it is!)

“mama said i need to stop,” serena says. “but i hear them. the voices, and the visions. i think it’s calling for me.”

“your voice is the loudest.” his little sister giggles, tiny bells chiming in the air.

iii.

the end of story is like this: you pay a price for godhood. you pay for the life you create.

julian’s blood seeps into the streets of coruscant, the holo jagged and serena’s screams piercing. people crowd but no one helps. eirene falls from her tower of stone; did she fall, or did she step into the unending abyss?

#◞ ⁽ ⠀ ♡ ⠀ ⁾ ⠀ ⠀ 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐔𝐄 ⠀ ⠀ —— ⠀ ⠀ the sweetest flowerets gleam.#◞ ⁽ ⠀ ♡ ⠀ ⁾ ⠀ ⠀ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄 ⠀ ⠀ —— ⠀ ⠀ may these memories break our fall.#reposting from old blog !

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pers-books · 4 years

Note

I'm so happy to see you're still doing the mash-ups! If I could ad my wish, still?

11 & 44 (and maybe 81 for added bonus ;) )

Let’s see, Anon, 11. Neighbour AU and 44. Flowers of Romance... (Not sure about 81. The Missus and the Ex as that’s already come up twice. We’ll see where the Muse takes me.) For the purposes of this fic Serena’s not living in a ‘leafy detached’. Um, this completely ran away from me to the tune of 5600 words... Oops!

Serena only realises she has a new neighbour, after months of the next door house being empty, when she notices she can smell cigarette smoke lingering in the side alley between the two houses where the wheelie bins are kept. She scowls at the smell, having no high opinion of anyone who smokes: as a surgeon she’s seen what harm nicotine can do to a human body.

The following morning she’s just walking down the drive to her car, briefcase in one hand, travel mug of good coffee in the other, when a pale blue convertible sports car pulls into the drive of the house next door. Serena fiddles with her car keys, opening the door and putting her briefcase on the passenger seat and the travel mug in the dashboard holder, then she tucks her skirt underneath her and slides into the driver’s seat. She watches in the rear view mirror as her neighbour unfolds herself from the driver’s seat of her own car. She gets a glimpse of messy blonde hair and long, long legs clad in black denim: the rest of the woman’s body is obscured by a pale pink wool coat. The woman pulls a battered leather satchel from her own passenger seat, then closes the car door and locks it. She doesn’t glance Serena’s way as she makes her way up the neighbouring drive and Serena sighs, then starts up her car and heads to work: she’s the CEO of one of Holby’s NHS hospitals and shouldn’t really be wasting time gawping at her new neighbour.

That evening Serena’s just pulling into her drive when her neighbour comes out of her house and heads towards her car. The pink wool coat is unbuttoned to reveal a dark coloured sweater and shirt underneath, paired with the black jeans of the morning. She can see that the other woman is around her own age and can’t help thinking that skinny jeans should not look so good on someone their age.

Serena hops out of her car a bit hastily in order to call a greeting across the top of her car. “Good evening.”

The woman gives Serena a tight lipped smile. “Evening.”

“I’m Serena.”

“Bernie.” The woman opens her car door, then glances back at Serena. “Sorry, I have to get on.”

“That’s quite alright. We can introduce ourselves properly soon.”

Bernie nods, then climbs into her car and drives off before Serena has fished her briefcase and empty travel mug from her passenger seat. She feels a slight pang of disappointment that they didn’t have time to introduce themselves fully, but she resolves to ensure it happens soon. Hopefully Bernie won’t be rushing off again come the weekend.

SC-BW-SC-BW-SC

Friday evening comes and Serena notes that Bernie’s car is still in the drive and that there is no sign of her new neighbour, who’s been leaving the house as she arrived home like clockwork all week. She takes her briefcase and travel mug inside then, before she can lose her nerve, she goes back outside and knocks on Bernie’s door.

The vision that’s vouchsafed her in response to her daring is quite the most alluring thing Serena Campbell has seen in some time: her neighbour is clad in lycra running shorts and a tight white vest top, and there’s sweat beading on her face, neck, and shoulders.

“Yes?” The other woman’s tone is harsh, but then her expression softens as she spots Serena. “Oh, it’s you. Sorry.”

“That’s quite alright,” Serena says, doing her very best not to lick her lips as one particularly adventurous bead of sweat rolls down Bernie neck and disappears beneath the vest top. “I just wondered if you’d like to come and have a drink, and I could fill you in on the neighbourhood news.”

Bernie looks at Serena through her fringe, her dark brown eyes seeming shy suddenly. “I, um, I’d quite like that. I’ll grab a shower and get changed first, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Serena says, although she is in no great hurry for Bernie to change out of those clothes, not when it’d mean getting to appreciate the other woman’s sinfully long legs, broad shoulders, and well toned arms. “Come round when you’re ready. I’ll leave the door on the catch, so let yourself in.”

“Thanks.”

Serena nods, then forces herself to turn on her heel and cross the few short feet of the side alley to reach her own house without turning back to gaze at her new neighbour.

She lets herself back into her house, making sure to leave the door on the catch. She slips off her heels and leaves them in the hallway, then heads to the kitchen where she opens a bottle of Shiraz and gets out two glasses. She removes her suit jacket and hangs it on the back of one of the dining table chairs, then she rummages in the fridge and the cupboards to find some snacks. She’d like to invite Bernie to stay for supper, but she’s not sure if that’s too much, too soon, so she sets out a bowl of dipping chips and a couple of dips, then a plate with her fanciest crackers, and another with slices of ham on one side and cheese on the other.

She’s just got everything arranged to her satisfaction when there’s a brisk rap at the front door, then it opens and Bernie calls, “It’s only me.”

Serena steps into the kitchen doorway and looks up the length of the hallway. “Come in, Bernie,” she says warmly.

Her neighbour smiles, then steps inside and closes the door. She slips her feet out of a pair of well worn trainers and leaves them next to Serena’s heels without needing to be asked.

“Hi,” she says, sounding shy.

“Hello. Come on through.”

Bernie pads, sock-clad, down the hallway and into the kitchen.

“Are you hungry?” Serena asks. “I don’t usually have supper until eight o’clock, but I’m peckish now, so I got out some snacks.” She gestures for her neighbour to take a seat.

“Thank you,” Bernie says with a half smile. “I won’t say no. I’ve worked up quite an appetite with my workout.”

“Wine?”

“Thank you.”

“I did wonder if you’d be heading out again this evening and we’d have to postpone this until tomorrow,” Serena says, setting a glass of wine in front of Bernie.

“No, fortunately I’ve come to the end of my nightshifts for this week. I - um - I’m a locum at one of the hospitals.”

“Oh? Which one? Because I’m the CEO of one of the hospitals.”

“Huh, weird coincidence.” Bernie swirls her wine in the glass for a moment, then inhales, before taking a mouthful. “I’m currently at St James’ Hospital, although I won’t be staying.”

“No?”

Bernie shakes her head. “Working in the same hospital as your soon-to-be-ex-husband, who’s busy telling all and sundry that you’re a dyke and a bitch is really not conducive to a pleasant working environment. He -” She stops. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear this. Unfair of me to unload onto a total stranger.”

“Well, as a founder member of the embittered ex-wives club, I’d say you’re with the best person to unload onto. Let’s relocate to the sitting room, where we’ll be much more comfortable, and you can tell me all about it.”

“If - if you’re sure,” Bernie says.

“I’m absolutely positive,” Serena assures her, and grabs a tray, onto which she loads their snacks and the opened bottle of Shiraz. “You bring our wine, and we’ll make ourselves cosy and comfortable.”

“Thank you, Serena.”

They relocate to the sitting room, settling on the sofa together with the tray of snacks and the opened bottle of wine on the coffee table before them.

“You said your soon-to-be-ex has been slinging slurs around?” Serena asks, as Bernie fills a plate with crackers loaded with ham and cheese, then scoops some dip onto the side of the plate.

She nods. “I finally admitted that I’m a lesbian and don’t really have any interest in men. I asked him for a divorce and he’s been taking it really badly.”

“And you said this ex is telling everyone your business?”

Bernie sighs. “Including one of my patients.”

“Report him to the HR department, Bernie,” Serena says immediately.

“Oh, well, I’m not sure - I mean, I was only contracted there for a few weeks,” the blonde says, flushing. “I’ll be leaving soon.”

Serena clasps her left wrist, squeezing it lightly. “Bernie, he’s engendering a hostile working environment for you. Can you absolutely swear he wouldn’t do so again with someone else? If he’s slinging around homophobic and misogynistic slurs because of you, there’s no guarantee he won’t do so because of someone else. In your CEO’s shoes, I wouldn’t tolerate it, and I’m betting Jemima Flannigan wouldn’t, either.”

“You know Ms Flannigan?” Bernie asks, then huffs. “Of course you do, you’re both women CEOs in what’s still a largely male dominated career.”

Serena chuckles. “While that’s true, it’s not the only reason we know each other.”

“Oh.” Bernie beginning to eat half a cracker and some ham. “University buddies?”

“And lovers,” Serena says, then has to reach out and thump Bernie on the back when she starts choking on her snack.

Eventually Bernie straightens up, tears streaming from her eyes and Serena plucks a tissue from the box on the end of the coffee table and passes it to her.

“Let me get you a glass of water,” she says and Bernie nods, eyes hidden by the tissue she’s using to mop up her tears.

Serena hurries into the kitchen feeling immensely guilty for just randomly throwing that fact at Bernie in such a careless fashion, just because she wanted the blonde to know that she wasn’t a heterosexual either. She scowls to herself in annoyance as she grabs a glass from the cupboard then fills it with cold water before returning to the sitting room.

“Here,” she says, trying not to notice the fact that Bernie’s very careful not to let their fingers brush as she accepts the glass from Serena.

“Thank you.” She slowly drinks about half of it, then coughs to clear her throat. “Do you always tell total strangers about your lovers?”

Bernie’s gaze is burning and full of curiosity, Serena thinks, but she’s not entirely sure the burning is because she’s interested in Serena.

“No,” she says, aware she’s blushing. “I - um - I shouldn’t have sprung that on you like that.” Bernie ducks her head, reaching for her glass of wine, and Serena swallows, then says, “I’m very sorry for embarrassing you.”

Bernie lifts her head again. “You didn’t embarrass me, well not very much. I was shocked, though, to be given such private information on less than thirty minutes acquaintance.”

“Well, I apologise for that, too.”

Bernie nods, then picks up her plate of snacks. “I’ll go and speak to Ms Flannigan about Marcus on Monday.”

“Good.”

They talk in a desultory fashion for another half hour or so before Bernie says she should be getting back as she’s things to do that she hasn’t managed to fit in during the week between sleeping during the day and working all night.

“Of course,” Serena says, feeling a pang of disappointment. She knows, however, that it’s her own fault that Bernie’s leaving so soon. They get to their feet and make their way into the hall where Bernie slides her feet into her trainers.

“Thanks for the wine and nibbles, Serena,” Bernie says. “I’m truly sorry I can’t stay longer but I need to finish unpacking properly this weekend, which means doing my laundry this evening if I’m to have any clean clothes to wear the rest of the weekend.”

Serena smiles. “Maybe we could have supper one evening next week since you won’t be working nights?”

“I’d like that,” Bernie says. “Goodnight, Serena.” And to her surprise, Bernie leans in and presses her lips briefly to her cheek before stepping outside and disappearing into the twilight.

“Oh,” she says softly. A goodnight kiss, however brief and chaste, is the last thing she’d expected from her new neighbour. It makes her feel a bit better about the way that the evening has gone.

SC-BW-SC-BW-SC

Serena doesn’t see Bernie again all weekend, although she does note the lingering smell of cigarette smoke in their shared alleyway a couple of times. She’s tempted to knock on Bernie’s door to tell her off, but she refrains since she doesn’t want to get into a fight with the other woman. That would be even worse than blurting out information about a previous lover. She is very surprised, however, that Bernie smokes, given that she’s a doctor, too.

On Monday morning she leaves the house to see that Bernie’s car has already disappeared from her drive and she feels a little disappointed to have missed her, although she knows that Bernie’s got a longer drive to reach St James’ from here than Serena has to reach Holby City.

When Serena gets home, Bernie’s car is still missing from her drive, so she heads inside to her study where she pens a brief note to her neighbour, inviting her to come and have supper the following evening. She writes her mobile number on the bottom and suggests that Bernie texts her, asking that she let Serena know if she has any food allergies or just strong dislikes.

She’s in the middle of preparing supper when her phone chimes to let her know she has a new text message. She wipes her hands quickly, then grabs the phone and swipes to see the message.

Bernie here. Tomorrow night for supper sounds great. No food allergies, love hot and spicy foods, hate mayonnaise and baked beans. Thanks.

Serena immediately saves Bernie’s number, before composing a response:

Food preferences duly noted. See you 8pm. Serena x

She’s already hit send before she wonders if she should have left off the kiss at the end, but it’s too late now.

8pm it is. B x

Serena feels the tension release from her shoulders at the sight of that reciprocal kiss.

SC-BW-SC-BW-SC

The following evening, just after 6pm, Serena’s phone chimes with a new text message:

Can’t make tonight, sorry. Multiple car RTC victims about to arrive, will be elbow deep in blood and bodies for much of the night. B x

Serena sighs, disappointed by the news, but she’d been fully aware from previous experience of dating surgeons that such a possibility was likely.

Sorry to hear that. Hope you don’t end up working too late. Let me know if Thursday’s any good instead? S x

She sets her phone aside and thinks that it’s lucky Bernie let her know in such a timely fashion so that she wasn’t already in the middle of preparing supper for two.

It’s not until Wednesday morning that Serena sees a text from Bernie, sent late the evening before, that says:

Thursday sounds good, RTCs and other trauma victims willing. Staying the night in the on-call room. B x

Serena frowns, hoping that the on-call rooms at St James’ are not too awful. Still, it’s a private hospital so they can probably afford better quality linen on the beds, and more comfortable beds, too.

She decides to wait until after breakfast to text back, not knowing if Bernie will have her phone on silent or even have switched it off overnight, and not wanting to wake her too early if her phone is on.

Hope you had a comfy bed and slept well. S x

Wednesday is a drag: a Board meeting takes up a large chunk of her afternoon and she finds herself immensely irritated at the old fogeys, as she mentally dubs them, who resist change and expenditure. She has been trying for some time to improve the trauma facilities available at Holby, and having met Bernie, she’s even more determined to get a dedicated trauma unit set up at her hospital. Bernie hadn’t told her, but Serena had dared to ask Jemima Flannigan about her, and had found out that Bernie is, in fact, Major Berenice Wolfe, RAMC (Retd), a very well known trauma surgeon, the best in the country, according to Jemima, and since she knows Bernie’s not happy at St James’ Serena’s going to try to woo her to Holby, preferably with the promise of a dedicated trauma unit for the blonde to run.

It’s not until after the Board meeting (where she’d won their agreement to getting a trauma unit installed, probably on AAU) that Serena thinks to check her phone for messages from Bernie: she’s had it on silent for much of the day as she was in meetings for most of the morning, too.

These weary bones can sleep anywhere after a couple of decades bunking down in the desert. Though I shall be glad to sleep in my own bed tonight, all things being equal. B x

Serena smiles and briefly wonders whether to tell Bernie about Holby’s trauma unit, before deciding to wait until they have dinner the following evening.

I’ll cross my fingers for you leaving on time tonight. S x

She sets her phone aside and focuses on the paperwork she needs to sign off before she can head home for a long hot soak and a glass or two of Shiraz.

She’s just climbing out of her car when Bernie pulls up on her own drive. They exchange waves, then Serena ducks into her car for her briefcase and travel mug. She straightens up and closes the door just as Bernie’s climbing, very stiffly she notes, from her own car.

“Good evening,” Serena says. “Are you alright?”

“Evening,” Bernie says, her voice low and husky, which stirs Serena’s senses. “Back’s giving me gyp, that’s all.”

“Will you be alright?”

Bernie nods briefly. “Nothing a long hot soak in the bath won’t fix.”

Serena can’t help chuckling at that. “I’ve had a day of meetings, including a lengthy one with the hospital Board, and I’ll admit to having been practically drooling over the prospect of a long hot bath and a glass of Shiraz.”

Bernie gives her a tight smile. “I hope you enjoy your evening, Serena.” She nods, then walks stiffly up the drive and lets herself into her house.

Serena frowns, not sure if she’s offended Bernie in some way, although she’s unclear how since the blonde was the one who brought up long baths. She shakes her head, walks the rest of the way up her drive and lets herself into her home. She steps out of her heels, sheds her coat, then moves into the kitchen to uncork a bottle of Shiraz. She grabs the bottle and a glass and pads upstairs in stockinged feet. She carries the wine and glass into the bathroom and sets them on top of the linen cupboard, then she starts running a bath, dropping a bath bomb in to make it smell nice and help her to relax.

She steps back out of her ensuite and slips off her suit jacket, carefully setting it on the hanger. Then she unzips her skirt and steps out of that, adding it to the hanger. She unbuttons her coral pink silk blouse and eases it off, then tugs off her camisole. She drops both items into the clothes hamper in the corner, then she sits on the side of the bed and rolls her stockings down, before dispensing with her matching bra and panties set. She always wears nice underwear to work, enjoying the sense of power it gives her. She drops that into the clothes hamper, too, then pulls on her bathrobe before moving back into the ensuite.

The bath is almost full to the level she prefers so she pours herself a glass of wine, then sets it and the bottle on the little shelf that runs between the side of the bath and the wall, before she turns off the taps, sheds her bathrobe, and steps carefully into the bath, sighing in pleasure as the heat of the water licks up her limbs.

Once settled in the bath she drinks her wine slowly, savouring every measured mouthful. She finds her mind drifting to Bernie, idly wondering if the blonde is already ensconced in her own bath and what, if any, rituals she has about bathing. She wonders, too, what’s wrong with Bernie’s back; she knows from Jemima Flannigan that Bernie took a medical discharge from the RAMC after being injured in an incident involving an IED and while Jemima didn’t go into any details about Bernie’s injuries, she can’t help wondering if the other woman’s back was injured in the explosion.

Serena’s halfway down her second glass of wine before it occurs to her that she’s lying naked in her bath thinking about another woman and she flushes with a heat that has nothing to do with the temperature of the bathwater. She finishes up her second glass of wine, then grabs her loofah and sets to work with it. She tells herself that she’s not allowed to think about Bernie again until tomorrow.

That plan is somewhat derailed when she picks up her phone, once she’s dressed again, and discovers a text from her neighbour:

Sorry about my shortness earlier - back was terrible. Turns out the mattress on the bed in the on-call room was entirely wrong for me. It did a number on my back and performing surgeries all day has been painful. Promise I’ll be in a better mood tomorrow, if we’re still on for supper? B x

Serena feels an enormous sense of relief that Bernie wasn’t upset with her. She texts back immediately:

Very sorry to hear about your back. Are you getting proper treatment for it? Sorry about being nosy, but I’m concerned. Hope you have a nice restful evening ahead of you. Definitely still on for supper tomorrow. Come over as early as you like once you’re back from work. Take care, Bernie. S x

She pads downstairs and into the kitchen and grabs the takeaway menus from the drawer in one of the kitchen cabinets, sifting through them to see what tickles her fancy. She settles on Thai and wanders into the sitting room to await its arrival. Perhaps she’ll watch some mindless TV while she eats. She’s scrolling through Netflix, trying to decide what she wants to watch, when her phone chimes again.

Binge-watching first season of Orange is the New Black, which has come highly recommended (I missed it being overseas and not yet out) and takeaway pizza. Enjoy your evening, Serena. B x

Serena can’t help chuckling at this and she responds immediately:

I hope you enjoy OitNB and the pizza. I’m going to watch the new lady doctor in Doctor Who - I’ve heard good things about her - and eat Thai takeaway. S x

The doorbell rings and Serena sets her phone down to go and grab her delivery. To her intense amusement a young Black man with a Deliveroo bag is making his way back down Bernie’s drive; her front door is shut so Serena has no chance to wave at her or to suggest that Bernie come over and eat with her. She wouldn’t mind watching OitNB again. She curses herself for crushing so badly on the other woman, then carries her food into the sitting room and settles down to see what Jodie Whittaker can make of such an iconic television role.

SC-BW-SC-BW-SC

A good chunk of Serena’s Thursday is spent making telephone calls or in meetings as she tries to establish how much it’s going to cost to get a trauma unit in place on AAU. Ric Griffin, the clinical lead of the ward, seems to be both pleased and annoyed about the whole thing, and she eventually drags out of him the fact that he’s not looking forward to sharing his ward with someone else.

She sighs internally. She and Ric normally get on fairly well, but he can be a stubborn old coot at times.

“Ric, it’ll be necessary to have a trauma lead for the trauma unit. We need someone experienced to run that side of things, someone who has been plying their trade in the field of trauma surgery for at least a decade.”

He frowns at her. “You sound like you have someone in mind,” he observes.

She hopes she’s not flushing as she says, “I do have my eye on someone, actually. Have you heard of Major Berenice Wolfe?”

Ric’s eyes widen. “She’s with the RAMC,” he says. “I’ve read several papers of hers in The Lancet.”

“She’s recently retired from the RAMC,” Serena tells him. “And is currently on a short term locum contract with St James’.”

He stares at her. “Well, she’s not going to give up working in a private hospital to come and run a trauma unit in an NHS hospital. Her pay would be cut significantly.”

“I think she might,” Serena says. “I happen to know she’s not enjoying working in the private sector.”

“You’ve met her?” Ric asks, sitting up straighter. “What’s she like?”

Serena chuckles at his enthusiasm. “She’s my new neighbour actually. Moved in the weekend before last. I’ve conversed with her a couple of times.”

“Do you really think you could get her here?”

Serena swallows further laughter. “I’m going to ask her this evening. But we should still draw up a shortlist of the top five trauma surgeons, besides Major Wolfe, who are working in the UK and get their contact details so we can invite them to come for an interview if Major Wolfe turns us down.”

“I can do that,” Ric says. He sighs. “I hope she says yes. To have someone of her calibre here in Holby would really raise our prestige.”

“Don’t I know it,” Serena says dryly.

Ric checks the time on his phone. “I’d better go, I’ve got a theatre slot booked for 2pm.”

Serena nods, waving him off. She has a stack of personnel files to work through as it’s staff appraisals time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Serena’s relieved when she manages to leave work on time for once and she wastes no time in escaping from her office and practically running to her reserved parking space to jump into her car and high tail it out of the hospital car park.

Once she gets home, she takes off her suit jacket, then she makes a start on supper as it needs more than an hour to cook in the oven. She’d found a cottage pie recipe that’s described as ‘Bengali-spiced’ and she’d decided to try making it for tonight’s supper since Bernie had said she likes spicy food. The recipe makes four to six servings, so she puts half into an ovenproof dish to cook, then the other half she puts into a freezer-proof dish to be cooked at a later date.

Once it’s in the oven, she collects her jacket and heads upstairs to grab a quick shower and get changed. She’s tired of her CEO persona today and feels like being more relaxed and casual in her dress. She scrubs herself thoroughly, then shaves her legs and under her arms equally thoroughly. She flicks a glance at her bush but decides to leave it as it is - she’s never been one to try to tame that.

After she’s dried off, Serena puts on a black silk and lace plunge bra that she knows gives her fabulous cleavage, then she pulls on the matching knickers. She doesn’t really believe that she and Bernie will be engaging in an intimate encounter tonight, but she can’t help dressing to blow the other woman’s socks off. She pulls on stockings, rolling them carefully up each of her legs in turn, then she pulls on a pair of black tailored trousers before adding a burgundy silk blouse. She leaves off her usual camisole since she really wants to flaunt her cleavage. She brushes her grey hair, wondering if Bernie finds it sexy, then applies her make up.

She’s just sorting out the greens to steam to go with the cottage pie when someone rings her doorbell, and she hopes it’s not someone trying to sell insurance or god. Opening the door, she finds herself absolutely stunned at the sight of Berenice Wolfe. She’d thought the other woman looked good in skinny jeans or in lycra shorts and a vest top, but she discovers that Bernie looks absolutely amazing when clad in a three piece suit that includes a waistcoat in mid blue decorated with gold embroidery and a formal white dress shirt with several buttons undone, giving her a nice view of the other woman’s clavicles and throat. She’s so busy gazing at Bernie that it takes her quite a while to register that the blonde is holding a bouquet of flowers.

She swallows hard and says, “Come in” in an unintentionally husky voice.

“These are for you,” Bernie says softly, and Serena realises that Bernie’s gazing at her and looking as entranced as she feels.

“Thank you.” Serena tears her eyes from Bernie and steps back to let her into the house, then looks down to see that her bouquet consists of red chrysanthemums, blush pink peonies, something she cannot identify, and carnations in a deeper pink than the peonies. “What are these?” she asks, pointing at the very pale pink flowers that seem to have the scent of cinnamon and something else.

“They’re matthiola incana,” Bernie says. “Their scent is cinnamon and cloves.”

“I’ve never seen them before,” Serena says.

“The florist recommended them.”

“Well, they’re gorgeous. The whole bouquet is. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Serena waits while Bernie takes off the kitten heels she’s wearing with her suit, the leads the way into the kitchen.

“Have a seat,” she says, “while I put these in some vases.”

“Thank you.”

Serena pulls out two vases since the bouquet is of a generous size and fills them with water, then she separates out the flowers into two even bunches. “The chrysanthemums are quite a startling contrast to the varying shades of pink of the other flowers.”

“They, um, they all have a meaning, according to the florist.”

Serena turns, her hands full of matthiola incana. “Oh?”

Bernie’s flushed, the apples of her cheeks a shade of pink similar to the peonies that she brought Serena. “The florist told me a bit about the symbolism of various flowers, then helped me to pick out those in the bouquet.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” Serena says, curiosity aroused by Bernie’s blushes.

“The matthiola incana represents beauty that doesn’t fade with age and a lifetime of happiness. The chrysanthemums represent love and passion. Peonies are associated with romance and prosperity and, um, bashfulness.” She ducks her head, hiding behind her fringe, and Serena chuckles softly.

“And the carnations?”

“Um, fascination and new love.”

Serena raises an eyebrow. “Why Major, is there something you’re trying to tell me?” she asks in a seductively husky tone.

“Um, well, you see, I like you, Serena. And I’d like to get to know you much better.

Serena feels her heart rate pick up. “I see. Well, as it so happens, I like you, too, Berenice Wolfe, and I’d very much like to get to know you much better, too.”

She abandons the flowers on the counter, then rounds the kitchen table to where Bernie’s sitting. “I’d like to kiss you,” she says softly.

To her delight, the blonde reaches up to cup Serena’s cheek, then plants her lips very firmly on Serena’s mouth. The kiss goes on for some time as Bernie draws Serena onto her lap, and it’s only when the alarm on Serena’s phone goes off to remind her to start steaming the greens that the two women finally pull apart.

“To be continued,” she whispers with a last peck on Bernie’s lips.

“To be continued,” the blonde agrees, giving Serena a shy smile.

Serena sashays over to the other counter and starts putting the greens into the steamer, then washes her hands before resuming sorting out her bouquet. She feels more alive than she can ever remember feeling before. She feels almost giddy at the possibility of a proper romance with Bernie Wolfe.

Then she remembers that Bernie’s still married, and she whirls around. “I don’t like cheats,” she says vehemently, and the blonde jolts back in her chair.

“I’m not cheating,” she says. “I’m divorced as of yesterday. The decree absolute came through.”

“Oh.” Serena feels herself blushing with mortification. “I’m sorry, I -”

“It’s fine, Serena,” Bernie says, getting to her feet and moving to her side. “I quite understand.” She slides her arms around the brunette, then lowers her head and kisses her languidly, a kiss full of promise.

“Are we good, Serena?” she asks.

Serena nods. “We are good.”

Bernie smiles. “I don’t know what’s for dinner, but it smells very good.”

Serena smiles back. “Dessert will be even better.” She smirks when Bernie flushes, then whimpers when the other woman, her eyes dark with desire, presses her more firmly against the counter and kisses her with hunger.

“I’m looking forward to dessert,” Bernie says, her voice low and husky, and Serena bites back a moan. It’s possible this woman is going to wreck her. Somehow, though, she can’t find it in herself to mind.

[Pick two (2) tropes for me to mash-up and explain how I’d write them (Berena only)]

#A Nonymouse #Ask and you shall receive - possibly!#Berena #Trope de Trope #Mash-up Meme #Fanfic

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