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mythicamagic · 4 years

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Ulquihime Week: Day 6 (chapter two)

@ulquihimeweek

Pairing: Ulquiorra/Orihime (UlquiHime) fanfic, Chapter One: Here.

Rated M

Summary: Orihime has an imaginary friend, who happens to be a terrifying creature living in the woods behind her summer home.

Due to tumblr restrictions, this might be deleted, so know that you can also read this fic here: on Ao3 or Fanfiction.net

For Ulquihime Week 2019 Day 6: Possession

Eldritch: Chapter Two

Warning: Smut

Living with Orihime felt extremely alien and uncomfortable at first. He wasn't used to the hardwood floors that made the long claw-like nails of his toes scratch and drag on the surface, the plush bedding he sank a good two-feet into, the stifling warmth of a heater. His wings were entirely too large and cumbersome in the small apartment no matter how neatly he folded them.

One morning Orihime gasped and caught a lamp before it hit the ground- knocked over by a long tail. Again. He glanced at her and coiled it closer to himself, awkwardly perched on a barstool at her kitchen counter.

"Look at you. I really gave you random features when I was a kid, huh?" She sighed. "I'm sorry, they must be uncomfortable."

"You asked me to get the features you desired and I obeyed," he muttered, sipping some water. His claws clicked on the glass, dragging and leaving faint scratches as he adjusted his bent knees. "Since I'd received sight and other useful things from you, I had no grievance with changing my appearance. It's inconsequential."

Orihime righted the lamp and bit her lip, wandering closer and brushing a gentle hand over the black feathers on his back. Lean muscle tensed. Every nerve ending pricked and burned, anticipating her touch on his bare skin. It never came.

"Do you dislike it?" Escaped him.

She twined some lengthy wisps of fur that mingled with the softness of the feathers around her fingers, smiling nostalgically. "No, you're still mine, silly. It's kinda like looking at a drawing I made when I was younger."

Bitterness rose in his throat, clogging like mud- even as his body flared alive with her admission of ownership. "Yes," he muttered. I am yours. "You seem unexpectedly fine with talking to a 'childhood drawing.' Most humans don't exhibit this kind of behaviour."

He'd tried and failed to keep the hiss out of his words, the sting of being referred to as a figment of her imagination.

Orihime pried out a few leaves that had tangled in the dark fur, brushing out some dried dirt. "It's just like I told you, I've always been bullied for being a little strange," she giggled. "Daydreaming too much, eating weird things, thinking about stuff differently from other people. They mistook me...and thought I saw myself as better than them for not fitting in. I don't know why," the gentle note to her voice became quieter. "Just shows I haven't changed after all this time if I'm still talking to and seeing you. I mean most people would probably be fine with their brother's death after so many years."

He wasn't entirely sure how grief worked but did not know enough about the subject to object. His body stiffened and sighed as she touched a leathery wing. "Anyway, not to change the subject but I think you need a shower, mister."

Ulquiorra blinked slowly.

----

That was how he found himself being playfully shoved into a shower cubical. Orihime turned on the water, which hit the expanse of his back at full blast. He made a noise of surprise, claws reaching out and dragging over her waist and slicing the material of her nightgown. She merely laughed and tried to bar his escape from the cramped space by blocking the exit, "just calm down~ I promise it won't hurt you!" She giggled, gasping as the water soaked her as well.

He grit his teeth. Realising he was acting childishly to the unfamiliar situation, he held himself rigidly still.

Reaching for the shampoo, Orihime lathered her hands and worked slim fingers through his hair. Ulquiorra stared, watching as the material of her blue clothing became sodden, leaving it fairly see-through. It showed the suggestion of skin laying just beneath, the shape of her full breasts as the material clung to her, rose-pink nipples hardening slightly.

"Close your eyes."

Ulquiorra flicked his curious gaze up, but she was merely smiling, having not noticed. "The shampoo will sting if it gets in them."

And then he realised; she was not looking at him as a man. It made sense, since to Orihime he was not real. If she were attracted to him she'd never be able to bathe him so thoughtlessly. Intense green eyes slid shut, tail sliding to wrap around her leg. A security measure to prevent her escape.

As soft palms slid over his fur, wings and arms, washing the splashes of dirt away, Ulquiorra sensed reluctance the second her hands met his chest. "You didn't have this before," she murmured, voice barely heard over the sound of the spray. His eyes cracked open, breath hissing out of mismatched lips. Her fingers glided around the hollow hole.

Heat hooked low in his stomach. "No, I did not," he thought for a moment. "But it's always been there, beneath the surface."

Orihime's brows drew together, "I really should have given you a heart. This is just cruel."

She continued bathing him, her body occasionally pressing and dragging lightly, torturously against his. Ulquiorra didn't know why his gut kept tightening but something was happening to him. It was like he'd flown for miles in a single few seconds, limbs burning, breath quickening.

"Maybe you could get a heart," she was musing. "Like a pig's one. They're meant to be similar to a humans. Oh! Dummy," she knocked her head with her fist. "You could get a heart from the hospital. There are organ donors, that's a thing."

"You told me never to steal," he pointed out, panting a little. Sweat on his brow mingled with the water running down his chin and brow. It was becoming difficult to think of anything else but pulling her body closer and moving against it. For some reason he wanted to taste her.

Orihime was biting her lip in that maddening way- and he drew closer, leaning down until they were nose to nose. "And I do not want just anyone's heart."

Her cheeks reddened, lush body stiffening against his. Those captivating eyes widened, roving over his face questioningly.

Good, he thought. Look at me.

Orihime broke the moment by giggling a touch nervously, patting his arm. "I-um...better leave you to it. You've got the hang of things now and I need to dry off if I'm going to make it on time for school."

The thin tail shifted and tightened around her leg, holding her in place. Ulquiorra stared, catching the moment she noticed.

"Let go, Ulquiorra." Her voice was soft.

Reluctantly, he obeyed, watching as she eased away and flashed a smile that said she'd already forgiven his slip.

Ulquiorra felt the cold attack his skin much more brutally than any rainstorm or blizzard he'd experienced before. That same hunger returned, causing him to place a hand over the gaping emptiness in his chest.

----

During the hours that she went to school, Ulquiorra couldn't help his curious mind. He opened draws, tested light switches, read the food magazines she'd stored, brushed up on sex education and puberty, learned how some electrical appliances worked, watched documentaries, found her diary and a stash of chocolate hidden under the bed- took a bite- and decided chocolate tasted too sweet.

The evenings were his preferred time of day. He wasn't sure why.

Orihime always came home in the late afternoon and would teach him new things he'd overlooked about the human world. Namely, hobbies. Video games, board games, painting, cooking, sculpting.

Sometimes he could hear her speak with school mates outside the door. When they questioned why she was suddenly being so secretive about her apartment, Orihime would deflect or say renovations were being done.

Ulquiorra's lips twitched at the corners.

One day, his curiosity prompted him to lean down and peer through the blinds of the apartment. The window looked down onto the street, sunset bathing everything in warm colours, including Orihime as she stood talking to her friends.

There was a girl with short dark hair who looked like an athletic type. The other, a young man. He stood tall and slightly lanky, with light orange hair. His expression told Ulquiorra that he was complaining about something. None the less, Orihime laughed, a blush colouring her cheeks.

Something pricked in the depths of his chest. His hollow hole thrummed, the edges biting. He grunted, touching it lightly. It had never done that before.

When Orihime returned and she called out her standard 'I'm home!' Ulquiorra met her eyes. Whatever she saw on his face had her instantly quieting, the happiness fleeing to be replaced with worry.

The creature blinked and wiped his expression clean, ensuring it was blank.

"Welcome back."

----

Ulquiorra learned what the young man was called, and it was the very name that Orihime had filled her diary with.

"...Do you desire Ichigo Kurosaki's heart?" He asked randomly during supper. Her cheeks bloomed with that same colour which churned the blood in his veins. She stuttered and waved her hands, laughing it off.

Ulquiorra glanced away, moodily continuing to eat the pickles in custard she'd prepared.

----

When night fell he would fly out into the world, trying to find answers.

There were sometimes different pressures in the air. Sensations fleeting in the sky like if he just let something click inside him- he'd be able to pierce the veil between the human world and the unknown beyond. Since he was neither human nor animal, he wondered if he were originally from such a place. If, perhaps...he was supposed to belong there.

Ulquiorra didn't understand why he hesitated. It would surely provide answers, possibly about death, resurrection and Orihime's brother.

When the hours crawled towards morning he'd return to her.

Orihime lay on her side in a sprawl of limbs, firey strands of hair dishevelled and splayed around her pillow in loose spirals. Her lips were slightly pursed, a small snore occasionally disturbing the quiet, the covers thrown back from her habit of kicking them off in the night. It left the contours of her figure exposed to his assessing gaze.

Ulquiorra swallowed, wondering why his mouth had filled with saliva.

Tonight she'd worn a loose tank top and shorts, which had ridden up on her thighs, the curve of her ass and exposed stomach causing a similar sensation he'd felt while in the shower. Arousal, most likely, from what that book had described.

Because of what he'd read about human behaviour, Ulquiorra was aware of how inappropriate it was to watch her sleep. Others would find his fascination frightening, creepy. He didn't care. He only desired to know what Orihime's reaction would be, as she was the only human who mattered to him.

The matress quietly groaned under his weight as the creature knelt onto the covers, crawling up the bed. He braced himself over the sleeping woman, staring with unblinking eyes. Despite what he knew about humans, reading about them, about touch, lust, sex...all of it was cold. Facts and figures.

Being so close to Orihime was warm. Images began to invade his thoughts, of his tongue gliding over her skin, nails dragging, cutting that ripe flesh open to lick and suck at her wounds and blood. Maybe bite down with the blunt, adult teeth she'd blessed him with. The fine hairs at the end of his tail glided up her thigh, tracing the shape.

And if...if she touched him in return, it would undo whatever control he had and spout lightning into his nerve endings. Just to see her looking up at him with want and open desire-

Instincts hazed, gut tightening as he heard a soft noise that caused his cock to stir.

Green eyes immediately located the tears sliding down her cheeks. Though she remained asleep beneath him, the woman trembled. Her lips pressed together, wobbling, more sounds escaping.

"S-Sora..." she sobbed, turning her face into the pillow.

Ulquiorra watched silently. He then achingly, carefully drew away from her, grasping the covers and lifting them to settle over her shoulders.

The creature then escaped into the vast reaches of the night, plunging himself through the resistance of the world and falling into an unknown one full of white sands, dead trees, and a crescent moon hanging in the sky.

---

"I found him," he said the next evening.

Orihime looked up from her cup of hot chocolate, eyes refocusing from her clouded thoughts. She did that sometimes, slipped away somewhere he couldn't follow. Slowly, the words registered, and life was breathed into her features once more.

"You have?" She whispered, voice thin.

He glanced away, discontentment churning. "He is not the same person you once knew."

"I don't care," she stood from her chair, gaze bright. "Oh Ulquiorra," she breathed, hurrying to him and taking his hand prisoner within her own. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Green eyes slid back to her as though they loathed to look away too long. "Why is it so important that you see him?"

Orihime bowed her head, glancing at Sora's picture. She'd explained before that the display in her home was a shrine to her brother, one that she prayed to every day.

She then raised her hand and touched the blue hairpin's securely clipped into her locks. "We had an argument the day he died...about these. I keep feeling like he got into the car accident because he was distracted. And no matter how much I pray and try to assure him not to worry about me, I feel guilty. Like I can't move on. Or maybe something won't let me. Hehe, maybe I won't let myself~" she giggled in the light, nervous way she usually did to try and dispell sombre moods.

"And you feel that if you speak with him, you will move on?" He struck into the heart of the matter, undeterred by her attitude.

"I-I don't know," she murmured. "He did so much for me. Raised me as his own since he was 18. I repaid him by being a brat on his last day alive."

Ulquiorra shifted, fingers twitching. Slowly, they curled around her own. "He is called Acidwire now."

"Acid...wire..." the name sounded cold and cruel, completely at odds with the vision of her brother.

"I'm not human, therefore I can't say what is best for you. Your desire to see him is most likely misguided and will shatter the idea that you have of your sibling. Do you still want to go?" He asked, not curbing his acerbic tongue. Ulquiorra theorised that was exactly what would happen, but she raised her head, taking him by surprise.

Her eyes were hard as flint. It was a rare thing to see Orihime glare. "If he's different, then that just means I'll have to adapt and accept it. Nothing changes the fact that it's him. I don't care if he's not human, I'll still love him."

The gears in his mind rusted, stilling. His entire being felt anchored to the blazing passion he gazed into. Ulquiorra inclined his head, grabbing her close.

Orihime squeaked, holding on around his shoulders as black fur glided under her thighs, his arms supporting her. He then walked briskly to the window and squeezed out of it with her- leaping into the air.

A cry sounded out as she gripped him hard, and Ulquiorra felt frustrated with the subsequent leap in his gut. Large wings flapped and took them higher into the sky, the wind lashing at their hair and mixing charcoal black with fiery orange locks.

---

As stated, Sora had changed. However, the full scope of how much he'd changed could have been better detailed.

The...being towered above her in size. Orihime stared up at it with wide eyes, breath catching in her throat. A bone-white mask hid its facial features, dark hair framing the ghoulish face. It's more human-like red arms and torso disappeared into a snake body, supporting itself upright by coiling its tail behind it.

Those red eyes were the most jarring, filled with no light or hope, much like the sands and bleak landscape surrounding them. Every fibre of her being screamed at her to run, to leave the terrible, desolate place that gave an odour of death.

Setting her shoulders, Orihime stepped away from Ulquiorra's side, brows pulling together. "Brother?" She said gently.

Acidwire made a low, guttural noise. Dark locks hung forward as he bent over her, teeth glistening.

"It's me, Orihime. Do you remember?"

Her grey gaze roved over his face as his shadow swallowed her.

"...Ori...hime?"

She felt small before him but took another step. Her childhood ability to look past imperfections and create something friendly reared its head, and Orihime found herself smiling despite the situation, filling up with happiness.

The creature's jaws pried open- lunging down toward her.

Orihime gasped, a loud thudding sound filled her ears, sand kicking up into her face. The sound of bone cracking soon followed. Realising that she was unharmed, she shakily pried her eyes open, coughing, the sand caught in her hair and lashes. A strangled noise chocked her throat the second her mind registered the figures before her.

Ulquiorra stood between them, hands gripping Acidwire's upper and lower jaws as they bore down upon him. Her friend's foot was planted in the ground, no sign of strain on his face as he looked up into the second pair of teeth within the pitch-black mouth.

"...Trash," he muttered lowly.

"Ulquiorra!" She quickly moved out of the way, eyes wide. This wasn't going anything like she'd imagined, and if this was all in her head why was Sora- why had he tried to hurt her?

To her surprise, Ulquiorra grunted, shifting his stance and lifting the snake-like creature's jaws back over his head- before tossing its large body into the air. The creature sailed away, landing a good distance away in the white dunes. A distant thud could be heard, followed by a roar of outrage.

Black wings unfolded, tail swishing with agitation. Orihime grasped his arm suddenly. "Why...did he try to hurt us?" She murmured.

"I told you he was changed," was his dispassionate response, features cold and blank as ever. Except for those eyes. They burned with a colour more vibrant than she could recall seeing before, leaking into something new. "He's...like me now."

Orihime's heart lurched and she gripped tighter. "You're nothing alike!" Her voice became sharp even as she thought of the hollow holes in their chests. She couldn't accept the idea of her friend she'd played with in the woods turning on her in such a way. To try and devour her. "Don't say that."

"Sister!" White sands were spitting up into the air, something beneath them racing towards them at a breakneck speed. "Orihime, come with me. We can be together now! Die. Stay with me!"

She turned to Ulquiorra with wide eyes, "run away! I don't want you getting hurt!"

"The first order is quite impossible, but I'll endeavour to follow the latter," he muttered evenly, just as jaws burst forth from the ground aiming straight for Orihime.

A black wing swung out, slamming into Acidwire's neck and pushing the attack off course. He then leapt into the air after it.

-----

Ulquiorra hit the ground standing, skidding on his heels and looking up at Sora Inoue as he followed, snarling with bloodlust. Sensing energy beneath the sand- Ulquiorra thrust his talons into the mound, gripping bone and yanking it to the surface.

Another creature like them was revealed, shrieking in horror. With a hard twist and yank- Ulquiorra broke off one of its porcelain horns and pressed it to the side of his skull.

Bone weaved and connected itself, it's twin building on the other side of his head until large horns appeared. They struck out towards the heavens- in time for Sora's body to impale itself upon them mid-leap. The horns pierced through tough scales, causing him to cry out loudly.

Ulquiorra's gaze brightened, something collecting into his index finger. Raising it, he needed only to let instinct click into place, before black energy burst forth. It consumed Sora Inoue's form, sending him sailing away and hitting the ground with a heavy slam, arms lulling at his sides.

This time he did not rise.

Orihime trembled from where she stood, slowly padding over the sands and approaching the body.

It trembled and shook a little, coughing. Her hand flew to her mouth, tears collecting in her eyes.

The mask had broken in half, revealing her brother's face beneath it.

"I-I'm sor...ry...sis..." blood curdled, escaping the corner his mouth. He coughed, some drops landing at her feet. A gaping, singed hole from Ulquiorra's power had devastated his chest, leaving his arms and neck barely connected to his torso.

Orihime knelt next to him, leaning down and hugging his lifeless jaws.

When she heard footsteps approaching behind her, the girl turned, cheeks stained with tears. Her eyes were hazy as she looked at the thick black tear marks on his own morbid face. The hollow hole on his chest now gaped wider, what looked like black oil spilt out from it to leak down his chest and abdomen. With the new addition of nightmarishly large horns, Orihime felt drenched in the shadow of a predator once more.

Instead of fearing for her soul, all that wobbled out was: "Why...did I imagine something so terrible?"

Those irises had leaked into blazing gold, scleras dark green. His tail whipped out, sliding around her waist and yanking her to stand, pulling her against him.

"Does it not occur to you, woman, that this may be real?"

Orihime shuddered, pale and cold. His taloned fingers were biting and hard on her waist. It hurt. She wasn't sure what was real or fantasy anymore. The things she'd imagined had always comforted her from the pains of reality, and yet they wounded her now?

Biting back a whimper, she steadied herself against him, palm resting against his abdomen when she suddenly noticed it. Wet, dripping noises coming from his right side. Orihime shifted and gasped, seeing nothing but a stump for a right arm. Black blood trickled from it.

"Ulquiorra! Y-you're hurt," she shakily switched gears.

His steady, penetrative gaze slid down to it. "Yes. Seems I couldn't follow your orders. It doesn't matter, I can-"

"No this is terrible!" She fussed, moving around him, hands fluttering up. "Oh no...this is all my fault," she grit her teeth, shuddering violently.

"The fault lies in my second of hesitance."

It didn't matter what he said, she wasn't listening, his calm voice a dull roar. Light sparked from her fingers, an orange glow hovering over the space his arm used to occupy.

Ulquiorra's eyes widened, attention ensnared. Gradually, bone, skin and fur collected from thin air and reconnected. They solidified into his arm, muscles rejoining. When the light died, he flexed his sharp fingers. Good as new.

"You can regenerate," he quietly mused.

"I-I guess so," she croaked, gaze dulled as she turned to look at the fallen body of her brother. "I just imagined fairies over it and the light followed. This is...so confusing."

His tail tightened around her waist. "You're like me," he said in a soft monotone.

Orihime raised her head to look at him, flesh ghostly pale. She slowly drew in close and slid her arms around his waist, hugging him.

Those deadly hands rested on her lower back, dragging up her spine and causing the girl to shiver. She was aware of him smelling her hair, but felt no disgust from it. "I need to heal him," she murmured, drawing away and gently prying his tail off around her hips.

Kneeling once more, the orange light spread over the gaping hole in her brother's chest. When it faded, his inhuman flesh shivered, a groan sounding out. Orihime gave a tremulous smile, recalling their argument as she touched her hairpins.

"I'm sorry, please be safe, brother," the words she'd wanted to say all those years ago flowed out.

Returning to Ulquiorra's side, she rubbed at her cheeks and took a steadying breath.

"Let's go home."

He considered this for a moment. "...Did you do everything you came here to?"

Hands drew into loose fists at her sides, "no," her voice wobbled. "But I guess this is what happens when you try to live life backwards. Try as I might, and no matter how happy I was..." she glanced at Sora. "I-I can't go back to those days at the summer house anymore."

The dead trees, sand dunes and crescent moon in the sky were the only witnesses to their silent departure. By the time Acidwire had drawn himself up, the mask over his face restored, Orihime and Ulquiorra were gone.

----

Everything lay quiet and undisturbed in the apartment as they entered. Ulquiorra had to break his horns in half, lest they scrape the ceiling. Orihime broke away from him and shakily made her way to the shower in her ensuite, disorientated. After stripping, she sat under the spray for what felt like an hour, legs going numb. Disengaged from her body, Orihime rested her cheek against the glass.

All at once however, she realised Ulquiorra wasn't with her. Panic erupted in her chest, and she stumbled out, grabbing a towel and half-heartedly drying herself. Changed clothes in her bedroom, she hurried out in her nightgown.

She stopped half-way to the couch upon bumping her nose into a pale chest. Glancing up, she found his eyes had yet to return to emerald green hues, remaining watchful, bright, burning gold.

"You're still here," rushed out, a sigh of relief soon following.

"Naturally."

Feeling a little silly now, Orihime brushed damp hair behind her ear. Seeing his steady, expectant look, a lightbulb went off in her head. "Oh...right!" She forced a smile, squeezing his arm. "What was it you wanted in return?"

Dark lashes dropped slightly, stare becoming half-lidded. It took her a moment to realise Ulquiorra was staring at her mouth. That gaze then slid down, fixing on a certain spot that his fingers soon rested against.

Orihime swallowed, feeling talons drag over the material of her night-gown, the pads of his fingers a hard pressure against her chest.

"My heart?"

He stroked the area with an almost reverent, yet firm touch. "I lack one, and yours is elevated above all other humans."

She became quiet, not screaming or running away, though he hadn't expected her to. The woman was strong. Her heartbeat drummed a little faster, but not at break-neck speed like those others he'd harvested limbs or organs from.

Emboldened by her lack of aversion to his touch, his free hand found her cheek. Claws dragged lightly over her chin, cool digits soaking up the warmth beneath them. "You won't resist?"

It pleased him immensely when she leaned into his hand. "You're so silly," came the faint mumble. "Or maybe it's my fault, for not teaching you everything you'd need to know about humans. I was a child though."

Fire spouted into his palm the moment soft lips brushed against it, heat blooming up his wrist. "There's more than one way to hold a person's heart in your hand. Not everything has to be literal."

Ulquiorra backed her up into the wall until her spine protested. His nose brushed against hers as he inhaled her exhale. "You're referring to sentimental emotion, aren't you? But there's no physical proof the metaphorical heart you speak of exists."

"The proof is in what humans feel for each other," she said softly. "What I feel for you."

Slit pupils thinned. His body became rigid.

"...Ichigo Kurosaki," he reminded her stiffly.

Something conflicted entered her gaze, honest as ever. "Ichigo is...like the summer house," she murmured. "I like him. I've always...liked him, but he doesn't see me, and I don't even know what would happen if he suddenly wanted me. The idea of him has always been so comforting. But what I imagine and want, it's just my idea of him. A prince on a white horse instead of his usual stubborn, short-tempered self. I know that. I've always...known that. But he was something nice to imagine, so that I didn't feel so alone."

Ulquiorra's wings unfolded, hands finding her thighs and hooking beneath them, lifting, forcing her legs to wrap around his waist. His breathing hitched, nose and lips finding her neck and gliding without really pressing down. He hovered on the precipice of something that threatened to ruin him.

"How do you know I'm not like the summer house?"

"Because I see you clearly now," she muttered. And it was there. It was there. His reflection glinted in those silver eyes. The first pair he'd ever looked into. "You...your wings, your tail, your tongue...I understand now, I got it when I saw you rip those horns off that creature and put them on yourself. You didn't get those other features from me, but you had to get them from somewhere, just like how you wanted my heart."

The image of him wavered and swam, waterlogged by tears. "I'm sorry I didn't help you live as a human. I could have given you a normal life."

"I'm not human," he uttered. "And any life with you wouldn't be normal. We have curry and wasabi together, topped with strawberries."

Orihime burst into a tearful giggle, smiling at him.

Ulquiorra leaned in, unable to hold back anymore, mouth crashing to hers. It was clumsy and hard, and to his surprise, she yielded after a brief noise. She coaxed his lips to move against hers, something wet and soft hesitantly sliding against his dark upper lip. Slowly, he opened his mouth, tongue meeting and brushing against her own.

Claws nicked at the sensitive skin of her thighs, and Orihime jolted- hips bucking. It caused a groan to hiss out, tail sliding, winding around her chest and squeezing the air from her lungs. Her breath puffed out and he gulped it down, kissing her hungrily.

"Your skin is soft…"

Ulquiorra's hair caressed her collarbone, causing Orihime to shiver in his arms. Her cheeks reddened as an appealing scent floated into the air that he hadn't smelled before. He broke away from the kiss slightly, "tell me what you're feeling."

"N-no!" She gasped, face scarlet. Ulquiorra dragged his lips down her neck, palm sliding to set on her navel and teasing lower. "The scent is coming from down here. Show me.." he breathed, nipping her ear.

When she shook her head again, teeth tugging on her plump bottom lip, he sank to his knees and dragged her down with him. Orihime squeaked as she was turned, falling backwards- landing not on the cool hardwood floor but cushioned by leather. Wings shifted beneath her back as she was laid down, the creature leaning over her and impressive wingspan rising up, containing them in their own personal cacoon that blocked out almost all light.

Clawed hands came up to settle on her hips, before one smoothed under her thigh, lifting her leg up for a better angle as he leaned down. Orihime made a noise of surprise, squeezing startled eyes shut and rolling her hips instinctively despite nothing pressing against her yet.

"You're unexpectedly wanton," his monotone sounded lighter, almost as though amused.

Her nightgown was hitched and yanked up, leaving her bare sex exposed and vulnerable.

He experimentally drew his tongue out and licked the glistening folds, soon sucking on her clit, talons biting into the nightgown. Gasping, Orihime threw her head back, arching into his mouth. Her ankles locked behind his head as frantic hands descend to black locks. Ulquiorra started and paused, unused to such a place being touched. His hair slid like soft feathers through her fingers, and ultimately he continued sucking, grunting quietly and shoving his tongue inside her. The woman in his grasp makes a curious noise, hips bucking up.

He watched her almost obsessively from his position, waiting for the moment she begged him to stop. The scent was impossibly strong, an intoxicating taste coating his tongue.

"Please, more," she whispered, startling him. For once, Ulquiorra disobeyed, leaning back and away from her sex and touch, dark satisfaction curling inside him as she made a weak noise of protest. His tail brushing up against her clit instead, sliding between her legs. Orihime didn't notice, too consumed by the sensations. The firm glide of his tail became a harder pressure against her sex, rubbing.

His hand slid up her torso to cup a full breast, barred from complete touch her clothing. "...It's firmer than I thought," he tilted his head slightly, squeezing with perhaps too much force. Her body sang beautifully with its honest reactions, her groan signalling her enjoyment as she rocked her hips against the pressure of his tail.

"I'm so close..." Orihime whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Grabbing his horns without seeming to think about it, she writhed and squirmed like a woman possessed. It made a low rumble build in the back of his throat.

Careful hands became impatient- tearing the material over her chest. A hungry mouth clamped over her breast, sucking and sinking blunt teeth in, causing her to spout gibberish, words and moans blurring into one another. Fur slid against her hips and navel, parting her legs wider as his tail rubbed quicker, gliding on the outskirts of her folds and flicking against her clit.

Writhing for a few moments longer, a loud cry filled the room, pressure snapping like a string. Her back arched, core quivering. Ulquiorra watched with undisguised fascination, sucking at the wound on her flesh.

The thin tail coiled, pulling away and coated in her wetness. Ulquiorra lifted his head and licked it clean with a swipe of his tongue, witnessing the moment her eyes cracked open and registered what she'd done. Orihime flushed deep red, glaring a little in her embarrassment. His lips twitched, rubbing his knuckles against her sex in reward.

Orihime panted, letting hazy eyes slide shut as she took in a few breaths. He then leaned over her, impossibly close. Those slit pupils pinned her in place the second she met his gaze.

"So this is lust..."

He braced his weight on one hand, the tail suddenly gripping her around the waist lifting, causing her back to arch, head dipping back.

Orihime sat up instead, fighting it- wrapping her arms about his neck. "May I touch you?" She asked quietly.

Vague surprise flit over his face, hand coming up dazedly to rest against her heart. It thrummed strong and sure against his palm. His touch then glided up, lifting claws to her cheek and touching the soft skin there.

Ulquiorra looked at her hands. "I haven't been touched before, not by anyone else except you."

He grasped her under her thighs and lifted her onto his lap as he sat on his heels, feathers and fur caressing her under her thighs.

"Me neither," she whispered like it were a closely guarded secret. She then smiled, causing him to blink. That smile brought him back down to earth. He held Orihime Inoue in his arms, hollow hole pulsing and aching with all that that meant, and for a few blind moments of pleasure, he'd forgotten how much that really meant to him.

Orihime kissed him on the lips, running a hand down his back to stroke the fur. His muscles tensed under her touch but soon relaxed. He dipped his head to her shoulder, just resting his forehead there a second, inhaling. Catharsis washed over him, arms tightening around her.

She felt so good.

Her needy hips squirmed against his, dragging one hand down his chest, the other lacing their fingers together, palms intimately meeting as she kissed down his neck. He inhaled sharply, the power seeming to make her giddy. It was a very nice sensation, having someone respond to your touch. Orihime experimentally sucked on the skin of his collarbone, squeaking when he rut his hips up. Ulquiorra then lifted his head- catching her mouth with his own. Growing more adventurous with his tongue, he moved it against hers and brushed it inside her mouth, running it along her teeth and grunting.

Something hard started to rub in between her legs, now showing from under the furs. A shaky moan escaped her.

"Feeling you respond, I think I quite enjoy it," he said quietly, wings shifting behind her, the thin leathery feel of them slid against flushed skin. Silver eyes glanced down, widening a little at the sight that greeted her. Orihime reached down, grasping his cock, skimming lithe fingers over the skin.

Ulqiorra jolted and hissed, resting his cheek against hers and breathing out.

"Does it feel nice?" Came her innocent question, cupping the tip and smoothing her fingers around the shaft. He rutted up into her hand in response, shoving her down onto her back, wings cushioning her and completely enveloping her with himself.

"More," he breathed. She was happy to oblige, stroking him harder, enjoying his enjoyment of it in that usual selfless way of hers.

Golden eyes practically glow, staring at her. Her hand pumped his base, lips finding his throat and sucking. Ulquiorra shuddered, leaning his forehead down and grunting. His eyes widen at the sensation, hips shifting forward continually. Orihime made a small noise, quickening her strokes. Her thighs rubbed together needily, getting squirmy due to his rapid panting and low noises.

Blunt teeth clench, eyes squeezing shut- before they snapped open and he shifts his hips back to drag his erection out of her grasp. A second later, and her wrists were pinned above her head via his tail, a pale chest braced tightly against hers as his cock rubbed hard against her sex.

"We're starting now," he said in a harsh whisper of sound.

Orihime's mouth opened to encourage him- but twitching hips are already ramming forward, forcing his length inside her. Due to the wetness, he managed to slide in quite far, but soon her tightness had him stopping and panting. One of his hands gripped her under her thighs, the lower length of his tail manoeuvring to spread her leg out wider with her ankle hooked on it.

Their breath mingled, everything seeming to stop.

Orihime's lips were frozen mid-gasp, eyes wide. Nothing to quell the invasive, full sensation. Sweat broke out on her forehead, which he caught on his lips, kissing it away.

The oddly sweet gesture had her smiling weakly. "I thought..." she gently panted, bucking her hips experimentally, "that we were starting."

Ulquiorra snaps his hips forward again the second those words were out, managing to thrust deeper. He liked the sounds of her moans he decided, watching as her eyes flew wide, head tossing back. Her full breasts bounced, damp, auburn hair clinging to her skin.

His tongue brushed along her bottom lip as he thrust, before pressing his mouth hard against hers. She suckled his tongue, arms straining against the tight clasp of his tail wound around her wrists. She moved her hips with him.

"Harder," she pleaded against his mouth, a mindless order. If she weren't drugged on pleasure she'd be blushing like a maiden. Ulquiorra panted, her demand only serving to heighten his lust. Grabbing her hips, he angled them up, ramming his cock inside her so that the full length sheathed inside. Her subsequent loud cries only encouraged his ferocity.

His clawed toes dig harsh rivets into the wood of the floor as he nipped her lips, moaning. Rosy lips press against his again, and Ulquiorra realises that his right hand is still being held captive, had been all that time. Her fingers squeezed over his, watery eyes remaining locked with his.

The creature had to fight the urge to utterly and completely consume her.

His clawed hand cupped her breast, sharp nails digging in slightly to the soft mound as he squeezed, rubbing a thumb against her nipple and leaving red scratches on her flesh. He drank in her moaning and high, keening sounds, their kisses becoming sloppy as he thrust erratically, harsh slapping sounds filling the room. The black fur and feathers of his lower half had become soaked from their combined juices.

Her wanting tongue licked against his, a string of saliva connecting them. "Please, Ulquiorra, more," she whimpered, eyes hazy.

"Your greed will be your undoing, Woman." He let out a groan, eyes darkening. He suddenly grabbed her hair and tugged it back, slamming inside her quicker and quicker. Orihime screamed, feeling his length hit a sweet spot deep inside her.

He has no scruples about slamming harder into her, his hips hitting her own with the ferocity of his thrusts before gnashing his teeth together, making a low noise as he released, shuddering. Orihime soon followed, crying out and trembling against him, legs going slack around his waist.

"You...you came inside," she murmured dazedly.

"If you're r-referring to the orgasm and possible procreation, I think it's unlikely," he muttered, catching his breath, lips brushing her neck. "There is nothing else like me," he thought of Acidwire and those other creatures in the dunes. Maybe there were similar things, but whatever he was, Ulquiorra did not think he was meant to feel this way.

"...You're not alone though. I don't think there's anything else like m-me either. I don't know what I am."

Ulquiorra blinked and shifted back. It felt somewhat like torture to pull away from her, the loss of heat almost unbearable. He hated the sting, that he knew no cave would ever be a comfort from the rain again. His tail released her wrists, leaving purplish, tender rings."I suppose you're right," he said, back to his monotone voice. Black wings slid out from beneath her, folding behind him as the creature lifted her against him and crawled onto the bed, placing her on it. "Or perhaps you're exactly what I thought you were when I first saw you. My creator."

"But you're real."

"It doesn't change your part in my quality of existence," he said, making to go. The bed was her space.

Orihime grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him down, cradling him to her. "Don't leave," she mumbled tiredly, eyes already slipping shut. "Whatever we are, I know that you're the only thing left that makes sense to me."

Ulquiorra stiffened, head pillowed to her chest as he glanced up at her. "Never mind your species or powers, I don't understand you," he said slowly but settled against her, body sprawled against the soft curves and dips of the woman's body as she quietly giggled.

For once, Ulquiorra drifted into sleep first, lulled by her fingers stroking through feather-soft hair. Giving an extinguished sigh, the creature surrendered himself to her.

---

When the first rays of the morning sun crept through the bedroom blinds, a thin rectangle of light fell over Orihime's lids, urging them to crack open. Wincing, she raised her arm so that it blocked out the harsh blaze. Glancing down at the weight on her chest and stomach, her eyes briefly widened, before gentling.

Orihime hugged the man closer, smoothing her hand over the filled expanse of flesh where a hollow hole had once been.

End

#ulquihime #ulquiorra x orihime #ulquiorra cifer #uhweek2019 #Bleach #orihime inoue

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drjackandmissjo · 4 years

Text

firewhisky on ice, sunset and vine

you’ve ruined my life by not being mine

Chapter 9— previous chapter — next chapter

Harry Potter fics Masterlist

His sleeping pattern had rarely been erratic. ‘Rule number nine: beauty sleep is important’ and he tried to maintain a schedule that allowed him the flexibility of pulling all-nighters to study for an exam or to enjoy a night out with his friends without getting dark circles. It was a bother to use a spell to make them disappear and muggle concealers never managed to get his shade properly, so he tried to avoid the problem altogether.

Yet for the past three days he couldn’t rest well: his nights were plagued by nightmares, darkness and guilt. During the day he tried to distract himself, diving headfirst into schoolwork. They had to write an essay on the Gargoyle Strike of 1911, which was a very easy and effortless thing, but Blaise couldn’t focus on it. His mind kept on wandering, to a light haired idiot with soft eyes and a crystalline laugh.

He hadn’t made a contact with Neville, who had also been distant and cold during their last Transfiguration class. Blaise had meant to wait a bit, to make peace and finally say those words that hitched at the back of his throat since he had first discovered them, but Neville had sprinted out of the class, running away as fast as he could. He had begun to actively look for him, waiting for him next to the greenhouses or outside of the Great Hall, roaming the Herbology section on the library, hoping to run into him, even sending him a note during supper.

Neville received that little piece of parchment that said only ‘look at me’, but he tore it down to pieces and left it next to his plate, in full display for Blaise to see and get the message.

He had hurt him, badly. And he didn’t know how to deal with his emotions and with the consequences of his actions. So he did what he did best in those type of situations: ignore the negative outcome and push forward pridefully, as if it didn’t bother him, while the pain was eating him from the inside.

The Slytherin common room was quiet, as it had been in the past couple of days after the Incident. Draco was back from the infirmary in the foulest mood ever and refused to speak about it all, so everyone kept mostly to themselves to avoid a meltdown. He and Theo were now talking back in their dormitory, With Crabble and Goyle guarding the perimeter and making sure no one interrupted them.

It was clear as day whose fault was the fight and for whom Draco worked, at least to those who cared about him and still had suspicions, but no one would snitch on them. They were Slytherins, after all.

Blaise was lounging in one of the couches near the hart, lazily reading to tempt his mind on finishing his work and be done with that bullshit before his headache grew three sizes bigger.

Suddenly, an unexpected weight landed on the other side of the couch, interrupting his train of thought. Pansy was staring expectantly at him, waiting for something as she sat with one leg over the other.

“Can I help you?” Blaise asked politely, listing in his mind every possible scenario where she would prop down in such an inelegant way.

“What happened with Schlongbottom?”

Out of all the possible things she might have said, that was the one Blaise had least considered. Sure, she might’ve realized that something was off, yet it was none of her business and she was usually non-invasive on her friends’ love lives, unless they came first to her.

“I have absolutely no idea of what you are talking about” he said calmly and impassively, turning a page of his copy of the ‘Major Riots of the Lesser Creatures in the XX° century’. He didn’t want to talk about it, although it logically meant finding a solution to his issue. But he was not a Ravenclaw and logic wasn’t his chosen and favourite way.

“Bullshit” she yelled, grabbing a pillow and resting it over her legs, ready to attack, “What did you do?” “Why do you assume I’m in the wrong here?” Blaise snapped, closing his book harshly and leaning forward to glare at her. “Cause otherwise he’ll be trying to get your attention and to make it up to you” she said with a very irritating and annoying smirk on her black painted lips. “I am not doing anything like that!” “Yeah, you’re totally right! You, sir, are moping down already defeated. That’s worse! You’re a proud Slytherin, you shouldn’t give up like this!”

Blaise sighed and rested his head on his open palms: “That is the problem. I’m too bloody prideful and I said some bullshit that I didn’t mean” he admitted, refusing to look up at her and see her reaction.

Unfortunately, Pansy pried his hands away and with a kindness he had rarely seen from her, she said “Tell me everything from the beginning.”

And so he did: he told her how he panicked and wanted only to be comforted; how he had stumbled to conclusions and had let his fear and pride run their mouths; how he somehow had rendered sweet and bright Neville into a sad shell, emotionless over a stupid fight that neither wanted to have; how he had fucked up royally and didn’t know how to fix it.

“I don’t know if I deserve him…” he was about to finish, words dying in his throat as tears raised up at his eyes. He blinked them away before anyone could see them, staring mindlessly at the raging fire next to them.

Pansy hit him up with the pillow she had on her legs, “Okay, mate. This pity party of yours ends now. You fucked up, but that’s nothing a good and well-meant apology can do!” she cheered him, trying to make the hopeless situation better, but failing terribly. He was not in the mood for her games. “He won’t even look at me!” he admitted, his heart tightening and threatening to burst out of him as sadness engulfed him. He had tried his best, border-lining making a fool of himself, yet there was no reaction. Blaise didn’t know what hurt more: the fact that he was losing his focus in class or the lack of Neville.

No, he knew what hurt more, yet couldn’t bring himself to admit it. “Which is why you desperately need my assistance. You’re lucky I am way too kind-hearted” the vixen said, smiling like a Cheshire Cat and promising trouble, “and that I absolutely hate seeing you like this!” she finished, softening and placing a hand on his knee. “I thought I was doing a decent job, concealing my emotions…” he sarcastically claimed, aware that he looked a mess, but conscious that he could be able to pull it off as a simple Slytherin worried about exams. “Not from me, snobby. Now, I’ll need you tomorrow before dinner in the Charms classroom, and you better be prepared to take your man back. Salazar knows that I’ll hex you into next month if you don’t.” “What’s with all this goodness, Parkinson? That’s not really your colour” he said, yet nodded along to her plan, curious and impressed and hopeful. She jumped on her feet then, “Fuck me for caring about my bloody best friend. Schlongbottom makes you the happiest I’ve ever seen you and I care about you. So you better make it right or I’ll make you regret it even more than you are doing right now.” She had determination written all over her face, a plan finishing to polish on her mind. “Now off you fucking go to bed, you need to be your best for tomorrow.”

He grabbed tighter his book and clutched it against his chest as he graciously rose up to his feet and began to wordlessly walk away as Pansy stared at the hart as if it held all the answers of the universe inside its fire. Then, before reaching the stairs that would lead him towards his room, he turned around, too curious to go to bed without an answer.

“Why the Charms classroom?”

“Flitwick owes me one” she only replied, as if it was an everyday business having a professor be in debt of a student.

“Do I want to know more?”

“I gave him a wardrobe makeover and he promised to do one thing without questions for me, as long as it was legal. Be glad I’m wasting it on you.”

He couldn’t explicitly thank her nor show her his appreciation, so he went with the next best thing: “Can I honestly admit that I’m terrified of you right now?” “As you should be, Zabini.”

***

Blaise had been pacing the length of the Charms classroom three times now, probably leaving his imprint on the floor.

He trusted Pansy, the devil always came up with the best plans, but his nerves wouldn’t calm down and his mind conjured up all the possible scenarios where Neville didn’t show up or didn’t listen to him, or, or, or.

She had tried to put him at ease, to calm him down, cause ‘It’s not the end of the world!’ But it was, at least for Blaise.

He had fucked up and was ready to amend, if only Neville let him. And that scared him more than anything.

As if on cue, the door to the classroom opened, the light from the outside corridor’s flames illuminating the floor and contouring a tall figure he knew way too well. He hid in the dark, waiting for the door to lock behind the Gryffindor as Pansy had instructed. She had enchanted it to remain locked until Blaise released the spell once they were done, and he hoped and prayed that for once in his life everything would go according to plan.

But, when he was with Neville, nothing usually did, which was why Blaise had become so fascinated to begin with. The more he got to know Neville, the harder he fell.

“Professor Flitwick?” Neville asked, caution on his voice as he moved into the classroom and the door slammed shut on its own will behind him. Blaise raised his wand and lit the flames in the room, lightening up Neville’s surprised face that mutated immediately in a pissed one.

“What do you want?” he asked, showing no emotion other than anger as he crossed his arms over his chest and walked to where Blaise stood still as rock, as if he had been petrified. Which, to be fair, he felt like he had the second Neville’s eyes locked on him and put him on the spot.

Suddenly, his great and meticulously rehearsed speech died on his lips, his mind blanked and his heart began to race. ‘Composure be damned’ he told himself as he tried to gather up his scattered brain into coherent sentences, frantically running a hand over his short hair as he maintained the other boy’s look. Neville waited, patiently yet angrily, for him to explain, but Blaise could not speak. Shame burned down his entire body as he blinked away frustration and agony.

“I’m sorry” he eventually blurted out, not by the least satisfied with his poor choice of words.

Neville wasn’t impressed either: “I told you to leave me the fuck alone” he said, rage and hurt written all over his face. Blaise never knew when to shut up when he was afraid, but it had not troubled him much during the previous years. Truth to be told, he hadn’t been as terrified as he had recently in a very long time and, amongst the Slytherins, it was a common trait, the inability to hold certain emotions in.

“Rule number twenty-three: be cold as ice when the situation demands it, but let your fire out when you’re safe.”

And that had been the problem: he had never felt happier and safer in his entire stay at Hogwarts as when he was with Neville; they talked about everything and were comfortable with each other, and of course Blaise had to run his mouth and ruin everything.

“Neville, please I…” he said, growing more desperate by the moment. He needed to be heard, at the very least, he needed to explain that he was a mess and that he didn’t mean his words and that he felt empty without the Gryffindor.

“Do I look like I want your apologies?”

That struck Blaise up like lightening and everything clicked into place. Neville didn’t want an apology. He was upset, as he should’ve been and deserved to be, and by apologizing, that would mean that his pain and anger wasn’t seen. What Neville wanted and deserved was an explanation to Blaise’s irrational behaviour. “Please…” he started, walking closer and closer to the Gryffindor and stopping just outside of grasp, ready to close in at any second by jumping into Neville’s arms but giving him the space he needed. “What do you want, Zabini? To insult me some more?” Neville asked bitterly, freezing the blood in Blaise’s veins as he swallowed down hurt and terror. ‘Fair’ he thought, straightening his shoulders and standing his ground. “I didn’t mean it, not a word and you know it.” Neville laughed resentfully, but still he didn’t walk away and that sprung hope in Blaise’s heart, “No, I actually don’t. Now open this bloody door or I’ll kick it down” he said, a flash of anger making his way across his eyes but disappearing quickly. “Pansy enchanted it. Wouldn’t know how to open it.” That was a lie, and a bad one per se, but Blaise couldn’t let this moment go. “Bloody perfect!” “Please, listen to me” he tried once more, letting all his emotions in his voice, breaking down the walls that he always had up. Always, except when he was with the damned plant-head that had weaselled his way into Blaise’s heart. “Why should I?”

“Because you are right to be upset about how I reacted. Because I was wrong, stupid and an asshole.” The sides of Neville’s mouth quirked up, although he tried to refrain himself from smiling. Scoffing, he moved to sit on a nearby desk, motioning for Blaise to continue, “You have five sentences, then you’ll open this bloody door.”

Usually, this version of Neville, the direct and effective and authoritative mask he used during their tutoring sessions, made Blaise lose his mind and slip into indecent thoughts, that lately had been acted upon, but now he couldn’t afford to wander off path. “…Fine, you’re right. Porca puttana, I don’t even know how to start” he lamented, trying to sort through his thoughts to gather the necessary words to express his internal turmoil. Should he grovel, begging for forgiveness, or should he carefully construct a situation where forgiveness was not necessary and they simply skipped the entire speech to snog in that very same classroom? “That’s two” Neville said, smirking and wetting his lips, sending a direct rush of blood away from Blaise’s brain. “You little… Those don’t count and you know it!” It almost felt like nothing had happened between them: Neville’s quick and snarky comments always got to him and managed to light up his days, especially when he then moved to bite his bottom lip to refrain his eruptive laugh. Blaise could die listening to Neville laugh and nothing else would’ve mattered.

But something had happened and wrongs needed to be righted, otherwise they’d each carry the burden of their illogical fight, which would become heavier. “Rule number fourteen: if you care about someone, don’t let anger simmer.”

Tentatively, Blaise walked to sit on the desk near Neville, still maintaining his personal space open to let the other boy walk away, if he truly wanted to. “Alright, Imma start now” he cleared his throat, counting to ten and reminding himself that if he had managed to talk Goyle out of breaking every single bone in Professor Biggs’ body, who lacked bones but that had been a debate for another day, for giving Crabble a Troll and failing him on their Fourth year, that would mean that Blaise was able to talk himself in and out of every situation.

“I hate so much that I had a brilliant speech ready and you just swooped in and my mind went completely blank, it’s so awful.”

“You sure this is the direction you wanna go with your apology?” Neville huffed out a laugh, loosening a little his arms and visibly relaxing.

‘Yes’ Blaise’s mind said, since things seemed to move already in his direction, but instead he remained on his unintentional path, truthful and honest: “NO! But I don’t know which direction I want my apology to go to, cause you’re actually here and I don’t know what to say and this only happens when I’m with you and I’m sorry I was such a moron, I was worried for Draco and lashed out, cause that’s the only thing I know how to do and you shouldn’t deal with my bullshit but please deal with me, cause it’s been three days and I haven’t slept cause I miss you and I love you and Sweet Suffering Bloody Baron I’m rambling, am I not? Okay, I’ll stop now.”

What followed was a very hard second where Blaise had to restrain himself from casting Obliviate and start all over while staring intensely at the wall in front of them purposefully avoiding Neville’s look.

“Say something, please?” “You’re cute when you ramble.” Blaise whipped his head around to look at Neville, who was shaking with silent giggles and looked like a ray of Lumos Maxima had just erupted in the room. He couldn’t believe that idiot sitting next to him! Rambling and generally speaking without a thorough thinking process behind the words wasn’t cute, it was unacceptable!

“I beg your pardon” he asked, disbelieving the entire situation. “On your knees then.” [ic1] “NEVILLE[ic2] !”

The Gryffindor couldn’t hold it anymore: he doubled down on himself, laughing to his heart content. It was joyous and contagious and it made Blaise follow suit, although in a less explosive way.

“I gotta apologize too” Neville said once they were gaining their breath. Blaise was confused: he had messed up with his words, Neville had just patiently waited for him to get back to his usual state and then lost his nerve, which was incredibly understandable. “What for?”

Neville sighed deeply and stood up in front of Blaise, looking at him with gravity in his eyes and sorrow in his face. “I ran away” he simply admitted, as if that had been the worst thing he had ever done, “I know that sometimes your head runs too fast and that you might say something you don’t mean, but when we ended up talking about that curse, I just couldn’t.” He shook his head as tears began to swirl in his eyes, but he blinked them away and kept on focusing on Blaise, who grabbed both of his hands and held them tightly. “You don’t have to explain…” he began, but Neville simply cut him off. “No, but I want to. Remember that Fake Moody showed us the Unforgivable Curses and that he did that one in front of me?” “Yes” Blaise said simply, rage sweeping his bones. He remembered how Draco, Crabble and Goyle had laughed at Neville’s discomfort, the panicked and almost ready to break down expression the Gryffindor wore on his face. Granger had screamt at the professor to stop, but Blaise saw the flash of pleasure that sick bastard had taken from Neville’s pain.

It had been a mercy, to leave him with the Dementors, for if he was still around, Blaise wouldn’t have stopped at anything to give him what he deserved. Even if they were not dating, that monstrous behaviour deserved to be punished severely.

He simply held Neville’s hands tighter, bringing him closer so that the Gryffindor was now standing in between Blaise’s legs and silently rubbed circles on his hand with his thumb, encouragingly and comfortingly.

“My parents…” Neville began, voice shaking as he kept on blinking away his tears, focusing on Blaise’s Slytherin tie, “They’re at Saint Mungo’s because of that. That monster, along with Draco’s aunt and two others, used the Cruciatus Curse on them and shattered their minds. That’s why he asked me of all people if I knew an Unforgivable Curse.” He gave out a huffed chuck, humourlessly and grimly. “They rendered them insane with their torture. It was right after You-Know-Who fell, because of… They thought my parents were somehow responsible or had answers or I don’t even know what went down in their sick minds. They broke them and that’s why I had to go live with Grandma.”

Blaise was speechless. Horror crept down his spine as his mind blanked. Neville had never told him specifically how he had come to move with his stern Grandmother, nor he ever talked about his parents, but he would’ve never imagined the reality to be so horrific. Of course Neville was guarded against Slytherins, of course he got easily upset whenever the conversation moved to particular spells, of course he had walked away from his awful and blind conclusions.

“And now, Draco was using it on Harry and I just...” he continued, unable to hold the tears any longer. Blaise stood up and wrapped his arms around his torso, bringing him down and holding him tightly. Neville’s hands fisted Blaise’s shirt as his head dropped on his shoulder and he began to sob, his entire body shaking. Blaise could feel his own eyes start to tear up and he didn’t try to stop himself.

He understood perfectly now, and Neville didn’t have to apologize for anything. If anything, this entire situation meant that Blaise was a shitty boyfriend, which he already knew.

After a few minutes, Neville untangled himself from Blaise, stepping back and drying his face with his hands. “Sorry, I got your shirt messed up” he joked, voice cracking.

“Don’t worry about it, Nev.” Blaise raised up his hands, bringing Neville’s along and placed a gentle kiss on both his knuckles, “Thank you for telling me” he said, voice barely above a whisper as he leant closer and placed his forehead against the Gryffindor’s.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry I reacted like that”

That forced Blaise to untangle himself from Neville and to pointily look at his boyfriend’s eyes, trying to convey all his emotion in a single glare: “Are you kidding me? You should’ve murdered me on the spot, or at least punched me. I was being an asshole” he reasoned calmly. “Yes, agreed,” Neville laughed, bright and crystalline, before he continued down his own personal rabbit hole: “but you didn’t know…” “Ignorance doesn’t justify anything” he finalized, signalling the end of this discussion. Neville could apologize to inanimate objects at the minimal occasion, as he had several times; the first time Blaise had seen him say he was sorry to a table he had accidentally walked into, he had doubled himself over with laughter and their tutoring session had begun ten minutes later, when he had finally regained control over his breathing. “Now say you’re sorry one more time, I dare you!” he laughed, aware that, as a Gryffindor, one of his traits was the inability of letting go of a bet.

During their Second Year, before the Basilisk attacks had begun, Marcus Flint, then captain of their Quidditch team, had dared Gryffindor’s Oliver Wood to a race down the Astronomy Tower, betting their next match over it: whoever lost, had to forfeit the match upfront. He had been joking, pulling an aimless prank, yet Wood was already racing down the side of the tower with his broom, almost close to hit the ground, when Flint called off the bet and Professor Sinistra fainted. In the end, Flint had to forfeit, for he made the bet in the first place and didn’t even participate to it.

As predicted, Neville wasn’t able to hold the dare: outraged, he opened his mouth, yelling “But I am sorry!” but Blaise had been faster, leaning forward and capturing Neville’s lips in his before he had even managed to finish his sentence.

As if on cue, the door unlocked, still remaining closed, as Neville plunged his hands on Blaise’s back, driving him closer and adjusting their bodies so they were touching everywhere.

Suddenly, Blaise’s brain screamt that Professor Flitwick might’ve come around at any moment, which made him lean away from Neville’s hot kisses. The Gryffindor voiced his complaints, brain already fogged by their heat.

“Wanna go somewhere else?” Blaise asked, voice low and conspiratorially as he jumped off the desk and held tight Neville’s hand. “Lead the way quickly” was the only reply, betraying an eagerness that Blaise felt in his own bones.

“Rule number thirty: Hogwarts’ best place to snog privately is the empty cupboard closet near the Defence Against Dark Arts Classroom that Apollyon Pringle used to store his romance novels and that nobody uses since.”

BTW the bit about Oliver Wood and Flint is a Headcanon of mine. But I can 100% guarantee that the bet shit is true: as a Gryffindor myself, I cannot resist a bet or a dare for the life of me

GLOSSARY:

'Porca puttana' literally means filthy whore, but in this case (AND ALSO GENERALLY SPEAKING DURING REAL LIFE CONVERSATIONS) is somewhere along the lines of 'Holy Shit'

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loveydoveypiperwright · 5 years

Text

The rest of the group headed below deck, leaving the mess to one of the reformed criminals to clean up. Elkiries stood, watching Nathaniel clean. She offered her help, but he refused. Elkiries shrugged it off, standing by the far end of the deck near the Bowsprit.

The sunset was a thing of wonders, littered with oranges, reds, and pinks. Elkiries sighed, lying her glaive on top of the ledge to keep her arms from leaving burn marks into the wood. She leaned over, gazing at the sea. Just a night and a half till we hit land, it shouldn’t be long.

A pair of footsteps came near, Elkiries turning her head to look. Alas, it was the half-elf whom she had protected from Dallas earlier. The half-elf woman immediately looked down as they met each other's gaze, but she found her place beside Elkiries.

"Hello, Selmene. Is there something you need? Dallas isn't bothering you again, is he? Elkiries kept her eyes to the water.

The half-elf woman laid her arms on the golden railing, "N-No. No. He isn't. I just..." She rubbed her foot along her shin, "I wanted to thank you for what you did earlier. I didn't expect one of your kind to do what you did, especially after what I said."

"I detest those who believe they can keep others under their boot. I realize he wants to stop you from creating potential termoil towards myself, the twins, and our cleric, but he's just feeding the flame."

"Ah." Selmene was silent after that, the sound of the sea filling their ears.

Elkiries turned to her, "You're free to leave if you wish. I doubt you'd want to spend more time than that is due around 'my kind.' I won't keep you."

Selmene fiddled with her left wrist, "Actually, you're not that bad for... For..." She shook her head, raising her hand to her lips, a slight shiver overcoming her. "Well, you're okay. I'm free to avoid the high elves, and your half-elf seems to stick to that ginger man more than anyone else in your group."

"I'm glad they won't be a problem for you then." Elkiries smiled, turning back.

"Will, you, uhh, be coming back to the dining room? I assume supper will be hosted soon before we retire to the cabins."

Elkiries gestured to her head of fire, "If I do, I'll likely set the boat aflame. I'll have to wait till it's possible to swap into another form before I can meet with everyone below."

"And what of your wound?" Selmene pointed to her shoulder, gesturing around it. "Are you just going to let it fester? What if... the giant ant was poisoned!

Elkiries looked to her right, thinking. "It likely was, but," She breathed a heafty sigh, "If anyone tries to touch me, they'll burn their hands. I don't want to harm anyone."

"I-I can try to help, I have an idea."

"And that would be?"

"I could shield my hands in flame, then heal you. Y'know, if it works. May I see your arm?"

"There's nothing wrong with my arm."

"A test run, of sorts."

Elkiries, with furrowed brows, lifted her arms off her glaive, facing Selmene.

After a moment, flame shrouded her hands. She reached out to touch Elkiries' arm, Elkiries hesitant to her touch, jolted her arm back. "Rrgh, sorry." She added.

Selmene slowly reached her hand out, clasping her hand on her arm for a moment before retreating.

"Did it work?"

"There's a harsh sting, but I think I'll be able to help you. You'll have to take off your chainmail shirt, though."

"If I must." Elkiries begun to remove her armor, lifting the chain mail till half of it rested on her shoulder, exposing the wound.

Selmene placed her hands on the wound, enduring the pain as she wove her healing magics upon the wound.

"Forgive me, but" She paused for a slight moment, "How does your armor and garments not catch fire when you're in this state?"

"My people have already mastered how to make non-flammable clothing. The metal rings are made of steel so they don't melt."

"Your people..." She cringed, thinking of them, "Isn't that armor heavy then?"

"You get used to the weight. My pauldrons and gauntlets are rather heavy too."

"What of your weapon? Has the staff ever caught fire?"

"It's made of stone, sans the blade."

"Wow, that really must be heavy."

"Indeed it is."

"Hey!" A foreign voice called out from below the stairs, to which a short Aasimar woman appeared, saying something to someone behind her. Turning around, she looked over the two, and chuckled.

"Yes, Laila?" Elkiries called to her as she approached.

"Well, isn't this a sight!" Laila let loose another chuckle. "Didn't think the two of you would ever get so close. A top off already. Anyway, the cooks will have supper laid out and ready in a few moments. Feel free to join us if you get the chance. Do either of you want a specific drink waiting for you once you head down?"

Elkiries would roll her eyes if she had irises, but she only shook her head. "Mango juice, if the kitchens have it. And you, Selmene?"

Selmene popped her head up from behind Elkiries shoulder, face red. "I-I'll make my own tea once we head down."

"You sure?" Laila sprung.

Selmene simply nodded her head.

"Okay then, I'll see you two in the dining room then. Soon, hopefully."

"Hopefully." Elkiries added. With that, Laila turned on her heel, heading back towards the stairs.

Selmene took the next minute or two working on the wound; working on it was a challenge. She had to work between recasting fire to her hands, the hardy sting, and having to nudge away the hot chainmail as she worked. Alas, she finished quickly and apologized for taking so long, letting Elkiries put her armor on again.

"It's alright, thank you for aiding me." Elkiries fashioned her armor back to it's original spot, flattening it out. "I'll stay out here till I change back, you can head back down.

"Well, alright. Don't burn down the sails." With that, Selmene left Elkiries and headed below.

"I won't." Elkiries huffed, leaning back on her glaive, looking out to the sea.

-------

Selmene headed below deck, towards the dining area to grab their drinks. As she entered, Dallas, Laila, their cleric 'Theira', the ginger man 'Albin', a dwarf, a half orc, a goliath, a half elf, two high elves, and five humans sat around a large table, eating multiple meats, pastas, vegetables, and breads that had sat in the middle of the table.

Selmene noticed Elkiries' pack at the end of the table beside Dallas, and her seat beside Laila. Alas, all that sat in their places was a glass of mango juice. After making a quick cup of tea, Selmene sat down beside Laila, grabbing her fair share of food as it was passed around.

"So, Selmene," Laila piped, "Is Elkiries still..." She tucked a bit of the end of her shirt up and gestured above her.

"No, she's not. She's just... Still... On fire..."

Laila nodded her head with food in her mouth, "Gotcha'."

Dallas paused flipping through Elkiries journal, leaning his body towards Selmene, "What's that mean, the whole," He mimicked the motion Laila had done with the best of his ability with his curiass, "thing?"

To which Selmene and Laila said at the same time, "Nothing!"

Dallas squinted, "Ooookay. Sure." He continued, eating as he read what she had written down in her journal. Selmene eyed the journal, watching him eat beside it. After a bit, she reached over and grabbed the journal from him, holding it.

"Wha-"

"If you keep eating over that thing, you'll get food all over it! I doubt she'll want that!"

Dallas squinted at her, "Since when were you buddy buddy with her? Just earlier you were calling her 'Heathens... Scum... Cursed beings' while you tried not to throw up!" Her reached back for the journal, swiping it back.

Her expression soured, "I-"

"My family! Cursed! It'd be best if you swapped seats." Dallas mimicked, bringing his hands to his mouth.

The feeling to vomit pulled at her, bad memories flooding to her. She reached back for the journal, tucking it under her arm, and running out of the dining room with her tea. Dallas got up to give chase, nearly tripping over Laila as she tried to stop him.

All Laila managed was to grab onto his wrist, "Dallas, enough! She isn't going to hurt Elkiries or any of us, just leave it alone. Leave her be!"

Dallas shook his arm free, chasing after Selmene without a word.

------

"Elkiries!" Selmene shouted, running across the deck.

"What is it?" Elkiries shouted back, watching her head towards her, Dallas on her tail.

Selmene hid behind her, Dallas stopping short of the two. "C'mon, Selmene, we're just eating supper. Join us again!"

"No!"

"Selmene..." Dallas brung his hand to rub the corners of his eyes, "Ugh, Elkiries, will you convince her to come back?"

"No. Why are you chasing her?"

"She wouldn't eat and I'm simply concerned for her!"

"That's not it!" She shouted, "You wanted her journal! I won't let you ruin it!"

Dallas sighed, rolling his eyes. "Why do you care? Elkiries will let me look through it if I wanted too. It's not like you'd ever let yourself to be friends with her."

"Yes," Elkiries stepped forward, "I would let you read it if you wanted, but there's a thing called asking. Looks to me she's doing just fine speaking with me. Quit antagonizing her, Dallas."

"You're not concerned that she's not playing some mind game with you? She could turn on you, on Theira, or any of us at any minute."

"No, I'm not. Leave this, Dallas."

Dallas huffed, trying to peer behind her with a glare. "At least come back for dinner, Selmene. Enoughs enough up here."

"I said no!"

"Selmene-"

Elkiries grabbed her glaive off the ledge, pointing her blade at his chest.

"Dallas!" Laila shouted from the stairs.

"Fine, fine." He turned, heading towards her.

-------

"Now, what was that about?"

Selmene looked up from the side of the ship, wiping the edge of her mouth. She handed Elkiries her journal, before taking another hurl into the sea.

Elkiries held it in her hand, checking it over. "My journal?"

She brung her head back over the ledge, "Y-Yup. He was eating over it and I-I doubt you'd want it damaged."

"Thank you, then. That's all?"

"Well... No. He brung up what I said earlier and I don't want to relive awful family memories, so I just.... Ran." Selmene looked to Elkiries, trying to dig through her yellow scleras that lacked irises.

"I'm sorry that happened. We'll be at the strange continent soon enough." As she finished, her hair turned into Autumn reds and oranges, falling down to her sides.

A small chuckle escaped Selmene's lips, "Heh, you look like you just woke up."

Elkiries grumbled, beginning to braid back her bangs to tuck away behind her ears, "Took myself long enough."

"I'll say."

Elkiries moved onto the larger mass of her hair, pulling it all together in one large braid. She grabbed a piece of twine from her pocket, tying it around the end.

"If you'd like me to escort you down, we can fill up on supper now if you'd like."

"Fine. You know where to sit."

"Right." Elkiries grabbed her glaive, heading below deck with Selmene.

#Natty rambles #Elkiries #Eladrin problems lmao #Would you look at those potential girlfriends wowie wowie wowie #Dallas doesnt mostly act like that but I live for ✨ drama ✨✨ that t e a ✨✨✨#Well he sorta does #But lowkey #Ah well lol #Selmene isnt even a cleric shes a wild magics sorcerer but I shall take my creative liberties as I please lmao #Nearly midnight bitcheeeesss

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muthary · 5 years

Text

Apprentice Questionnaire: Diorbhail

Find the original questionnaire here. Answers to 4, 25, 26, 27, and 28 are here and here. Under a cut because this is still pretty lengthy!

1. Where is their favorite place to hang out in Vesuvia? Why?

They enjoy anywhere they can take a long nap, or just sit and think. Mostly at home, in their room. They’ve fallen asleep in a forest or two, even. They just enjoy the quiet, and sounds they’re used to constitute as that. They also appreciate consistent vibes, since they’re sensitive to shifts in energy, so being in their room lets their aura bounce back at them. The forest has a similar effect.

2. How does your apprentice feel when they are called a witch? (Offended? Shrugs it off? Likes it?)

It’s what they refer to themself as. Culturally, the term magician or sorceress doesn’t feel right. So they aren’t particularly incensed when someone else refers to them as such, but when someone says it with the intent of it being an insult? Diorbhail isn’t exactly sure why, but they feel the need to bolt. They have a hard time feeling safe in that sort of situation. Looking at you, Valerius.

3. Do they have a familiar? Why did you choose that animal? How did they meet?

They do, but they were separated from him when the came to Vesuvia. That, and Diorbhail doesn’t consider him so much as a familiar as they do consider him just family. He’s a direwolf named Fenrir who Diorbhail found, along with rest of his orphaned siblings, when wandering the forest behind their childhood home. From then on out, Diorbhail tried their best to take care of them, and when they inevitably outgrew them, the wolves began taking care of them with Fenrir being their closest companion. Neither of them knew what a familiar was!

I chose a dire wolf (and a pack of them, at that), because Diorbhail’s design and abilities were somewhat based off of the Úlfhéðnar and Beserkers of old Norse tales. The wolves themselves are based off of (you got it) Fenrir, as well as Skoll, Hati, Geri, and Freki. There’s also a unique dynamic I thought would be nice for Diorbhail! Fenrir and his siblings represent the most wild parts about Diorbhail, the parts that have stuck around through all their life and make up a huge part of their personality.

5. What is their opinion of each of the courtiers?

Valerius

Surprisingly, they don’t hold Valerius with the most contempt they could. Granted, he’s a conniving bastard who drenched them in wine when he first met them after trying to continuously embarrass them in front of Nadia, but they don’t consider him a threat. They never did. They forgave him in the Hierophant’s realm because they figured, for all the show and condescension, he was probably just a fool in a man’s shoes. They wouldn’t play chess with him, though. They don’t have that much patience.

Vlastomil

Diorbhail can’t stand to be around him for too long. He reminds them of the worms he love to chitter on about, slimy and wriggly. They don’t have an in-depth opinion about him because they try not to get into situations where they have to be around him.

Valdemar

He makes them incredibly uncomfortable. Diorbhail has a special relationship with death in that they don’t fear it all too much (it’s pain that terrifies them), since their beliefs are very Norse in origin (Ragnarok and the Völuspá and all that). But Valdemar, and the way they treat death like a trivial joke, something for them to toy with, to bring pain to others with... they hate it. They make Diorbhail incredibly uneasy, if not entirely disgusted. They find Valdemar terribly disrespectful.

Vulgora

Obnoxious. Diorbhail doesn’t care for their bloodthirsty attitude that has no end. They roll their eyes every time Vulgora yells about fighting. Diorbhail is waiting for the day Vulgora attempts to turn their wrath on them; Diorbhail is getting more and more ready to put Vulgora in their place with each passing day.

Volta

Diorbhail enjoys Volta the most. She’s meek and adorable in a scuttling, sniveling, baby-ish sort of way. Diorbhail never thought Volta was up to no good, not like the other courtiers. They particularly enjoyed it when Volta lit up at the sight of those tiny sandwiches they brought her during the Masquerade, even if they did feel bad about why they brought those snacks in the first place. Diorbhail sympathizes a lot with Volta, and her constant, insatiable hunger brought on by her... condition. They know too well what starvation feels like, and what it can do to someone.

6. What did they do while at the clinic?

Diorbhail, for the most part, offered immediate comfort. They brewed tea, crushed aromatic herbs, and lit various resins to ease the pains and aches of the patients. They weren’t patient enough to sit and toil over possible cures, not like Julian. They wanted to learn, but the patients and their immediate needs always took precedence, especially the elderly and the young. Diorbhail often sat and listened to the old-timers, who they knew simply wanted an ear for the night, and the patient company. They’d tuck in the younglings and recite to them stories from their youth. Often, they’d end up falling asleep with the children leaning on them. And with Julian always tucked away into his office, it’s no wonder they got sick.

Once they regain their memories, they can’t say they regret what they did.

7. What are their tasks around the shop? What can they make?

They were the main clerk, since Asra would handle the readings and then... nap. The shop was owned by their aunt so it was known for Southern remedies and folk magic, and they were able to harmlessly do whatever wild magic they knew without lifting to many brows-- old magic is niche enough where no one would care to question it, just so long as it worked. Diorbhail did a lot of plant-based spells, charms, tinctures, tonics, potions, etc etc. Other than that sort of work, generally, they were in charge of regular cleaning (energy and plain dust), placing new charms and barriers, and rebalancing the building. Making dinner and tea also fell on them quite often too, but they didn’t mind.

8. Describe their daily routine (wake up, chores, tasks, visiting who, etc)

They sleep very soundly, but don’t go to bed on time, so their nights often extend into the early morning. They usually wake up around nine or ten, having bathed the night before with handmade soaps and oils. Their hair usually only gets styled every couple days since their braids and plaits are meant to hold up to a great amount of activity. Makeup is usually done through quick glamours that take no time at all to do. They wear a lot of layers, but getting dress doesn’t take as much time as hair does. Breakfast is usually a glass of water with lemon and an omelette with rosemary and basil. Sometimes they’ll splurge and eat some fruit!

They usually leave chores for the night, so they’ll head straight down to the front end of the shop and open up for the day. Lunch breaks mean restocking whatever’s out at the marketplace and stopping for some pumpkin bread. They don’t visit many people aside from the baker! They’ll head back to the shop after an hour, usually, and keep going until a little after sunset, at which point they’ll close, bathe, eat supper, and stay up reading/writing in their grimoire. They pray before they go to bed and set a saucer of cream and a slice of that day’s bread out on their windowsill before retiring.

9. What Major Arcana would they be closest to? Is their a Minor Arcana card that suits them more?

The Major Arcana they associate with the most is The Empress. She symbolizes an older entity, the mother of the earth, and brings the recycling of energy at her most tempestuous. Diorbhail has a lifelong association and dependence on nature at it’s most raw, and so they feel incredibly drawn to the Empress. As for the Minor Arcana, it would probably be the Seven of Cups.

10. Describe their magical abilities. What are they best at? Worst?

Diorbhail’s magic is terribly unrefined and often reigned in by sheer force of will and intense visualization, and a good metaphor for it is probably just successfully breaking in a stallion. Old magic is a lot of this, and is often because those who practice it are more in tune to natural energies that created magic in the first place. Diorbhail is most in tune with the earth in terms of elements, and they incorporate herbs, woods, flowers, stones, and bones into their magic. They happen to be adept at protective charms, divination, summoning, and offensive spells. They aren’t as good as transmutations or spells that require precise steps. They find it hard to focus on that sort of thing!

11. How do they get along with all the animals in the game? (Faust, Malak, Chandra, Pepi, Inanna, Camio, Melchior and Mercedes)

Faust

Excellently, of course! Diorbhail loves it when Faust decides to wrap around them and hitch a ride. Diorbhail is incredibly patient with her and Asra often finds Kai hunched over their work as Faust slithers all over them-- through their hair, under their draping clothes, and loosely about their neck. Diorbhail hardly doesn’t flinch when she decides to flop on top of their head after trying to reach a higher shelf or beam, or when Faust pokes their lips with her snout because she can’t hold steady as she tries to investigate the scent of lunch coming from their mouth. When the Devil took Faust, Diorbhail immediately dove for the deal after he promised to release Faust if they did-- they couldn’t stand to see her hurt, ever.

Malak

An odd relationship characterized by wordless interactions and an odd degree of trust that developed out of nowhere. Diorbhail naturally communicates well with certain types of animals well enough without having to work for it-- dogs and corvids, for example (a nod to Odin and his accompanying animals, Geri and Freki, and Hugin and Munin). They like to offer trinkets they find, or pieces of bread they have, to Malak. They spy the intelligence in his fathomless eyes, and the old soul in them is convinced that Malak could be a divine messenger. They’ll often spot him and beckon him over so that he may perch on their shoulder-- Malak’s weight comforts them, as well as the usefulness that comes with having his extra pair of eyes with them while they trek more dangerous parts of Vesuvia-- or anywhere, really.

Chandra

Diorbhail doesn’t have a particular opinion on Chandra. They know she exists, but they don’t... care too much. Honestly, Diorbhail thinks Chandra is pretty for an owl, but a little too... fancy, I suppose? Not like the owls they know, that's for sure.

Pepi

Well enough. Diorbhail is more of a dog person for obvious reasons, but they coo to Pepi to ask if they can pet her. They’re always a little downtrodden if they get ignored by the little cat. They do think she’s cute, though.

Camio

Camio is Diorbhail’s least favorite. He's nice to look at but annoying. They rarely curse at an animals, but they’ll make the exception for Camio. It doesn’t help that Camio is obviously just like a certain someone who also grates on Diorbhail’s nerves.

Melchior and Mercedes

After the first night when Diorbhail forced these two into turning tail and submitting with just their stare, they have a touch and go relationship with Mercedes and Melchior. They, too, remind Diorbhail of the odious Lucio, but not enough to make them wrinkle their nose when they come snuffling around. They’ll give those pups the pomegranates they desire though, and smiles when the hop around before tearing into the fruit.

12. Did they have a certain opinion about the palace and court before the events of the game? Did it change?

They were intimidated by the concept of visiting, but mostly they weren’t the most avid fan of the palace and court. They can’t stand those in higher classes who do nothing to help those whose heads they trample just by existing, and before knowing the situation with Nadia and her courtiers, they assumed Nadia and her court were no-good snobs who weren’t able to look much further than their own noses. That held true for some of the courtiers, but they were happy to learn that Nadia was much different from their preconceived notions on her.

13. How do they feel about traveling in the realms? (Nervous? Excited? Other?)

They’ve been traveling between the veil for a while. Their home country is also inhabited by otherworldly spirits and beings, the Aos Sí, and they've been in close contact with these beings ever since they could walk. They’re also spiritually sensitive and can see souls of the departed, whether on this side or the other of the hedge that separates the living from the dead, so, no, they don’t have many feelings regarding traveling realms. It’s just something they do sometimes, with Asra or not.

14. Where is their least favorite place in Vesuvia? Why?

The dungeons. The echoes of lives lost, not at to the plague, but to Valdemar’s careless hand, is suffocating and makes their lungs feel like they’re about to pop. Those energies make their entire body hurt and their head go fuzzy-- it’s the worst they felt since they died. They’ve barely managed to hold back tears down there. At least the Lazaret lacks a roof.

15. How did your apprentice feel about Asra leaving all the time? Taking care of them?

They aren’t happy when he leaves, but they don’t think that they’re too important that they should bring it up to them. They figure he probably has important things to do that aren’t any of their business. It doesn’t help how lonely they feel, though-- they are a pack animal at heart. But, at the same time, sometimes Asra can stifle them with how much he dotes. They try to steer him in the direction of a reasonable middle ground, and that usually means that they give him as much attention as their emotional capacity allows for that day.

16. Name one thing your apprentice wants to see happen, or say to someone.

They want to find to find a mutual belonging with Muriel. They resonate with him already-- he’s similar to how they once were when they were first revived. To how they were when they were younger. Sort of like how they are now. They feel drawn to him but with no way to properly express that to him, they just hope one day he’ll catch on.

17. What is the outcome you see happening for your apprentice and their significant other?

Visiting their home country. Meeting their foster family. Finally setting old demons straight after they regain all of their memory and then settling down in a quiet cottage, out of the city and back in the wilds that they love. Maybe one day with a little family of their own and a reputation as the people of the wood who will never turn out a weary traveler.

18. What would drive your apprentice so far as to strike a bargain?

Losing the few people that they’ve allowed close to them, those who they truly love platonically or otherwise. That would truly break Diorbhail and drive them to take any means necessary to right what they perceive as a wrong, or put them out of their own misery. Or, if they believe that it would prevent harm from coming to their loved ones altogether, then they’ll dive to sacrifice their own well-being.

19. At this point in the game, do they care more about recovering the rest of their memories or living as they are now?

They want to remember. There’s always a gnawing at the back of their head, and they know they can be better if they just remember. They’re sick of feeling helpless because they only have three years worth of memories, most of them being of Asra and the shop. It’s no way to live, for Diorbhail. They probably won’t think this way for very much longer, however.

20. Would they be up for another Masquerade despite all that has happened? New outfit theme?

So long as they don’t have to keep running between rooms, then yes. With a quiet corner, good food, and night sky full of lights, they’d be perfectly content. As for their outfit, they’d probably go in a costume tied to their ancestry, and to the general theme of a ram, the star they were born under and the face of one of their gods.

21. What is their first reaction seeing their LI cry?

Initially, they’d hesitate to get close. Their first thought is to think of what they would like their LI to do, if the situation was reversed, but that’ll get tossed quickly in favor of Diorbhail rushing over to hug their LI. They wipe their LI’s tears and whisper affirmations and comforting things. This always ends with Diorbhail acting as a big spoon and running their fingers through their LI’s hair, and eventually falling asleep there.

22. Are they scared of what they have learned? Of the powers they have developed?

Not at all. Maybe of what may happen if the wrong people learn about what they could do, but they’re never afraid of themself. For them, each new ability is one more means with which to protect their family and help those in need.

23. Do they like snow? Have they seen it before?

Given that their home country is very nearly always covered in snow, yes, they have seen it before, but no, they aren’t particularly fond of it. They associate it with terrible things from their childhood, and doesn’t make for a very hospitable environment once it falls thick enough.

24. A magic lamp is found in the shop, and a genie inside gives them three wishes. What are they?

Diorbhail would send that genie right back inside for later use. They have no clue what they’d wish for until they needed it. No wishes for wealth, love, or fame. They’d probably tote the lamp around until they found themself in a pickle and used the genie as a get-out-of-jail-free card. Like wishing the Devil would forget about merging the realms and take a nap.

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sp4c3-0ddity · 6 years

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Water Rescue: Part Two

i return with a sequel!! but first, please direct your attention to the plance mage-and-familiar AU initially envisioned by @rueitae here and here. read, reblog, and rejoice!!

and now that you’re (re)acquainted with the AU...here’s the second part of my take on Pidge’s and Lance’s meeting and [eventual] ‘bonding’, that’s also over twice as long (~8000 words) as the first part whoops. also heavily featuring the Holts and the other Paladins and i’m saving Allura and Coran for Part Three so fear not for them. i hope you enjoy magical shenanigans and cheesy worldbuilding!! <3

Read Part One

Edit: there’s now a Part Three and an ao3 link

Pidge entered her hometown around sunset, right as mages specializing in fire started igniting the lamps that lined the streets. Shadows bent in odd shapes around the corners of buildings, but despite the time the roads didn’t empty, many people still going about their business.

The leftover tomatoes in a nearby grocer’s stall called to her, and from the words they spoke Pidge knew they grew too ripe. They sought the ground, to either sprout into vines and yield fruit of their own, or to decompose while their matter became a part of something else.

They reeked of the exhaustion that came before rot.

Pidge drifted towards them without thinking about it, already reaching into her money pouch for a few coins. “How much for all your tomatoes?” she asked the grocer.

He had his back to her when she spoke, so turned and regarded her with a frown. “What’re you going to do with all these tomatoes when they’re about to rot, girl?”

“Chop them into salad,” Pidge said, shrugging.

(She might as well save a few to give to her mother.)

The man stared at her, then shrugged and said, “If you take all of them off my hands, you can take them at half price.”

Pidge grinned, though after the grocer finished unloading his stall and left, she realized she had three heavy wooden crates of soft tomatoes and only two thin arms with which to carry them. She sighed and sat on top of a crate, her limbs heavy after traveling and her feet sore.

She tapped her fingertips against the wood, considering that it was unlikely crates of overripe tomatoes would be stolen if she left them unaccompanied. But before she could rush home to retrieve her brother to help her, a sudden and familiar voice startled her.

“I didn’t know you were coming to town, Pidge.”

She stood, wincing when her boot rubbed a blister on her ankle, and faced the perfect person for the task she needed done. “Hunk,” she said, smiling at him and offering a wave. “How’s everything at the shop?”

Hunk scratched at a stubbly chin. “Same as usual,” he said. “Shiro’s on a voyage now, so I have Keith staying with me.”

“That’s great,” Pidge said. “I haven’t seen him in a while either.” She propped her elbow on the topmost crate, leaning against them. “I’m here visiting my family, so—”

“Need help with those?” Hunk nodded towards the crates, then frowned. “You came on foot?”

“I’d rather walk than ride,” she admitted, wiggling her toes in her worn boots. And maybe fly too…

She shook the errant thought from her head, then said, “I can carry one.”

“I’ll get the other two,” Hunk said.

Pidge blinked at him, surprised. “Really? Two isn’t too heavy?”

Hunk smiled. “Pidge,” he said, “I’m a bear.”

Pidge bit her lip and sheepishly muttered, “Right…” She stepped away from the crates and lifted the top one, staggering backwards a few steps under its weight.

“Impressive,” Hunk said…as he bent down and picked up both of the other crates as if they weighed as much as the air that surrounded them.

Pidge scowled at him, already feeling the crate start sliding from her fingers, but led the way to her house.

At least for the first few seconds of the walk. Hunk’s longer stride quickly overtook hers, as comfortably as he carried two tomato-filled crates. He easily probed her with questions - about how she was doing by the lake, about any experiments of hers on the flora, about what the village was like and if she had plans for midsummer - while she struggled to answer, the single crate in her arms proving more burdensome than she’d hoped.

By the time they arrived at her family’s house - the very dwelling she grew up in - Pidge’s arms and legs trembled with the effort. The crate slipped out of her fingers, and she sucked in a grateful breath right as the door flew open.

“So you finally decided to grace us with your presence again, Pidge?”

Pidge rolled her eyes, but a smile pushed at her cheeks as she rushed up the walkway and threw herself at Matt.

He caught her against him, and then with her feet dangling spun her in a circle while she laughed. She felt light and warm, like a little girl she was just a short time ago all over again.

Matt set her down after a few circuits, so Pidge asked, “What’s keeping you from leaving?”

Apparently the lightness in her head affected her ability to speak tactfully.

Her brother’s smile faltered, but while Pidge held her breath and waited for an answer in the form of a reprimand, he glanced past her and called out, “Oh, you’re here for a visit too, Hunk?”

She exhaled in relief and turned to follow Matt’s gaze.

Hunk still stood at the end of the walkway beside the crate she’d dropped, the other two balanced on top of it. His hand was raised in greeting, and the light spilling out of the open doorway glinted oddly against his brown eyes. “I mean, I did just carry two crates full of tomatoes for Pidge, so I wouldn’t say no to at least a meal.” He grinned at Pidge.

She rolled her eyes and gestured for him to follow her up the walkway. “As long as you don’t expect me to do any cooking after traveling and doing heavy-lifting,” she said.

Matt turned to head back into the house - perhaps to warn their mother of the extra guest - but then he paused and looked over his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at her and asked, “Tomatoes?”

Pidge laughed and, suddenly feeling sheepish about her impulsive purchase, tugged at a loose thread on the end of her coat. “Overripe too,” she admitted.

Matt crossed his arms, then chuckled and observed, “Guess living so far away hasn’t changed you at all.”

As predicted, Pidge’s mother found a use for a whole crate of the tomatoes. Between sauces and preserves, she didn’t doubt that her father and brother would grow sick of the fruit within the next few days.

The other two crates were Pidge’s to play with, and after supper she invaded - with permission - her mother’s garden and set to work.

This late in the growing season most of the plants wilted, their leaves yellowed and brown. The ones that survived winters withdrew for hibernation, their life essence already buried so deep into their core that Pidge couldn’t detect it unless she focused.

A weaker mage than she would think most of the garden dead, but without reaching out to the life hidden away, Pidge could still be fooled into thinking the same.

But when she closed her eyes, she sensed the roots still breathing and feeding under the soil, different systems intertwined and sharing nutrients. They all spoke to each other in their own simple language, one Pidge was only just beginning to understand.

In the city, it was weaker and quieter, and beyond her family there was no warm embrace of life to greet her despite the crowds. It was why she left to cultivate her craft, and why she was willing to endure one kind of loneliness to avoid another.

Besides, as she constantly reminded her parents and brother, she couldn’t write to the network of life that thrived without humanity like she could to them.

Pidge dug shallow scoops into the earth, placing a single sliced tomato in each one. Either a plant would sprout and bear fruit to feed her family or the fruit would decompose and feed the rest of the garden.

She worked silently and by the light of a lantern hanging from a nail driven into the back wall of the house. Candlelight also spilled from the window of the attached potions shop her parents owned, her father there filling orders he didn’t get around to during the day.

Pidge had offered to help when he stood up after dinner, unable to help noticing that his limp grew more pronounced every time she visited, but he’d smiled, patting her shoulder, and told her to relax and enjoy her tomatoes.

Her father retired comfortably from the military after a magic mishap when Pidge was still a small child, so the potions he and her mother mixed and sold served as more of a hobby than a livelihood thanks to the income the crown provided him for his service. But their lifestyle kept them busy, and if they hadn’t been able to spare her support here, Pidge would’ve been stuck in the city, the cultivation of her abilities be damned.

Pidge hissed at a sudden, sharp pain in her hand. She shook herself from the reverie she’d slipped into while planting and frowned at the blood oozing from a cut and staining the knife she was using the slice the tomatoes. She sighed, dropping that tomato before standing and retreating into her family’s home.

Matt and Hunk stood chatting by the lit hearth while her mother sat at the desk in the corner, shop accounts lying open while she updated them.

Pidge approached the hearth, and her eyebrows shot up at the sight of Hunk taking a bite right out of a tomato. The watery juice dribbled down his chin and soaked into his stubble, and she couldn’t help narrowing her eyes at him in mild disgust.

Hunk must’ve noticed, for he smirked at her and said, “I’m hungry.”

“We just ate dinner,” Pidge pointed out.

“That was an hour ago,” Matt mentioned pragmatically.

“Bears also eat a lot,” Hunk added.

“But that’s a tomato!” Pidge argued, gesturing towards Hunk and eying her brother hoping he’d support her. “He’s eating it like it’s an apple!”

“So?” Hunk said, rolling his eyes. “Also, Pidge, a tomato is a kind of berry, and I like berries. Besides, you’re a green mage, so shouldn’t you know this?”

Pidge rubbed her face, wincing at the sting in her hand and the realization that she’d just smeared blood on her cheek. She grimaced, staring at the smudge on her palm, but before she could do anything about it Matt grabbed her hand and brought it close to his eyes.

“What happened, Pidge?” he asked.

“I just cut myself,” she said, sighing. Exhaustion then hit her in a wave, threatening to drag her limbs down. It was almost too much effort to stand, so she collapsed into a chair and grumbled, “I still have so many tomatoes to plant.”

She heard the scraping of another chair’s legs against the wooden floor, and then her mother took her hand and wiped the blood away with a clean rag. “In the morning we can take you to a healer,” she promised. “Matt, get me a jug of water to wash it.”

“Mother, it’s just a shallow cut,” Pidge said, but she didn’t try tugging her hand away.

“And if you keep working in the garden it’ll get infected,” her mother chided with an arch of her brow.

Pidge was spared having to reply by Matt’s return. He cradled a ceramic jug of water in his hands and set it on the floor beside Colleen, who dipped her rag into the water and wrung it out before cleaning the cut on Pidge’s hand.

“Do you know any healing magic, Hunk?” Colleen wondered as Matt passed her a strip of white cloth.

Pidge winced as her mother tied the bandage securely between her thumb and forefinger and around her palm. It tugged uncomfortably at her skin and stuck to the cut, and a few drops of blood soaked into the fabric as she watched.

“I don’t, Madame Holt,” Hunk admitted with a sheepish smile. “A friend of mine does, but he doesn’t live in the city.”

“Allura knows healing magic,” Pidge said, wiggling her fingers. “She could’ve fixed this easily, but I at least know what to put in a poultice to fight infection.” She smirked at Matt, but he crossed his arms, looking unamused.

“Then you’ll have to heal the traditional way,” Colleen said with a sigh.

“It’s just a cut, Mother,” Pidge repeated, shoving down her impatience. “It’ll be healed by the time I leave the city again.”

Her mother frowned at her, then rolled her eyes and stood up. She rounded on Hunk and said, “Do you want to take any tomatoes with you when you leave?”

Hunk stared at her, slow to blink in his surprise that Colleen was almost eager to get rid of him. “Sure,” he said with a hint of caution. “Sometimes the ripe ones have worms—”

Pidge gaped at him, but he ignored her.

“—and I can take some to share with Keith and Shiro.”

“I thought you said Shiro’s on a voyage,” Pidge said.

“He’s due back tomorrow,” Hunk told her. Then his eyes lit up and he grinned at her. “You want to come by the shop in the morning? I’m sure Shiro would love to see you too when I go to port to meet him.”

Pidge smiled and agreed, “I’d love to! I’ll come by in the morning after breakfast.”

“Great,” Hunk said. “I’ll warn Keith, and maybe prepare a pastry for you to bring back.” He turned his glowing smile to Colleen, who didn’t even bother to disguise her impatience.

“That would be lovely, Hunk,” Colleen managed to say pleasantly, right before escorting him to the front door.

Pidge’s heart pounded, and she stared at her bandaged hand with wide eyes, wondering what sort of trouble she got herself into. Experienced adult mage or not, her family still insisted on treating her like a child when she returned home.

Pidge glanced at Matt, who smiled at her. When she glared at him, he raised his hands defensively and said, “They probably just want to talk to you without anyone else here.”

She heard laughter from the direction of the front door as her father returned and bid his own farewells to Hunk, but the obvious warmth exchanged did nothing to put her at ease.

When her mother returned with her father in tow, they settled into chairs across from her. Pidge hunched her shoulders under their scrutiny, feeling very much like a prisoner about to face interrogation.

“Why don’t you move back home, Katie?” Sam wondered.

There it is. “Do you need more help in the shop?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at them.

“No, we’re fine,” he told her. “We’re just getting worried.”

Pidge held her hand up and scowled. “If this is about the cut, I’m not usually that careless.”

“U-usually?” Colleen stuttered, her eyes widening.

Pidge’s cheeks flushed, but she kept her irritation in check. “I meant that I’m careful, Mother,” she said, then muttered under her breath, “Even when I’m cutting fruits and vegetables…”

“We’re just worried that you live alone in the middle of nowhere—”

“There’s a village a few leagues away,” Pidge pointed out, crossing her arms. “It takes only a couple hours to walk there.”

“And what happens when you’re hurt worse than ‘just’ a cut?” Sam inquired.

“Why would that even happen?” Pidge threw her hands up, frustration making her tone shriller. “I don’t do anything more dangerous than fish in the lake when I want something richer than beans to eat! And I’ve only fallen in once!”

That proved to be the wrong thing to say.

“You fell into the lake?” her mother nearly shouted, shooting to her feet.

Pidge raised her hands defensively. “And obviously I made it back out!” she retorted. “Luckily someone else was there and—” She cut herself off when she realized her defense only proved her parents’ point, but the damage was already done.

“This is why you shouldn’t live alone,” Sam said mildly.

Colleen sat back down with a heavy sigh. “And what if there’s an intruder, Katie?”

“You said it yourself, Mother,” Pidge interrupted. “I live in the middle of nowhere. Who will want to break into my cottage? And for what? More plants than they can carry?” She breathed heavily, anger not quite spent, but pinched her eyes shut.

The evening started so well too, between the tomatoes and encountering Hunk and coming home…

Now all she wanted was to go to bed, to sleep away her travel exhaustion and escape to Shiro’s and Hunk’s shop in the morning before this argument could be repeated for the umpteenth time.

“Don’t you get lonely, Pidge?”

She exhaled slowly, bringing her breathing back under her control, and turned her head to look at Matt. “I’m fine,” she grumbled. “I have friends in the village.”

“And all you have at your cottage is your plants,” Matt said with a wry smile. “And how often do you see those friends anyway?”

Pidge bit her lip and struggled to remember the last time she saw Allura and Coran. Sometime during the summer, she thought, when they came by her cottage to pick up a few orders from her.

“You have conversations with your plants?” Matt asked, tone almost teasing.

“Sometimes,” Pidge admitted, ducking her head. “I keep a journal.”

“When was the last time you had someone other than your rare villager friends over for dinner?”

Pidge pressed her lips together, fighting a smile that seemed out of place in this situation. Warmth filled her chest at a memory, at odds with the sinking of her heart since it had yet to repeat.

Matt smiled at her knowingly. “Maybe you should think about bonding a familiar,” he suggested.

Pidge’s eyes widened. “What?”

He shrugged. “Isn’t it a pretty common practice with mages as strong as you?” He nodded towards the door. “Isn’t Hunk Shiro’s familiar?”

“Yes…” Pidge curled her hands into fists in her lap. “But I don’t know if I could trust someone like that.”

She didn’t make friends easily, the ones she did have made entirely by accident. Nature’s energy distracted her too much to properly bond with most other human beings, let alone with a powerful magical creature that would ever consent to becoming her familiar. To share and augment strength, to forge a bond so strong that only death could break it…and break her.

Pidge swallowed, suddenly conscious of how sweaty her palm was underneath the bandage. The very thought of trusting someone - with her power, her strength, her very thoughts and emotions - so firmly, so absolutely, that she’d connect herself to them with ties more powerful and enduring than marriage made her stomach churn.

Lore says dragons make strong and loyal familiars…

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the thought before she could follow it too far, then blinked when she recognized Matt had just asked her something.

“What?”

He rolled his eyes and wondered, “So who was the last person you had dinner with that wasn’t from the village?”

Pidge cleared her throat, conscious that even her parents leaned towards her, attentive to her answer. “The, uh, person that saved me from drowning in the lake.”

“What were they doing in the middle of nowhere?” Matt asked.

Pidge laughed. “Swimming in freshwater for the first time.”

Matt quirked a confused eyebrow at her, but before he could follow up with another question, a yawn split Pidge’s face. She covered her mouth with her uninjured hand and rubbed her drooping eyes.

“You’ve had a long day of travel,” Sam said after exchanging a quick glance with Colleen. “You should go to bed, Katie, and we’ll talk about this more while you’re still here.”

Pidge stood. “Looking forward to it,” she said, then escaped to her childhood bedroom before her mother could reprimand her for inappropriate sarcasm.

The room was bigger than she remembered, though that could just be because the bedroom in her cottage was barely wide enough for a bed and a small chest of drawers storing her clothes and more personal effects. And it looked much the same as she’d left it, with the same quilt - one she’d “helped” her mother stitch together - spread over the bed and the same painted ceramic pots arranged underneath the curtained window.

Now they sat empty even of soil rather than full of the life she’d once nurtured in them. She knelt in front of them and picked up the smallest one, colored an eggshell green with her name - “Katie” - painted in white. She’d planted the most experimental samples in this one, flora she’d been uncertain would take to the soil or the city’s climate even with her magic enticing it to grow. The ones that succeeded she’d either transplanted into a bigger pot for further observation or in her mother’s garden if she was confident they’d thrive.

They almost always failed if they made it to the garden, missing something that Pidge couldn’t give them no matter how hard she tried.

Pidge set the pot down, bleakly thinking that her craft would be reduced back to these small pots and the back garden if she let her parents have their way.

But if I found someone to bond as a familiar…

Pidge refused to get her hopes up, but as she washed and dressed for bed, she couldn’t help imagining expanding her family to include someone else, and someone she wouldn’t have to leave behind when she finally, inevitably left the city again.

The fantasy lingered when Pidge closed her eyes, and she dreamed of blue scales and a warm smile.

A bell rang in greeting when Pidge pushed the shop’s door open, but no one stood behind the display case. She crossed her arms, tapping her foot before pacing and wondering if Hunk always left his wares unaccompanied like this.

Crystals and gems, perfectly cut for specific purposes, lay inside the glass cases. Some of the crystals glowed, infused with magic and ready to power anything from a clock to a lantern or for a mage to draw upon them for strength, but others were dun without an external light source to make them glitter. They were all pretty, but the dun ones only served an aesthetic function.

Ironically, the jewelry from here was the less expensive ware.

“Hunk!” Pidge called, growing impatient despite the blue Balmeran crystal that sparkled inside its own case.

“Coming!” she heard him reply from a back room.

Pidge sighed and leaned against the wall. She idly reached out, first towards the magic trapped in the crystals and gemstones - magic with a flexible purpose, unlike that which existed in everything else, harder to find and capture but easier to control - then towards the dried herbs and late harvest fruit stored in Hunk’s kitchen.

Are those…mangoes? Surprised at the presence of the high-value fruit, Pidge wondered if it would be too forward to ask Hunk if she could have one, perhaps to plant the pit and see if it would take to the soil at her cottage and submit to her care.

Footsteps startled her into standing upright, and her eyes flew open and landed on Keith behind the counter.

His eyes gleamed, reflecting the light emitted by the crystals, as he raised an eyebrow at her. “Since when are you awake this early, Pidge?”

Pidge rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile spreading across her face as she approached him. She flung her arms around his neck - though it required nearly jumping onto the counter separating them - and retorted, “Maybe I was just that eager to see you.”

Keith’s arms hesitantly returned her embrace, and as he patted her back he said, “Maybe, but it’s less than an hour after sunrise.”

Pidge pulled away from him, once more standing on the other side of the counter as she straightened her crooked coat. “I’m trying to make the most of what little time I’m here,” she lied…though it wasn’t entirely untruthful.

Oh, she was definitely happy to be visiting Hunk, Keith, and Shiro along with her family - the unpleasantness of the previous night’s argument aside - but she wished she could escape her usual sleeping habits as easily as that. Instead, it took a bizarre, obscure dream that she’d already forgotten to jolt her awake around sunrise and keep her from falling back into sleep.

Pidge couldn’t tell if the pit of dread sitting in her stomach had anything to do with it either.

“Aren’t you worried someone will steal everything?” she asked Keith, changing the subject as she glanced around the shop.

“Hunk and I set wards,” he replied with a shrug.

Pidge crossed her arms and smirked. “Oh? Real wards, or does Hunk just set a pie out on the porch to make sure any thieves find that first?”

“Like I’d waste a good pie on thieves.” Hunk himself entered the front room from behind Keith, smiling in greeting and with his face freshly shaved. “What brings you by so early, Pidge?”

She sighed. “Not you too.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “What? I wasn’t expecting you until at least midmorning, so I put off cooking breakfast.”

She leaned against the counter and grinned at her friends. “When is Shiro’s ship due?”

“Around noon,” Keith told her, offering a small smile of his own.

“Assuming the weather’s in his favor,” Hunk pointed out.

Keith snorted, his smile morphing into a smirk. “With Shiro, the weather is always in his favor.”

Pidge laughed and in the next few hours began to feel more at ease than she had since arriving in her hometown, but when Keith and Hunk started muttering to themselves, she grew annoyed. “What secrets are you telling without me?”

Keith rolled his eyes - at Hunk rather than at her, she thought - and said, “I have an experiment.”

Pidge blinked in surprise - she’d never taken Keith for the scientific sort - but leaned towards him eagerly. “What?”

Hunk, for his part, crossed his arms and frowned in disapproval. “I told you not to bring that thing here.”

“I needed your expertise with crystals,” Keith retorted. He then nodded at the backroom and told Pidge, “Follow me.”

Pidge did, glancing between Keith and Hunk and wondering what could have the latter so ill at ease that he’d refuse to tag along.

Inside the backroom, where work benches and storage cabinets lined the walls, uncut crystals and tools awaiting Hunk’s attention, Keith led Pidge to a display case in one corner. And at the sight of what lay within, her heart jumped into her throat.

“Keith,” she said as she approached it and resisted the urge to press her nose to the glass, “is this a corrupted crystal?”

“It is,” Keith said with a sigh. “Hunk doesn’t like it here, even when I told him that I’m trying to heal it.”

Pidge stared at the violet crystal, saturated and pulsing with a dark light that shouldn’t exist in nature. And where she could sense the energy tucked away into healthy blue crystals, this one felt…different.

No, it didn’t feel. It stole feeling, a pocket of emptiness contained inside a small glass box, and if she so much as quested towards it, her mind brushed against an eerie, alien nothingness that extended needy hands seeking something - anything - to fill it.

Pidge recoiled, even taking a step back, and despite her curiosity she understood Hunk’s unease. “I thought they were impossible to heal,” she told Keith.

“Supposedly,” Keith said. He crossed his arms, hunching his shoulders and glaring at the crystal like it personally offended him - and for all Pidge knew, it had. “But if Balmeran crystals can be corrupted, then there has to be a way to reverse it.”

Pidge smiled; she could easily admire and empathize with resolve like that. “Well, if Hunk eventually kicks you and the crystal out, you can bring it to my cottage. I love a good, risky experiment.”

Keith narrowed his eyes at her, as if unsure if she was being serious, but when she continued to smile at him, he laughed. “I might take you up on that some day, but for now, let’s go meet Shiro.”

Pidge’s breath caught in her throat the instant her eyes fell on the bay.

Sunlight reflected off the crystalline water, ships gliding along its surface with sails full of the warm breeze blowing in from the south, and the road emerging from the city’s center leading down to port afforded them a perfect view of both water and the wide expanse of cloudless sky. It was almost enough to fool Pidge into thinking it was still summer, and it was almost enough to captivate her. But the familiar sight of the bay wasn’t what froze her in her tracks.

Glittering blue scales captured Pidge’s attention when a slender creature shot up from the waves. When its translucent wings spread, catching the wind and carrying it over the water, alarmed and awed shouts rose from the crowded port and the ships.

“Where did that dragon come from?” Keith asked, posture tensed for fight or flight.

Hunk, on the other hand, merely rolled his eyes. “It’s just Lance,” he said.

Pidge snapped her eyes onto him and demanded, “You know him too?”

Hunk frowned at her. “What do you mean too?”

Her cheeks flushed for some bizarre reason, but before she could formulate an explanation, Keith interjected, “Let’s go! I think I see Shiro’s ship.”

Keith grabbed Pidge’s wrist in one hand and Hunk’s in the other, dragging them down the path and into the crowds that always infected port. But with a dragon sighting, it seemed worse than usual as everyone from merchants to passengers to crew members pressed towards the docks.

“Showoff,” Pidge scoffed, but she couldn’t help enjoying the sight of a dragon at play in the bay, wings and feet and snout all sending up streams of water and shreds of kelp. She even spotted crew aboard the ships not yet at port pointing at the dragon, as fascinated as those without a job to do.

Keith’s sharp fingernails digging into her skin pulled her back to earth, and after a quick glance at him to take in his horrified face, she followed his gaze.

Smoke rose from the sails of a ship still halfway out of the bay.

“Oh, shit,” Hunk cursed, tensing. “That’s Shiro’s ship!”

“Can you hear him?” Keith wondered. He held his hands out in front of him, poised to cast a spell - though from this distance it would prove ineffectual.

“There was a mutiny,” Hunk explained, his eyes narrowed and shoulders tense. “When the crew was distracted by the dragon, someone took the captain hostage and now a fight’s broken out on deck over the ship and the merchandise.”

“No,” Keith breathed. “We need to get out there and help.”

“How?” Hunk said. “More combatants will just make it w—” He cut himself off, his eyes wide as licks of orange flame chased darker plumes of smoke into the sky. “There’s a fire mage aboard,” he said, voice low and fearful.

“Then I can help if I’m there, Hunk!” Keith argued. “We’ll commandeer a rowboat—”

“You don’t know the first thing about boats,” Hunk pointed out.

“I’ll dive into the bay and swim out to the ship if I have to!” Keith stepped towards the nearest dock as if to do just that, but Hunk pulled him back by the arm.

“Shiro will be fine,” Hunk insisted with a pointed glare, “and he wants us to stay back. He has the power I can give him through the bond, and then…”

The blood rushing past Pidge’s ears blocked out the rest of the argument as she searched for something - anything - to do. And where once the dragon had attracted the attention of everyone in port, they started to yell and retreat as far as possible from the flaming ship bearing down on them.

A wide stream of water shot out of the bay and engulfed the ship.

Pidge held her breath, leaning forward to watch the dragon poke its head out of the waves and exhale a mist onto the ship. Smoke dispersed, flames snuffing out like they burned on a dragon-sized candle, and for a second Pidge thought the crisis was averted.

A great creak - a moan, a roar - traveled over the water, harsh on her ears and enough to send a shudder up her spine. And Pidge could only look on as the ship’s wood splintered, rending the whole vessel into two pieces that were quickly taking on water.

The ship would sink before it could reach port.

“Send out lifeboats!” Keith had resorted to shouting, likely hoping to catch the eye of the port’s security force.

But as Pidge watched the waves churn in a strange, unnatural pattern under the ship, under the influence of the lurking dragon, her mind quested out, touching the world beneath the surface of the bay.

A whole world teeming with life and energy lay just out of sight, far more than the city itself held even in midsummer. It whispered of sunken ships and drowned sailors, lost before the port flourished, but it spoke even louder of growth and strength and mending.

Pidge could feel the kelp forest, could sense its potential just as easily as she could see that the dragon’s efforts at holding the ship together would fail. It would take more than the water’s cooperation to rescue the ship, but perhaps between the two of them…

With her heart pounding, Pidge pinched her eyes closed and reached for the dead wood that formed the ship. Not even a single breath of life escaped it, but she could still sense its essence and the purpose it served - just like she knew the groaning of the planks were a symbol of mourning at their failure. But like energy fed like energy, and as she channeled all her strength into persuading the kelp - and thank the ancients kelp grew so fast compared to true plants - the lingering purpose within the ship drew the kelp towards it, begging for its help.

Kelp climbed the sides of the ship and wove around it, pulling the drifting pieces and securing them together. Pidge just barely heard the yells of the crew and mutineers, as if through the roaring of a waterfall, most of her focus and energy devoted on a single task.

A bead of sweat dripped down her face, and she was distantly aware of the familiar ache that came with drawing upon too much power at once. But if she let go of the kelp, let it fall back into the bay before the ship could limp back to shore, the vessel would sink while its crew awaited the slower rescue the port’s officials would send.

Waves enchanted by the dragon spurred the ship on faster than even a wind summoned by Shiro could. And where the spellbound water overlapped with the kelp under Pidge’s influence, a surge of energy hit her, rejuvenated her.

Like this, working with the dragon - working with Lance - more power lay at her fingertips than ever.

When the ship finally docked - when the city guard finally boarded it and arrested the would-be mutineers and the rest of the crew disembarked - Pidge withdrew her influence from the winding kelp, gasping at the severing of the connection, far too sudden to be comfortable - and harsher than she’d ever felt. Her chest ached, strangely bereft, as much as her body did, and it took all her willpower to stay on her feet.

But her head spun with dizziness, swaying so violently that Hunk had to tug her away from the edge of the dock before she could tumble into the bay.

“Pidge?” he said, snapping his fingers in front of her eyes and startling her into something resembling alertness.

She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn before trying to look past him. She squinted at the water, mind sluggish to comprehend what was different. “W-where’s Lance?” she muttered.

“Lance?” Hunk blinked at her, surprised, then glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Looks like he disappeared, and if he used as much energy as you just did”—he spun back around to face her—”he’s probably gone to get some rest somewhere.”

“Right.” Her heart sunk into her stomach, heavy with disappointment, and she stared at the planks of wood beneath her feet. “I-I wanted to talk to him before he left. I k-kind of missed him.”

Pidge barely knew what she was saying, too weary to even care what she confessed to.

Hunk crossed his arms. “Well, thanks to you and Lance, Shiro’s ship made it safely.”

Pidge nodded; it would take too much effort to acknowledge him in any other way.

“Daring rescue like that, the ship’s captain will probably want to thank you personally.” Then Hunk grinned and patted her shoulder before his gaze drifted to something behind her.. “Oh, and here’s Shiro now.”

Pidge turned, and the sight of Shiro safe and on land - or near enough - uplifted her enough that she mustered a smile. She gladly threw herself at him, pressing her face against his chest while he slowly returned her hug, his enchanted right hand rubbing her back.

“Thank you, Pidge,” he said.

“It was nothing,” Pidge said. She stepped away from him, though not too far since her knees buckled without the support of someone else’s arm.

Shiro raised an eyebrow at her. “You overextended yourself, didn’t you?”

Pidge grinned. “It was worth it,” she said, “and it wasn’t as bad as I expected.”

No, if not for Lance’s power overlaying her own, she probably would’ve passed out long before the ship could make port.

The thought alone was exhilarating and enough to make her heart pound in anticipation.

I can’t wait to work with him again, she thought, unable to help the goofy, excited smile that split her face.

A heartbeat later, black spots crowded her vision, and Pidge lost all sense of time and direction when she finally passed out, sinking into sleep before anyone could even catch her.

Pidge mentally reached out to the nearest plant life on reflex as she slowly drifting back into wakefulness, but when it took too long to touch the dormant flora in the garden, she remembered where she was.

She cracked her eyes, shielding them and wincing when the piercing light of sunset hit her through the window. Groaning, she rolled onto her side, thinking she might prefer the view of her bedroom door over a blinding light when her body still ached and her mind was still slow.

A familiar figure stood just inside the doorway, face shadowed until they stepped closer.

Pidge’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes shooting wide open as she slowly sat up, far more alert than she’d planned to be. “Lance?” she said. “What’re you doing in my room?”

Lance smiled at her, the sparse scales scattered over his cheeks shining just as prettily as she remembered. He approached and perched on the edge of her bed, then said, “I wanted to be here when you woke up.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him, surprised and…elated. “Oh,” she said. She pinched her lip between her teeth, fighting a smile. “I…thank you.” Then she really allowed herself a good look at him. “Are those the clothes I loaned you?”

Lance plucked at the collar of the wool shirt with a laugh and admitted, “They are, and I think your brother recognized them.” He frowned at her. “You loaned me your brother’s hand-me-downs? I’m so disappointed in you, Pidge.”

Pidge snorted. “I’m sorry I held out on you,” she retorted, tone dripping irony.

“Good,” Lance said. “You should be.”

“Oh, yes, very.” Pidge rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more careful when perusing my vast collection of men’s clothing.”

“It’s all right, Pidge,” Lance said with a warm chuckle. “I accept your apology.”

Pidge smiled, but when silence descended, she toyed with the frayed end of the bandage still wrapped around her hand, seeking for something - anything - to say. She wasn’t sure what stopped her from bringing up their rescue of Shiro’s ship, but—

Lance’s hand wrapping around hers halted her thoughts in their tracks. She stared up at him in surprise when he brought her hand up closer to his face, reaching with the other to unwrap the bandage.

After examining her palm, he clicked his tongue in disapproval. “What did you do?” he wondered.

“Cut myself slicing tomatoes,” Pidge admitted.

“Oh.” Lance smirked. “I was expecting something a little more dramatic.”

She frowned at him, then suggested, “Like fighting pirates?”

“Or maybe dragon hunters.” Lance shuddered, his gaze briefly flicking up to her face before returning to her hand. “Those are the worst.”

“I’ll remember that next time I need a story behind a mundane injury,” Pidge said.

Lance nodded, most of his attention still on her palm. His fingers were warm cradling her hand, surprising her - but then again, he’d told her he was a warmblooded dragon.

“I’m still practicing this,” Lance said.

“Practicing what?”

Rather than replying, Lance slowly dragged a fingertip along the cut, warmth seeping into her skin along its path. Right before Pidge’s eyes, her skin stitched together until it scabbed over, and the brown of the scab faded into pink before nothing remained of the wound.

Pidge exhaled. “I didn’t know you knew healing magic,” she confessed softly.

“Comes with the water talent,” Lance said, shrugging. He smiled sheepishly, far more modest than she expected, and gently set her hand on her blanket.

Pidge didn’t know why she missed the heat of his hand, why she so badly wanted him to take her hand again, enough to lift her own and reach—

“So how many more times do I have to save your life, Pidge?”

Pidge dropped her hand, the feeling disappearing as suddenly as it came, and scowled. “For the ancients’ sake, it was just a cut!”

“And what if it got infected, Pidge?” Lance waggled his eyebrows at her.

It was obvious he teased her, but Pidge still felt a flash of irritation. She crossed her arms and grumbled, “And now you sound like my parents.”

“What? Why?” He rested his elbows on his legs, leaning a little closer to her.

Pidge sighed. “They’re looking for any excuse to convince me to stay here rather than going back to my cottage.”

(Why was she confiding in him? She barely knew him…)

“I accidentally told them about when I almost drowned, but maybe if I agree to live here during the winters they’ll relent.” She rubbed her face, almost as exhausted as if she was due to sleep, and wished that the winter solution appealed to her at all.

“Would it make a difference if I told them I like your cottage better?” Lance asked.

Pidge blinked at him, confused. “Better than what?” she said. “And why would that matter?”

“Better than this house,” he said, shrugging. “I understand that you grew up here, but it just doesn’t have the same charm as the cottage by the lake.” He smiled at her, then nodded at the collection of empty pots underneath the window. “No plants here, for one.”

“And for another?”

“Your cottage is closer to the lake than your family’s home is to the bay.”

Pidge laughed and said, “Of course you’d notice that.”

Lance smirked and reminded her, “Pidge, I’m a water dragon. Even if it’s freshwater, I’d like to have it close. My life literally depends on it.”

Pidge smiled, but it faltered when she finally processed all his words. Her heart pounded, and she asked, “You’d like to have it close?”

“Well, sure?” Lance frowned at her. “Whenever I visit, of course, if you’ll host me.”

Pidge snorted, but she rested a hand on her chest as her heart dropped in needless disappointment. “As long as you wear clothes,” she managed to tease.

Lance stretched his arms behind his back. “I’ve spent enough time around humans lately to understand the need for clothes.” He rolled his eyes but smiled. “I can’t promise to bother with them while swimming though.”

“You swim as a dragon,” Pidge pointed out, “so it shouldn’t bother me.”

“I don’t know, Pidge.” Lance scratched his chin and averted his eyes as a slight flush filled his cheeks. “I’ve always wanted to try swimming in this human form.”

Pidge waved a finger in his face. “Not around me, you won’t.”

Lance muttered, “Fine.” But then he met her eyes. “By the way, you were brilliant today.”

The compliment filled Pidge with warmth. She rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly uncomfortable under his gaze, and coughed. “I-it was an opportunity to test my limits,” she said in what she hoped was a nonchalant voice.

“Of course,” Lance agreed snidely. “Hunk did mention that you passed out right after.”

Pidge crossed her arms. “How do you know Hunk anyway?”

“Met him my first time in the city,” Lance explained with a grin. “It wasn’t long before I met you, actually…but don’t change the subject, Pidge.” He narrowed his eyes at her and prodded a finger towards her face.

Pidge shoved his hand aside and stuck her tongue out at him. “Now I know never to hold a ship together with kelp ever again,” she said.

Lance then grimaced, the negative reaction surprising her, and said, “That’s…something else I thought we should talk about.”

“What?”

“D-did you feel that too?” Lance wondered, voice pitched lower like they were exchanging secrets. “Did you notice when my magic—”

“—touched mine?” Her eyes widened as they met his, and she wasn’t sure if she imagined the very air between them crackling with energy. “Yes,” she admitted. “I-I didn’t think anything like that could happen except with a familiar…”

“I think it would be even stronger with a mage,” Lance said contemplatively.

Pidge swallowed, scenarios that seemed impossible just the night before swirling around in her head. Could she find a familiar? Could she bond Lance?

She dismissed the thought almost as soon as it took root, deciding it was absurd. She hardly knew him and had only met him twice, which was scarcely a foundation on which to base a lifelong magical partnership. And all her experience observing plants and watching them grow under different conditions taught her that one sample of them working well together did not an experiment make.

She’d need at least three samples, she mused.

(Maybe the meal they prepared together last time would count for the first…)

“How did you feel afterward?” Pidge then asked, raising an eyebrow at him

Lance hunched his shoulders and confessed, “Exhausted.” A yawn split his face, and he reached up to cover it. “Still am,” he said, chuckling.

Pidge smiled. “We have a spare cot in the shop next door,” she said. “I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind you staying the night.”

“Hunk’s already offered his spare bed,” Lance said.

“They have Keith over though,” Pidge said.

Lance crossed his arms, looking sulky. “I know,” he said, “but I guess since your mother’s already invited me for dinner—”

Pidge gaped at him, wondering what Colleen might’ve said to him and why.

“—it’s not a bad idea.”

Pidge shook her head, wishing she could dislodge her worries so easily, but she smiled and said, “Sure. I suppose the longer you stay, the longer they won’t try to convince me to stay too.”

“You have ulterior motives for inviting me then, Katie?”

Pidge’s neck was hot when she said, “Can you blame me?”

Lance chuckled and said, “I guess not. Good thing you make it worthwhile.” He then wrapped his arms around her, his warm body nearly engulfing hers.

Pidge recovered from her shock at the gesture quickly, eagerly returning the embrace and hoping it would be the first of many.

To be continued

#rueitae #plance #pidgance #flirtyrobot #lidge #i'll eventually post this to ao3 #but probably not till i finish the third and final part #voltron #reem writes fic

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experimenttext · 3 years

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Chapter 10 - Anne’s Apology

Marilla said nothing to Matthew about the affair that evening; but when Anne proved still refractory the next morning an explanation had to be made to account for her absence from the breakfast table. Marilla told Matthew the whole story, taking pains to impress him with a due sense of the enormity of Anne’s behaviour. “It’s a good thing Rachel Lynde got a calling down; she’s a meddlesome old gossip,” was Matthew’s consolatory rejoinder. “Matthew Cuthbert, I’m astonished at you. You know that Anne’s behaviour was dreadful, and yet you take her part! I suppose you’ll be saying next thing that she oughtn’t to be punished at all!” “Well now—no—not exactly,” said Matthew uneasily. “I reckon she ought to be punished a little. But don’t be too hard on her, Marilla. Recollect she hasn’t ever had anyone to teach her right. You’re—you’re going to give her something to eat, aren’t you?” “When did you ever hear of me starving people into good behaviour?” demanded Marilla indignantly. “She’ll have her meals regular, and I’ll carry them up to her myself. But she’ll stay up there until she’s willing to apologize to Mrs. Lynde, and that’s final, Matthew.” Breakfast, dinner, and supper were very silent meals—for Anne still remained obdurate. After each meal Marilla carried a well-filled tray to the east gable and brought it down later on not noticeably depleted. Matthew eyed its last descent with a troubled eye. Had Anne eaten anything at all? When Marilla went out that evening to bring the cows from the back pasture, Matthew, who had been hanging out about the barns and watching, slipped into the house with the air of a burglar and crept upstairs. As a general thing Matthew gravitated between the kitchen and the little bedroom off the hall where he slept; once in a while he ventured uncomfortably into the parlour or sitting-room when the minister came to tea. But he had never been upstairs in his own house since the spring he helped Marilla paper the spare bedroom, and that was four years ago. He tiptoed along the hall and stood for several minutes outside the door of the east gable before he summoned courage to tap on it with his fingers and then open the door to peep in. Anne was sitting on the yellow chair by the window, gazing mournfully out into the garden. Very small and unhappy she looked, and Matthew’s heart smote him. He softly closed the door and tiptoed over to her. “Anne,” he whispered, as if afraid of being overheard, “how are you making it, Anne?” Anne smiled wanly. “Pretty well. I imagine a good deal, and that helps to pass the time. Of course, it’s rather lonesome. But then, I may as well get used to that.” Anne smiled again, bravely facing the long years of solitary imprisonment before her. Matthew recollected that he must say what he had come to say without loss of time, lest Marilla return prematurely. “Well now, Anne, don’t you think you’d better do it and have it over with?” he whispered. “It’ll have to be done sooner or later, you know, for Marilla’s a dreadful determined woman—dreadful determined, Anne. Do it right off, I say, and have it over.” “Do you mean apologize to Mrs. Lynde?” “Yes—apologize—that’s the very word,” said Matthew eagerly. “Just smooth it over so to speak. That’s what I was trying to get at.” “I suppose I could do it to oblige you,” said Anne thoughtfully. “It would be true enough to say I am sorry, because I am sorry now. I wasn’t a bit sorry last night. I was mad clear through, and I stayed mad all night. I know I did because I woke up three times and I was just furious every time. But this morning it was all over. I wasn’t in a temper any more—and it left a dreadful sort of goneness, too. I felt so ashamed of myself. But I just couldn’t think of going and telling Mrs. Lynde so. It would be so humiliating. I made up my mind I’d stay shut up here forever rather than do that. But still—I’d do anything for you—if you really want me to—” “Well now, of course I do. It’s terrible lonesome downstairs without you. Just go and smooth things over—that’s a good girl.” “Very well,” said Anne resignedly. “I’ll tell Marilla as soon as she comes in that I’ve repented.” “That’s right—that’s right, Anne. But don’t tell Marilla I said anything about it. She might think I was putting my oar in and I promised not to do that.” “Wild horses won’t drag the secret from me,” promised Anne solemnly. “How would wild horses drag a secret from a person anyhow?” But Matthew was gone, scared from his own success. He fled hastily to the remotest corner of the horse pasture lest Marilla should suspect what he had been up to. Marilla herself, upon her return to the house, was agreeably surprised to hear a plaintive voice calling, “Marilla” over the banisters. “Well?” she said, going into the hall. “I’m sorry I lost my temper and said rude things, and I’m willing to go and tell Mrs. Lynde so.” “Very well.” Marilla’s crispness gave no sign of her relief. She had been wondering what under the canopy she should do if Anne did not give in. “I’ll take you down after milking.” Accordingly, after milking, behold Marilla and Anne walking down the lane, the former erect and triumphant, the latter drooping and dejected. But halfway down, Anne’s dejection vanished as if by enchantment. She lifted her head and stepped lightly along, her eyes fixed on the sunset sky and an air of subdued exhilaration about her. Marilla beheld the change disapprovingly. This was no meek penitent such as it behoved her to take into the presence of the offended Mrs. Lynde. “What are you thinking of, Anne?” she asked sharply. “I’m imagining what I must say to Mrs. Lynde,” answered Anne dreamily. This was satisfactory—or should have been so. But Marilla could not rid herself of the notion that something in her scheme of punishment was going askew. Anne had no business to look so rapt and radiant. Rapt and radiant Anne continued until they were in the very presence of Mrs. Lynde, who was sitting knitting by her kitchen window. Then the radiance vanished. Mournful penitence appeared on every feature. Before a word was spoken Anne suddenly went down on her knees before the astonished Mrs. Rachel and held out her hands beseechingly. “Oh, Mrs. Lynde, I am so extremely sorry,” she said with a quiver in her voice. “I could never express all my sorrow, no, not if I used up a whole dictionary. You must just imagine it. I behaved terribly to you—and I’ve disgraced the dear friends, Matthew and Marilla, who have let me stay at Green gables even though I’m not a boy. I’m a dreadfully wicked and ungrateful girl, and I deserve to be punished and cast out by respectable people forever. It was very wicked of me to fly into a temper because you told me the truth. It was the truth; every word you said was true. My hair is red and I’m freckled and skinny and ugly. What I said to you was true, too, but I shouldn’t have said it. Oh, Mrs. Lynde, please, please, forgive me. If you refuse it will be a lifelong sorrow to me. You wouldn’t like to inflict a lifelong sorrow on a poor little orphan girl would you, even if she had a dreadful temper? Oh, I am sure you wouldn’t. Please say you forgive me, Mrs. Lynde.” Anne clasped her hands together, bowed her head, and waited for the word of judgment. There was no mistaking her sincerity—it breathed in every tone of her voice. Both Marilla and Mrs. Lynde recognized its unmistakable ring. But the former understood in dismay that Anne was actually enjoying her valley of humiliation—was revelling in the thoroughness of her abasement. Where was the wholesome punishment upon which she, Marilla, had plumed herself? Anne had turned it into a species of positive pleasure. Good Mrs. Lynde, not being overburdened with perception, did not see this. She only perceived that Anne had made a very thorough apology and all resentment vanished from her kindly, if somewhat officious, heart. “There, there, get up, child,” she said heartily. “Of course I forgive you. I guess I was a little too hard on you, anyway. But I’m such an outspoken person. You just mustn’t mind me, that’s what. It can’t be denied your hair is terrible red; but I knew a girl once—went to school with her, in fact—whose hair was every mite as red as yours when she was young, but when she grew up it darkened to a real handsome auburn. I wouldn’t be a mite surprised if yours did, too—not a mite.” “Oh, Mrs. Lynde!” Anne drew a long breath as she rose to her feet. “You have given me hope. I shall always feel that you are a benefactor. Oh, I could endure anything if I only thought my hair would be a handsome auburn when I grew up. It would be so much easier to be good if one’s hair was a handsome auburn, don’t you think? And now may I go out into your garden and sit on that bench under the apple trees while you and Marilla are talking? There is so much more scope for imagination out there.” “Laws, yes, run along, child. And you can pick a bouquet of them white June lilies over in the corner if you like.” As the door closed behind Anne, Mrs. Lynde got briskly up to light a lamp. “She’s a real odd little thing. Take this chair, Marilla; it’s easier than the one you’ve got; I just keep that for the hired boy to sit on. Yes, she certainly is an odd child, but there is something kind of taking about her after all. I don’t feel surprised at you and Matthew keeping her as I did—nor so sorry for you, either. She may turn out all right. Of course, she has a queer way of expressing herself—a little too—well, too kind of forcible, you know; but she’ll likely get over that now that she’s come to live among civilized folks. And then, her temper’s pretty quick, I guess; but there’s one comfort, a child that has a quick temper, just blaze up and cool down, ain’t never likely to be sly or deceitful. Preserve me from a sly child, that’s what. On the whole, Marilla, I kind of like her.” When Marilla went home, Anne came out of the fragrant twilight of the orchard with a sheaf of white narcissi in her hands. “I apologized pretty well, didn’t I?” she said proudly as they went down the lane. “I thought since I had to do it I might as well do it thoroughly.” “You did it thoroughly, all right enough,” was Marilla’s comment. Marilla was dismayed at finding herself inclined to laugh over the recollection. She had also an uneasy feeling that she ought to scold Anne for apologizing so well; but then, that was ridiculous! She compromised with her conscience by saying severely: “I hope you won’t have occasion to make many more such apologies. I hope you’ll try to control your temper now, Anne.” “That wouldn’t be so hard if people wouldn’t twit me about my looks,” said Anne with a sigh. “I don’t get cross about other things, but I’m so tired of being twitted about my hair and it just makes me boil right over. Do you suppose my hair will really be a handsome auburn when I grow up?” “You shouldn’t think so much about your looks, Anne. I’m afraid you are a very vain little girl.” “How can I be vain if I know I’m homely?” protested Anne. “I love pretty things; and I hate to look in the glass and see something that isn’t pretty. It makes me feel so sorrowful—just as I feel when I look at any ugly thing. I pity it because it isn’t beautiful. “Handsome is as handsome does,” quoted Marilla. “I’ve had that said to me before, but I have my doubts about it,” remarked skeptical Anne, sniffing at her narcissi. “Oh, aren’t these flowers sweet! It was lovely of Mrs. Lynde to give them to me. I have no hard feelings against Mrs. Lynde now. It gives you a lovely, comfortable feeling to apologize and be forgiven, doesn’t it? Aren’t the stars bright tonight? If you could live in a star, which one would you pick? I’d like that lovely clear big one away over there above that dark hill.” “Anne, do hold your tongue,” said Marilla, thoroughly worn out trying to follow the gyrations of Anne’s thoughts. Anne said no more until they turned into their own lane. A little gypsy wind came down it to meet them, laden with the spicy perfume of young dew-wet ferns. Far up in the shadows a cheerful light gleamed out through the trees from the kitchen at Green Gables. Anne suddenly came close to Marilla and slipped her hand into the older woman’s hard palm. “It’s lovely to be going home and know it’s home,” she said. “I love Green Gables already, and I never loved any place before. No place ever seemed like home. Oh, Marilla, I’m so happy. I could pray right now and not find it a bit hard.” Something warm and pleasant welled up in Marilla’s heart at touch of that thin little hand in her own—a throb of the maternity she had missed, perhaps. Its very unaccustomedness and sweetness disturbed her. She hastened to restore her sensations to their normal calm by inculcating a moral. “If you’ll be a good girl you’ll always be happy, Anne. And you should never find it hard to say your prayers.” “Saying one’s prayers isn’t exactly the same thing as praying,” said Anne meditatively. “But I’m going to imagine that I’m the wind that is blowing up there in those tree tops. When I get tired of the trees I’ll imagine I’m gently waving down here in the ferns—and then I’ll fly over to Mrs. Lynde’s garden and set the flowers dancing—and then I’ll go with one great swoop over the clover field—and then I’ll blow over to the Lake of Shining Waters and ripple it all up into little sparkling waves. Oh, there’s so much scope for imagination in a wind! So I’ll not talk any more just now, Marilla.” “Thanks be to goodness for that,” breathed Marilla in devout relief.

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sussex-nature-lover · 3 years

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Friday 1st January 2021

Review of the Year Q1 January, February, March 2020. Pre Pandemic Lockdown.

Hello, I’m wishing everyone a Happy, Healthy and Safe Year Ahead. We always say that don’t we, but boy does it have so much more meaning this time.

What can I say about the year just gone that hasn’t already been said? Well, they say a picture paints a thousand words so I’m going to choose some of my own photographs to illustrate the most positive things we experienced over the strangest year of our lives - the year of the Covid-19 coronavirus world pandemic, which is still raging today (and let’s hope I don’t get to say that again)

I’m cheating at the very beginning because I’m starting off by using a photo from Christmas 2019 when we had one of our usual type of trees in the Hall.

I’d usually decorate the Hall tree in the traditional red and gold

Below is the little tree that gained promotion this year, but in pink and white, silver and gold. That was a bit fancy for me, but the Owls liked it.

It put on some healthy growth throughout the year and played host to many perching little birds, mainly Blue, Great and Marsh Tits. I had to clear off all the cobwebs and take out all the bits of twig and leaf before it could come indoors.

And there it was, pressed into service. Every year in this house we’ve had at least two trees, a 7-8′ and a 5-6′ but this year, Little Tree was upgraded to the starring role. Hoorah Little Tree, you’ve done us proud. One of the best things to enjoy about the tree is all the memories that come with the decorations collected year after year from all around the world and some dating back to my Granny’s tree, although they’re looking rather delicate these days.

You can see our fairly recent tradition of perching ‘Travis’ the Christmas Pheasant in prime position just underneath the Angel. I think he looked fab this year, you can see him a bit more clearly than on a bigger tree.

January Garden Visitors: Sparrowhawk

As for January 2020, it brought some horrid bitterly cold, wet and windy weather. We were lucky on the 10th when we drove to Ms NW tE’s house and she put on a fantastic lunch that we both really enjoyed. That was the last time we sat down close at the table with anyone else outside of our own home and ate together* Last time we dined out-out was November 2018! Those were the days. 31st January 2020 was also the last time I had my hair cut - now it’s the longest it’s been since I was about half the age I am now and it might even be longer than then and still growing.

* Ms NW tY did pop around after work for supper in February and we meant to make that a fairly regular thing, but the only other time we got to eat together was when it was allowed outdoors in the Summer - sat at opposite ends of a very, very long table. That was weird.

January: sunset

The bad wet weather had started here in late October 2019 and we were caught in flooding in Cheshire. The Fire Brigade came to pump water off the road that we were sat on for a very long time. Much worse came with horrendous floods in Venice when some of the canals became unnavigable. World weather certainly made headlines in 2020 with flooding and raging fires devastating massive areas. The National Trust wildlife report I posted talks about the effects of the weather and climate change and what they’re trying to do to combat as much as they can.

I also see that in January we’d started to hear of Wuhan and to talk about hand washing. A friend’s sister is living in China and she’d got a flight booked to visit in April. Another friend said their lockdown and travel restrictions may be lifted by then. Little did we know.

Looking back at last year’s photos, pre blog, I was surprised I caught the Green Woodpecker in February, photo taken mid morning on the 16th.

This may be one of the last PP pictures I took (PP = Pre Pandemic) and it’s all the more remarkable because Storm Dennis had hit us.

On the 17th we went shopping for a care package for Ms NW tY who was sick and home alone. Raging fever, cough, felt like she had a chest infection and limbs like lead. Similar to what I had back in November 2019. It took seven months for me to feel tip top again, so who knows what on earth we had - not Covid obviously because the medical experts say it wasn’t over here then. They also said no need to wear face masks and children were impervious...

I’ll just leave those thoughts there.

February Garden Visitors: lots of Pheasants

Meanwhile we were starting to talk about handwashing - a lot, 20 seconds minimum with soap and hot water. Sing Happy Birthday to You all the way through and keep on washing. Haven’t heard that so much in a while actually.

...and toilet rolls. Any mention of a forthcoming lockdown and panic buying prompts shortages immediately. It was toilet rolls, rice, pasta and flour. I’m sticking with my illustration of handwashing using one of my favourite soaps. Portuguese Soap, hard to beat but prohibitively expensive nowadays. We just looked at that link and whistled, drawing in our breath and sighing. I’m going to be refilling that bottle with something altogether more modest. Of course, so much more choice now for something a bit different, especially closer to home. Kent Soap. I’ve been glad this year that I ask for nice soap as a gift if anyone wants to know what I’d like and we got some for Christmas too, so that’ll keep us going.

White Hyacinths and Freesias for fragrance lifting the bleak days

The pandemic seemed to get worse and we were getting alarmed. I last went into a supermarket early mid March. Since then I’ve only been in National Trust shops, the petrol station and the pharmacy. I first wore a face mask when we took the car for its MOT, also mid March. Staff looked at me as though I was a bank robber. When we went to collect the car later the same day there was a notice on the door ‘Only two customers allowed inside at any one time’ and news was starting to spread...about health precautions, not about me.

Soon MOT tests were suspended and the country was facing a lockdown. Since then we had a time when both of our cars’ batteries died. We’ve SORN (officially declared off road) one - it’s taking us all our time to keep the other ticking over.

March Garden Visitors: hungry Rabbits at the seed trays

I started to write my Blog. At first I just used Google Sheets for seven daily scribblings and then I moved to this platform. Blog Number 1 here with the urls of the first few entries at the end. Little did I know at that stage that I’d be writing every day at least once a day and still going.

As National Lockdown got underway as well as writing we all started walking again and looking at nature and baking - boy did we all embrace baking last year. There must’ve been a country-weight of Sourdough and/or Banana Bread attempted with varying degree of success...lucky Joe Wicks came on board to get everyone up and doing a bit of keep fit, People started working from home, hosted social lives by internet, online quizzes and memes became a thing, a really big Thing. If we were lucky our food shopping was delivered straight to our door, TV cookery shows were full of advice on what you could use if you couldn’t source what you really wanted.

Just as my football team was on course for its first ever Premier League Championship win, the season had to be suspended (13th March) hoping to resume in April. It was a vain hope, but as our manager Jûrgen Klopp said, health and safety is far more important than anything else...we can wait 😉

Sport around the world, like everything else, had to be put on pause.

The situation got worse and every Thursday night at 8pm we went outdoors and clapped for our carers as they battled on trying to get to grips with this new virus and people falling sick in huge numbers. It was a whole new way of life.

To be Continued

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WEATHER NEWS:

Forecasters are warning of possible further chaos, because the same conditions behind the 'Beast from the East' in 2018 - one of the worst storms to hit the UK in living memory - are forming again high up in the atmosphere.

The 'sudden stratospheric warming' (SSW) event happens when the temperature in the stratosphere soars by 50C (122F). This 'reverses' Britain's wind pattern, from the warmer west out in the Atlantic to the east – and Siberia.

It can take two weeks for the effects of a SSW to be felt. This was the case in February 2018 with the infamous Beast from the East, which saw much of the UK gripped by travel chaos and school closures amid heavy snow.

^ Not to mention Hospital closures too, which meant my operation was cancelled.

New Year’s Day Read:

The Wildlife Trust Marine Review of 2020

This report is also covered by the Daily Mail which also includes photos, video and information from other regional trusts around the country.

Decoration from the Standen Courtyard Christmas Tree

Once again some absolutely beautiful handiwork, The Tree of Life. What better message for a brand new year.

The Tree of Life symbol represents our personal development, uniqueness and individual beauty. Just as the branches of a tree strengthen and grow upwards to the sky, we too grow stronger, striving for greater knowledge, wisdom and new experiences as we move through life.

Music for New Year from the Rivertree Singers

a community choral ensemble in Greenville, SC. USA

‘Tomorrow Shall be my Dancing Day’ Let’s hope so.

youtube

#nature photography #review marine NewYear music UKwildlife

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sohannabarberaesque · 6 years

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Postcards from Snagglepuss: Winona Girls Aren't Quite That Easy

Cruising along on a modest little cruise up the Mississippi towards the Twin Cities as autumn becomes rather obvious ... still rather mild and bright, for the most part ... and even the ordeal of Lock and Dam 6 (if it really was ordeal) managed to become rather easy. After all, Winona was going to be our rendezvous for the evening. But not before the rather long sandwiches we were going to prepare with that deli meat and cheese we brought back in LaCrosse by way of a jog led by Bingo in his Coach Bingo personna--which yours truly, along with the Hair Bear Bunch, were preparing as part of the supper before coming on shore. In fact, I had to cut the loaves of Italian bread in half jjust right, for the sandwiches to have that certain look. Not to mention the meats being piled on rather generously, with the cheese as the crowning touch.

Still, I had to remind Square Bear in particular not to eat some of the deli meat out of the package; such seems to be too easy a habit with them, and I just hope Yogi Bear didn't teach them as much, or even inspire. And as Winona came into sight, it became inherent that we had to further cut the sandwiches up for each of our party.

But that wasn't the half of it: Seems that the ladies' cats from Top Cat's crew, Choo-Choo and Fancy-Fancy, had arranged dates during our shore time, which was bound to last the evening and into the night. And as luck would certainly have it, one of the quasi-Bohemian coffee houses in downtown Winona got word of our presence enough to ask The Banana Splits if they could pull a surprise performance that evening, what with the downtown somewhat seeing some excitement with the collegians being back and being starved for some worthwhile distraction other than beer. Which they were willing to do, even if the gig was essentially paid for by "passing the hat" and selling some tacky-looking T-shirts at the intermission. Not to mention a couple of drinks, probably some Italian sodas.

It wasn't exactly Friday evening, but having the boat secured on the levee for the evening while pretty much everybody was "out and about" made some sense. On the other hand, though, Huckleberry Hound, Clementine and I decided to stick around--as did Loopy DeLoop, deciding to kill thr night over some juice-and-water sparklers as much as conversation about his hobby sugarbush in Quebec's Estrie region, and his fondness for producing soft maple sugar (which, as he explained it, "doesn't mean risking messy bottles when you try to fill them with maple syrup in the worst possible way, or the time wasted just having to wipe the bottles clean and dry"; what's more, "one could easily makr their own maple syrup from maple sugar with the directions I include").

Not even the sunset could have resisted the enchantment of such an evening--which, when all was said and done for Choo-Choo and Fancy-Fancy, may have been anything but: Chooch, ever the sophisto (at least in his mind), couldn't stand the largely working-class bar scene his date thought was more reflective of what Winona was like, and had a mild hangover that he was able to recover from quickly. Fancy-Fancy, for his part, may have tried the bombastic routine evern as his lady love for the night sent for some delivery pizza whose crust tended to cardboard and the sauce overdone, both in quantity ("perhaps a little too much sauce for my taste") and spiciness, but HIS Winona date was somehow surprised that he was on a cruise with the likes of the Hair Bear Bunch and The Banana Splits up the Mississippi; not even a two-litre bottle of Coke ordered alongside the pizza could manage to salvage things, leaving Fancy-Fancy with modest heartburn.

As for the Hair Bear Bunch, what modest crowds were to be had downtown on an otherwise mundane school night seemed unlikely to be startled at the trio's making the bar and coffeehouse rounds, eventually managing some decent cashew chicken at a storefront Chinese eatery downtown ... and their popping into the very coffeehouse whence The Banana Splits were playing a surprise performance, enough to prompt Fleagle, in his natural leadership role, to introduce them: "I almost didn't notice it until we were finishing up the last act ... but the Hair Bear Bunch is IN THE HOUSE! Let's giveit up for Hair ... Square ... and Bubi!" [Modest applause from an equally-modest audience.]

To which Hair Bear responded: "Folks, in case you didn't know this, yours truly--and The Banana Splits, as afre here on the stage--are part of a modest little crew as is spending the night here during a little cruise on the Mississippi River as began yesterday in Harper's Ferry, Iowa, north of McGregor ... and we hope to end such somewhere near the Twin Cities." And Square Bear added: "It hasn't been all that bad weather-wise for the fall up here, and I'm sure you all appreciate our presence here tonight ..."

By midnight, when things got to the point where it seemed everybody got tired enough to get to bed, the river couldn't have been more conducive to sleep after what could have been a difficult night when all was said and done. (Incidentally, The Banana Splits made a total of $236.15 from their appearence, combining sales of kitschy T-shirts and "passing the hat" for tips during intermission. "Not all that bad," Bingo remarked, "at least compared to a few other recent dates.")

#fanfic #hanna barbera #snagglepuss #postcards #houseboat vacation #mississippi river #winona #top cat #the banana splits #coffeehouse #hair bear bunch #loopy de loop

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torontotravelblog · 5 years

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30 Cool Things to do in Toronto, Canada

Toronto won my heart by tornado. After spending a week trip around Ontario and immersing myself in nature and also serenity, Toronto was simply the right mix of laid-back mindset and huge city buzz for me. I checked out the city with plenty of time at my hand and collected a list of 30 cool things to do in Toronto that will be available in convenient, whether you are looking for websites to see, activities to do, locations to eat or where to stay. This Toronto city guide has it all!

For me the ideal means to explore a brand-new city is to obtain as close to regional life as possible. So when I had the possibility to take a trip to Ontario in autumn 2016, I recognized I didn't just intend to invest the common 2 to 3 days in Toronto as well as race from sight to sight ...

I intended to experience what it felt like to reside in Toronto, locate my much-loved coffee shop to work on my writing, find neighbourhood dining establishments as well as shops, stroll the markets and vintage shops, and also just generally figure out what makes the city so remarkable. I wound up investing 10 days here and did all of those things-- and more. Not all of the things on this checklist of points to do in Toronto are sights, some are straight-out arbitrary day-to-day things I did while I was claiming to be a neighborhood-- yet all are have to do's on your plan!

Sites & Attractions: Points to do in Toronto

1) Ride the lift up to the top of CN Tower

CN Tower is a staggering 553.3 metres high and also held the record for the highest free-standing structure till 2007. It is the ninth-tallest tower on the planet and also for CAD$ 38 you can succeed of it!

The elevator takes you to 2 different sight decks 342 as well as 346 metres high. On the lower deck you can stroll throughout a glass ceiling-- if you dare-- and also accessibility an exterior balcony. You can additionally reserve extra accessibility to the tower's SkyPod (at 447 metres) or an Edge Walk on top of the primary husk of the tower at 356 metres.

CN Tower, 301 Front Road West, internet site

Arriving: Metro line 1 to St Andrew Terminal, Cable Car to Union Terminal

2) Do a free assisted tour at the Royal Ontario Gallery

I had not planned on checking out the Royal Ontario Gallery on the very same day as the footwear gallery, yet they are so near to each other, that it would certainly have been a missed out on chance. The ROM supplies a substantial collection of art, globe society and also nature-- there is certainly way too much to see it done in simply one browse through.

After obtaining my ticket ($ 20) I did not even know where to begin-- which is when I observed the museum overview awaiting individuals to join her totally free directed tour with among the galleries in the gallery. I was done in. Doing an arbitrary directed scenic tour ended up a fantastic idea-- not just did I obtain an expert view on a gallery I may have not or else gone to; however it additionally took the choice where to begin with me. Trips are used day-to-day as well as much of them are totally free!

After the excursion, I took place to check out the present short-lived exhibition, which was devoted to the glass artist Chihuly.

Royal Ontario Museum, 100 Queen's Park, internet site

Arriving: City line 1 to Gallery Station

3) Go To the Bata Shoe Museum

The Bata Footwear Museum is a special and wacky museum experience-- never ever had I believed I would learn about the evolution of footwear on a vacation to Canada! The gallery has numerous collections taking a look at the historic development of shoes-- did you know heels were initially only used by men ?!-- along with typical shoes made use of by initial nation individuals all over the world. I specifically delighted in the short-lived event about typical colouring techniques!

Bata Shoe Gallery,327 Bloor St W, website

Getting there: Metro line 1 or 2 to St George Station

4) Marvel at the design

I enjoyed walking around various areas of Toronto and simply admire the style. The mix of industrial and domestic buildings was something I had never seen fairly like this before. I would certainly walk down a roadway of office towers made from glass and all of a sudden the next block would certainly flaunt red-brick buildings full of shops, nail beauty parlors as well as restaurants. I would certainly turn one edge and stand in the middle of a lengthy household road lined with two-story family homes with front verandas and also small gardens. It's impossible to determine precisely which areas and roads where my favourite, so simply check out for yourself!

5) Do a sundown cruise ship on the Tall Ship Kajama

When I went to Toronto in September 2016, Toronto Island had been swamped and also my chances to see the famous horizon of the city from the water were close to no. Then I found out about the high ship Kajama as well as its sundown cruise ships.

The ship travels the harbour of Toronto several times a day during the summertime (Might to 1st October weekend). Cruise ships take 1.5 hrs plus half an hour of boarding time and also offer amazing views of the horizon, Toronto Island and Toronto City Airport. I very suggest doing this cruise during sundown, as the sinking sunlight dips the city's metal towers right into pink as well as orange gold tones. it was spectacular!

I even saw a little plane arrive at the main touchdown strip of the City Airport terminal-- fairly an unique experience! There is a completely licensed bar on board the tall ship and food is worked as well, making this the excellent supper activity!

235 Queens Quay West, sunset cruise ship sails at 8 pm, website

Arriving: Cable Car to Queens Quay West at Harbourfront Centre

6) Join a totally free street art excursion down Graffiti Street

Street art in Toronto is a fascinating topic-- it's unlawful, as well as if your structure gets sprayed as well as somebody reports it, YOU need to spend for its removal. For this reason, there are a lot of owners as well as businesses who surrender their wall surfaces to be splashed on for commissions along with devoted areas where graffitis are gathered in one area.

Among those is Graffiti Alley as well as I liked exploring it on a totally free led tour! The tour lasts concerning 1.5 hours and includes not simply the street, yet also great deals of other colourful locations, art pieces and also photo alternatives in the area around Queen Road West.

Excursion Guys FREE graffiti strolling trip, meet outside the Black Bull Pub at 298 Queen St. W, daily at 3.30 pm (May-Sept) web site

7) Check out the celebration schedule at the Harbourfront Centre

Events are a fantastic way to immerse on your own in the regional culture as well as at the Harbourfront Centre there is a various festival going on practically every weekend during the summer.

I was fortunate adequate to run into a vegan celebration organised by the regional Vegetarian Culture. I got to taste vegan foods from around the world, listened to motivating discuss ethics as well as nourishment and listened to tons of real-time songs while resting among residents in the lawn.

Harbourfront Centre, 235 Queens Quay W, Celebration Schedule

Arriving: Cable Car to Queens Quay West at Harbourfront Centre

8) Catch a film at TIFF or at the TIFF Bell Lightbox cinema

The Toronto International Film Event is one of the largest audience celebrations worldwide, suggesting that unlike Cannes, the public can attend numerous movie testings throughout the city throughout the festival.

I checked out the city in September, giving me the chance to see great festival movies and really feel the celebration buzz around me, but even if you check out outside the event duration, you can capture great worldwide arthouse films at the TIFF Bell Lightbox movie theater in central Toronto!

Toronto International Film Festival, yearly in September, web site

TIFF Bell Lightbox Cinema,350 King St W, website

Arriving: City to St Andrew Terminal, Cable Car to King St West at John St.

Toronto International Film Event ticket store.

9) Go treking at Scarborough Bluffs.

Scarborough Bluffs is a location in the east of Toronto's waterfronmt with high cliffs rising to 90 metres over Lake Ontario. There are numerous parks on the Bluffs, however if you head to just one of them, let it be Bluffers Park. This park is the just one with access to the lake as well as a coastline and also obviously beautiful views of the cliffs and the water past.

Getting there: Tram to Eglinton GO Station and then buses 86 as well as 175.

10) Check Out Toronto Islands by kayak or bike.

As a result of floods I did not actually most likely to Toronto Islands myself, but I hear it's a remarkable location to invest a day out far from the active streets of the city. Take the ferry throughout and then determine whether you want to walk, bike or kayak around the islands-- I know what I would certainly do!

Kayaks and canoes can be rented out at the Watercraft Home, a 10-minute stroll from the ferry dock on Centre Island. It's finest to find early to obtain front runner of offered boats!

Arriving: Tram to Queens Quay Ferryboat Docks Terminal, Ferry: Centre Island Ferry.

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Dr. Amauri Caversan - Toronto Naturopathic Doctor

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ajoraverse · 7 years

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Recent SU developments: Steven needs a hug, hot chocolate, and a decent home-cooked meal. So, um, here ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Beta AU, though I’m unsure if I’m actually going to use it. Sorta corresponds to somewhere after Storm In The Room. This is nonsense.

When Twig got the call, she very nearly missed it. Her hands were occupied with applying an abalone and turquoise inlay to the wooden butt of Scouter's new shotgun, and she almost stabbed herself trying to rush to the early '90's satellite phone in the bedroom she rarely used. It was a heavy phone and needed replacement in the age of smartphones, but at least it still functioned. She answered it and sauntered out the front door of her home to get a better reception.

"Twig?" Twig's eyebrows nearly shot up into her hairline. Of all the Crystal Gems, Pearl seemed to be the least likely candidate to even use a phone. Her voice had that forced lightness that was so transparent that it fooled no one. "Oh, Twig, hello!"

The opening was almost too obvious, but far be it for Twig to ignore an excuse for a good ribbing. She threw in an exaggeration of her northern Sunset State accent, which was English softened and shaped by the local indigenous languages. It was supposed to key Pearl in on the fact that she was teasing, but the Crystal Gems took things so literally that she had no idea how well it would go over. "Well, I'll be. Little Miss Pearl got herself a telephone. Congratulations and welcome to the modern era."

Pearl's short laugh over the phone was forced. Twig almost felt sorry for how bad an actor she was. "Ha! Well, some... things happened and Amethyst and Steven helped me acquire a phone. But that's not why I'm calling. Garnet says there's a chance that Steven might want to visit you while we're on tonight's mission. If he does, could you take care of him?"

"Steven is always welcome to River Run Village." She dropped the exaggerated part of her accent. Jasper poked her head out from the doorway of the neighboring apartment, probably drawn by the subject matter, and Twig held up a hand to signify that she would explain later. "All of you are."

"Your hospitality is always appreciated. Things have just been... complicated lately." 'Lately' meaning the past fourteen years, probably. Twig let it slide. "Now then, humans have certain dietary restrict--"

"I've raised a dozen children to adulthood and babysat several dozen more. I think I know something about how to feed humans." Her voice was teasing again, if just to take the sting out of her words. Really, if Greg hadn't been there for Steven from birth, she would have taken the boy off the Crystal Gems' hands until she was sure they knew what they were doing.

"Oh, right." Pearl vented that little awkward laugh of hers. "Well then, I won't take up any more of your time. Goodbye."

Twig bade farewell and hung up, and she glanced at Jasper with a cat-like grin. "What you see in her, I have no idea."

Jasper's eyes narrowed at her and she pursed her lips against whatever was at the forefront of her mind. She was obviously not up to being teased. Too bad. "What did she want?"

"There's a good chance of Steven visiting tonight. I've got some corn and lime to make tortillas, and I should still have plenty of beans, but I've got no meat. Could you--"

"Yeah, sure." Jasper looked a little relieved. Stewing in her apartment after everything that happened hadn't been good for her. She returned to her apartment to grab her hunting tools and left without a word.

Twig took the time to beg fresh vegetables and herbs from Sage and milk from Mason, who was the only one of them who kept a human job and went to town for groceries regularly. She stocked everything she didn't need immediately in her refrigerator and got started on preparing the food she could store away for when she needed it.

Steven arrived just as the sun was setting, his face a bit red from climbing up the ladder they left for him to shorten the trek from the warp pad to the village set above it. He looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, he was so downcast. If Twig had a real heart, it would have gone out to him. She welcomed him into her home and sat him in the comfortable old couch near the hearth, where he slumped and stared into the flames. Having dealt with moody teenagers before, Twig let him be to start on the hot chocolate. The spiced chocolate tablets from the last time she harbored a run-away were still good.

When she came back with two mugs of hot chocolate at adequate temperature and with an appropriate amount of froth, he was still watching the flames. She pressed one of the mugs into his hands and sat close by. Not close enough to crowd him, but not far enough to be unapproachable. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Fair enough." She leaned back against the cushions to watch the fire, her attention surreptitiously returning to Steven every now and then. He drank the chocolate in little sips as his mind ran circles around whatever it was he was twisting himself up over. She let him at it and got up every now and then to turn over a log or stoke the fire a little more. He said nothing as the chocolate went cold. A glance out the window revealed that the sun had gone down long ago.

"You hungry, kiddo? I am."

"Nah." He slumped a little more. Twig took the cold mug from him and returned to her kitchen, which was mostly still stuck somewhere in the 1400s. But fire was fire and she could cook as well on open flame as she could on a gas range. She started up his supper, a hearty stew of slow-cooked beans and antelope meat so freshly killed and butchered that it was still kind of bloody, bulked out with squashes and tomatoes, and flavored with dried red chilis and spices from Sage's garden. While it cooked, she worked on a mix of mild green chili and stripped-down and diced cactus pads, left that to cook, and cooked some blue corn tortillas to fill him up. It was a meal she made for all her kids when they were down, and so far she hadn't had any complaints.

When she was done, Twig ladled out proper proportions into bowls and placed the tortillas in a warmer, all set on an elaborately-inlaid lacquered tray she stole from some fancy saloon back in the 1860's. This she brought back with her and set it on the low table in front of Steven. In the interest of having something to do, she pulled out a still-hot tortilla from the warmer and tore little bits out of it to chew on.

Halfway through the tortilla, she figured she had enough. "I don't know what's going on, but I'm gonna tell you something." Steven didn't look up from the flames. She pressed on. "You know what I tell my kids? Their only job is to grow up reasonably healthy and happy. That's it. Leave whatever you're agonizing over to the adults."

"But everything's happening too fast." He finally looked up at her, and his dark eyes were brimming with tears. She swallowed down the rest of the tortilla and sidled over to drape an arm over his shoulders to squeeze him close. "I don't know how to heal corruption, and the rubies are still out there, and my mom's responsible for shattering Pink Diamond. And... and I know I have to answer for what she did--"

Twig gave an exaggerated sigh to interrupt him. "All right. No. You are not responsible for anything or anyone but yourself. I never knew what Rose was thinking half the time, but I'm pretty sure she wasn't expecting you to pick up her mantle."

"But--"

"No buts. I can't speak for Rose, but I can speak for myself and the twelve kids I raised. Your only job is to be a kid. That's all. I'm sure that's all she wanted for you, too."

Steven flashed her a tired little half-smile and let her hug him. She doubted he would let it go, but maybe she gave him something else to think about. "Now eat up, kiddo. I don't want you going back to Pearl saying I didn't feed you. I'll never hear the end of it."

#SU: Beta AU #Twig is a mom

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hanasaku-shijin · 7 years

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Valentine

Series: Kobayashi-san Chi no Maid Dragon

Words: 1,570

A/N: I have no excuse. I’m gay dragon trash and I didn’t write anything for any fandom for Valentine’s Day specifically this year, so I whipped this up this morning (in addition to another fic which I shall post later).

Blame my followers. They only encouraged me to write for these two gay idiots and their dragon daughter and now I’m hooked and will probably write more...

-------

Valentine

When Kobayashi had left the apartment that morning, she'd sent out a silent prayer to the universe itself that nothing too crazy would happen today.

She found herself making that wish just about every day now, but it wasn't always granted, considering the company she was keeping back at home.

She merely went to work as usual and kept her fingers crossed. She hadn't even remembered about Valentine's Day until she'd gotten into the office and heard most of her male co-workers mumbling about how they still needed to buy last-minute gifts for their wives or girlfriends.

Oh, Kobayashi thinks briefly. I guess today is that holiday... I doubt Tohru knows about it. It might be best if it stays that way.

So she goes about work as per usual that day, helping her colleagues whenever it’s necessary, and deadpanning her usual responses to her strict boss (though since a certain dragon had paid a special visit to the office and tripped him repeatedly whenever he yelled at her, he'd lightened up significantly).

By the time the day is done and Kobayashi has wished everyone farewell, the spirit of the holiday is really in the air. The town hadn't been like this that morning, but now there are red balloons tied outside of houses and shops, and rose petals littering the sidewalks after people rushed to get bouquets home.

As she passes by the grocery stores and bakeries, just about every place is having sales on chocolate. Briefly, Kobayashi calculates her income for the month and decides she can spare a bit of money.

So she buys an eclair and a few small chocolates, has them packaged up, and brings them along with her on her way home.

"Now to see what Tohru's been up to all day." She makes her way back to the apartment and up the stairs until she comes to her own door and knocks. "Tohru, Kanna-chan? I'm home."

Within seconds, an exuberant patter of footsteps rushes to the other side of the door to unlock it. Kobayashi is greeted by Tohru's vibrant and enthusiastic smile.

"Welcome home, Kobayashi-san! I've just gotten back from picking Kanna up from school!"

"Good job. Thanks." Kobayashi enters, removes her shoes, and brings her little pink box into the kitchen. She's waiting for Tohru to ask what it is, but there seems to be an even more pressing matter on the blonde girl's mind.

"Kobayashi-san!"

"What is it?"

"Kanna, show her!"

Puzzled, Kobayashi turns around to watch the two of them. Kanna pulls out a small heart-shaped card from her backpack and holds it up for them both to see.

"We made it in school today," she says. "The teacher says it's Valentine's Day. A day when people give each other chocolates and flowers. Some of the boys in my class tried to give me some, but my friend didn't let them. She gave me some, though."

"As expected of Kanna!" Tohru praises, patting her head. "Manipulating those foolish, inferior humans into giving up their spoils."

"Hey-"

"Oh, right!"

Before Kobayashi can finish her complaint, Tohru picks up the card from Kanna's hands. "Kobayashi-san, what is it?" She turns it upside-down and over, examining the odd shape.

"Ah, it's a card shaped like a heart. Kids make them a lot these days for Valentine's."

"Heart?" Tohru parrots. "This looks nothing like a human heart."

"You're speaking from experience, aren't you?"

"Of course!" With that proud declaration, Tohru gives Kanna her card back. "It's so strange, how humans only give each other chocolate and gifts on certain days of the year, and then for the rest of the year they're greedy, selfish creatures. Oh! But not you, Kobayashi-san! You're-"

"I know, I know," she sighs, holding Tohru off with her hand. "But you know, some people do give their loved ones presents throughout the year, not just on holidays and birthdays. It's just traditional to do it on these days in particular. But you can't be buying stuff for other people every day unless you're filthy rich."

"Loved ones?" Tohru tilts her head.

"Right. We don't just give away chocolates and flowers to total strangers. Typically, it's just to the people you love. Like someone you're dating or married to-"

"Kyaaaaa!" Tohru's sudden shriek cuts her off, making Kobayashi flinch.

"Geez, what was that for?"

"I-I haven't gotten anything for you today, Kobayashi-san! Even though I love you! I need to go get something right away! I'll give you a hundred human hearts!"

"Don't!" she yelps. "Tohru, it's fine. I didn't expect you to get me anything. You never knew about this holiday, anyway. And people give chocolate, not human body parts."

"B-But I need to express my love for Kobayashi-san! W-What can I do?" Eyes watering, she clasps her hands together and whimpers, desperate to prove herself. Kobayashi calms her down with a pat between the horns.

"I said it's fine. You do enough around here every day, Tohru. That expresses how much you appreciate my letting you stay here."

A pink blush rises up in Tohru's cheeks, and her voice drops down a few tones.

"N-Not just that..." she mumbles. "O-Of course I appreciate Kobayashi-san letting me stay here, but that's not the only thing. I... love you for who you are, Kobayashi-san. E-Even if it's foolish to harbor such feelings, I... I can't help it..."

And Kobayashi can't help but smile. She ruffles Tohru's hair a little and smiles.

"It's fine. I don't say it enough, but thank you, Tohru. For all you do. So to show my gratitude..."

She turns around to pick up the little pink box. Tohru perks up and peers over her shoulder, and Kanna scurries up to strain onto her tip-toes to look as well.

Kobayashi opens the box to reveal the treats inside. She hears both girls gasp in awe at the sight of the food. Kobayashi picks up three of the smaller chocolates and hands them to Kanna.

"Here. I know you already got some from your friends at school, but these are from me."

As she deposits them into Kanna's upturned palms, she takes in the little dragon's expression of wonder and surprise.

"Ooooh..." Kanna looks the chocolates over, then looks up to her. "Kobayashi, thank you." Waddling forward, she hugs her legs while still keeping a firm hold on the chocolates. Kobayashi returns the hug with a hand on her back.

"You're such a good girl, Kanna. You deserve them. Just don't eat them on the sofa, okay?"

"Mm." With a nod, Kanna scurries away into the living room. Tohru watches her go, radiating a mixture of emotions.

"Kanna, so fortunate! To be given a gift by Kobayashi-san on such a day means she truly loves you!"

"And for you."

"...Eh?" Tohru turns her head and finds Kobayashi holding the eclair out for her. Tohru's face turns bright red this time. "E-Ehhhhh? F-For me? F-From Kobayashi-san? I-It's a gift for me?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"B-B-But I did not get any such gift for you-"

"It's fine. You're always cleaning up around here and helping me out. That's how you show your appreciation of me. So I'll show mine this way." She holds out the eclair closer to Tohru and waits expectantly for her to accept it.

But Tohru seems frozen in place, and even from her spot, Kobayashi can sense the heat wafting off of her. The girl slowly reaches both hands up to clutch at her chest and lets out a shaky breath.

"It feels strange..."

"Eh? What does?"

"My chest... it's tight and throbbing so fast..."

"O-Oy... please don't have a heart-attack in the kitchen..." Kobayashi reaches out and takes one of Tohru's gloved hands, and gently extends her arm. She places the eclair in her palm, then makes sure Tohru's holding onto it. "Here. Please take it, Tohru."

And she watches Tohru's sunset-colored eyes light up and fill with tears at the same time.

"K-Kobayashi-san-!" Keeping hold of the eclair, Tohru throws her arms around her, squeezing her fervently. "Th-Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Kobayashi sighs, but returns the hug, patting Tohru's back softly.

"You're welcome." She can feel Tohru's heart thrumming with excitement, and joyous little giggles are bubbling through her body.

Kobayashi is content to stay that way for a moment. It's nice to be close to her sometimes...

At last, Tohru pulls away, quickly checking over the eclair to make sure it isn't damaged.

"It looks delicious! Can I eat it, Kobayashi-san?"

"Well it shouldn't spoil your supper, and today's a special day. So sure, by all means. That's what it's for."

"Kyaaa, thank you! Oh-! B-But I don't want to eat it either. It's Kobayashi-san's precious gift! Maybe I should preserve it in ice. I'll make a shrine for it and worship there every day!"

"Just eat it."

"Yes, ma'am!"

So Tohru takes her first bite of the eclair, humming and smiling as she enjoys the flavor of it. Kobayashi watches in amusement and eats the last little chocolate for herself.

"Is it good?" she wonders.

Tohru beams back at her.

"Yes! It's absolutely delicious!"

"Glad to hear it."

Kobayashi enjoys the sight of her maid savoring the treat to her heart's content, positively glowing with delight as she does so.

Kobayashi smiles, as she most often seems to do around her.

Happy Valentine's Day, Tohru.

[Fin]

#Kobayashi san Chi no Maid Dragon #Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid #Kobayashi-san #Kobayashi #Tohru #my writing #im trash bye

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ernestosager395-blog · 7 years

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kentplate480-blog · 7 years

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MEAL PLANNING Associated Articles.

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readbookywooks · 7 years

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MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL

1 November. - All day long we have travelled, and at a good speed. The horses seem to know that they are being kindly treated, for they go willingly their full stage at best speed. We have now had so many changes and find the same thing so constantly that we are encouraged to think that the journey will be an easy one. Dr. Van Helsing is laconic, he tells the farmers that he is hurrying to Bistritz, and pays them well to make the exchange of horses. We get hot soup, or coffee, or tea, and off we go. It is a lovely country. Full of beauties of all imaginable kinds, and the people are brave, and strong, and simple, and seem full of nice qualities. They are very, very superstitious. In the first house where we stopped, when the woman who served us saw the scar on my forehead, she crossed herself and put out two fingers towards me, to keep off the evil eye. I believe they went to the trouble of putting an extra amount of garlic into our food, and I can't abide garlic. Ever since then I have taken care not to take off my hat or veil, and so have escaped their suspicions. We are travelling fast, and as we have no driver with us to carry tales, we go ahead of scandal. But I daresay that fear of the evil eye will follow hard behind us all the way. The Professor seems tireless. All day he would not take any rest, though he made me sleep for a long spell. At sunset time he hypnotized me, and he says I answered as usual, "darkness, lapping water and creaking wood." So our enemy is still on the river. I am afraid to think of Jonathan, but somehow I have now no fear for him, or for myself. I write this whilst we wait in a farmhouse for the horses to be ready. Dr. Van Helsing is sleeping. Poor dear, he looks very tired and old and grey, but his mouth is set as firmly as a conqueror's. Even in his sleep he is intense with resolution. When we have well started I must make him rest whilst I drive. I shall tell him that we have days before us, and he must not break down when most of all his strength will be needed. . .All is ready. We are off shortly. 2 November, morning. - I was successful, and we took turns driving all night. Now the day is on us, bright though cold. There is a strange heaviness in the air. I say heaviness for want of a better word. I mean that it oppresses us both. It is very cold, and only our warm furs keep us comfortable. At dawn Van Helsing hypnotized me. He says I answered "darkness, creaking wood and roaring water," so the river is changing as they ascend. I do hope that my darling will not run any chance of danger, more than need be, but we are in God's hands. 2 November, night. - All day long driving. The country gets wilder as we go, and the great spurs of the Carpathians, which at Veresti seemed so far from us and so low on the horizon, now seem to gather round us and tower in front. We both seem in good spirits. I think we make an effort each to cheer the other, in the doing so we cheer ourselves. Dr. Van Helsing says that by morning we shall reach the Borgo Pass. The houses are very few here now, and the Professor says that the last horse we got will have to go on with us, as we may not be able to change. He got two in addition to the two we changed, so that now we have a rude four-in-hand. The dear horses are patient and good, and they give us no trouble. We are not worried with other travellers, and so even I can drive. We shall get to the Pass in daylight. We do not want to arrive before. So we take it easy, and have each a long rest in turn. Oh, what will tomorrow bring to us? We go to seek the place where my poor darling suffered so much. God grant that we may be guided aright, and that He will deign to watch over my husband and those dear to us both, and who are in such deadly peril. As for me, I am not worthy in His sight. Alas! I am unclean to His eyes, and shall be until He may deign to let me stand forth in His sight as one of those who have not incurred His wrath. MEMORANDUM BY ABRAHAM VAN HELSING 4 November. - This to my old and true friend John Seward, M. D., of Purefleet, London, in case I may not see him. It may explain. It is morning, and I write by a fire which all the night I have kept alive, Madam Mina aiding me. It is cold, cold. So cold that the grey heavy sky is full of snow, which when it falls will settle for all winter as the ground is hardening to receive it. It seems to have affected Madam Mina. She has been so heavy of head all day that she was not like herself. She sleeps, and sleeps, and sleeps! She who is usual so alert, have done literally nothing all the day. She even have lost her appetite. She make no entry into her little diary, she who write so faithful at every pause. Something whisper to me that all is not well. However, tonight she is more vif. Her long sleep all day have refresh and restore her, for now she is all sweet and bright as ever. At sunset I try to hypnotize her, but alas! with no effect. The power has grown less and less with each day, and tonight it fail me altogether. Well, God's will be done, whatever it may be, and whithersoever it may lead! Now to the historical, for as Madam Mina write not in her stenography, I must, in my cumbrous old fashion, that so each day of us may not go unrecorded. We got to the Borgo Pass just after sunrise yesterday morning. When I saw the signs of the dawn I got ready for the hypnotism. We stopped our carriage, and got down so that there might be no disturbance. I made a couch with furs, and Madam Mina, lying down, yield herself as usual, but more slow and more short time than ever, to the hypnotic sleep. As before, came the answer, "darkness and the swirling of water." Then she woke, bright and radiant and we go on our way and soon reach the Pass. At this time and place, she become all on fire with zeal. Some new guiding power be in her manifested, for she point to a road and say, "This is the way." "How know you it?" I ask. "Of course I know it,' she answer, and with a pause, add, "Have not my Jonathan travelled it and wrote of his travel?" At first I think somewhat strange, but soon I see that there be only one such byroad. It is used but little, and very different from the coach road from the Bukovina to Bistritz, which is more wide and hard, and more of use. So we came down this road. When we meet other ways, not always were we sure that they were roads at all, for they be neglect and light snow have fallen, the horses know and they only. I give rein to them, and they go on so patient. By and by we find all the things which Jonathan have note in that wonderful diary of him. Then we go on for long, long hours and hours. At the first, I tell Madam Mina to sleep. She try, and she succeed. She sleep all the time, till at the last, I feel myself to suspicious grow, and attempt to wake her. But she sleep on, and I may not wake her though I try. I do not wish to try too hard lest I harm her. For I know that she have suffer much, and sleep at times be all-in-all to her. I think I drowse myself, for all of sudden I feel guilt, as though I have done something. I find myself bolt up, with the reins in my hand, and the good horses go along jog, jog, just as ever. I look down and find Madam Mina still asleep. It is now not far off sunset time, and over the snow the light of the sun flow in big yellow flood, so that we throw great long shadow on where the mountain rise so steep. For we are going up, and up, and all is oh, so wild and rocky, as though it were the end of the world. Then I arouse Madam Mina. This time she wake with not much trouble, and then I try to put her to hypnotic sleep. But she sleep not, being as though I were not. Still I try and try, till all at once I find her and myself in dark, so I look round, and find that the sun have gone down. Madam Mina laugh, and I turn and look at her. She is now quite awake, and look so well as I never saw her since that night at Carfax when we first enter the Count's house. I am amaze, and not at ease then. But she is so bright and tender and thoughtful for me that I forget all fear. I light a fire, for we have brought supply of wood with us, and she prepare food while I undo the horses and set them, tethered in shelter, to feed. Then when I return to the fire she have my supper ready. I go to help her, but she smile, and tell me that she have eat already. That she was so hungry that she would not wait. I like it not, and I have grave doubts. But I fear to affright her, and so I am silent of it. She help me and I eat alone, and then we wrap in fur and lie beside the fire, and I tell her to sleep while I watch. But presently I forget all of watching. And when I sudden remember that I watch, I find her lying quiet, but awake, and looking at me with so bright eyes. Once, twice more the same occur, and I get much sleep till before morning. When I wake I try to hypnotize her, but alas! Though she shut her eyes obedient, she may not sleep. The sun rise up, and up, and up, and then sleep come to her too late, but so heavy that she will not wake. I have to lift her up, and place her sleeping in the carriage when I have harnessed the horses and made all ready. Madam still sleep, and she look in her sleep more healthy and more redder than before. And I like it not. And I am afraid, afraid, afraid! I am afraid of all things, even to think but I must go on my way. The stake we play for is life and death, or more than these, and we must not flinch. 5 November, morning. - Let me be accurate in everything, for though you and I have seen some strange things together, you may at the first think that I, Van Helsing, am mad. That the many horrors and the so long strain on nerves has at the last turn my brain. All yesterday we travel, always getting closer to the mountains, and moving into a more and more wild and desert land. There are great, frowning precipices and much falling water, and Nature seem to have held sometime her carnival. Madam Mina still sleep and sleep. And though I did have hunger and appeased it, I could not waken her, even for food. I began to fear that the fatal spell of the place was upon her, tainted as she is with that Vampire baptism. "Well," said I to myself, "if it be that she sleep all the day, it shall also be that I do not sleep at night." As we travel on the rough road, for a road of an ancient and imperfect kind there was, I held down my head and slept. Again I waked with a sense of guilt and of time passed, and found Madam Mina still sleeping, and the sun low down. But all was indeed changed. The frowning mountains seemed further away, and we were near the top of a steep rising hill, on summit of which was such a castle as Jonathan tell of in his diary. At once I exulted and feared. For now, for good or ill, the end was near. I woke Madam Mina, and again tried to hypnotize her, but alas! unavailing till too late. Then, ere the great dark came upon us, for even after down sun the heavens reflected the gone sun on the snow, and all was for a time in a great twilight. I took out the horses and fed them in what shelter I could. Then I make a fire, and near it I make Madam Mina, now awake and more charming than ever, sit comfortable amid her rugs. I got ready food, but she would not eat, simply saying that she had not hunger. I did not press her, knowing her unavailingness. But I myself eat, for I must needs now be strong for all. Then, with the fear on me of what might be, I drew a ring so big for her comfort, round where Madam Mina sat. And over the ring I passed some of the wafer, and I broke it fine so that all was well guarded. She sat still all the time, so still as one dead. And she grew whiter and even whiter till the snow was not more pale, and no word she said. But when I drew near, she clung to me, and I could know that the poor soul shook her from head to feet with a tremor that was pain to feel. I said to her presently, when she had grown more quiet, "Will you not come over to the fire?" for I wished to make a test of what she could. She rose obedient, but when she have made a step she stopped, and stood as one stricken. "Why not go on?" I asked. She shook her head, and coming back, sat down in her place. Then, looking at me with open eyes, as of one waked from sleep, she said simply, "I cannot!" and remained silent. I rejoiced, for I knew that what she could not, none of those that we dreaded could. Though there might be danger to her body, yet her soul was safe! Presently the horses began to scream, and tore at their tethers till I came to them and quieted them. When they did feel my hands on them, they whinnied low as in joy, and licked at my hands and were quiet for a time. Many times through the night did I come to them, till it arrive to the cold hour when all nature is at lowest, and every time my coming was with quiet of them. In the cold hour the fire began to die, and I was about stepping forth to replenish it, for now the snow came in flying sweeps and with it a chill mist. Even in the dark there was a light of some kind, as there ever is over snow, and it seemed as though the snow flurries and the wreaths of mist took shape as of women with trailing garments. All was in dead, grim silence only that the horses whinnied and cowered, as if in terror of the worst. I began to fear, horrible fears. But then came to me the sense of safety in that ring wherein I stood. I began too, to think that my imaginings were of the night, and the gloom, and the unrest that I have gone through, and all the terrible anxiety. It was as though my memories of all Jonathan's horrid experience were befooling me. For the snow flakes and the mist began to wheel and circle round, till I could get as though a shadowy glimpse of those women that would have kissed him. And then the horses cowered lower and lower, and moaned in terror as men do in pain. Even the madness of fright was not to them, so that they could break away. I feared for my dear Madam Mina when these weird figures drew near and circled round. I looked at her, but she sat calm, and smiled at me. When I would have stepped to the fire to replenish it, she caught me and held me back, and whispered, like a voice that one hears in a dream, so low it was. "No! No! Do not go without. Here you are safe!" I turned to her, and looking in her eyes said, "But you? It is for you that I fear!" Whereat she laughed, a laugh low and unreal, and said, "Fear for me! Why fear for me? None safer in all the world from them than I am," and as I wondered at the meaning of her words, a puff of wind made the flame leap up, and I see the red scar on her forehead. Then, alas! I knew. Did I not, I would soon have learned, for the wheeling figures of mist and snow came closer, but keeping ever without the Holy circle. Then they began to materialize till, if God have not taken away my reason, for I saw it through my eyes. There were before me in actual flesh the same three women that Jonathan saw in the room, when they would have kissed his throat. I knew the swaying round forms, the bright hard eyes, the white teeth, the ruddy color, the voluptuous lips. They smiled ever at poor dear Madam Mina. And as their laugh came through the silence of the night, they twined their arms and pointed to her, and said in those so sweet tingling tones that Jonathan said were of the intolerable sweetness of the water glasses, "Come, sister. Come to us. Come!" In fear I turned to my poor Madam Mina, and my heart with gladness leapt like flame. For oh! the terror in her sweet eyes, the repulsion, the horror, told a story to my heart that was all of hope. God be thanked she was not, yet of them. I seized some of the firewood which was by me, and holding out some of the Wafer, advanced on them towards the fire. They drew back before me, and laughed their low horrid laugh. I fed the fire, and feared them not. For I knew that we were safe within the ring, which she could not leave no more than they could enter. The horses had ceased to moan, and lay still on the ground. The snow fell on them softly, and they grew whiter. I knew that there was for the poor beasts no more of terror. And so we remained till the red of the dawn began to fall through the snow gloom. I was desolate and afraid, and full of woe and terror. But when that beautiful sun began to climb the horizon life was to me again. At the first coming of the dawn the horrid figures melted in the whirling mist and snow. The wreaths of transparent gloom moved away towards the castle, and were lost. Instinctively, with the dawn coming, I turned to Madam Mina, intending to hypnotize her. But she lay in a deep and sudden sleep, from which I could not wake her. I tried to hypnotize through her sleep, but she made no response, none at all, and the day broke. I fear yet to stir. I have made my fire and have seen the horses, they are all dead. Today I have much to do here, and I keep waiting till the sun is up high. For there may be places where I must go, where that sunlight, though snow and mist obscure it, will be to me a safety. I will strengthen me with breakfast, and then I will do my terrible work. Madam Mina still sleeps, and God be thanked! She is calm in her sleep. . . JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL 4 November, evening. - The accident to the launch has been a terrible thing for us. Only for it we should have overtaken the boat long ago, and by now my dear Mina would have been free. I fear to think of her, off on the wolds near that horrid place. We have got horses, and we follow on the track. I note this whilst Godalming is getting ready. We have our arms. The Szgany must look out if they mean to fight. Oh, if only Morris and Seward were with us. We must only hope! If I write no more Goodby Mina! God bless and keep you. DR. SEWARD'S DIARY 5 November. - With the dawn we saw the body of Szgany before us dashing away from the river with their leiter wagon. They surrounded it in a cluster, and hurried along as though beset. The snow is falling lightly and there is a strange excitement in the air. It may be our own feelings, but the depression is strange. Far off I hear the howling of wolves. The snow brings them down from the mountains, and there are dangers to all of us, and from all sides. The horses are nearly ready, and we are soon off. We ride to death of some one. God alone knows who, or where, or what, or when, or how it may be. . . DR. VAN HELSING'S MEMORANDUM 5 November, afternoon. - I am at least sane. Thank God for that mercy at all events, though the proving it has been dreadful. When I left Madam Mina sleeping within the Holy circle, I took my way to the castle. The blacksmith hammer which I took in the carriage from Veresti was useful, though the doors were all open I broke them off the rusty hinges, lest some ill intent or ill chance should close them, so that being entered I might not get out. Jonathan's bitter experience served me here. By memory of his diary I found my way to the old chapel, for I knew that here my work lay. The air was oppressive. It seemed as if there was some sulphurous fume, which at times made me dizzy. Either there was a roaring in my ears or I heard afar off the howl of wolves. Then I bethought me of my dear Madam Mina, and I was in terrible plight. The dilemma had me between his horns. Her, I had not dare to take into this place, but left safe from the Vampire in that Holy circle. And yet even there would be the wolf! I resolve me that my work lay here, and that as to the wolves we must submit, if it were God's will. At any rate it was only death and freedom beyond. So did I choose for her. Had it but been for myself the choice had been easy, the maw of the wolf were better to rest in than the grave of the Vampire! So I make my choice to go on with my work. I knew that there were at least three graves to find, graves that are inhabit. So I search, and search, and I find one of them. She lay in her Vampire sleep, so full of life and voluptuous beauty that I shudder as though I have come to do murder. Ah, I doubt not that in the old time, when such things were, many a man who set forth to do such a task as mine, found at the last his heart fail him, and then his nerve. So he delay, and delay, and delay, till the mere beauty and the fascination of the wanton Undead have hypnotize him. And he remain on and on, till sunset come, and the Vampire sleep be over. Then the beautiful eyes of the fair woman open and look love, and the voluptuous mouth present to a kiss, and the man is weak. And there remain one more victim in the Vampire fold. One more to swell the grim and grisly ranks of the Undead!. . . There is some fascination, surely, when I am moved by the mere presence of such an one, even lying as she lay in a tomb fretted with age and heavy with the dust of centuries, though there be that horrid odor such as the lairs of the Count have had. Yes, I was moved. I, Van Helsing, with all my purpose and with my motive for hate. I was moved to a yearning for delay which seemed to paralyze my faculties and to clog my very soul. It may have been that the need of natural sleep, and the strange oppression of the air were beginning to overcome me. Certain it was that I was lapsing into sleep, the open eyed sleep of one who yields to a sweet fascination, when there came through the snow stilled air a long, low wail, so full of woe and pity that it woke me like the sound of a clarion. For it was the voice of my dear Madam Mina that I heard. Then I braced myself again to my horrid task, and found by wrenching away tomb tops one other of the sisters, the other dark one. I dared not pause to look on her as I had on her sister, lest once more I should begin to be enthrall. But I go on searching until, presently, I find in a high great tomb as if made to one much beloved that other fair sister which, like Jonathan I had seen to gather herself out of the atoms of the mist. She was so fair to look on, so radiantly beautiful, so exquisitely voluptuous, that the very instinct of man in me, which calls some of my sex to love and to protect one of hers, made my head whirl with new emotion. But God be thanked, that soul wail of my dear Madam Mina had not died out of my ears. And, before the spell could be wrought further upon me, I had nerved myself to my wild work. By this tim e I had searched all the tombs in the chapel, so far as I could tell. And as there had been only three of these Undead phantoms around us in the night, I took it that there were no more of active Undead existent. There was one great tomb more lordly than all the rest. Huge it was, and nobly proportioned. On it was but one word. DRACULA This then was the Undead home of the King Vampire, to whom so many more were due. Its emptiness spoke eloquent to make certain what I knew. Before I began to restore these women to their dead selves through my awful work, I laid in Dracula's tomb some of the Wafer, and so banished him from it, Undead, for ever. Then began my terrible task, and I dreaded it. Had it been but one, it had been easy, comparative. But three! To begin twice more after I had been through a deed of horror. For it was terrible with the sweet Miss Lucy, what would it not be with these strange ones who had survived through centuries, and who had been strenghtened by the passing of the years. Who would, if they could, have fought for their foul lives. . . Oh, my friend John, but it was butcher work. Had I not been nerved by thoughts of other dead, and of the living over whom hung such a pall of fear, I could not have gone on. I tremble and tremble even yet, though till all was over, God be thanked, my nerve did stand. Had I not seen the repose in the first place, and the gladness that stole over it just ere the final dissolution came, as realization that the soul had been won, I could not have gone further with my butchery. I could not have endured the horrid screeching as the stake drove home, the plunging of writhing form, and lips of bloody foam. I should have fled in terror and left my work undone. But it is over! And the poor souls, I can pity them now and weep, as I think of them placid each in her full sleep of death for a short moment ere fading. For, friend John, hardly had my knife severed the head of each, before the whole body began to melt away and crumble into its native dust, as though the death that should have come centuries agone had at last assert himself and say at once and loud, "I am here!" Before I left the castle I so fixed its entrances that never more can the Count enter there Undead. When I stepped into the circle where Madam Mina slept, she woke from her sleep and, seeing me, cried out in pain that I had endured too much. "Come!" she said, "come away from this awful place! Let us go to meet my husband who is, I know, coming towards us." She was looking thin and pale and weak. But her eyes were pure and glowed with fervor. I was glad to see her paleness and her illness, for my mind was full of the fresh horror of that ruddy vampire sleep. And so with trust and hope, and yet full of fear, we go eastward to meet our friends, and him, whom Madam Mina tell me that she know are coming to meet us. MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL 6 November. - It was late in the afternoon when the Professor and I took our way towards the east whence I knew Jonathan was coming. We did not go fast, though the way was steeply downhill, for w e had to take heavy rugs and wraps with us. We dared not face the possibility of being left without warmth in the cold and the snow. We had to take some of our provisions too, for we were in a perfect desolation, and so far as we could see through the snowfall, there was not even the sign of habitation. When we had gone about a mile, I was tired with the heavy walking and sat down to rest. Then we looked back and saw where the clear line of Dracula's castle cut the sky. For we were so deep under the hill whereon it was set that the angle of perspective of the Carpathian mountains was far below it. We saw it in all its grandeur, perched a thousand feet on the summit of a sheer precipice, and with seemingly a great gap between it and the steep of the adjacent mountain on any side. There was something wild and uncanny about the place. We could hear the distant howling of wolves. They were far off, but the sound, even though coming muffled through the deadening snowfall, was full of terror. I knew from the way Dr. Van Helsing was searching about that he was trying to seek some strategic point, where we would be less exposed in case of attack. The rough roadway still led downwards. We could trace it through the drifted snow. In a little while the Professor signalled to me, so I got up and joined him. He had found a wonderful spot, a sort of natural hollow in a rock, with an entrance like a doorway between two boulders. He took me by the hand and drew me in. "See!" he said, "here you will be in shelter. And if the wolves do come I can meet them one by one." He brought in our furs, and made a snug nest for me, and got out some provisions and forced them upon me. But I could not eat, to even try to do so was repulsive to me, and much as I would have liked to please him, I could not bring myself to the attempt. He looked very sad, but did not reproach me. Taking his field glasses from the case, he stood on the top of the rock, and began to search the horizon. Suddenly he called out, "Look! Madam Mina, look! Look!" I sprang up and stood beside him on the rock. He handed me his glasses and pointed. The snow was now falling more heavily, and swirled about fiercely, for a high wind was beginning to blow. However, there were times when there were pauses between the snow flurries and I could see a long way round. From the height where we were it was possible to see a great distance. And far off, beyond the white waste of snow, I could see the river lying like a black ribbon in kinks and curls as it wound its way. Straight in front of us and not far off, in fact so near that I wondered we had not noticed before, came a group of mounted men hurrying along. In the midst of them was a cart, a long leiter wagon which swept from side to side, like a dog's tail wagging, with each stern inequality of the road. Outlined against the snow as they were, I could see from the men's clothes that they were peasants or gypsies of some kind. On the cart was a great square chest. My heart leaped as I saw it, for I felt that the end was coming. The evening was now drawing close, and well I knew that at sunset the Thing, which was till then imprisoned there, would take new freedom and could in any of many forms elude pursuit. In fear I turned to the Professor. To my consternation, however, he was not there. An instant later, I saw him below me. Round the rock he had drawn a circle, such as we had found shelter in last night. When he had completed it he stood beside me again saying, "At least you shall be safe here from him!" He took the glasses from me, and at the next lull of the snow swept the whole space below us. "See," he said, "they come quickly. They are flogging the horses, and galloping as hard as they can." He paused and went on in a hollow voice, "They are racing for the sunset. We may be too late. God's will be done!" Down came another blinding rush of driving snow, and the whole landscape was blotted out. It soon passed, however, and once more his glasses were fixed on the plain. Then came a sudden cry, "Look! Look! Look! See, two horsemen follow fast, coming up from the south. It must be Quincey and John. Take the glass. Look before the snow blots it all out!" I took it and looked. The two men might be Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris. I knew at all events that neither of them was Jonathan. At the same time I knew that Jonathan was not far off. Looking around I saw on the north side of the coming party two other men, riding at breakneck speed. One of them I knew was Jonathan, and the other I took, of course, to be Lord Godalming. They too, were pursuing the party with the cart. When I told the Professor he shouted in glee like a schoolboy, and after looking intently till a snow fall made sight impossible, he laid his Winchester rifle ready for use against the boulder at the opening of our shelter. "They are all converging," he said."When the time comes we shall have gypsies on all sides." I got out my revolver ready to hand, for whilst we were speaking the howling of wolves came louder and closer. When the snow storm abated a moment we looked again. It was strange to see the snow falling in such heavy flakes close to us, and beyond, the sun shining more and more brightly as it sank down towards the far mountain tops. Sweeping the glass all around us I could see here and there dots moving singly and in twos and threes and larger numbers. The wolves were gathering for their prey. Every instant seemed an age whilst we waited. The wind came now in fierce bursts, and the snow was driven with fury as it swept upon us in circling eddies. At times we could not see an arm's length before us. But at others, as the hollow sounding wind swept by us, it seemed to clear the air space around us so that we could see afar off. We had of late been so accustomed to watch for sunrise and sunset, that we knew with fair accuracy when it would be. And we knew that before long the sun would set. It was hard to believe that by our watches it was less than an hour that we waited in that rocky shelter before the various bodies began to converge close upon us. The wind came now with fiercer and more bitter sweeps, and more steadily from the north. It seemingly had driven the snow clouds from us, for with only occasional bursts, the snow fell. We could distinguish clearly the individuals of each party, the pursued and the pursuers. Strangely enough those pursued did not seem to realize, or at least to care, that they were pursued. They seemed, however, to hasten with redoubled speed as the sun dropped lower and lower on the mountain tops. Closer and closer they drew. The Professor and I crouched down behind our rock, and held our weapons ready. I could see that he was determined that they should not pass. One and all were quite unaware of our presence. All at once two voices shouted out to, "Halt!" One was my Jonathan's, raised in a high key of passion. The other Mr. Morris' strong resolute tone of quiet command. The gypsies may not have known the language, but there was no mistaking the tone, in whatever tongue the words were spoken. Instinctively they reined in, and at the instant Lord Godalming and Jonathan dashed up at one side and Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris on the other. The leader of the gypsies, a splendid looking fellow who sat his horse like a centaur, waved them back, and in a fierce voice gave to his companions some word to proceed. They lashed the horses which sprang forward. But the four men raised their Winchester rifles, and in an unmistakable way commanded them to stop. At the same moment Dr. Van Helsing and I rose behind the rock and pointed our weapons at them. Seeing that they were surrounded the men tightened their reins and drew up. The leader turned to them and gave a word at which every man of the gypsy party drew what weapon he carried, knife or pistol, and held himself in readiness to attack. Issue was joined in an instant. The leader, with a quick movement of his rein, threw his horse out in front, and pointed first to the sun, now close down on the hill tops, and then to the castle, said something which I did not understand. For answer, all four men of our party threw themselves from their horses and dashed towards the cart. I should have felt terrible fear at seeing Jonathan in such danger, but that the ardor of battle must have been upon me as well as the rest of them. I felt no fear, but only a wild, surging desire to do something. Seeing the quick movement of our parties, the leader of the gypsies gave a command. His men instantly formed round the cart in a sort of undisciplined endeavor, each one shouldering and pushing the other in his eagerness to carry out the order. In the midst of this I could see that Jonathan on one side of the ring of men, and Quincey on the other, were forcing a way to the cart. It was evident that they were bent on finishing their task before the sun should set. Nothing seemed to stop or even to hinder them. Neither the levelled weapons nor the flashing knives of the gypsies in front, nor the howling of the wolves behind, appeared to even attract their attention. Jonathan's impetuosity, and the manifest singleness of his purpose, seemed to overawe those in front of him. Instinctively they cowered aside and let him pass. In an instant he had jumped upon the cart, and with a strength which seemed incredible, raised the great box, and flung it over the wheel to the ground. In the meantime, Mr. Morris had had to use force to pass through his side of the ring of Szgany. All the time I had been breathlessly watching Jonathan I had, with the tail of my eye, seen him pressing desperately forward, and had seen the knives of the gypsies flash as he won a way through them, and they cut at him. He had parried with his great bowie knife, and at first I thought that he too had come through in safety. But as he sprang beside Jonathan, who had by now jumped from the cart, I could see that with his left hand he was clutching at his side, and that the blood was spurting through his fingers. He did not delay notwithstanding this, for as Jonathan, with desperate energy, attacked one end of the chest, attempting to prize off the lid with his great Kukri knife, he attacked the other frantically with his bowie. Under the efforts of both men the lid began to yield. The nails drew with a screeching sound, and the top of the box was thrown back. By this time the gypsies, seeing themselves covered by the Winchesters, and at the mercy of Lord Godalming and Dr. Seward, had given in and made no further resistance. The sun was almost down on the mountain tops, and the shadows of the whole group fell upon the snow. I saw the Count lying within the box upon the earth, some of which the rude falling from the cart had scattered over him. He was deathly pale, just like a waxen image, and the red eyes glared with the horrible vindictive look which I knew so well. As I looked, the eyes saw the sinking sun, and the look of hate in them turned to triumph. But, on the instant, came the sweep and flash of Jonathan's great knife. I shrieked as I saw it shear through the throat. Whilst at the same moment Mr. Morris's bowie knife plunged into the heart. It was like a miracle, but before our very eyes, and almost in the drawing of a breath, the whole body crumbled into dust and passed from our sight. I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of final dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace, such as I never could have imagined might have rested there. The Castle of Dracula now stood out against the red sky, and every stone of its broken battlements was articulated against the light of the setting sun. The gypsies, taking us as in some way the cause of the extraordinary disappearance of the dead man, turned, without a word, and rode away as if for their lives. Those who were unmounted jumped upon the leiter wagon and shouted to the horsemen not to desert them. The wolves, which had withdrawn to a safe distance, followed in their wake, leaving us alone. Mr. Morris, who had sunk to the ground, leaned on his elbow, holding his hand pressed to his side. The blood still gushed through his fingers. I flew to him, for the Holy circle did not now keep me back, so did the two doctors. Jonathan knelt behind him and the wounded man laid back his head on his shoulder. With a sigh he took, with a feeble effort, my hand in that of his own which was unstained. He must have seen the anguish of my heart in my face, for he smiled at me and said, "I am only too happy to have been of service! Oh, God!" he cried suddenly, struggling to a sitting posture and pointing to me. "It was worth for this to die! Look! Look!" The sun was now right down upon the mountain top, and the red gleams fell upon my face, so that it was bathed in rosy light. With one impulse the men sank on their knees and a deep and earnest "Amen" broke from all as their eyes followed the pointing of his finger. The dying man spoke, "Now God be thanked that all has not been in vain! See! The snow is not more stainless than her forehead! The curse has passed away!" And, to our bitter grief, with a smile and in silence, he died, a gallant gentleman. NOTE Seven years ago we all went through the flames. And the happiness of some of us since then is, we think, well worth the pain we endured. It is an added joy to Mina and to me that our boy's birthday is the same day as that on which Quincey Morris died. His mother holds, I know, the secret belief that some of our brave friend's spirit has passed into him. His bundle of names links all our little band of men together. But we call him Quincey. In the summer of this year we made a journey to Transylvania, and went over the old ground which was, and is, to us so full of vivid and terrible memories. It was almost impossible to believe that the things which we had seen with our own eyes and heard with our own ears were living truths. Every trace of all that had been was blotted out. The castle stood as before, reared high above a waste of desolation. When we got home we were talking of the old time, which we could all look back on without despair, for Godalming and Seward are both happily married. I took the papers from the safe where they had been ever since our return so long ago. We were struck with the fact, that in all the mass of material of which the record is composed, there is hardly one authentic document. Nothing but a mass of typewriting, except the later notebooks of Mina and Seward and myself, and Van Helsing's memorandum. We could hardly ask any one, even did we wish to, to accept these as proofs of so wild a story. Van Helsing summed it all up as he said, with our boy on his knee. "We want no proofs. We ask none to believe us! This boy will some day know what a brave and gallant woman his mother is. Already he knows her sweetness and loving care. Later on he will understand how some men so loved her, that they did dare much for her sake. JONATHAN HARKER

#Dracula

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