I’m reading A Study In Scarlet and I understand now what that poster meant about Holmes not having any asshole energy at all, but radiating absolutely lethal levels of bitch energy

Starlight Celebration 2020 - Letters

Baenfaeld: Thank you for your invaluable aid, friend! The Starlight festivities never could have happened without you. And my colleagues and I are far from the only ones who appreciate your efforts. Letters have arrived from across the realm to thank you for your generosity. Just see for yourself!

((13 transcriptions below the cut! All expac MSQs, 1 Custom Delivery client, and 3 of the 8man raids are referenced below))

Letter from Maelstrom Command: This got me to wondering: might it not be said that the smiles you have put on the faces of the children this season serve a similar role, as they brighten the hearts of Eorzeans the realm over and raise their spirits in these times of uncertainty? I, for one, believe so─and for all you have done to that end, you have my thanks.

You open the envelope and extract the “letter” inside, which oddly consists of only a smattering of chocobo footprints and a small, X-shaped stamp.Looking more closely, you spot a hastily scribbled message hidden in the margins. Anonymous Message: Aeryn! How goes it? I went to pick up some supplies, and you'll never guess who I ran into! Well, on second thought, I guess you will. Good to see that the little fellow's enjoying Starlight in his own way, eh? Till next time! Letter from the Lotus Stand: How fare you in the preparations for the festivities, my good friend? Firstly, on behalf of all Gridanians, let me express my most heartfelt gratitude for your most selfless acts this special season. Letter from the Lotus Stand: I have given much thought to the matter of what my fellow Seedseers and I might do to bring even more joy to the children, and I do believe I have come upon just the idea. You are familiar with the tradition by which children write letters to the Spinner containing their most heartfelt wishes to place under the Starlight Tree, yes? Letter from the Lotus Stand: I have determined that we will attempt to grant as many of them as is within our power─and have recruited a number of like-minded souls to aid in the cause. In doing so, I hope that we will inspire that many more smiling faces here in Gridania this Starlight season─and that the elementals will smile upon our efforts as well. You open the envelope, but it is empty. The very next moment, you feel a tingle in the air. The faint smell of wildflowers wafts in on the air, and a voice echoes in your head as if from far away... Ephemeral Voice: I take one little peek, and what do I see but my sapling having a grand old time prancing and frolicking about in the snow! Did it not occur to you that mayhap your [beautiful branch] would have liked to join you for this merry occasion, hmm!? Ephemeral Voice: No, this simply will not do. And so to teach my thoughtless sapling a lesson, I've imbued this little missive with an incantation. Yes, the moment you so much as think of enjoying the Starlight festivities with someone who is not your [beautiful branch]... Ephemeral Voice: Oh, but I jest! Were you taking me seriously? Why, nothing gives me greater joy than to see you actually enjoying yourself for once! I always thought you could stand to learn a thing from us fae folk─and why, yes, it seems like you have! Till we meet again, my [adorable sapling]. Letter from the Fragrant Chamber: On behalf of all the Sultanate, I commend you on your efforts in saving this year's Starlight Celebration from an uncertain fate. Some would say that snowmen feel out of place here in the jewel of the desert, but I have naught but fond memories of being a young girl, spending sleepless nights in anticipation of what the saint would bring me. Letter from the Fragrant Chamber: There are those who would proclaim that it is base and shameful to engage in revelry at a time when our realm faces such continued hardship. Yet I could not disagree more. Letter from the Fragrant Chamber: If we have any hope of leading Eorzea to a brighter future, then it begins with ensuring that every young boy and girl out there looks toward tomorrow with a smile on their face and the confidence that happier days are to come. For all you have done─and continue to do─toward this end, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Letter from a Distant World: How do you fare, friend? Feo Ul tells me there is a festival known as “Starlight” in your world that you celebrate this time of year. Why, just hearing stories of entire cities bedecked in ornaments that twinkle and glimmer like the night sky─I would give anything to see it with my own eyes! Letter from a Distant World: As for us, we too are making preparations for a festival of our own─one to celebrate the return of the night and the rebuilding of our realm. I've tasked Gaia with procuring supplies─she turned up her nose at performing any manual labor─and she seems to be rather enjoying herself zipping about hither and yon on her skyslipper. Letter from a Distant World: There is much still to be done, but if we can put smiles on the faces of the little ones here as you have done in your world, it will have more than been worth it. Till we meet again, Aeryn. Letter from Menphina's Arms: The Starlight Celebration! Why, is there any better time of year? Not for the children here at the Arms, that's for certain! Why, even now they toss and turn in their beds, in hope that the saint will show up at any moment! Letter from Menphina's Arms: Adkiragh whipped up a batch of ore fruitcakes to celebrate the season, and guess what he did for Zhloe? He put in pineapple as a special treat! Why, it was so scrumptious that the kids and I gobbled it all up straightaway!

Letter from Menphina's Arms: Have you ever had fruitcake? If not, you simply must try it! Rowena tells me she's selling it for─and I quote─the “almost insultingly low” price of only 300 scrips. Feel free to buy a whole batch─it keeps better than pineapple pudding, so you can carry it around for weeks before it goes stale. Speaking of which, I probably should clean out the kitchen...

Here is a scenario, if you feel like it: Byleth is having a hard time in the marriage because she feels Seteth can't let go the memories of his wife, she time travels and meets Seteth's first wife. How it goes?

Promise

Fandom: Fire Emblem Seteth/F!Byleth Note: Contains spoilers.

A yawn escaped her mouth as she stood from her desk. Spending a long evening going over reports was a tedious process. Who knew being archbishop meant dealing with piles of paperwork. Every document, missive or note had to be read, reviewed, and approved or declined. Seteth had drilled into her that she was not allowed to skim over them; he still took his job seriously.

A smile played on her lips as she thought of her husband. They had been married for almost a year after the war had ended. It still felt new to her. However that smile dropped as she thought about the past few months. He had become distant from her. Mornings were filled with half hearted greetings before he went to work. She didn’t see him until lunch, and even then he didn’t have much to say. At night she would wait for him to retire to their bed, but she would fall asleep alone.

Byleth didn’t understand what was going on with him. Flayn was acting her usual sunny self around her. She wanted to ask him what was bothering him, but had decided her straight forward approach may not work. Whatever was bothering Seteth was a personal matter, and she needed to tread as lightly as possible.

Leaving her office, she made her way through the monastery. She stopped a few times to feed the stray cats and dogs treats she carried around. Most people greeted her warmly as they were now used to seeing the archbishop playing with the animals. She wandered near the docks and spotted an all too familiar figure.

Standing at the edge of the dock, Seteth stared out past the water. Arms behind his back, he looked like a statue. Walking over, she noted how he didn’t seem to hear her so lost in thought even when she called his name. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, she called to him again.

He startled and spun around. “B-Byleth!”

“I’m sorry if I scared you. I did call you…” She peered up at his face trying to find some answers.

“Hmm? Oh, my apologies. I was lost in thought. He smiled at her but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Did you need something, dear?”

She rocked on her heels. “I know you’ve been working hard, so I thought a break might help. Maybe we can go on a little trip?”

“I’m sorry, but I have a lot of work to finish tonight.” He frowned as he took her hand and placed a kiss on her palm. “I promise we can do something together later.”

“That’s okay, Seteth. I should get back to work as well.” Giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, she left him. The smile on her face fell once she was inside her office.

She let out a deep sigh. “...” Something was wrong, and he wasn’t going to share what it was with her. Twisting the ring on her finger, she stared down at it. Suddenly the ring felt heavier than normal.

---------

“Is everything okay, Byleth?” Flayn noticed the way she picked at her meal.

Poking at the smoked fish, Byleth’s frown deepened. “Is Seteth okay?”

Flayn’s eyes briefly glanced at the empty spot. “Father is a little sad right now. It’s the anniversary of my mother’s death.”

“Oh…” She felt like a fool for being upset. “He didn’t tell me…” Of course he was upset. After all he was being reminded of his late wife.

“He doesn’t like to talk about her too much. It’s been years but he still gets upset around this time of year. He tries to act strong for me, but I think he takes it worse than I do.” She took a sip of water. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back to his old self in a few days.”

“And how about you? I’m sure this is also a difficult time. If you need to talk…” She offered her an encouraging smile.

Lowering her head, Flayn poked at her fish. “Thank you. I miss her a lot, but I think she’d be happy to know that we’re happy. I’ve come to accept that she’s gone physically but will remain in my memories. I think it’s harder on father though. He misses her dearly.”

Byleth studied Flayn for a moment. “She must have been wonderful.”

“Oh, yes! Mother was the best. She could make father laugh at the smallest things. We used to go fishing all the time…” Flayn sighed. “Those were happier times for all of us. Of course I am quite happy with you as well, Byleth! You make father happy too.”

“What did you do today?” Dinner continued with idle chatter on a different topic.

Once in her shared room with Seteth, Byleth sat at the edge of the bed. Her thoughts were filled with what Flayn had mentioned. Seteth was distant from her because he missed his late wife.

She understood how he must feel as she still felt an ache whenever she thought of her father. However a small part of her was sad that he couldn’t confide in her. Despite being married for almost a year, and knowing each other long, Seteth was still closed off.

As she readied for bed, she wondered what she could do to understand him better. If only she could ask his first wife…

Byleth quickly got redressed into traveling clothes. Throwing on a cloak, she rushed out to the stables. Her Pegasus perked up the moment she stepped near his stall.

“We’re going for a midnight fly,” she murmured to him as she led him out. After ensuring everything was set, she mounted her stead and took off into the night sky.

---------

Rhodos Coast came into view. The smell of the sea and sound of the waves reminded Byleth of the time she was here. That time Seteth told her the truth of his and Flayn’s true relationship.

Once her Pegasus was settled on the island, she walked over to the lone headstone. Flayn had prayed over her mother’s grave before they left. It was a simple headstone with no date and a name: Clíodna.

Byleth knew that what she was about to do wasn’t an appropriate use of her powers. She could almost hear Sothis reprimanding her. However she felt that this was the only way she might be able to understand Seteth on a deeper level. Hearing from the experience of the woman who loved him first.

Pulling out her sword, she focused her mind on what she wanted to do. The sand shifted under her feet. Raising her arm, she sliced the air in half. A tear in the fabric of space appeared and widened.

Without hesitation, she stepped into the tear and it closed. She was free falling into an abyss of stars. She could see a bright light coming closer and then it enveloped her.

Feet landing on solid ground, she opened her eyes. She was still on Rhodos Coast. Sheathing her sword, she glanced around. It was evening now as the sun was starting to set.

The headstone was gone and the beach was empty except a lone figure further down. Slowly making her way down the beach, she noticed the figure was of a woman. She was sitting with a child cradled in her arms.

She lifted her head as Byleth walked heavily on the sand. Light green hair shone in the setting sun, and bright, soft emeralds peered at her curiously. She stood up, gently brushing sand off her dress with one hand.

“Hello. I didn’t realize there was someone else here.” Her voice was soft with a calming quality.

Byleth’s gaze went to the sleeping child. “I was just…wandering. I apologize for intruding.”

“Oh don’t worry! This isn’t my land either. My husband just happened upon it and thought it would be a good place to rest. I’m Clíodna and this,” she smiled down at the sleeping baby “is Flayn.”

Baby Flayn slept peacefully as drool pooled at the corner of her mouth. Tufts of light green hair peeked out of the blanket.

“I’m Sitri.” The lie rolled off her tongue easily.

“What a lovely name. I’ve never seen you before. Are you new?” She brushed away a strand of hair, pointed ear poking out.

Swallowing her dry throat, Byleth shook her head. “I’m just traveling for a bit.”

Despite being a stranger Clíodna seemed at ease. She was welcoming and warm. No wonder Seteth had fallen in love with her. Byleth could see where Flayn got some of her personality from.

“...staying long?” Her voice broke through Byleth’s inner musings.

Keeping her face completely blank, she shook her head. “I prefer to travel from place to place.”

Clíodna gently rocked Flayn. “Sounds exciting. Does your lover go with you?” Her gaze darted to the ring on Byleth’s finger.

She glanced down at her own hand. “We...sometimes do. Not today though.” She twisted the band on her finger. Her whole reason for coming here was because of the man who had given it to her.

The older woman studied her for a bit. Her brows drew together in a small pinch. “Is everything alright? You seem lost…”

She brushed her own sea-foam colored hair out of her face. “I guess I am in a way. My husband has been...distant lately because he misses his late wife. I want to ask him but I don’t want to pry. I feel like he’s keeping me at a distant despite being married for almost a year. I want to be there when he’s having a hard time, but I don’t know what to do so he knows.”

Her inner thoughts tumbled out of her mouth without stop. Perhaps it was because Clíodna was a stranger she felt comfortable talking. Or perhaps it was because she had bottled up her feelings for so long. Byleth couldn’t bring herself to tell Flayn her worries about her father. There weren’t others she could talk to as her job as archbishop kept her occupied. And the few times she could socialize, she didn’t want to burden her friends with her marriage woes.

It was Clíodna’s chuckle that caught her attention. “Young love is so...cute. This reminds me of when Cichol and I were newlyweds. He’s the type to shoulder his burdens. He never wanted to tell me what was bothering him because he didn’t want to put stress on me.”

“How did you resolve that?” Seteth hadn’t changed much it seemed.

She met her gaze. “I reminded him that we were husband and wife. And part of that means we share each other’s burdens. No matter how heavy they may be, we carry the weight equally. It seems you’re willing to do the same for your love. So tell him how you really feel and go from there.”

She was right. Byleth needed to talk with Seteth instead of trying to figure it out on her own. His problems were her problems, and she wanted to help him. Perhaps they were both at fault as she had the bad habit of not expressing herself fully.

“Thank you.” A small, genuine smile formed on her lips.

Flayn started to stir. “A marriage takes time for both parties to understand each other fully. As long as you work on it, I think you’ll be fine.”

“Clíodna?” Both women turned toward the voice. Byleth felt her heart thump as she realized Seteth was coming. He was not her Seteth but his voice still caused her heart to pound.

“Oh! That’s my husband. Let me get him, and you two can meet.” Leaving Byleth, she rushed in his direction.

Byleth quickly ran off in the opposite direction. Coming back to where she first came, she quickly pulled her sword out. As much as she would like to meet a younger Seteth, she knew she shouldn’t. The laws of time could only be tampered with so much.

Stepping into the space tear, Byleth returned to her time.

---------

By the time she returned to the monastery, the sun was coming up. Though she hadn’t planned to be gone for so long, time traveling had taken a lot out of her.

The moment her feet had landed back in solid ground, her legs had given out and she had blacked out. It was only by the gentle nudging of her Pegasus did she wake up. By then she knew it was late and her absence was bound to be noticed.

Once her Pegasus was back in his stall, she snuck to her quarters. Having successfully avoided anyone, she firmly closed the door. Perhaps her absence had gone unnoticed.

“Byleth!” Spinning around, she was met with Seteth’s frazzled appearance. His eyes were wide and bloodshot. His usually pressed outfit was half unbuttoned and untucked.

He quickly strolled over to her in a few steps, and pulled her into a tight hug. Her face pressed against his chest as he released a ragged breath.

“Where have you been all night? I came to bed and you weren’t there? I searched the entire monastery but couldn’t find you!” He pulled her away at arms length and scanned her body. “Are you hurt?!”

Placing a hand on his chest, she used her other to comb back his messed hair. “I’m fine, Seteth. I just needed some air and decided to take a short flight with Speckle.”

He frowned and his brows pinched together. “I thought you had been kidnapped. I was about to call the guards for a search party. You had me scared half to death!”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I had a lot on my mind and I needed somewhere to think.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him what she did. He would be even more agitated if she did.

He cupped the sides of her face. Staring deep into her eyes, he let out a sigh. “Please, my dear, next time you decide to take an impromptu flight, at least leave a note.”

“I will if you promise to tell me when something is bothering you,” she countered. She moved away from him to sit on their bed. Peeling her boots off, she watched as he slowly turned around.

His mouth opened and closed. “I...where is this coming from?”

One boot hit the floor. “Flayn told me that it’s the anniversary of your wife’s passing. Why didn’t you tell me?”

She watched as he tried to work out his thoughts. “I didn’t want to bother you with that. I’m a grown man, Byleth, I can handle my personal matters alone.”

The other boot dropped with a thud. “You shouldn’t have to do it alone. I am your wife, Seteth. I love you and I promised to always be by your side. I hate that you’ve kept me out. I thought...I thought I did something wrong with the way you were avoiding me.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he stared up at the ceiling. “It was never my intention to cause you distress. I just thought that dealing with this alone was the best. I...I didn’t want you to think I love you any less.”

Tossing the cloak on a chair, she walked over to him. “I would never love you less for wanting to mourn your late wife. She was a big part of your life and I understand how much you must miss her. I just want to be able to help you carry these emotions. We’re in this together through good and bad.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. His arms encircled her waist and pulled her closer. Pressing his forehead against hers, he let out a shaky breath. Eyes closed and face free of stress, he looked younger.

“I’ve forgotten what it means to be married. And I apologize for being distant. This time of year, I always find myself lost in thoughts of the past.” Eyes opened, he smiled. “I promise to share my burdens with you. And I hope you will share yours with me.”

She brushed her nose against his. “I promise.” Eyes falling shut, she closed the distance between their lips. Sealing the promise with a sweet, passionate kiss.

*watches Frozen 2*

*RESURRECTS*

I started this blog when I wrote my first Frozen fanfic, The Sky Is Awake. It’s been five years. FIVE. YEARS.

I need more snow sisters. And I need answers and closure but I ain’t got a pretty water horse to ferry me to Ahtohallan to find them, so I started writing my own ‘Frozen 3′ fanfic. I humbly and sleep-deprivedly (it’s a word okay Anna invented it for Elsa) present the first chapter of a new multichapter story that I may soon regret starting because it’s already consuming my life with “AND THEN WE HAVE TO MAKE THIS BADASS THING HAPPEN” epiphanies.

Which kind of explains why the first chapter is, like, 7000 words. I’m sorry.

Here’s a snippet from my favourite scene (it’s not really a snippet. it’s the whole scene. I love them together. I love them together with chocolate). 

-

The Next Unknown

Summary: Some things never change; after Ahtohallan, though, quite a lot did. Now Anna and Elsa somehow need to find their own paths without losing sight of each other. But the world won't wait, and when more trouble washes up on Arendelle's shores, the sisters learn that sometimes you can't do the next right thing without the courage to confront what last went wrong. A post-Frozen 2 story.

[this scene comes from the middle of chapter 1 but now that I look at it, it’s practically a oneshot on its own??]

Elsa didn't need to knock because the doors were wide open

Technically speaking, there was no physical room for the doors to close at all. The floor of the study was littered with books and papers in precarious stacks, tracing a haphazard maze towards the desk, which was by contrast, unexpectedly uncluttered—except for the queen of Arendelle sprawled across it on her back, reading a missive held above her head, her bare feet tapping a gentle rhythm against the side of the desk. The same rhythm that had stubbornly rained down on Elsa's door for thirteen years.

Elsa stood at the doorway for a moment, soaking in the sight of her sister being both Anna and the queen at the same time. And something unclenched inside her, just a little, while something else tightened in its place. If only Father and Mother could see Anna now.

"It must take all of Kai's self-control not to come in and tidy this."

Anna's head turned, the candlelight illuminating the joy in her eyes at the sight of Elsa picking her way across the room. "Oh, he tries. But then I tell him, 'If I can't find last year's shipment records where I left it next to the window with my pet rock on top, I won't be the one explaining to Elsa why we can't import the nice chocolate from Switzerland.' Works like a charm. Am I late for charades?"

"Not yet. Olaf is still going around asking the staff to write more words. Also, please stop terrorising the kingdom in my name."

Anna scoffed and raised a finger to make a point. Then stopped to sniff the air. She shot upright. "Is that hot cocoa?!"

Elsa held the mug out of reach. "It looks to me like our chocolate imports are faring quite well indeed," she teased.

"Looks to me like I'm the one being terrorised." Anna's give me motions intensified.

Smiling, Elsa gestured for the missive that had fallen into her sister's lap. "I'll trade you."

"Be my guest; it concerns you more than me anyway." Anna all but poured the beverage down her throat. "Ack! Hot hot hot!"

Sighing in fond exasperation, Elsa reached over and wrapped a hand around the mug to cool it. Then she leaned back against the desk beside Anna's crossed legs and skim read the letter, though the familiar crest of arms on the top made it easy for her to predict its contents.

She grimaced.

Anna nudged her, mirth swimming in her voice. "Well? Should I write back to Lord Nilsen and let him know it would be my honour to have his son as my brother-in-law?"

"Lord Nilsen's son could easily have been my brother-in-law. I received his proposals for your hand year after year."

"Too bad, already spoken for. You, on the other hand, are not. Are you sure you don't want to give what's-his-name a chance? I hear he's quite a looker!"

"He is." Elsa refolded the parchment along its creases. "We met him two years ago, do you remember? He attended Buferdsdagen with his father."

"Really?"

"You played hide-and-seek with him."

"… I what?"

Elsa handed the letter back to her sister, trying not to laugh. "If I remember correctly, Tobias Nilsen just turned twelve years old."

Anna blinked. Then she dissolved into snorts and giggles. "Twelve!" she gasped. "That's worse than the old baron who wanted to make me his third wife!"

"Fifth wife," Elsa corrected mildly, as she rescued the hot cocoa.

"Twelve!" Anna screeched again, collapsing over Elsa. "Everyone wants their own snow queen," she giggled, wiping her eyes. "Well, they can't have her. She's all mine." Her tone descended into suspicion. "... Unless she's interested in someone?"

"She is not," Elsa replied smoothly.

"Ryder?" Anna took one look at her expression and moved on. "Yeah, can't see that happening either. Honeymaren? Because you know I'd be totally cool with that—which is not to say that you need my approval to be interested in anyone… well. Maybe. Actually, yes. Let me at 'em."

"Anna." Hiding a smile, Elsa tugged on a pigtail. "I'm not interested in anyone, or in anything more than what I already have. I am spoken for. I have a sister I love more than anything, even if she is at times unbearably nosy."

"Nonsense. You love my nose." Anna rested her cheek atop Elsa's head. "But you'll tell me if that changes?"

"My sentiments on your nose?"

"You know what I mean!"

Don't I tell you everything? It was there on the tip of her tongue. It was so easy to say.

Until another voice stole over hers. But you didn't. You haven't.

I won't. I can't.

Tell her you're making her a scarf. Tell her why. Tell her that you know.

Hiding her clenched fists in the folds of her dress, Elsa heard herself say, "Who else would I tell, silly?"

Maybe if Anna hadn't yawned at that moment, she would have noticed something. But she only rubbed her eyes and said, "I don't know, sis—the way you've been starting to smell like reindeer, it's only a matter of time before you start talking to them like Kristoff."

"You're incurable." Elsa's voice softened. "Tired?"

"Nope. Maybe. Kinda. But I'll not be called a workaholic by you of all people. See, I know how to delegate. This is all I have left for today!" Anna made a grand sweeping gesture at the modest stack of missives on her desk. "Which reminds me: I need your advice on a few things… well, alright, a whole mountain's worth of things. But we can go over it later. How long are you staying this time?"

It was her effortlessly light-hearted tone that gave her away. On any other person, it could have been a question about the weather. Only Anna was neutral about exactly nothing, especially when it came to Elsa. And Elsa had to bite back the urge to say 'As long as you need me to' because Anna, of all people, had managed not to ask 'Can you stay?'

They were both dreadful liars. But Anna she was getting very good at being queen.

Elsa set aside Lord Nilsen's letter and straightened, habitually steadying Anna before she could tumble off. Then she turned around and raised a hand to her sister's face, gently brushing away a curl. Anna's curious stare melted into a contented smile as she pressed her cheek against Elsa's hand. "What's up?" she asked, her eyes crinkling with faint mischief.

There you are.

Elsa shook her head slightly and smiled back. "I will be around long enough that we can postpone games night until tomorrow."

"What about the tomorrow after that? And tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow?"

"Yes, Anna."

Now Anna's expression was radiant. "And Olaf's birthday?"

"I'm always there for Olaf's birthday."

"But you'll be around until then?"

Elsa cupped Anna's face in both her hands and leaned in so their foreheads touched. "Yes. I'll be here."

"Okay," her little sister whispered, her hands pressing over Elsa's.

A moment of stillness cocooned them. Elsa could not freeze this moment, either.

Then Anna jerked up and cracked her nose into Elsa's brow. "Wait—why are we postponing games night?"

The rest is on ff.net here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13467233/1/The-Next-Unknown. Thanks for reading!

Loose Ends

--September 24

She waited patiently, leaning back against the metal wall, just barely out of sight and consumed by the shadows that surrounded the place by design. The nearby tram was loud as it sped past, causing wisps of golden tresses to brush against her pale face beneath the cowl that hid her features well. The transport shook the very walls and flooring that made up the area before screeching away back towards Ironforge and barely managed to swallow up the roar of the crowd down below as one fight ended and another began. 

Even from her position at the top of the stairs, those same roars came rushing up from the pub below before echoing all around, giving the idea that it was much busier than it actually was. It was addictive, that crowd, no matter the size. Especially when they were cheering for you. At least, from her experience. 

For once, the woman wasn't there to join in on the gambling, the drinking, or the fights. Patience was not her strong suit, despite her years of training, and the small leather pouch that was in her hand was tossed lightly in the air every now and then, causing the gold coins within to clink against one another. The robed priestess stayed out of the way as a group of patrons made their exit, conversation overheard as they discussed their winnings and comments in the various fighters that had tried their hands at Bizmo's lineup.

"She’s there," came the gruff voice of a Worgen as he made his way out of the pub behind the group, not bothering to stop as he spoke. His massive hand brushed by her own as she slipped him the small pouch she'd been holding, the transition a smooth one. A single job he'd had, and though she'd been hoping for a different outcome, at least he'd been swift with the information. 

Blowing out a calming breath, the young woman made her way down the steps, but was stopped at the bottom by an outstretched arm of one of the bouncers. 

"You're out of place, priestess," came the voice of yet another worgen. 

She smiled as the cowl was pulled back, bright blue eyes looking up at the male. Her quiet voice was almost musical as she spoke. "M-my name is Alana Thorne. I wish only to aid those that have suffered from the arena. My presence has been requested by Bizmo himself, as I understand he is low on healers for his own fighters," she lied smoothly, producing a parchment from within her robes that had the gnome’s official seal, and false proof of request. 

The offered missive was taken and scanned over, the worgen’s glowing amber gaze flicking towards his pandaren counterpart before a nod was given and the parchment handed back. "Straight to the back, corner door. Last door on the right. But be warned, it won't be pretty sight for someone like you" he said with a twisted grin, mocking her. 

The cowl was brought up once more, shadows covering her freckled features. "Th-thank you for the warning, sir." The conversation was kept short, and she navigated her way through the sea of drunken spectators and headed towards a well known area to her, having needed a healing hand every now and then after her own fights.

Down the steps she went, the large door slamming closed behind her with an echo, managing to block out the noise from the majority of  the crowd. She didn't bother to look in the open doorways as she passed, Bizmo's fighters talking amongst themselves or preparing for their next go in the arena. Focused, she was, and when she pulled open yet another door, her gaze scanned over those who were not so fortunate to make it out of the arena unscathed. 

Beds were lined up along the walls, and what she assumed to be two healers were currently tending to the injured. The priestess looked incredibly out of place, easily remembered and recognized given the white and gold flowing robes that covered her fragile and delicate looking form. She looked as if she'd just stepped free form the abbey; youthful and full of hope and joy, ready to bring peace to the world one individual at a time.

The cowl was pulled back, blonde waves falling free to tumble down her back as she scanned over the room. Not finding her query, she moved towards one of the gnomes that was bandaging up a patient. 

"Excuse me. I'm looking for my dear friend, Camila. I was told she was injured in a recent fight, and I've come to offer my assistance." A soft smile appeared as she explained, allowing just the right amount of worry to appear in both voice and features.

The gnome didn't pause in her tending, voice squeaking out in response. "Oh! Ye mean the redhead. Nasty, that one. She's back there in the corner." The gnome glanced up briefly, eyeing the healer. "Make it fast. You're too pretty to be down here," she said with a huff before getting back to work.

She blushed at the comment, pink coloring her freckled cheeks as she looked down at the floor a bit self consciously. "Do you know what happened to her, exactly? Th-they were vague when I was called for."

The gnome shook her head. "Wasn't up there, sweets. Too busy down here. But she looked like rats had gotten to her or somethin'. Cuts all over her face, chest, an' arms. She hasn't spoken since being brought down, been sedating her since she's screaming every time she wakes up." The gnome shook her head, pink pigtails bouncing from the action. "Don't know why some even bother to fight. Got her all bandaged up, but the healing’s been slow since more severe wounds take precedence"

A small nod was given in response, and the woman took a step back. "It is not for everyone, no. Thank you for your help." A slender hand reached out to rest at the gnome’s shoulder. "You do fine work here, and any assistance that she's been given is appreciated." 

Looking up again, the gnome smiled. "Aye, I get paid well enough, can't complain."

A quiet laugh escaped as her hand was pulled back. "I will leave you to your duties." Doing just that, unhurried steps were taken as she made her way towards the back of the makeshift infirmary and found the redhead without issue. She was fast asleep, the majority of her upper body bandaged. 

A saddened sigh escaped as she knelt down beside the cot. To anyone else, it looked as if the priestess was praying for her friend. In truth, she was simply studying the woman's sleeping form, half tempted to gain more information than had been required by her new employer. It was sloppy work, in her opinion. Not only the location in which the event had taken place, but the sheer fact that Camila had been allowed to live. Thrown into the fighting pit while still alive… that led to a loose end, and the Curator refused to allow that to happen since she had been the primary source acting in getting the woman to talk. 

Sloppy work from all involved, as far as she was concerned. Granted, Bizmo was paid well to look the other way, but that didn't mean a spectator wouldn't cause trouble for them later. 

A small vial was removed from the billowing sleeve of her robes, along with a needle. Her actions were well concealed as she stuck the syringe into the vial and tipped it over. Dark green liquid was sucked into the tube, and the vial was tucked away before blue eyes took a careful glance around the room. Not being watched, she acted fast. 

The woman’s arm was taken, bandages pulled back and unraveled until the crook of her arm was revealed. It wasn't her first time doing such a thing, and finding the vein was relatively easy. A quiet tune was hummed by the priestess as she stuck the needle in, and pumped that deathly liquid into her veins, a quiet moan escaping from the redhead. It was a guaranteed killer concoction, one shed used several times in the past as a last resort, often preferring a much more hands on approach. After all, when granting one the gift of eternal silence, it should be a personal touch. this, however, was clean up, and the tying of a loose end. It was rather anticlimactic in the grand scheme of things.

The needle was removed, and tucked away before she got to her feet. Making her way back to the gnome who had moved into another patient, a small smile appeared. 

"Apologies for a second interruption. She's still asleep and I won’t be able to move her. I’ll return in the morning with someone to assist in carrying her out once the crowd has died down a bit more."

"Sure thing, doll," the gnome responded. "She won’t by dying today so I’ll keep an eye on her if she wakes up again." 

"Thank you," she said softly before making her way outside. Through the tunnel, up the steps to join the crowd again, and before the door closed, she heard the muffled shout and the cry of the gnome, knowing that by now, Camila was writhing on her cot, foam and spittle bubbling up past those pale lips and dripping down her face. It would take only moments before she’d lay still and her heart stopped beating.

A few unexpected and unwelcome touches were given to the woman as she slipped away, and she fought from taking hold of one of those hands and breaking their wrists. 

Fucking pigs, she thought to herself. 

Still, she managed to leave without issue, and the reflecting prism that had been used upon entry was tossed away, shattering upon impact as the delicate gem landed against the metal plates that made up the flooring. 

Earlier in the evening, the blue-eyed, blonde-haired priestess named Alana entered the tunnel that connected the city of Stormwind with the tram  that gave one passage to Ironforge. Exiting, however, was the green-eyed, raven-haired Curator. 

With a slow glance towards the darkened sky, Cinetia Manceaux went about her business, hands cleaned of the ordeal, and her gift having been given.

TENNESSEE

2021 May 4 (Tue) – We went to Oak Ridge this morning.  It was called the Secret City back in the 1940s. Oak Ridge was one of 3 cities where the atomic bombs were produced.  Its population went from 1,000 to 50,000 people in 6 months.  Unfortunately, the museum was closed.  So was the Museum of the Appalachia and the Museum of Tennessee. We got to see a short film at the NPS office, which was a little booth located in the corner of the Children’s Museum.

     We then drove to Knoxville.  There wasn’t much to see but we drove around to look at the city.  We drove into the Old City and past Market Square. The city had lots of old buildings mixed with new construction.  We stopped at Corner 16 for lunch.  It was an excellent choice.  The food was outrageous.  We bought some of the chili to bring home for dinner.

 2021 May 3 (Mon) – We packed up and left Lebanon at 9:30 a.m. It was raining and rained for most of the drive.  About three-quarters of the way to our destination, the skies opened up and it poured. The rain was so heavy we could barely see past the hood.  There was a break in the rain just as we arrived at our new campground – the Windrock State Park Campground in Oliver Springs.  It rained all night long, sometimes ferociously.  There was lightning and thunder and, at times, hail.

     The campground is very high class.  We spotted at least 3 Prevost RVs.  Those are very expensive rigs.  This campground is up in the mountains and is nicely laid out, neat and clean with plenty of space between sites.  There is extra space for ATVs.  This seems to be a favorite spot for ATV riding.  The campground is at the head of many trails leading off into the wilderness. We’ve been watching them come and go for the two days we’ve been here.  Covered in mud and debris and smiling from ear to ear.

 2021 May 2 (Sun) – We drove into Nashville today to go to the Johnny Cash Museum.  His life story was quite interesting.  His parents couldn’t agree on a name when he was born, so they named him J.R.  Years later, when he tried to enlist in the Air Force, they insisted that he had to have a first name so he chose John.  That morphed into Johnny as his musical career took off.  

     It cost us $20 to park for two hours.  The parking lot appeared to be 3 in 1; three different machines for different areas of the same parking lot.  It was strange.  The town was bustling with people.  It was so crowded that we had to step off the sidewalk to go around clusters of folks gathered outside restaurants and shops.  No one was wearing masks outside, although you still have to wear a mask indoors. Looks like things are finally starting to loosen up.  Infections around the country are dropping as people get the vaccine and venues are beginning to open again.  It feels very hopeful.

     We wanted to have lunch in Nashville but it was too crowded.  We hopped in the truck and drove back to Lebanon. First stop was at the number one and number two restaurants, according to Trip Advisor.  But, you guessed it.  Too crowded with long wait times.  We finally wound up at Cracker Barrel.  The gal who checked us in said it was 20 to 30 minutes.  We waited almost an hour.  The food was good, as usual, but the long wait took the bloom off the rose.

     After lunch, we stopped at WalMart to get some groceries.  Then it was a stop at the liquor store to pick up some spirits.  And finally, we stopped at a gas station to fuel up for tomorrow’s trip.  We got back to the campground at around 3:45 p.m.  It started raining later in the evening. Weather forecasters are saying it’s going to rain for next two days.

 2021 May 1 (Sat) – We packed up and after a brief stop at the dump station to empty the tanks, we were on our way.  It was 2-1/2 hours to Lebanon where we are staying in a KOA. This campground is very tight and also on uneven terrain, like our last campground.  It is lucky we have a pull-through site.  It would be very hard to maneuver between all the rigs and on a hillside.

     Once we were set up, we took the laundry to the machines and did the wash.  

2021 Apr 30 (Fri) – We drove to Lexington (still in Tennessee) for lunch at Dan’s Café.  It was a small house converted to an eatery.  It had a 50’s flair to it.  The food was good.

     After lunch, we drove to Parker’s Crossroads and toured the battlefield. The north and south clashed there and had an intense 5-hour battle where neither really won.  The confederates were able to escape and cross the Tennessee River but not before causing havoc for many miles on their mission to disrupt Union rails and resources.  The battlefield is spread out with walking tours and storyboards recounting the activities that went on at that point.  The Visitor’s Center had a video that told the story of the battle.  It was quite informative.

     Next door to the visitor’s center was the Tennessee State Veteran’s Cemetery.  We drove through the grounds.  There were only about 50 graves.  It is a new cemetery just established in 2018.

     After getting some fuel, we stopped at a gas station shoppette to pick up milk.  They had loads of beer and soda to go with lots of snacks, but no milk.  The closest supermarket was 24 miles away.  We drove over the bridge to the next gas station shoppette and were able to find milk there.  Thank goodness!

     We got news that the Washington, D.C. caravan we signed up for has been cancelled.  The caravan was scheduled to take place the first week in July and the plan was to march in the National Parade on Independence Day.  The parade, which is run by the National Park Service, has been cancelled. In addition, several other tourist places around Washington, D.C. will not be open.  Also, the number of rigs signed up for the caravan fell to 11. That’s below the minimum threshold of 15 rigs for the caravan to go.  We will still go to D.C. for the 2 weeks we planned to be there.  So will our friends, Rick & Brenda from Florida. Our other friends, Hank & Brenda from Texas, cancelled out of the D.C. caravan but they will join us on the drive from D.C. to New York for our caravan around Upstate NY.  I sent an email to the manager at Fort Belvoir to tell her we will still be coming for the 2 weeks we reserved.

2021 Apr 29 (Thu) – We pulled up stakes and left Memphis at 10 a.m. It rained during most of the drive. In addition, as accident occurred right in front of us.  The traffic was at a stand still for an hour and a half.  Two tractor trailers and two cars got into it.  One of the cars had 3 kids in it.  Luckily, no one was seriously hurt.  

     We finally arrived at the Natchez Trace RV Park at 1:30 p.m.  It was a little tricky getting into our site around the trees.  The slick mud didn’t help things a bit.  The trailer wouldn’t level right either.  It kept resetting itself and the RV was on a tilt.  

 2021 Apr 28 (Wed) – We dropped off Bonnie’s urine sample to the vet’s office this morning.  The vet came out and told us there is no urine infection.  She also refilled Bonnie’s liver medication for 3 months. I asked for 4 but they only had 3 boxes. Oh, well.  You take what you can get.

     After the vet, we drove to the Blue Plate Café where we met Steve & Diane for breakfast.  Not only was the food good but the company was also enjoyable.  We stayed for over an hour and a half.

     Next stop was at Vitamin Shoppe where I got some vitamins.  Paul is still not feeling well.  He’s still suffering the effects of the vaccine.

2021 Apr 27 (Tue) – I took Paul to lunch (or did he take me?) at Las Tortugas Deli Mexicali.  It was a different kind of set up.  You ordered at the counter from a menu that was in Spanish with English in parentheses. We recognized very few of the dishes. We both wound up ordering sandwiches which were very good.  We brought leftovers home.

     I called the vet’s office where no one knew anything about what I was calling about.  I left a message for Dr. Bates to call.  I called again at 5:30 pm.  The doctor got on the phone and said she left a message today.  There was no message on my phone.  She didn’t know anything about a urine sample so we agreed to bring another one in tomorrow.  She said she would refill Bonnie’s liver medication.  Five months’ worth will be waiting for us when we drop off the urine sample tomorrow.

     Just as we were sitting down to dinner tonight, there came a knock on the door.  It turned out to be Diane.  She and husband, Steve, were on our Utah caravan.  He served as the Weatherman.  They will be staying here in the campground until Friday.  We agreed to get together for breakfast tomorrow.

     Paul is feeling cruddy tonight.  He is feverish and achy.  Guess the vaccine is doing its thing.

      We got a call from a campground in Ticonderoga, NY today.  The manager had looked over the list of RVs I sent her and decided they couldn’t accommodate the larger rigs.  They cancelled our reservation.  What a disaster!!!  Less than 3 months to go and we lose a campground.  We would be lucky to find another place that can fit 22 RVs at this late date during the height of the tourist season.  I felt sick.  Paul jumped on the Internet and did some research.  I tried calling the campground we were going to stay at before the cancelled one to see if we could just extend our stay.  No luck.  They are booked solid for the week after us.  Paul found a place 65 miles east in Peru, NY.  I called and they were able to fit us in.  I sent a list of campers and RV sizes.  Hopefully, things will go OK.  I also got a call from another campground on our caravan saying our deposit was due May 1st or our sites would open up.  I quickly sent off a missive to SMART HQ to send out a check.  That could have been a serious problem!  Luckily, the fates were looking after us.

 2021 Apr 26 (Mon) – We went out to lunch at a BBQ place.  The food was good.  Then we dropped off a urine sample at the veterinarian.  Bonnie is acting like she has a urine infection again. *sigh*  She just can’t seem to get past this thing.  The vet she saw last time was not in, so a tech took the sample and said he would handle everything.  Also pass on our request to refill Bonnie’s liver medication.

     We then went to CVS where Paul got his second COVID shot.  I picked up some Mother’s Day cards.  As we were standing on line, Paul saw a young man wearing a motorcycle helmet put two car chargers in his pocket and walk out.  He yelled at the guy but the clerk, who was ringing up a customer in front of us, just giggled about the incident.  She just shrugged it off.

     I called the vet’s office later to see what happened with the urine sample but nobody had anything to say about it. Guess I will talk to Dr. Bates tomorrow.

2021 Apr 25 (Sun) – It was cold this morning.  The heat pump went off about 2:30 a.m. this morning.  We keep that off because of the noise it makes.  It turns out the furnace was not working.  It looks like the techs did something that made the controls work improperly.  We cannot get the furnace to turn on.

      All Vanleigh personnel were gone early this morning so I posted our issue on Facebook. Sure enough, the tech folks were still monitoring the website and responded to my post.  The tech said he would send us a new program for the Spyder Control Panel.  Apparently, he knows exactly what they did.  Aaaaarrrggghhh!!!  We’ll have it sent to Travis & Sam where we will be in two weeks.

    We packed up and left Hot Springs at 10 a.m.  It was a long drive.  We pulled into a parking lot at a mall around noon to make ourselves lunch.  We arrived at Agricenter RV Park in Memphis around 2:30 p.m.  The host couldn’t find our reservation and it turns out that I had made reservations for a different date.  He was able to clear up the confusion and find us a spot.

    After that lovely RV resort in Hot Springs, this feels like a slum.  Lol.  The RVs are very close to each other in rows with grass that needs cutting, no trees, and stone campsites.  The road is asphalt that needs some repairs.  Several of the campers are long term as we saw 40 lb. and 100 lb. propane tanks outside their RVs.  The cost was higher than I expected but reflects a military discount.  Guess we can expect charges to continue to increase with all the new RVers out there and no new campgrounds to accommodate them.

Welcome to Technasia Ch 12

              “What do you mean, she’s not here?” Prince Guent’s bellow echoed through the meeting chamber, making the remaining Council of Lords cringe under his fury.

              Lord Qine cleared his throat cautiously. “We haven’t heard from Lord Moethran today. I had assumed she and Prince Thaylen would be back by now for this meeting.”

              Prince Guent growled. “You thought wrong, Lord Qine. Like you usually do, you borderline …”

              “Enough!” King Turgen’s own bellow echoed as much as Prince Guent’s had. “We shall deal with her absence as we go along. As it happens, she has been sending daily missives to me, and I am aware of her circumstances.” King Turgen handed a missive over to his son.

              Prince Guent scoffed at the report. “Technasia had another attempt. Good.”

              King Turgen’s temper exploded and he slapped Prince Guent on the back of his head. “Concentrate on our issue, boy! Lord Jair is dead, assassinated at his own inn.” King Turgen coughed hard and suddenly. “We need to find a replacement for him on this Council, and quickly.”

              Lord Qine and Lord Poe looked at each other suspiciously. “Which of us should name the new Lord, Your Majesty?” Lord Poe finally asked.

              King Turgen scoffed. “Let’s make it a race. First one to find a new Lord and get him past me and my son becomes the new Second House of Litigia. Obviously the House of Jair is no longer fit for the title.”

              Lord Qine cleared his throat gently. “If I may, Your Majesty, why not elevate the House of Moethran back to its original station?”

              King Turgen’s eyes narrowed to slits as he regarded the suggestion from Lord Qine with the same respect he gave horse excrement in his stable. “Let’s put this bluntly. I don’t trust Lord Moethran. I trust her about as far as I can throw her with my left nut. The House of Moethran lost its station as Second House because of her, because of her daft father’s insistence that she inherit his title, that she not wear a giggler, that she take his place on this Council.”

              Lord Qine bristled. “She has proven herself time and again in this body.”

              Lord Poe scoffed at this. “Proven how much of a pain in the ass she can be, you mean. We don’t need those kinds of ideas in this nation’s government.”

              “We don’t need her,” Prince Guent added. “This Council would be better off finding a replacement for the House of Moethran at the same time as we replace the House of Jair.”

              King Turgen’s grip on his goblet was so tight the vessel was shaking. He stood up and flung the cup down the middle of the table. “Enough!” His roar brought the other men to instant silence. “Lord Poe, what do we know about Lord Jair’s assailants?”

              “Nothing, Your Majesty,” Lord Poe responded. “We’re not even sure how he was killed. We couldn’t find a weapon to cause that horrific entry wound.”

              Prince Guent smirked. “It’s Technasia. Has to be. That vile Queen sent an assassin in response to the Killaine chick getting offed.”

              King Turgen glared at the Prince. “If I had any better ideas as to who it was, I’d thrash your ass right here and now, boy. Unfortunately,” he sighed, “I don’t. Especially not from the information Lord Moethran has been sending.”

              “How do we know it’s accurate?” Lord Poe offered.

              “She’s a lot of things, but she’s loyal,” Lord Qine rebutted.

              “Loyal to us? Or loyal to her sex? Because I doubt she’s loyal to us if she’s not making every effort to get back here for this meeting,” Prince Guent argued. “I bet even money she’s in with Guerrania and her estrogen brigade. Plotting against us.”

              Lord Qine’s teeth ground at the suggestion. He stood up. “You would accuse her of treason, in absentia, just because she’s a woman?”               “I would do a lot of things to her just because she’s a woman, and I don’t give two fucks if she gives me permission or not,” Prince Guent retorted, standing up in front of his own smaller throne. “Know your place, Qine.”

              Lord Qine gripped the table tighter. “Your Highness, Your Majesty, you are well aware that I have been Lord Moethran’s closest ally on this Council for years. I know her better than any others here, and I swear to you, upon my life and my House’s honor, Lord Moethran is many things but not a traitor. Despite all your efforts to marginalize her, Lord Moethran is a member of this Council, in good standing, and deserves the respect that her House has coming to it, and the respect of all of us here.”

              Dead silence ruled the room for a half a minute after Lord Qine concluded and sat down. Silence that was only broken by Prince Guent’s sudden guffaw. He leaned forward in his seat. “So how long have you been fucking her?”

              Lord Qine reached his breaking point. He leaped up and rushed toward Prince Guent’s seat, lifting the Prince out and throwing him against a nearby wall. Lord Qine pressed his forearm against the Prince’s throat. Fire flared in the Lord’s eyes as he gritted his teeth in utter rage.

              “I don’t give a damn who you are, or who your daddy is, or what you can do to me. Disparage Lord Moethran again in my presence, or even hint at impropriety with her, and I swear to God I will feed you your testicles until you shit them out, and then feed them to you again. You got it, daddy’s boy? I will end you. I will humiliate you, and I will end you.”

              Prince Guent whimpered pathetically. Lord Qine dropped the Prince from his vulnerable position on the wall and returned to his seat. Prince Guent coughed and wheezed, trying to regain his breath.

              King Turgen smirked at Lord Qine. “I think the Lord’s opinion has been made crystal clear.” The King rubbed his own neck. “Then shall we agree that Lord Moethran’s mission will continue? Because that’s my inclination. It’s far more important that we avoid any chance of Inperia’s daughter designing weapons for Queen Guerrania than it is to ensure that Lord Moethran makes it back in time for emergency meetings.” The King cleared his throat. “In the meantime, Lord Poe, I wish to increase our order of equipment from your company. Can this be arranged?”

              Lord Poe smiled. “We can start negotiations immediately, Your Majesty.”

              “Very well, then. Gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned.” King Turgen knocked against the table, signaling the excusing of the two Lords, who quickly left the room, leaving the King alone with his still stunned son.

              Prince Guent looked over at his father, his eyes flashing a sense of betrayal. “Dad, what the hell? That was blatant treason what Lord Qine did!”

              King Turgen stood up and slowly approached his son. “Yes, but it’s an act that I’ve fought the urge to do at every single Council meeting you’ve attended.” The King approached until he stood completely over Prince Guent. “Because you deserved it, you know.”

              Prince Guent spat at his father’s feet. “You’re going soft, Dad. She’s had too much influence on you, she’s making you turn into a pussy.”

              King Turgen reached down and grabbed his son by his collar, hoisting him back to his feet. “I am a leader, boy. I’m not some penny-ante tyrant who only wants what his country can give him and all the luxury that entails. I believe in my people. I believe in this nation. I believe in my ability to lead this country through these trying times.” He shook Prince Guent before letting go of the Prince’s collar. “What have you done to earn this station? What have you done to make Litigia a better place? All you’ve done is brawl and fuck your way through your people with little regard for their lives, with only selfish motives.” King Turgen sighed deeply. “Why did I make you the heir?”

              Prince Guent grinned. “I see it now, Father. I see it. You’ve become weak. You’re turning into Queen Guerrania.”

              King Turgen shot another glare at his son. “I am the responsible adult in this room, Guent. Until you can show you can control yourself, or be a proper leader, then you will never be ready to assume the throne.” King Turgen shuffled out of the room. “Choose your path wisely, boy. I can’t wait another lifetime.”

              Prince Guent seethed. He leveled a swift, hard kick to his father’s Council throne, knocking it aside and breaking an armrest off of it. Pulling a hand slate out of his pocket, he furiously typed out a missive.

                “Well, that was revealing,” Thaylen quipped as he and Firnian re-entered their quarters at the Central Palace. “Had he never told her about being an immigrant before?”

              Firnian shrugged. “Maybe not. Tuck seems like the type who wouldn’t like secrets being kept from her. Did you see her face when she opened that box?” The Lord sat down on the bed. “That was betrayal. Betrayal from family.”

              Thaylen nodded. “I guess I’m not exactly that well-versed in reading people.” He sat down next to Firnian. “What about the mini-ballista? I didn’t think any were here.”

              Firnian took Thaylen’s hand in hers. “Neither did I. I think Lord Poe would have known about it if it went missing. No, I think someone purchased it and brought it here.”

              “Would it have made it through the port? How did it not get seized?”

              Firnian smirked. “Disassemble it and call it parts for a watermill. There’s no way of discerning the difference just from loose parts, especially if you’re crafting your own spears here.”

              “And the air cans? Those require some explanation.” Thaylen laid down on the bed, letting go of Firnian’s hand; a headache was starting to overtake him from all of the thinking and theorizing.

              “That’s true, I hadn’t really considered that.” Firnian settled in next to Thaylen, who put an arm around the Lord. “Let me try sending a missive to Lord Poe, see what he can tell us.” She pulled out her hand slate and was about to start writing when a message popped up. “Oh, what’s this?” She opened it curiously.

                             FIRNIAN

                             DO NOT COME HOME!

                             GUENT THINKS YOU A TRAITOR. WILL KILL YOU ON RETURN.

                             ATTEMPTED TO TRY YOU IN ABSENTIA AT EMERGENCY COUNCIL MEETING.

                             UMBRIENT

              Firnian’s breathing came much quicker. “They think me a traitor.” She looked up at Thaylen. “They want to kill me. They want to take my house … want to take Daddy’s house …” Her eyes were welling up.

              Thaylen clutched her tighter. “They think me a disgrace, and you a traitor. As far as they’re concerned, we’re just the designated bitches of Litigia.”

              Firnian’s face hardened, even as she sniffled in her sadness. “Litigia is my home just as much as it is his.” She looked back up at Thaylen. “If we’re going to be the bitches, then fine. We’ll be Litigia’s bitches, but we’ll make them all pay dearly for making us their bitches.”

              Thaylen hugged Firnian tighter. “That’s the Firnian I love.” He kissed her gently and lovingly. “I’m with you, all the way. You can count on me.”

              Finally, a smile cracked through Firnian’s steel face. “Then let’s start with figuring out who’s trying to kill Princesses here.” She sat up in the bed. “I’ll get my missive off to Lord Poe, and then I think I’d like to talk with Princess Ramia.”

              “I’ll be right behind you,” Thaylen called as Firnian stood up and walked toward the door. His own hand slate started to vibrate, and he pulled it out to read the missive.

                             To all Litigia –

Your Lord High Protector, King Turgen, announces that as of this evening Lord Firnian Moethran, Lord of the House of Moethran, has been convicted in absentia of treason against the Crown and People of Litigia, and of conspiracy to commit the murder of Lord Bruxien Jair. The Lord has been removed from the Council of Lords, and her House has been declared dishonorable and removed from the Great Hierarchy of Litigia. Moethran and any and all associated with her are hereby declared enemies of the State, and are placed under arrest under pain of death. Moethran has been sentenced in absentia to public display, followed by death, upon her return to within the borders of Litigia. It is advised that any attempts to prevent the carriage of justice will be considered an act of treason, and if committed by a foreign power will be tantamount to a declaration of war.

              Thaylen’s heart leaped into his throat. He ran after Firnian in a panic.

                Lord Qine read the missive, his eyes darkening as he did. Anger continued to bubble within him, anger at Prince Guent, anger at the King, anger at the entire society. He slid his hand slate into his pocket, grinding his teeth in stressed distress.

              A loud banging on the door of his chamber finally drew his attention out of his red cloud of anger. “Yes, come in.”

              The door burst open, and five heavily armed guards rushed into the room, clasping a tight hold on Lord Qine. They forced him to his knees even as he struggled against them.

              “Get your hands off me! I am a Lord of the Council of Lords!”

              “You’re nothing but a pathetic pussy,” a familiar voice echoed into the room. Prince Guent cracked his knuckles. “You always have been. And tonight you made your final, fatal mistake.” He bent down to whisper in Lord Qine’s ear. “And hey, don’t feel sad. Soon your little fuck buddy Moethran’s going to be with you in Hell. I signed her death warrant myself.” He stood up, turning to the guards. “Get him on the floor! Now!”

              The guards pushed Lord Qine down until he was completely prone on the floor, pinning his limbs out at his side. Lord Qine snarled up at the Prince. “Your father won’t let this go, boy. Do you really want to do this?”

              Prince Guent grinned and snarled back. “My father won’t have much more left to do after tonight.” He nodded to a guard, who grabbed Lord Qine’s hair to force his face up to look at Prince Guent. “And you won’t say a word.” Prince Guent reared his foot back. Just before the moment of impact, Lord Qine finally noticed that Prince Guent was wearing boots from a suit of armor … his final observation before one of those feet impacted through his face and severed his spinal column at the base of his head.

Scarecrow and Mr. King

  "I'll always be here for you."

  Jenny Anderson replayed the scene in her mind as she worked to clear the table at the little cafe where she was a waitress after school. Her father's funeral had been a miserable day in every sense of the word. The sky had been overcast and threatening to unleash a hellish downpour upon the small gathering in Grand Hills Cemetery. Lonny Anderson, a mild mannered TV show writer, hadn't exactly been the life of the party. Truth be told, most of his nights had been spent going over endless loops of scenes taken from the various shows he worked on.

Jenny, sitting on her father's lap, watched everything that her father had helped make with a deep sense of pride. That's where she'd first seen him. The man who had held her tight at her father's funeral. The one she thought of now, holding her in a different way and saying those same words.

  "Hey, space cadet," a voice spoke from over Jenny's shoulder, nearly making her drop the tray of eggs and bacon she was suppose to bring to the elderly couple at table seven.

"Don't call me that!" Jenny hissed at her best friend, and often partner in crime, Donna Masters. The two had worked together for the past two years. But they'd been friends since high school. The short, plump brunette, being the exact opposite of Jenny - a tall, lithe blonde with hard to comb through curls.

  "Yeah, whatever," Donna gazed past her friend to eye the occupant of a booth in the back of the cafe. "Don't look now, but your husband is here."

  Jenny spun around, nearly dropping her tray on the floor. "He's not my husband," She snapped.

  Donna took the tray away from her. Deftly, she snuck an order into the other woman's hand before she realized what was happening.  

  "Well, he's your customer now. I'm taking a fucking smoke break."

  It took a moment for Jenny to process that she'd just been duped into waiting table for the man who'd starred in most over her nightly fantasies since she was a kid. Sure, she'd seen him almost every day since they lived in the same apartment building. They hung out together and watched movies all the time at her place. But these days she'd taken to anonymously fighting with him online about his various political views. It was a way to vent her frustrations at him for everything she felt but couldn't say. But the vehemence of the back and forth between them had seeped into real life. And she never knew if she wanted to kiss him or punch him in the throat.

  Mark was busy typing away on his laptop when Jenny came over. He had his glasses on, something that she never failed to find kind of adorable, reminding her of the character he had played on The Closer.  His short blond hair looked tousled, as if he had been working so hard on whatever he was into he hadn't combed it yet.  His eyes were slightly narrowed, a rather wolfish looking smirk on his face. And Jenny knew that someone, somewhere was at that moment being accused of being a socialist. Or worse, a strawman.

  "Can I maybe get you something, Han Solo, or are you not done with the rebellion yet?"

  Mark's head shot up in an instant, piercing blue eyes boring into Jenny's own. His eyes never failed to enthrall or intimidate, a feature she was sure he could turn on and off like a switch. They gazed at her now with a mix of haughty anger and pleasant surprise. His smirk widened a tad. But not a true smile, Jenny noticed. He was in fight mode today- like usual.

  "You just don't know how important this stuff is. To all of us. Did you ever read the stuff i sent-"

  "Nope." Which was a lie.

  "I don't see how you can be so happy not knowing what's going on in the world. Have a little curiosity."

"Maybe we can start on with what you want for breakfast. Then we'll talk about the political beliefs of old dead white guys later." She smiled at the inside joke, knowing that later on that night they would.

  "The usual," Mark said curtly. He had wanted to enjoy a stimulating conversation with one of his favorite people. Words had always enthralled him. A way of either hugging or shoving people away. And he felt very much at that moment like he had dived for a hug and been cock punched.

"Are we still on for tonight? Been wanting to see the new Jurassic Park for a while now.” Mark had gone back to his laptop, ignoring Jenny's question so long she was afraid he wouldn't answer it.  

"Not tonight. I've got a lot going on,” Jenny heaved a sigh and spun on her heel to stomp off towards the kitchen. She didn't notice how Mark's eyes shot up the second her back was to him. No one looking at the actor would have been able to tell what he was thinking or feeling as his eyes trailed the young woman from his table to the back of the cafe. It was an ability nobody had taught him in acting class. He'd developed it naturally, having to hide his true self in a hard home life. Beneath it all, he wanted to take those defenses down. But the world could be a tough and cruel place.  That was the reason he wanted to change it so much. So it wouldn't be so cruel anymore. Like it was for the young. Like it had been for him.

                                ********************************************

   "Oh, no you don't, you bastard," Jenny raged at her laptop screen. She wanted to throw the damn thing across her bedroom and into the wall. She'd been sitting upright on her bed, a glass of wine on her nightstand, tapping away on the keyboard for at least the past two hours. She had lured Mark out like usual with a vague question about the state of political affairs. And, like usual, he had come running. Quick with literature references and torrents on the evils of government regulation. He was being particularly grouchy tonight, though. Shooting back with one sentence and one word answers. Which he knew full well would piss her off to distraction.

  "There you go talking about my strawman again."

  Jenny bit her knuckle and howled with rage as she read Mark's latest missive, usually uttered after she had crafted a perfectly good argument. But, though she was loathe to admit it, she felt herself getting wet too. Mark had always been gentle, almost fatherly towards her. This was a different Mark. One that could be equal parts cunning, condescending when smarted off to and, when need be, harsh and cruel. He was far more exciting than every day easy going Mark. And she loved it.

  "Are we back to that again?" Jenny said as she typed away. "Am I the scarecrow and you're the tin man? Or maybe the wizard?"

   Mark promptly left the conversation. Jenny sighed. Pop culture references are usually what drove him off. Show biz was his other life and he HATED it when pretend things were brought into political debates. Which is why Jenny used them when she wanted to get off in a hurry.

  With a sigh, she drained the last of her wine and lay back in bed. Her mind went back to seeing Mark in the cafe that day. How much she loved his tousled hair and wolfish grin. And how much she wished he was here now. Tucking her in like her father use to do. But then things would change in the fantasy. He would lean in and place a kiss on her forehead. And she would tilt her head up and catch his lips in a chaste kiss. Which he would deepen, quietly whispering her name.

   The innocent fantasies soon gave way to the darker ones. Where Jenny got on top of him and rode him until she climaxed against his heaving chest. He would pinch her nipples and bite her neck, driving her orgasm deeper and deeper. Sometimes she would call him daddy and he would call her little girl. It didn't even bother her anymore. It felt natural to call him that. A name of love and protection. And that's what he made her feel. She needed that. Almost as much as she needed him.

                             **********************************************

    Jenny didn't see Mark again until a week after his visit to the cafe. Something seemed to be up with him. She was sure of it. He hadn't texted or called as much as he usually did. And for a while she had feared that he might have fallen in love with someone. Then, out of the blue, he had asked her out to Smokey's, a neat little mom and pop establishment he knew that she loved.  She got out of school an hour early to meet up with him. As she waited for him, she played with her laptop, going over the conversation they had had the night before. Jenny smiled, crafting new arguments in her head. New ways to make Mark flabbergasted and miserable.

   "Am I interrupting something?"

  Jenny let out a muffled scream, painfully twisting her head to catch Mark gazing over her shoulder at what was onscreen. The moment realization dawned of what he was looking at was a terrible sight to behold. At first his mouth gaped open a tad, as if he was looking at something so absurd it couldn't be real. Then his eyes narrowed and the cold glint in them was as cold as any look Lucifer had given anybody on Supernatural. This was the third side of Mark. The one Jenny didn't really like and was slightly afraid of. The coldly intelligent Mark that could out think and outmaneuver you in a split second. The one who felt no remorse for doing so.

  "Mark, please"

  It was all she got out before he turned and stormed from the restaurant, nearly knocking over a waitress in his wake. She hung her face in her hands. Without knowing she was even doing it, a soft sob of pain and regret left her lips as she cried.

   Later that night, Jenny showed up at Mark's apartment door. She couldn't sleep. Not without telling him how she felt and why she had deceived him.  She'd emailed, called, texted, and tweeted him with no results. And it hurt like hell.

  "Mark. Mark. Just listen to me. I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe me."

  The door swept open. He gazed down at her with what she was sure he assumed was an unreadable expression. But, to her surprise, there was a wetness to Mark's eyes she had only seen at her fathers funeral. He had been crying for her? The realization made her feel another layer of self hate and shame. She moved past him into the apartment. He didn't try to stop her.

  "Just...Tell me why," he said, closing the door.

   She noticed his voice was a little unsteady, too. "I wanted to be closer to you. I like you. For so long." Jenny regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. They sounded so high school. Lame. And they didn't go nearly far enough in explaining just what she felt for him. Had felt for him for a long time.

  Mark was equal parts shocked and disgusted by this. "We're not close? Everything I've done with you? For you? Tell me how it’s not enough. I want to know how I'm not enough. How this isn't enough."

  Without warning, he pulled her up tight against him. She wasn't sure why he had done it. Out of a passionate feeling for her or just to frighten her with his closeness. To intimidate her with his height and physical power. She wasn't even sure he knew. He was gazing down at her, wild eyed. His breath catching in his throat. His arms pinching her at the waist. Her breasts tingled at being up against him like this. Every part of her lighting up at being as close to him as she had imagined many times as shed reached a fevered climax in her bedroom. Thinking of him.

  "You know why," She said through gritted teeth. He was pissing her off again. Treating her like she was some sort of child who needed protection. She hated that feeling most of all. And, deep in her belly, the urge arose to smack the shit out of him.

  So she did.

  Mark pulled back from the blow so that it barely grazed his cheek. But the effect was immediate. In an instant, his mouth came down hard upon hers. His teeth bit at her lips and his tongue slid into her mouth, making her gasp. It wasn't a loving kiss. It was something dark and primal. A powerful force begging for release. She let her hands roam over his body, loving how powerful his body felt beneath her hands.  She wanted more. Needed more. Needed him inside of her like she had never needed anything in her life. Her body hurt with the feel of it.  Softly, she started whispering his name against his lips.

   Mark grabbed her by the hair, roughly pulling her head back to look her in the eyes. "What am I supposed to do with you? Just tell me. Tell me what you want. I'm tired of these fucking games you play."

  Jenny's hands trailed down the front of his pants, rubbing his swollen manhood through the fabric. He closed his eyes and sucked in his breath, instinctively bucking his hips against her. Jenny planted kisses down his chest, making her way down to kneel at his feet. She took his cock out and licked along his length, enjoying the look of rapture on his face.  Expertly, she worked up to near climax multiple times, never letting him go over. Even though he occasionally grabbed her by the head and forced his way deeper into her throat.

  With a growl, Mark lifted her up and threw her against the wall. His eyes bored holes into hers as he tore her panties off from underneath her short blue dress. "Tell me you want this," he begged. "Tell me it’s okay. I need to hear you say it."

  "Fuck me, daddy." Jenny crushed her mouth against his, writhing her wet center against his length. Mark pulled away from her, an actual grin on his face. The sight of it both amused and infuriated her. As horny as she was, she wasn't in any mood for his jokes.

  Mark cocked his head. "What did you call me?"

  "You heard me. Want me to repeat it?"

  "So, you're into that stuff?"

  Jenny moved down onto his cock, taking his whole cock into her in one thrust. "Shut up, Mark," she growled, starting a furious pace for them both. He sank into her, his face nuzzling and biting on her shoulder. His hips moving in rhythm to her own.

  "Are you my good little girl?" He asked a moment later. Jenny smiled into his shoulder, partly aroused and sort of laughing about being called a little girl at the ripe old age of twenty. But there was no denying she liked it. She could tell he knew she did, because her pussy grew wetter and clenched around him. She sank her teeth into his neck, eliciting a shocked moan from him. Making him fuck her even harder.

  "You take care of me so damn good. Ill always be your little girl."

  Again, Mark snickered at the word play. But this time it was more like the delight of someone unwrapping a present at Christmas. "I could learn to get use to this, kid."

  Jenny's reply was cut off by the sudden rush of climax cutting off any and all snappy replies. Her fingers clenched in his hair. A howl left her lips as she went over the edge, taking Mark with her. He came long and hard inside of her, the feel of it deliciously hot in her pussy. He pulled out, leaving a trail of cum running down her leg. His body held hers up against the wall. Both breathing hard into each other's necks.

  "Jenny, I have to ask you..." Mark whispered in her ear.

  "Yes?" she was all ears. She'd just fucked the man she'd been in love with for forever.  Whatever he wanted from her, Jenny was sure she could oblige.

"When are you going to read those articles I sent you about strawman?"

  Jenny narrowed her eyes, the old stubbornness and rage making her pussy hot again. "On the other side of never. Fuck you, Mark."

  He picked her up in his arms then, carrying her away to the bedroom.

  "I'm pretty sure you just did," he told her. "and don't think I'm going to be letting you off easy. You know? Someone's been a very bad girl."