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multisfabulis · 3 years

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Only Through Acceptance Will Love Find Us

The Florist of Belleurseul (Chapter 1)

Word Count: 5728

What's this? Another update from me within less than a week? What is this witchcraft?!

I'm joking, of course, but this is, for sure, another update! For those that didn't read the notes for "Land's Trust in Light", you can disregard this but all I'll say is that it is practically unheard of for me to post twice in the same month, much less the course of two weeks, so I'm having a bit of fun with myself.

Anyway, I know I said in the last chapter I wouldn't update this story much because I consider this a backburner project, meaning I wouldn't devote much attention to it unless it was one of the rare occasions I had nothing else to write at the moment. However, I figured that, since I only left everyone a 500 word prologue last time, it'd only be fair to write and post the first chapter so you guys would have something to chew on while waiting for the next chapter. It's after this I'll be putting this story on the backburner to be worked on occasionally, meaning no frequent updates. Have fun with the foreshadowing I put in here!

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“Thank you, have a nice day!”

At that, Venlithea Virthana slid the gold coin into her pocket. She managed to bring in a good sum of money today, despite the encroaching winter. Pride coursed through her at the thought of having sold that many flowers and she had to stop herself from jumping for joy. She instead settled on walking with a bounce to her step as she wondered if things were finally looking up.

Days like today didn’t happen very often. Some days had only a handful of regulars show up while others none. Then there were days she’d be verbally harassed or even pushed to the ground, which would spill her flowers out on the ground to be trampled upon by unsuspecting or uncaring passersby. Those happened enough times she stopped being bothered by them a long time ago. She was highly thankful today wasn’t like those days.

She had only one thing left to do before going home and that was to return the book she borrowed from the bookshop. She planned on exchanging the book with the one she regarded as her favorite so she’d have something enjoyable to read for the next few days while her mother was out of town. Gripping her basket tightly in her hands, she set off for the bookshop.

Venlithea, or Ven as she preferred to be called, has lived in the small, quaint village of Belleurseul all her life. Anyone could mistake it for being a quiet, sleepy town in the middle of nowhere if not for the people. The village sprang to life every time a visitor dropped by and they would deem the occasion as cause to celebrate. She’s had plenty of sleepless nights from the noise these parties brought to her door. It’s partly due to this she’s wanted to leave Belleurseul for years.

It’s been her and her mother’s dream to go and find a new place for them to live. A place they could truly, truly call home. In order to do that, though, they needed money and lots of it. Her mother was a traveling merchant, which fetched them a nice amount of gold, but her sickly nature’s prevented her from going on many trips. Once she was old enough to, Ven began selling flowers she grew herself as a way to help out. It wasn’t much but it kept them afloat.

Working as a florist’s been hard. She wasn’t stupid to believe she’d earn tons of money selling flowers, especially in a rural village like Belleurseul. She just didn’t expect the struggles that came with being a flower girl. Better yet, the struggles of her being a flower girl.

As beautiful as this village was, it wasn’t perfect. Some of the buildings were falling apart, the scent of fermented waste lingered in the air, and she’s known from experience how cruel the people were. They’ve made no secret on how much they dislike, and even fear, things different from them. She and her mother weren’t like them, thus they were outcasts, pariahs.

She received the brunt of their harsh treatment. She’d hear the rumors and gossip spread about her when she walked into town. Stories of how she was a changeling born from fairies or how she was a witch sent from hell to curse them were just the tip of the iceberg. She knew they were utter nonsense but what point was there in denying them if the villagers continued to tell those tall tales, regardless of how she felt? The way she looked wasn’t her fault yet---

She fervently shook her head to rid herself of those thoughts. She couldn’t, wouldn’t dwell on painful memories. Today was a good day and musings of the past weren’t going to ruin that for her. She needed to get what she wanted to do done so she could help Mother prepare for her upcoming trip. She hurried off to the bookshop, ignoring the pointed looks people gave her as she passed by.

Within minutes, she arrived at her destination. The bookshop was a small, one-story building settled on a busy street corner north of the village. It had dark yellow walls that were beginning to flake with age, large windows on either side, a thin, wooden door, and a rusty sign hanging above with the word “Bookshop” carved into it. She’s come to this place ever since she was a child and the owner considered her his favorite customer. She stepped inside, the familiar smell of musty books enveloping her.

There were stacks of books scattered across the wooden floor. Bookcases that stretched all the way up to the ceiling stood at the back and sunlight streamed in from both the windows. To her left was an old, rickety counter that came up to her chest and behind it was the owner of the bookshop. He was an older man with graying hair and round glasses sitting atop his nose and was reading a book when he noticed her. He grinned warmly at her.

“Ah, Ven, you’re back!” he said excitedly, putting his book down and walking around the counter. “How’s your day been? Are you returning a book?”

“That I am--” she fished the book out of her basket and handed it to him-- “and it’s been great, thank you for asking.”

Fixing his glasses, he squinted his eyes and exclaimed, “You finished this already? It’s only been a day!”

“What can I say? I’m a fast reader,” she replied with a giggle. “Any new additions for me yet?”

He let out a hearty laugh. “Not since you asked yesterday but I’ll let you know as soon as I do. Now, go on, take your pick!”

She practically skipped over to the bookcases in the back. It was a shame she couldn’t borrow more than one book at a time. It wasn’t as if the owner wouldn’t let her, it was just that she’d get too distracted with one she’d forget all about the other. She hated being somewhat of a scatterbrain when it came to books. Still, there was only one she wanted and she was going to have it. Reaching the middle bookcase, she took out the thin, hardcover book.

“I’ll go with this one.” She held it up to him. “Will that be all right?”

Taking it from her, he asked, “That one again? Haven’t you read this twice now?”

“Yes, but it’s just so good,” she replied, playing with her hands. “I consider it my favorite.”

“Oh, it has to be if you’re saying that! Tell me, what is it you like so much about it?”

“Oh, uh, well, um…”

She struggled to come up with an answer. She was a horrible liar but the truth was too embarrassing to reveal. How could she tell him about the deep sense of yearning the book left her with each time she read it? The way her heart hurt when she had to depart from the world that gave her comfort? How it filled the hole inside her by letting her have what she desperately wanted for only a short time? There was no way she could talk about such intimate things with anyone, least of all him.

“There’s just so many things I like that it’s hard to pick just one,” she answered, hoping it didn’t sound as stilted as it did in her head. She technically wasn’t lying so it might’ve seemed convincing.

With a guffaw, he put a hand on her shoulder and said, “Tell you what, why don’t you keep that book since you like it so much?”

“Really?” she asked, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly take this from you without---”

“Ven, I can think of no one else better to hand this book to--” he squeezed her shoulder before retracting his hand and grabbing his chin-- “but if you’re so insistent on paying me back, bake me the usual.”

“Blackberry bread, right?” She grabbed the book from him and opened the door with a smile. “I’ll have it ready for you tomorrow morning!”

She turned to page one right after exiting the bookshop. Her eyes read over the familiar words just as they had twice before. It was a good thing she’d gotten so used to reading while walking in town, she knew what accidents to expect. With that, she fully immersed herself in her beloved fantasy world.

Flying down some steps with an unusual grace was easy. Pushing the sign above her up to protect herself from getting soaked, she could do with her eyes closed. She was small and agile enough to carefully dodge people barreling past her. It was when she already reached the third chapter she noticed the soreness in her legs. She decided to take a short rest and sat on the rim of the nearby fountain.

The noises of the world around her faded away as she continued reading. All she heard now was birdsong and the crunching of snow under her feet. She imagined herself to be in a castle’s courtyard, a wintry wonderland. She could almost feel the bitter cold nipping at her hands and face and she shuddered. Her heart fluttered in her chest upon seeing how close she and the princely beast were to each other. She began to wonder if there was there that wasn’t there before and then---

Loud bleating tore her out of her imagination. She looked up and saw several fluffy sheep gathering around her. One that seemed to be an older lamb pushed its way through the herd, bleating up at her. A smile broke across her face as she petted its head, giving it scratches behind its ear like she always did. She liked animals; they weren’t judgmental and she loved being affectionate towards them. Pets, strokes, scritches, and kisses were part of the whole package.

Then it tore out a corner of her page and ate it. She let out an annoyed sigh as she continued scratching the lamb’s ear. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t miffed at the small display of destruction but it was better to forgive and forget. It’s not like the lamb did it maliciously and it was only a corner. She could get over missing a corner of an illustration-less page.

Now was the time to be getting home. The sheep parted to make way for her and she flipped the page before crossing through the main thoroughfare. However, it was hard for her to focus on reading when there was a commotion going on. She looked up to see a crowd surrounding someone, with loud squeals and all. Ah, so the wayfaring Casanova was back in town.

Renard Géroux stood in the center with his signature charming smile. His blond hair flowed down to his shoulders in waves, not a stray strand anywhere on his handsomely chiseled face. The sun complemented his dark brown skin and the sheer white of his clothes made him seem as if he were glowing. The most striking thing about him, though, were his icy blue eyes. Eyes that were now locked on hers.

She felt a shiver run up her spine as he approached her. Everyone was like a giant to her but Renard was truly the embodiment of one. She had to crane her head up to meet his gaze, standing just at his chest. What could he want with her and how quick could she get away?

“Oh, hello, Thea, how are you today?” he asked, flipping his hair back. “It’s rare to see you outside at this time of day.”

Closing her book, she fought the urge to huff out a sigh and replied, “Hello, Mr. Géroux. I just got done running an errand I had to do after work so I’m on my way home.”

“Please, call me Renard,” he said while flashing a smile.

“Mr.---Renard, I’m in a slight hurry here so please, tell me what it is you want with me.”

“Since you asked me so nicely, I was wondering if you would like to take a walk with me later today?”

She hoped he didn’t see her bristle at his suggestion. The many women that huddled around him gave her glares full of daggers. How she wished she could tell them he was all theirs and that she wanted nothing to do with him. It was rather unfortunate she wasn’t a mind-reader.

“Surely you know of the rumors about me, right?” she asked in an attempt to dissuade him. “Do you really want someone known to be a witch spending time with you? I’d be tarnishing your pristine image.”

“I tend to not believe in rumors, gossip, and the like. Now--” he wrapped a svelte arm around her shoulders-- “how about that walk?”

Quickly shaking off his arm, she replied in a deceptively calm voice, “As much as I appreciate the offer, I must decline. I was going to help my mother prepare for her upcoming trip and I planned on relaxing by reading my book.”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffed. “I hardly think reading some old, dusty tome is better than taking a nice stroll with me.”

She felt her temper flare up and forced herself to smile. “Some people may agree with you but I find good entertainment in books. Maybe you should try them some time.”

“What, like this one?” He snatched the book in her hands away. “How can anyone have fun with these?”

Her eyes widening in panic, she reached up to try grabbing the book from him while practically begging, “Renard, can you please give that back?”

“How can you even read this?” He carelessly flipped the book open to a random page. “It’s so wordy and long and there’s not even any pictures in it.” Then he threw the book over his shoulder. “You don’t need that.”

Her heart stopped when she saw it land in a nearby mud puddle. She dove to the ground and fished it out, praying it wasn’t badly damaged. Relief crashed over her upon seeing that it was only mildly wet. If it had gotten soaked, she would’ve been seriously upset and devastated.

“So how about it?” he asked nonchalantly. God, she really wanted to tell him off but causing a scene was the last thing she needed.

Instead, she took a deep breath and answered, “I’m simply too busy, Renard. Maybe when I’m free, then I’ll consider it but for now, I’m saying no.”

Holding the book close to her chest, she turned to go home. All she had to do was see her mother, bake the blackberry bread, and garden. Tending to her flowers always seemed to calm her down.

“So are you going to end up like your crackpot mother, then?”

She stopped walking as soon as she heard those words. Her fingers were beginning to hurt from how tight she held her book and she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from shouting. She was pissed, for lack of a better term. She could handle the insults hurled her way but her mother was another story.

Breathing in, she stormed over to him and asked, “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” he replied, crossing his arms and returning her glare.

“I thought you said you didn’t believe in rumors.”

“They’re not rumors if they’re true. I mean, your mother’s always selling these so-called ‘herbal remedies’ and passing them off as medicine, right? Wasn’t it because of one of those strange concoctions her lover died?”

“You should fact-check your sources because you’re wrong on all accounts. Everyone knows how her lover died and even if they didn’t, that matter is none of their concern. Secondly, my mother’s a traveling merchant who happens to be an herbalist on the side. Herbalism is just another method of practicing medicine and is not something to be considered as witchcraft.”

“Thea---”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go help my mother prepare.”

Turning around, she started going back home when she stopped suddenly and looked behind her shoulder. “And another thing. Go to hell, Renard.”

Then she crossed over the bridge leading to her house. She was almost expecting Renard to grab her and demand she apologize but thankfully didn’t. He needed to be knocked down a peg or two. He shouldn’t have said those kinds of awful things about her mother. He was just like them.

She couldn’t begin to imagine how hard it was to raise a child all alone. Her mother tried her best to give her everything she needed, despite the struggles. There were nights she’d hear her crying, nights she’d go hungry, yet she faced her with a loving smile every morning. She became a florist to a town open with its prejudice as a way to repay her mother for all she had done for her. She wasn’t a crackpot; she was a hardworking, devoted mother and she loved her.

Her anger dissipated when she arrived home. It was a small, two-story house that sat on the outskirts of Belleurseul, with amber walls and pine green accents. It had an equally small stable around the back and a water wheel on the side closest to the stream. It may not have looked like much but it was home. She was going to miss this old house when she and Mother moved.

She walked towards the stable and she saw a woman. She was tall, olive-skinned, and a little on the plump side but it only added to her beauty. Her rich, burgundy hair was tied back into a thick braid and fell past her shoulder as she spread a handful of seed over the ground to feed the chickens. She turned to face her upon hearing footsteps and eyes the color of toasted pecans warmed at the sight of her. This was her adoring mother, Nithenoel Ravavyre.

Coming out of the stable, she greeted her daughter with a quick hug and kiss before asking, “Hi, sweetheart, how was work today?”

“Hello, Mother, it was great actually. Here, let me show you.” She took some of the coin she gathered today out of her pocket and presented them to her. “There’s more where those came from.”

“Oh my…” Mother said under her breath, bringing the handful of coin closer to see them clearly.

“Today must’ve been my lucky day!”

“I’ll say!” She closed her fingers over the coins. “Listen, how about we go inside and put those away so we can talk, hmm?”

The two women climbed up the stone steps leading to the front door. It was a dark, well-made door with a makeshift peephole in the center. Ven was hit with a blast of warmth when Mother opened the door and it felt very nice against the cold. The fireplace must be lit if it was this warm.

Upon entering, they passed by the narrow staircase that led up to the second floor and cut across the living room. It was small but it was the perfect size for them. The walls were a nice cream color and hanging off them were several paintings Mother had done when she was younger, way before her time. To their right was a light wood cupboard where Ven set down her basket and book and above it was an oval mirror. On the other side was a small, brown sofa and a low table sat in front of it on top of a big, dark blue rug. At the back was the lit fireplace and windows where sunlight was streaming in, a couple chairs were placed in front of the fireplace with a thin blanket hanging on the back of one of them. The next room they went in was the kitchen.

It was tiny. There were four cabinets above the four counters that stretched from one honeyed wall to the tall pantry. On the opposite side of the counters was a small breakfast nook that served as their dining table with a couple stools sitting under it. A footstool was tucked in the nook’s corner for when Ven needed to fetch something from the cabinets or pantry, which was every day. She couldn’t wait to have a bigger kitchen when they finally moved.

Mother sat at the nook while she opened one of the counter doors. Inside were linens meant to come out when they had guests over but that wasn’t what she was looking for. She tossed some sheets aside to uncover a mason jar. It was heavy and she set it down on the nook. Unscrewing the top revealed tons of gold inside from years of working and saving up.

It was what they called their nest egg. They needed some serious money for their dream to become a reality and this was the result of their hard work. They’d have more if times weren’t rough and they didn’t have to dip into their savings but no use in dwelling on those.

As she was dropping her coin into the jar, Mother asked, “So, any other news to share?”

“Well, I returned the book I borrowed yesterday and guess what?” She screwed the top back on as Mother looked at her expectantly. “The owner gave me my favorite book for free!”

“That’s great, honey. I suppose it’s the one you set on the cupboard back there?” She leaned back on the stool to see it. “For free, too?”

“Well, I have to bake him his blackberry bread but it was his deal, not mine!” she replied, putting the jar back in its spot under the counter. The sheets she tossed aside earlier were thrown over the jar to hide it better.

Giggling, Mother leaned forward and said, “I know, honey, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. That book’s the one where the beast falls in love with the girl who shows him the true meaning of love, right?”

“Mm-hmm and it’s all mine!”

“I’m happy for you, Thea. You know, speaking of, have you found someone you can call your prince yet?”

She let out a sigh upon hearing the question. It was hard to find and be interested in someone when the whole village seemed to hate her. She had people she’d fancied before but she knew to keep her expectations low and realistic. If she did have a “prince”, they certainly weren’t in Belleurseul.

“Mother, you know I'm not interested in romance,” she replied, bringing the footstool out of its corner.

“Not interested or haven’t found anyone yet?” Mother asked.

“Both!” She set the footstool down in front of a counter and climbed up it. “I don’t see the point of trying to find love here since we’ll be leaving Belleurseul sometime in the future.”

“What about that Renard fellow? I hear he’s back in town.”

“Ugh, Mother, don’t even joke about that. That man is an arrogant and pompous jerk who thinks he’s the hottest thing alive. I don’t wanna be anywhere near him.”

“My, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak so strongly about someone before. Did he do anything to you?”

“No, it’s just…he makes me uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how to explain it but--” she held a bundle of sugar in her hands before setting it down beside her-- “he gives me bad vibes. He hasn’t said or done anything to raise any red flags for me but he just gives me a weird feeling.”

She couldn’t explain it any other way. She could sense there being something off about him since their first meeting years ago. He seemed normal, if a little too forward at times, but she couldn’t shake off the apprehension she felt around him. Maybe it was her dislike of people like him that gave her discomfort. Either way, she knew she didn’t want to be alone in a room with him.

“Thea, you still have your dagger, right?” Mother asked with an unusually serious expression.

She stepped down from the footstool and smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Mother, I always keep it with me when I go out. See?” She walked around the nook and lifted her skirt up to reveal the small leather holster strapped to her thigh. “If he tries anything, I’ll make sure to defend myself.”

“I know you will, hon, I just can’t help worrying about you.” She turned in her seat to cup her cheek. “You’re my only child, Thea. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

“I’ll be fine, Mother,” she said, laying her hand atop hers to comfort her. “Trust me.”

Without a word, Mother stood up and kissed her on the forehead. Then she hugged her, her arms wrapped tightly around her tiny body. She returned it in the hopes it’d ease her anxiety. They’ve only really had each other for as long as she could remember; they were each others’ world, in a sense. It’d shatter if something happened to one or the other so she understood her mother’s concern. The best she could offer were words of assurance and those had to be enough.

Mother pulled away and resumed their conversation from earlier. She was good about alleviating the gloomy atmosphere so she welcomed the change in topic. It shifted back to her lack of interest in love, with Mother expressing that she only wanted her to be happy and her saying that she had a whole lifetime ahead to find love so she wasn’t worried. One of a kind, the words Mother used to describe her. She wondered if she really was so special.

She stayed in the kitchen to bake while Mother went down into the cellar to make some last-minute elixirs. The cellar was where she worked to create her herbal medicine to sell during her time on the road. She wouldn’t need to travel so far if the villagers believed she wasn’t going to poison them but her reputation was considered to be unsalvageable at this point. Ven was only allowed to tend to the herbs down there because Mother refused to let her help in the synthesizing process. There was a safety risk involved, or so she said.

Baking was a mindless activity. She didn’t need to read the labels on the measuring cups or fill the spoons to the brim, she’d done this so many times. Kneading the dough let her focus on her hands and work out any energy she may have needed to spend. It gave them food if they had none, it gave her an outlet. The last thing she did was stick the blackberry dough into the fireplace to cook. She watched as the dough expanded into its loaf shape and her mouth was watering at the smell of it. She took the newly-baked bread out and waited for it to cool down before cutting it. One half was for Mother while the other for the bookshop owner.

Then it was time to pack. They began loading up the wagon with the goods Mother wanted to sell, making sure she had enough oil in her lantern to last her for several days, and stocking her with plenty of food for both her and the horse. Dahlia was a beautiful Clydesdale, large and powerful but sweet as can be, with a chestnut coat, blonde mane, and the most soulful brown eyes. She’s been with them ever since she was a young foal and was used to taking long trips such as these.

“Well, I think I’m set to go,” Mother said, fastening her hat as she walked up to the wagon. “I’ll be back in a few days so remember to feed the animals and---”

“Take care of myself, I know, Mother, don’t worry,” she cut off. “Everything will be fine.”

Letting out a small laugh, she gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Thea.”

“Love you too.” She returned the hug. “See you soon.”

Mother climbed up to the seat and took hold of the reins. Ven approached Dahlia to stroke her neck, asking her to keep themselves safe till they were home again. With a cry, the wagon began to move and turned on the road heading out of the village. Mother and Ven waved each other goodbye.

“Stay safe!”

“You too!”

It was late in the afternoon when Mother left. She went over her mental checklist to see what else she needed to do. The animals were fed their lunch, she’d done all her chores for the day, and she took care of the bread for tomorrow. She had the rest of the daylight hours free and she knew exactly how she wanted to spend them. She strode back inside to read her book.

Before she picked it up, she glanced at the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her as she thought about the rumors the villagers spread of her. She wasn’t a witch or a changeling, that much she knew for sure. But what other explanation was there for how she looked? No one looked like her, no human in the whole world ever looked like her, so why did she? Books held the answers she wanted but those were fantastical and she lived in reality. A reality that couldn’t apply to her.

Her face seemed normal enough, even if it resembled a fairy’s from an illustration in one of her books. Bright, round eyes, small button nose, rosy cheeks, and full lips were all the defining marks of a fey. Maybe her skin counted as well, since she’s heard it described as being pale as moonlight. Long, snow white locks of hair framed her face in a way that matured her as the rest, although tied back, cascaded down her back like a waterfall to her waist. Then there were her eyes.

Everything else could be explained away but not her eyes. They were truly a mystery, an impossibility made possible. They were a vivid violet, similar to dark amethyst gems or bellflowers in full bloom. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could determine why she was born with them but that didn’t stop the villagers from making their own interpretations. They weren't quiet about it, either.

Maybe the reason she loved this book was because she could sympathize with the beast. She understood what it was like to be feared, hated simply for her looks. They were both cursed but his was a spell that could break. Hers was a matter of permanence, something she was stuck with till the day she passed on from this world. Who could love a beast like her?

She needed to escape. Her emotions were starting to get the best of her and staying in reality any longer would surely cause them to overflow. She gingerly grabbed the book, sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace, and began to read from where she left off at. This was fine.

Be patient, she told herself. Just wait a little more and you won’t feel this way ever again. You’ll find your prince. You won’t be lonely anymore. You’ll be loved and accepted, you just need to wait a little longer.

She hoped that day would come soon.

#airi's writing #oc; Venlithea #oc; Renard #oc; Nithenoel #beauty and the beast au

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lambourngb · 5 years

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The product of too little sleep, lots of ‘Murder in a Small Town’ and rewatching episodes 12 and 13.

***

The Anbar Province left more than a physical mark on Alex.

He had learned lessons, both big and small. He could separate premonitation from subconscious recognition. He could type accurately from the footbed of a Humvee with no discernible suspension while a squadmate bled out next to him, locked in the importance of the mission. He could also wait patiently during the long hours that stretch between the spikes of adrenaline and monotonous boredom.

Roswell so far tested two out of three of those skills.

The disquiet left over from last night’s storm aged and blossomed from a vague feeling of wrongness to outright certainty. The mid morning sun was edging overhead, and soon would start it’s slow slide toward the horizon as he kept his vigil outside the Airstream for Michael. ‘Come back tomorrow, we’ll talk then’ was a promise that had Alex reaching for his favorite black leather jacket for comfort.

He refused to think of it as armor. Not every conversation was a war, but he was ready to fight for Michael. Staying away hadn’t kept anyone safe, it just robbed him of time he could have spent happy.

The crunch of gravel lifted his eyes from his phone, as a Chaves County sheriff’s cruiser pulled into Sander’s followed by one dark colored nondescript sedan.

Michelle Valenti had always been kind to Alex in the past, like her husband had been. She was always quick with a kind word when she noticed his eyes trailing to the photos of a happy family that dotted the Valenti house when he was growing up, mindful that his own house was bare of such sentiment. He never minded when strangers mistook her for his mother in the joint outings with Kyle as kids. The New Mexico sun baking them both dark and alike, another set of twins like the Evans kids. After Jim’s death, she had quietly shut down any talk of challenging the will and property transfer of the hunting cabin to Alex. It was only her insistence that he even accepted the keys in the first place and allowed the lawyer to finalize the will’s dispersal.

Her eyes were still kind as she stepped out of her vehicle, but her face showed no sign of friendliness. This was official business.

As always his mind flashed to the worst case scenario, Michael wasn’t here because he was dead. There was no known family to notify, just his employer. Max had to be dead too to leave this to his boss. Isobel had kept her connection to Michael quiet. Or were they all caught by an arm of Project Shepherd that he had missed? Last night’s glimpse of Michael, he had been covered in blood, and then called away by some painful telepathic urgency.

Alex clocked the dark sedan as government issue, raising more alarm in him.

Swallowing hard, he stood from the chair. “Sheriff, what brings you by?”

Two men exited the sedan, both dressed in similar versions of an off the rack dark business suits. The flair at the hip and shoulder nearly hid the firearms strapped to them. Definitely federal agents.

“We’re looking for Michael Guerin.” She peered toward the closed door of the Airstream, “is he here?”

“He’s not here.” Alex stepped closer to the doorway of the Airstream, subtly blocking entry. He didn’t give himself time to feel relief that at least Michael wasn’t dead or in custody. “What’s this about?”

Agent Bland Number 1 stepped forward holding out an ID with a shield. “Agent Rollins. Mind if we look around?”

Alex stiffened at the casual question. “Actually I do mind. Do you have a warrant?” There was no telling what sort of research on the ‘47 crash Michael had left out, but he was well aware a blood soaked shirt was still on the camp bed from last night.

Agent Bland Number 2 unbuttoned his suit jacket to pull his own ID out with a glance to the Sheriff. “I’m Agent Ross. We have permission from the business owner to be here, son.”

He bristled at the ‘son’ and reached for his own identification. “Captain Manes, United States Air Force, and you may have permission by Mr. Sanders to be here, but that Airstream is a residence with an expectation of privacy, and you need a warrant to enter it.”

“Is it your residence?” Agent Rollins asked, his eyes flickering to Alex with a disbelieving sneer.

Great, a government homophobe. What the hell was Michael into now. He saw Sheriff Valenti stiffen at the undertone by him. In for a penny, “Michael’s my partner, so yes this is also my residence.” He flicked a glance at Michelle Valenti, seeing no surprise on her face and met the eyes of Agent Rollins unflinchingly, “I did not give this country 10 years and my right leg to allow my rights to be trampled. So unless you tell me what’s going on, this has been a lot of fun but it can be continued with my lawyer.”

“Alex,” Sheriff Valenti cautioned. “We might have gotten off on the wrong foot here. We just need to talk to Michael, since his name came up in a routine missing persons investigation. I had to request help from the local field office because we’re a little short handed here in Roswell.”

Fuck. A missing person investigation where Michael’s name was brought up could only mean Noah Bracken. It was too much to hope for that Max Evans had competently covered for his absence while they held him in a pod. A prominent well respected attorney could probably disappear for a day or maybe two, but it had been close to four or five days since the gala.

The few details he had from Michael during that ill-fated drive to Caulfield were mainly focused on the frustration he had that Noah was out of reach in stasis. With Liz’s serum coursing in Noah’s veins, he couldn’t be questioned on their origins without accelerating the decomposition. Michael had mentioned it had been Isobel’s decision, exercising a long overdue power over Noah.

The ride home from Caulfield had been entirely silent, wondering what they were going to do with the likely lone surviving alien with knowledge of their origins seemed out of place.

Alex certainly wouldn’t miss Noah Bracken, but that didn’t mean the community wouldn’t. Barely 12 hours into the damage control of Caulfield and he had a new problem to add to the list.

“Who’s missing?”

“Do you know a Noah Bracken?” Confirming Alex’s suspicions about the visit.

“Everyone knows Noah Bracken. This is a small town. He and his wife sponsor or fund most of the main events around here. In fact the reopening of the UFO museum was just the other night that they hosted.” Alex glanced at Sheriff Valenti, “your own Deputy Evans is his brother-in-law. Is that why the call for federal involvement? Conflict of interest in the department?”

“Deputy Evans took a week of leave after the gala, and yes, his personal relationship to Isobel Evans-Bracken does disqualify him from the inquiry.”

“I still don’t understand what this has to do with Michael and what makes this a missing persons case? The whole town saw him the other night.”

“The ‘other night’, son, was five days ago and that’s the last time he was seen in public. He was due in court for a case yesterday. His secretary says he would have never missed court. His wife told his office he’s on a fishing trip to Heron Lake, but we have no credit card or cell tower data that says Mr. Bracken ever left Roswell. We have reason to believe from a witness that Mr Guerin might have been the last person to have contact with Mr. Bracken.”

It was careless of them to hold Noah in a pod without knowing his court calendar and public appearance schedule intimately. Keeping the cell phone turned on was truly amatuer hour as well. Alex was reminded abruptly that Michael and Isobel were civilians, and Max’s operational experience was likely limited to speeding tickets, warrant serving and drunk and disorderlies. Detaining a suspected enemy combatant for intelligence gathering was more in line with his own resume.

This was the type of battle he left Roswell at seventeen to learn how to win.

Warily Alex kept his expression even and natural, choosing his words carefully with his knowledge of events. “Michael and I were together, here last night. The last time Michael mentioned him was the gala. And I can tell you, personally I haven’t seen Noah around in a while.”

Agent Rollins exchanged a glance with his partner, “you’re willing to swear to that? That Mr. Guerin was with you last night?”

“Yes, we were together last night, and I spent all day with him yesterday.”

“You said everyone knows everyone here. Are you aware of any deeper connection with Mr. Bracken? A personal relationship?” Agent Ross picked up, plastering on amenable smile with the suggestive question.

“Michael is friends with his wife, but I don’t know of any other connection.”

Agent Ross sharpened, “How friendly with his wife would you say he was? Small town has a lot to say about Isobel Evans-Bracken and we’ve heard a lot about their close relationship.”

The Roswell gossip circle strikes again. Without the public acknowledgement of being foundlings together, it probably did look a little odd to the average bridge club members about why a society wife and fundraiser spent so much time with the local bar brawler. He knew with good reason why they kept their kinship secret but it was still inconvenient when rumors swirled about a carnal relationship instead of a sibling one. He remembered his own curiosity about them in high school before he got his answer from Michael in the form of a sweet kiss at the museum.

Alex bristled at the implication, “Michael’s not a cheater and we’ve kept our relationship quiet for the sake of my career and his safety. Like you said, this is a small town.”

Agent Ross looked up from his notebook, and commented blandly, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was over a while ago.”

“It wasn’t when we started.” Alex smiled humorlessly, and extended his hand to Sheriff Valenti, “Michael’s off looking for a part, but I’ll let him know to contact you about setting up an interview with our lawyer.”

“We just want to clear this up, Alex and find Mr. Bracken. No one is saying he’s in trouble. We’re on our way over to Max’s next.” She squeezed his hand meaningfully, before turning away to steer the agents back to their vehicles.

Agent Rollins, ignored Alex’s hand pointedly, “We will get to the bottom of this, Captain Manes. And if need be, we’ll be back with the warrant to search this place from top to bottom.”

Long practice with bullies and his father kept him unyielding when the other agent stepped close in an attempt to intimidate. “You do that.”

He waited until the cars pulled clear of the entrance to Sanders before bringing his phone to his ear.

No answer from Michael’s phone. It went straight to voicemail the way it had this morning when he first tried to call. He mashed the disconnect button. He didn’t have Max’s number. The next best thing was Liz. He wasn’t the praying sort, but he really hoped Liz wasn’t at her lab in the hospital with no signal. The second thing he needed to do after locating Michael was gather everyone’s phone number.

#another google doc #malex fic #fake dating your ex because of the feds #alex manes #michael guerin #roswell new mexico #new wip #rusty writing muscles

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inthequeeryetgood · 7 years

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After reading this line in workaholism "But I also want to make sure you take care of yourself.” can you make a one shot where raven is sick due to many late nights of working and chelsea have to take care of her even though raven did not want to admit she's feeling a bit under the weather?

Raven was beginning to wonder how long a person could go without sleep—she knew she’d heard someone say it at one point, but she was too tired to remember anymore. She’d been awake for three days straight, working on another “super important” project that Paisley had given her four days notice to work on. Outfits for the fifty members of Dudley’s Doggy Dancerz dance crew in four days? Possible, clearly, because Raven had done it. But fun? Not even in the slightest. It was over now, though, and all that was left to do was go home and sleep and then head back work tomorrow and wait for her next ridiculous task. And if not tomorrow, the next day. She was sure it would come soon enough. They always did with Paisley.

But then it happened, as soon as she stepped out of the office building and into the crisp October air. She sneezed. A great big, good old-fashioned sneeze that caught her so off-guard she hardly had time to cover her face with the crook of her elbow. People stared at her as they passed her on the sidewalk as if they’d never seen a grown woman sneeze before. Raven rolled her eyes and sighed. Just one more thing to add to the list of sleep deprivation side effects she’d been battling all day.

She’d started the morning out feeling achy, her sinuses felt congested as ever, and her throat was more than a little sore, but that was probably from all of the yelling she’d done during the fitting the day before. It didn’t matter, though, because she was sure that with a good night’s sleep (and maybe a good afternoon’s, too) she’d be feeling as good as ever.

She was quite proud of herself when she arrived home about half an hour later because she had resisted all of her urges to pull over into the shoulder of the road and take a nap.

“Hey!” Chelsea greeted from the kitchen as soon as Raven walked in. “Did you finally finish? Do all of Dudley’s dogs have their dancing duds?”

Raven nodded as she let her bag fall from her hand and collapse to the floor with a clatter. “Yep, it’s all finished. Every last pair of doggy spandex.”

Chelsea’s face twisted into concern as she crossed into the living room. “You made the dogs spandex? That’s not really good for them, you know? It can compress their diaphragms and make it really hard for them to move properly.”

Raven shook her head, but stopped soon after. It was making her a little dizzy and definitely not helping her headache. “There wasn’t any spandex, Chels,” she assured, her hand reaching up to rest against her forehead.

“Oh, okay, good,” Chelsea said with an exhale of relief. But any relief she had been feeling seemed to immediately fall away when she glanced back at Raven. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” Raven nodded emphatically, a move she immediately regretted but tried her hardest not to show. “I think I just need to lay down for a little bit.” Another sneeze snuck up on her then, and she winced as it passed through her already raw throat.

Chelsea shook her head. “Come here,” she beckoned needlessly, as she was already drawing Raven closer to her with a tug of her wrist. She reached up her hands, rested them on Raven’s cheeks, then her forehead, and her eyes widened. “You’re burning up, Rae.”

Raven swatted her hands away and backed out of the close quarters they had found themselves in. “Chels, I’m fine,” she insisted. “I just need to get some sleep.”

“If you say so.” Raven could hear the doubtfulness in the sing-songy lilt of Chelsea’s voice and crossed her arms defiantly in response. When it was clear that Raven was not going to admit her defeat, Chelsea withdrew. “Do you want me to wake you up for dinner?”

Another sneeze chose that very inopportune moment to attack, so all Raven could do was nod her response. Raven could tell that Chelsea was trying to hide a grin, but she was failing miserably.

Chelsea reached over and gave Raven’s hand a short squeeze. “Sleep tight.”

Raven muttered a quick, but sincere “Thanks, Chels” and then began her slow but steady retreat to their bedroom.

Raven woke from her nap when she felt a warm hand on her cheek and when she opened her eyes (which took more effort than she cared to admit), she was unsurprised to find Chelsea hovering above her, her eyes full of a sympathy that Raven resented but was too tired to challenge.

“Hey,” Chelsea whispered, pushing a stray strand of hair from Raven’s face. “How do you feel?”

Even though she’d been asleep for what had probably been hours, Raven felt no more rested when than when her head had hit the pillow earlier in the afternoon which, really, wasn’t that weird. She couldn’t expect to sleep off seven-two hours of tired in a matter of three or four. “I’m good, I’m good,” she muttered, her voice squeaky and halfway gone.

Chelsea looked doubtful but went along with it anyway. “Do you want to come to dinner? The kids begged me to order pizza. They said they wanted to give me a break since I’ve been on dinner duty for the past three nights.” Chelsea sighed softly, a small smile emerging before she glanced back down at Raven. “I can make you some soup, if you’d rather.”

Raven scoffed belatedly at the kids’ request, only just processing Chelsea’s words. “Pizza’s good.” With her eyes still half-closed with the weight of sleep, Raven clumsily pushed herself up onto her elbows, but only for a second before collapsing back against her pillows. “Just give me a second, okay? I’ll come out in a minute.”

“Okay,” Chelsea agreed. Her hand finally moved from Raven’s cheek as she stood from the bed, leaving a cold patch on her skin in its wake. Raven snuggled further under her covers as Chelsea left the room.

It took a few more minutes before Raven could finally manage to drag herself out from under the pile of blankets she’d cocooned herself in for the better part of the afternoon, and even longer before she could stand from her mattress. Only after wrapping one of the blankets around her shoulders could she begin to head toward the living room.

By the time she arrived, everyone had already begun eating, some even already through their first pieces and onto seconds. But as everyone became aware of Raven’s presence in the room, the chit-chat and munching and crunching stopped as they all turned to look at her.

“Whoa, Mom,” Booker said, breaking the awkward silence. “You look really sick.”

Raven scoffed, which turned out to be an unfortunate mistake when seconds later she descended into a 30-second long coughing fit, which wouldn’t be complete without a hacking-and-wheezing session as a finale.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Nia asked when Raven had recomposed herself and sunken into her chair.

“I’m fine,” she said and, despite her weak voice, sent the entire table a leveling glare. “Now everybody stop asking me that.”

Levi, Nia, and Booker all shared a look before dutifully looking away and resuming their dinners, but Chelsea let her suspicious gaze linger a while longer. Raven resisted the urge to close her eyes for a quick two-second nap while still under Chelsea’s watchful eye, so instead, she reached across the table and grabbed for a piece of her plain cheese pizza.

She never ended up taking a bite.

When she woke up (again) and peeked up from the woodgrain of the kitchen table she saw that the kids were all gone and only Chelsea was left clearing the plates. Raven watched as Chelsea placed her undisturbed slice of pizza back into the box for later until another, thankfully shorter, coughing fit fought its way up from her chest. Chelsea looked over at her with another sympathetic smile.

“Well, hi there, sleepyhead,” Chelsea greeted as she stacked a final plate onto the precarious pile in her palm. “Let me put these dishes in the sink and then we’ll get you to bed.”

Raven was too tired to fight it anymore. “Okay.”

She was almost asleep on the table again when she felt Chelsea place an arm around her waist, gently coaxing her to her feet. In her other hand she held a metal bowl, but Raven couldn’t see what was inside.

They began to walk, their footsteps falling in tandem on the hardwood floors. Neither of them spoke again until Raven had been tucked back into bed. The giant pile of blankets, which Chelsea had somehow managed to add on to with blankets Raven didn’t even know they had, made her feel small again.

“I’m not sick, Chels,” Raven insisted one last time as she settled into the mattress, her words slurred with want of sleep.

“I know, Rae. You’re not sick,” Chelsea said with a playful roll of her eyes. Raven heard a splash of water against metal and then felt a cold cloth press to her forehead, giving her relief from her fever that she hadn’t even known she’d needed (not that she even had a fever, of course). She sighed, sinking further into her pillows.

Within seconds, she had passed into the liminal space between wakefulness and dreams, but she could still feel a brush of soft lips against her temple and a whisper of “Goodnight, Rae” in her ear before she passed into sleep for what would hopefully be a long, long time.

#it's not the best and i'm sorry :\#writing tag #raven's home fanfic #Anonymous

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soysaucevictim · 3 years

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Week 2.

Apr. 24

I stayed up till like 2PM - working that sewing project and putting everything away.

Took a few hours nap, after that... I was understandably exhausted.

After a bit of the usual - I got going with my exercise with modest but ultimately unfounded trepidation (on account of sleep stuff).

First. today’s DD. 30 cross crunches with EC. Fun and manageable despite completely disrupting my sleep habits the past few days. :,D

Second, Day 7 of BREATH. “Synchronize“. I think this is one of my favorite ones thus far. Chill practice coordinating movement with breath (technically that’s yoga as a whole - but it was easy/soothing to lock into this rhythm) - good neck/shoulder mobility work too. Very relaxing! =w=

Last, Day 7 of 1′HIIT. Level 3, 1′ rest. Did get myself pretty winded, I just gotta note that the ROM of (standard) lunges does make it hard to do them super fast. I think I ht like 4-6 reps per interval. Overall happy that it was amenable to my energy levels.

Hit the showers and spent much of the rest of the night on the usual stuff.

I went to bed late, in the red zone... but not as obscene as last night,

Apr. 25

I woke up after 11AM - so I could go get my first dose of the COVID-19 vaccine.

Got home, did some the usual before doing today’s exercise.

First. today’s DD. 50 side kicks with EC. This was a lot of fun as usual - since I loaded 25/25, my obliques did light up a bit too. Love me my combat exercises, man.

Second, Day 8 of BREATH. “Snuggle”. Given some sleep debt and a small energy zap from the vaccination - I’m super happy for a restorative practice day. Most meditation on breath and relaxation poses. Nice touch of ab/core work with that blossoming lotus pose. Hamstrings and quads were a little tight/stiff during the happy baby pose - so I did some free-form movement within it and it was fun - I like that one a bunch too.

Last, Day 8 of 1′HIIT. Level 3, 1′ rest. Whew, given all the upper arm involvement in this WO, I definitely looks at it with trepidation due to tender arm from the shot. But I decided to get it over with, instead of rain-checking. Did manage to get a bit winded and shaky from fatigue here and my push-ups were admittedly somewhat sloppier than usual (which are usually not fantastic form-wise).

Then I made today’s Hello Fresh Meal. Chicken sausage cavatappi bolognese. A pretty tasty recipe - waited a touch too long to have really crisp zucch to work with - but it wasn’t dodgy enough to nix them today.

Did dishes and a lot of the usual for the rest of the night.

I miraculously managed to get to bed in the green zone (before 1AM). I think the vaccine, WO, and making dinner took it out of me.

Apr. 26

I woke up after 11AM.

Did a bit of the usual before going to a therapy appointment on the phone. Again, grateful they’re available that way given how hard it is sometimes to keep up to date on trip reservations.

Got going on today’s exercises after that.

First. tomorrow’s DD (oops). 40 single leg bridges with EC (did things 20/20). Arm’s just happy for lower body work here. Very doable work.

Second, Day 9 of BREATH. “Balance“. My calves and feet arches were a bit tighter and more easily fatigued today - so I did have to drop the Warrior IIIs a couple times work through that.I imagine with higher energy levels that the balancing part would be the greater challenge. But hey, work with where you’re at, am I right? Did enjoy the alternate nostril breathing at the start of it, too, because it really forces you to slow down the breathing considerably. It’s very relaxing (to me anyhow)!

Last, Day 9 of 1′HIIT. Level 3, 1′ rest. Arms are happy that this was essentially a leg day - squats and squat holds. Did get modestly winded and sweaty - but it was manageable. That last hold was particularly challenging, imo. But mission accomplished.

A bit more of the usual and some writing got done tonight.

I got to bed obscenely late again (not helped by getting into an extremely long/draining convo with family).

Apr. 27

I woke up after 3PM.

After checking on a few things, got started on today’s exercise.

First. yesterday’s DD. 50 jumping jacks with EC. Very fun and doable work.

Second, Day 10 of BREATH. “Connection“. I think my favorite moments were the gate and tree poses. Former because now I’m eager for the invitation of doing the half moon pose likely later in this program. I like the half moons and trees a bunch because they’re always so delightfully meditative! I observed I had to drop and readjust a few times on the first/left foot for tree today, but i was really in the groove for the second side (didn’t fall out of it - which hey, that’s sometimes how it be)! Mmm, so much fun! =w=

Last, Day 10 of 1′HIIT. Level 3, 1′ rest. Arm work, by then arm was considerably less sore/achy from the vaccination. Very manageable work, all told.

I did the dishes and made today’s Hello Fresh Meal - sundried tomato spaghetti. I rather enjoyed this one. Definitely overate. But tomatoes are lovely like this.

Spent the rest of the night on more dishes and the usual.

I got to bed a lil earlier than yesterday, but still obscenely late.

Apr. 28

I woke up around 4PM, today.

After a bit of the usual, did exercise.

First. tomorrow’s DD (okay, how?). 20 staggered push-ups with EC, I chose to alternate sides. Sloppy but good enough for my current energy levels - had to mind left lats a bit half the time - because I felt them get a bit tense.

Second, Day 11 of BREATH. “Flow“. This was pretty intense - especially when it came to the three-legged dog transitions. But it was pretty satisfying to lock breath cycles throughout the whole sequence. I also went for full plank the majority of her invitations for that. It’s kinda fun getting to a point where one can sort of guess where these sequences are going to go from learning her structural patterns.

Last, Day 11 of 1′HIIT. Level 3, 1′ rest. Got me pretty bushed by the end of it. Took being mindful a bit on how I landed on left foot throughout - but eventually got that down without too much complaint there. Split jacks are still not a personal fave - but that’s not a huge deal.

Spent rest of night on the usual stuff. I got to bed a few hours earlier than yesterday - but still in the red.

Apr. 29

I woke up after 3PM, pretty much immediately got to my exercise.

First. yesterday’s DD. 40 plank leg raises with EC. I alternated sides, here. For some reason Feedbro’s been screwing up the past few weeks in displaying/grouping the DDs properly. Whatever.

Second, Day 12 of BREATH. “Drop“. A fairly chill and fun practice today. Nice and low to the ground. Lots of invitation to just focus on belly breathing. I enjoyed doing the garland pose at the end there, too. Nice return to a more restorative sequence after yesterday’s relative intensity. =w=

Last, Day 12 of 1′HIIT.Level 3, 1′ rest. Ab stuff. Had phone with timer from floor. Had just a couple brain lapses and probably didn’t go quite as full-tilt for it. But this was just doable.

Spent rest of night on a lot of the usual stuff. Got to bed a few hours after yesterday - bordering on obscenely late again.

Apr. 30

I woke up after 1PM.

Active rest day. so all of today’s exercise was the DD. 1′ bear plank hold with EC. Definitely felt that one in the quads. Keeping the breath as even as I could, helped.

Then made today’s Hello Fresh meal. Orange chicken. Tasty to have from scratch but a lil too involved/messy for me too enjoy as much making. Largely thanks to sticking to one pan (wiping it down after making the sauce was a lil finicky + getting rid of waste fry oil.) Took a few batches to cook all the chicken up.

After some dishes, I spent rest of night chatting, listening to music... basically pulled another all-nighter working on that jar bag series some more.

#adventures with fitness #adventures with hello fresh #(first dose of covid vaccine is in the bag)

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