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underlinediagnosis · 3 years

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Weird Looking Dog - Chp. 1-3

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A Borrower Au.

Warnings - Themes of abuse, abductions, intentionally hurting minors, fear play, and people being treated like pets are present.

Can be read on...

Deviantart- https://www.deviantart.com/batterysavermode/art/Weird-Looking-Dog-Chapter-1-872465523

Archive of our own- https://archiveofourown.org/works/30746024/chapters/75884288

My first g/t writing so embrace the hiccups.

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Chapter 1 - Lung Aches

She could never run away from the cold air. She should never seek comfort from a hug from her mother. Never wear a smile when her father would tell a joke. She could never fulfill her dream of meeting a dog. No. She could never be happy again.

The cold and shiny metal caused goosebumps to form along her pale short legs. Thin and weak arms hugged her dull pink shirt. The shirt looked too big for the small girl. In reality she had grown too small for the shirt. The thin fabric hiding ribs that jutted against her skin like dull blades.

Her toes that laid flat against the metal were pink and felt numb. The sensation of constantly being cold was sadly becoming normal. The sight of tall silver bars surrounding her was becoming a normal sight as well. The bars were narrow but there were many circling around her. With gaps so small that she could only fit an arm through.

While the sight of bars never comforted her like the sight of her mother or father. The poor child had immediately decided that the sight of bars, the bone chilling frost of the air, the silence and despair of an empty room. Was better than interacting with any human. Whose body heat felt sick and the leather skin felt gross to touch.

Not that she would say any of that to the humans. A regular human was scary enough to bring tears to her eyes. The thought of an angry human sent a shiver down her spine. No matter how much fear, dread, and pain she felt from the humans. Those feelings were always there but grew when she was with a human. Yet there was a permanent weight in her chest. Always so potent. She missed her mother and her father so much. She missed her neighbor Mr. Klipspringer. She missed being able to listen safely in the walls whenever the humans would talk about dogs.

All of her loss made her chest hurt so much. Normally a child her age could fool themselves into thinking that they would be saved. Delaying the permanent weight of despair in their lungs until the last seconds. Yet with the experiences Rose Fox had been through. She knew that the sad feeling in her lungs would be there forever. Just as she knew she was destined to live her life in a cage.

Her innocent curiosity of the world was long since sucked away. Thinking about sad questions led to her blurting out. Which led to the humans hurting her for doing something bad. Yet she never really knew if it was bad for speaking out of turn. The way the humans taught her was way different than her parents.

Her parents taught her with love and passion. With a warmth that she wished for. The humans on the other hand were just plain scary. They did not bother to tell her why she had to do something. She just had to.

Not that she wanted to ask in the first place. Instinctively knowing that just following what ever they wanted would be best for her survivability. Maybe that is why she was always so tired. She may sleep on the uncomfortable metal but there was always a part of her that was awake. Listening for danger and so scared of any human.

That part of her was also confused but still, as always, on high alert. A couple days ago she had heard the human screaming. His loud voice had shook the house. Patches of blood still crusted around her ears. Even thought she had tried to cover her ears with her matted hair and small hands. Humans were just so loud.

Then, for the first time since she got here, the only sounds was the weather banging against the house. She did not know how long it had been since the house went quiet but she did know one thing.

She was very hungry. Normally when the human was away she had enough strength to buy the time. Rather it be self care or watching the wind play with the trees. Now looking at the only light in the room, which being the sunlight from the open window, caused a headache.

All of her emotions felt dull in her weakened state. Almost matching her weak body. All of her nails and toenails ripped clean off in an attempt to eat anything. She knew toenails and nails grew back, her mother had told her why but she forgot, but waiting for new ones was taking longer than she intentionally thought a couple days ago.

Her stomach grumbled but that sound was just as common as hearing the birds cry outside. Her tired brown eyes stared at the lock of the cage. A mechanism that looked as tall as her. The humans called it a lock but she just called it another human thing.

She knew she could never escape. How would she be able to reach the human thing? Her arms were too short. Also if she were to some how to open the door she had no way of getting down. She was suspended in air by a long metal chain that was attached to the bird cage.

She knew she was very high up. This is because the cage was eye level with the human. At least when the scary human was in the room. As much as she hated him she wished he would bring food.

Even though her young brain thought that she could survive off of her nail clippings. Seemed as true as the fact that humans were mean and scary.

The small girl somehow had the energy to flinch when the house creaked. She knew all too well that the sound was not caused by the wind. Not by a bird or by a massive tree. No, the sound was caused by a human. She did not know the layout of her new dungeon as well as her old house but she knew one thing. Humans had a door that led from the inside to the terrifying outside.

Dread coursed through her veins and she found it hard to breath. Her whole body felt numb at the thought of being under an intense gaze again. Being toyed with and being through so much fear that no person, let alone a child, should be through.

She felt tears shooting down her face. Hugging herself and fearfully trying to squeeze into the world's tiniest ball. Her breathing quicken and her lungs stung against the cold air. Her numb toes felt unmovable from fear. The notion that the human would bring her food could not even help her ground herself.

Her grip on her tattered pink shirt tightened. Leaving her pale hands to become as white as snow. Her dirty face was painted with a stroke of fear and concern. Memories of hands swooping down like when an owl catches its prey. She sniffed as she thought of her mother’s laugh. Her father’s award winning smile. Her heart beat fast but her body was frozen in place. Her natural instincts to stay as still as possible. Try to stay hidden and unnoticed.

She was jolted out of her panic when a voice rumbled through the house.

“Hello?”

This was a different human.

Chapter 2 - Birdcage

“Hello?”

The hair on the back of his neck stood. The open entrance with light blue walls had a stagnant air. Even with the large open windows the house felt suffocating and still. Something was not right and John Watson was sure of it.

Hesitantly closing the front door behind him John Watson silently crept into the open family room. Large open windows lit up the room. The large grey couch stretching out before him. All thoughts of how much of a cock Sherlock has been forgotten. Easily replaced by the unstill air.

John sighed with tired eyes. Rushing down the hallway. Doors on either side opening to empty rooms. The last door looked out of place in the hallway. Marks and scratches visible against the oak wood. The handle did not budge at first as he moved to open the door.

The walls of the room seemed to hunch over as if they were crying. The terrible paint job looking like tears. A single strand of light came from the window. The rest was shadowed by the tree right outside the window. The carpet was as stiff as wood. Looking like the red carpeted seats found in movie theaters.

The man living in the house was not in the room. In fact the room looked as worn down as an abandoned building. The only signs of how wealthy the person living here was a single object. A bird cage beautifully hanging in the air by a strong metal chain. The birdcage hung in front of the window. The metal gleaming and it’s shadow stretched along the floor.

The bird cage was empty. As evident by the chilling quiet air. Which seemed almost too quiet. Like as if someone was trying to hide. The human’s brow furrowed in confusion as he stared at the birdcage lost in thought. He stood at the frame of the door. His shoes firmly planted in place.

He shook his head and smiled sadly to himself. All this interviewing and trying to catch up with Sherlock had not left a lot of time for sleep in his schedule. The side effects were clearly showing.

Then the phone in his pocket chimed. It’s loud chime causing his heart to skip a beat a little. He was on edge from the strange feeling that came from this room.

A small thud seemed to echo louder than the chime of his phone. When in reality it was hardly noticeable.

Something was in that birdcage.

Without really thinking he walked over to the cage. Wondering what color of feathers the bird would have.

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Her body did what the humans had tried to beat out of her. She quickly laid on her side, even though she knew humans did not like that. Her rib bones basically touching the cold metal surface. She scratched up into a ball. Her knee caps touching her forehead, she did this even when she knew that fingers will force her out of her panicked ball with ease.

She laid there with thoughts that no child of 7 years old should have to think. She shivered with prey instincts that would put a rabbit’s to shame. She was not afraid of being eaten, the poor girl was not even aware of such things.

This human was new but that did not make a difference. Mr. Klipspringer, her neighbor, had been so right.

“If a human finds you. They have the need to harm you. It comes as natural as the need for food and water,”

His quiet voice echoed in her head. As the booming footsteps from outside became louder and louder everything in her froze. Even the hairs on the back of her neck stopped rising. She gripped so hard on her pants that it started to hurt. She was about to loosen her grip but she did not dare move when the air swooshed.

A breeze that sent her matted hair flying. Her ears started to burn from the lack of her hairy blanket. She knew all too well what that sudden gust of wind meant.

The human had opened the door. An object that was the size of a mountain moved without thought by the human. She could not see the human. Her face was basically buried into her chest. Yet she could feel and hear his presence.

She could hear fabric shift with the rise and fall of his chest. Her brain and body tormented her with the phantom sensation of warm human breath surrounding her. Goosebumps covered her skin, both from the cold and the fear, every strand of hair on edge.

Tears dropped onto the cold metal surface. Her cheek screaming at her to move from the cold metal surface. She wanted to fight, squirm, find a way to escape his notice. She wished she had the strength of her father. Or the quick wit of her mother. Even in her fear her lungs felt heavy from sorrow.

She felt naked being in plain sight but that is what the humans wanted. They wanted to look at her. They thought that being out in plain sight made her happy. In reality it made her tired and on edge all the time.

Maybe that is why she gave into her instincts. The large part of her screaming at her to sit like a doll. To fake happiness out of fear of being hurt. After all the humans always smiled with large scary teeth whenever she had to play pretend.

She may be young but she knew cause and effect. If you stay quiet maybe you will be able to hear the humans talk about dogs. If you wait long enough your nails will grow back and then you can eat again. If you show fear the humans will forcefully correct you.

It had only been a year in captivity and the poor girl had no reason to smile for real.

Maybe that is why when a loud chime broke the silence, she flinched. Her body hurling herself like a fish out of water. The impact caused a thud from her body hitting against metal. She barely held in a gasp as she cringed from the sound she made.

She screamed human words in her head. She did not know what they meant, only knowing that if she said them it would result in her getting thrown. It seemed like she deserved being thrown from the amount of noise she had made.

Now she was going to end up trapped. Not trapped in a cage where she could shiver in the cold. No even worse. Trapped in hands that made her feel like she was touching a maggot infested rat carcass.

Her heart pounded so fast. Humans were so scary and confusing.

She knew she was being ‘bad’ for giving into her instincts. She did not know why curling into a ball was bad when it felt like the safest thing to do. As the human moved and the world shook. She understood that the heavy pain in her lungs whenever she thought about her mother or father was going to become an afterthought. The human might even break bones for her fearful misdeeds.

Chapter 3 - The Man Looking In

John Watson's face showed the two emotions that he had felt once his blue eyes gazed upon that small figure.

His brow furrowed in concern. His mouth gaped with surprise.

Well the surprise had hit him first.

He basically had his face press against the metal bars to take in all the details of the impossibly small girl. She had long matted brown hair that clung to her back. She kept her face hidden. She wore black baggy pants that stopped at her knees. Her legs were short and thin.

A large bruise on one of her legs was as clear as a spec of ink on a blank piece of paper. It was dark compared to her snow white skin. It was circular and seemed too large for her stick like legs.

Oh god.. Was the bruise a finger print?

His eyes anxiously checked the rest of her body. Looking for any visible signs of injuries. She wore a thin salmon pink shirt. It was tattered and clearly had seen better days. Her legs and arms were skin and bone. Seemly too thin even for such a small body type.

She looked to be two inches tall. Way smaller than any of John’s fingers. He finally blinked after his minute long stare. Guilt slowly crept into his heart. Slowly washing away the shock of meeting such a small kid.

A kid. A child.

Obviously scared and here he was staring at her like she was some sort of freak show. With a nervous swallow it did not take long to realize that he was the one scaring the kid.

He blinked away tears that were forming. His heart wanted him to just hug the kid. His mind whirling at what she had been through to end up in a cage. He let out a sigh. Stopping almost immediately when he saw the matted clump of hair flying.

This poor child was so scared.

Scared of him.

He reminded himself. He stood in silence for a moment longer. Forcing himself to become as still as a statue. Worried that the girl would have a heart attack if he moved. Even in his shock of seeing such a small figure he needed to remain calm.

It did not matter that he could barely see her fearful shivers. They were there. A child was all alone in facing a big scary monster. He needed to be the nightlight for the child. Right now he was only being the monster that hid underneath the bed.

“Are you okay?”

John Watson’s voice was hesitant and he thought he was being quiet. He barely held in a wince when the tiny body flinched. He blinked once more in confusion when he realized the little girl might not even understand what he was saying.

Time seemed to stop as he waited for an answer. He was almost afraid for the kid to answer. He felt dizzy at the thought that someone could be heartless enough to put a little kid in a cage. Well, a little little kid, but a person nonetheless.

He watched with horror as the child only curled further into a ball. Her spine showing itself against the flimsy pink shirt.

Way to go jackass.

He thought to himself.

If the little girl were to look at those large blue eyes. She would have seen the shift in his gaze. From fascination to utter concern.

He opened his mouth to speak. Hesitating at the last second just incase the little girl spoke. After a few more awkward seconds of waiting, standing there with his face pressed against the cage, he knew with a pang of sadness that the kid was too afraid to speak.

He knew he could just get the child out of there. He was in control of a small human being. A feeling in which he did not like one bit. Clearly the little girl seemed to agree.

He knew that if he were to just grab the child out of there. Many things would happen. The girl would panic. Things would be easier. He could get a closer examination and look for any broken bones. Easily take her back to his flat. He could, and would, try to help find her parents. Assuming she had parents.

Yet something stopped him from taking advantage. It just felt gross to do.

She did not know that all John wanted to do was help her. John’s heart skipped a beat when he imagined what she was thinking.

The shivering in her body only grew worse and worse. Oh god. Did she think she was going to be hurt?

Or worse?

It took everything in him to refrain from tearing apart her prison.

He knew that someone had hurt her. As evident by the large bruise on her thin leg. He cut off that line of thought before visible anger could show on his face. His anger at what someone else did would no doubt scare the girl to death.

He spoke again. Cutting off his internal pity party for the other person in the room. He stiffened once more. For the first time in his life feeling dangerously large and tall.

“My name is John Watson. I am a doctor which means I help people. I uh.. I am here to help,”

He whispered.

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thebtswritersclub · 3 years

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Happy Birthday Aditi!!!!

The BTS Writers Club is here to wish our lovely admin, @ditttiii a very happy birthday! Here’s all the messages we’ve collected, from admins and members alike for Aditi day (January 14)!

Aditi! Happy Birthday! Thank you so much for being an amazing Admin. The network would not be the same without you and all that you do. I mean, just look at the layout! You do so much for us and it’s 1000% appreciated. We’re so lucky to have you! Thank you for being with us from the start and being there to help everything grow. You’re such a valued and loved member and a wonderful friend. I love you so much. Even though this past year was an absolute garbage fire, I hope that next year will be much better. You’re going to do amazing things and I can’t wait to see them!

- Love, Eva @aroseforyoongi

PS: Please share more pictures of your puppy

Happy birthday, Adi!! Babe, you're an amazing person, a marvelous woman and an awesome friend. I wish you the best things in the world, that's what you deserve nothing less. I can't thank you enough for your love and support, always. Know that you'll always have in me a friend and a hype woman. Congratulations, Queen!

- Danna @unoriginal-username15432

Aditi! Though we have only known one another for a chunk of a year, I can safely say that you are one of the best people I could have met in 2020 and I am so glad I did! I think you have so much to offer the world in both intelligence and charm and you will go so far! Keep your head up through 2021 and never let anyone tell you you cannot do whatever you set your mind to. Keep writing and relaxing and enjoying life. Also, please remember to rest and sleep! Happy Birthday!!!

- Dean @eternalseokjin

Happy Birthday Aditi! You're so sweet and kind and I hope you have a great birthday!!!

- Donna @untaemedqueen

Aditi

I hope you have an amazing birthday. You deserve one. You’re so wonderful, sweet, hardworking, intelligent, caring, encouraging, talented, pretty... I could go on forever. In short, you’re awesome & held in high regard. Thank you for being you & thank yo for being a vital part of BTS Writers Club & its admin team. You’re an html goddess & a goddess of kindness and looks. Your presence brightens my day & I look forward to all of our conversations.

So, to BTS Writers Clubs’ resident Goddess, Happy Birthday!

- Lillia @moccahobi

Hello, luv

I remember the first time we talked. I had come to you asking for advice because I was thinking about posting on tumblr, and somehow we ended up talking for hours that day. Ever since then, you have been such an amazing and precious friend to me, and I am so incredibly glad that I decided to come out of my shell that day. I am so thankful for everything about you and our friendship, and also for you quite literally dragging me into this net to meet so many other lovely people I have the pleasure of calling my friends as well. I wish you all the best, today and every other day, and never forget that I love you very much!

- Keri @kerikaaria

happy birthday dearest aditi! i hope that you have the happiest, most wonderful, most magical birthday ever! you deserve everything good and more! sending you all of the love, hugs, and good vibes i can offer!

- Carese @honeyj00ns

Adiiiiii ily!! my lovely waifuuu!!! you work so hard and are so nice!! i married right keep doing what you love and remember to treat yo'self!!!!

- Dae @birbdae

Lovely! It's your birthday and I would be remiss not to let you know that you are so loved and so appreciated! I hope you have an amazing day with those you love (especially Toto), and get something you were hoping for, be that quality time or a nice gift! Happy Birthday Aditi!

- Day @baepsaetan

Aditi, my love, my darling, my honey, ily. You’re such a good friend and a good wine bibi, i love u muchly and appreciate u. I’d like to thank u from the bottom of my heart for being there for me when i needed u, ty for helping me with my writing and helping me be happy, you truly are the best and there’s only one u. Keep shining u star. Keep being u, you literally are so cute and adorable and pretty like words can’t even describe how amazing u are, happy birthday to u ma love, i hope u have the greatest day bc u deserve it! I can’t offer u a hug rn but i can give u a virtual hug (sending u the biggest virtual hug) i hope it sent!

- Ellie, signing off w a big big kiss for u @jungkooksbroski

Happy Birthday Aditi! I hope all your birthday wishes come true on your special day! You have such a hardworking and vivacious personality, it's no wonder why I admire you a lot I'm glad I can call you a friend of mine and I only want nothing but the best for you

- Gwen @prettyboongi

happy birthday aditi! although we haven't talked all that much, i'm glad to have met you through the net! you are such a caring and loving person and i hope you have the best birthday today and many more amazing birthdays! thank you for being you and happy birthday!

- Ivory @sunkissedjk

Aditi, you have the sweetest soul and the kindest heart, I love our chats and how helpful you are. You've given me so much confidence, right from the get go. You never stop believing in people and will bend over backwards to help them, even when you're ill. You're so freaking talented, honestly, I just can't praise you enough. Happy birthday my lovely hareem queen, hope you have the best day!

- Ley @pars-ley

Aditi! The beautiful, amazing angel! I'm so glad I have gotten to know you through this net and I'm excited to get to know you better. Thank you for always being available to read my crap and for creating amazing works of fiction. You are one of a kind and the world is so lucky to have you in it! Happy birthday

- Mars @joheun-saram

Hey Diti Darling, Apparently it's your birthday. Haps Borth! Ok, I know I give you hard time whenever we talk but that's because I am just a big nervous and confused mess all the time. We don't even talk that much. Even with that, I love you very much, as a chaotic sister. I just love seeing your name around. Every interaction I have with you is precious no matter how confused I come out of it. You are so sweet and so loving. I hope that you keep that light and keep growing. May this next year that approaches you is a fruitful one and bring you happiness in what ways that it can. Look up, smile bright.

-Your ever worried brother, Nep. :33 @dawndrms

lovely adi!! i'm so lucky to have met you this summer, because i'm pretty sure you're one of the first desi writers i met on tumblr i love seeing all your posts on my dash, you're really such a sunshine and happy pill on dumblr and i wish more people saw that. your style of writing is so so so enchanting, something i wish everyone would read. in the net, you're a ray of light on everyone and i can tell that bring you so much energy and liveliness wherever you go. have a lovely birthday aditi appi, and to many more!!

- Noor @papillonsgf

Happy birthday Aditi!! I want to say a massive thank you for everything you do for the net to make it what it is. you are so friendly and helpful, you really make everyone feel so at home there! I'm so happy to have joined and met you. I hope you have a great day because you deserve it xx

- Ru @btsmosphere

Hey Aditi! I just wanted to say, happy birthday from the bottom of my heart! You've made being in here so special, helping me with everything I needed! I remember the first person to say Hello to me in the net was you! You were also the one who told me I was accepted! Your really special to me! So is your hate for Mee6 Thank you so much for everything! I wanted to give you something special for your birthday so I'll be posting Transvaal Daisies very soon! Once again, thank you for everything

- Tailia @namyoongles

Hi Aditi!!! I hope you have a wonderful birthday I love how sincere and enthusiastic you are and how you’re always hyping us and all our ideas and i hppe your birthday matches how awesome you are

- Tanooki @crystaljins

Happy Birthday lovely Aditi! I hope this year brings a ton of happiness, positive growth, success and prosperity! I’m so happy we got to meet over this net. I love love LOVE gushing about Bollywood movies and Indian music with you and I absolutely love how supportive and helpful and kind you are. You are awesome, beautiful and just so lovely! I’m so happy that we get to celebrate your birthday together (relatively) and I’m wishing you all the best today and onwards! Cheering you on! Happy Birthday!

- Yours, Triv @purpletigertaetae

We love you, Aditi! Have an amazing birthday!!!!

All graphics and pictures used made with buckets of love by @kerikaaria

#birthday #happy birthday #birthday post #aditi birthday

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slippinmickeys · 3 years

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The Earl (9/13)

If you’d like to read this on AO3, you may do so here.

CHAPTER NINE

Mulder rode Hercule into the village alone, as stipulated by the menacing note. Byers, Frohike and Langly had taken Byers' carriage to the edge of town just after they all broke their fast that morning and were set up at strategic locations around the village church. They were watching and waiting. For whom, no one was quite sure.

At the appointed hour, Mulder stabled his horse at the village blacksmith and walked to the church, opening the gate, according to his pocket watch, at precisely 3:00. He walked through the small graveyard and on to the door. Quiet seemed to expand all around him; no horses or carriages passed by in the street, no villagers seemed to walk by, nor call out greetings to each other. All he could hear was the sound of his breathing and the sound of his own heart. He stepped through the door under the tower.

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting to find. Some swarthy-looking brigand or even Spender himself. Instead, the church was empty.

“Hello?” he called out. His voice seemed to echo coldly against the stone walls. His call was met with silence. He made his way slowly through the nave, the box pews on either side of him empty. He approached the chancel, passing the steps to the empty pulpit, and stopped when he got to the rail before the altar. He turned slowly until he was facing the pews and again called out, “Hello?”

It was then that he noticed a sheet of parchment sitting on the bench of the first pew. He hurried toward it and picked it up, flipped it over. It was blank. When he looked up, there was a gentlewoman standing just inside the south aisle. When he took a step toward her, she turned before he could see her face and rushed out the door of the south porch. He gave chase.

She was wearing a light green frock with a matching bonnet, the sides of which flopped low over her face. She hurried through the gravestones and around the back of the building. When he rounded the corner, he nearly ran into her. She was standing, holding out a piece of parchment like the one still clutched in his hand.

When he took it, she raised her head and he finally saw her face.

“Miss Spender?” he asked, his voice croaking in surprise. “Are you-”

She raised her hand higher, holding the paper almost up to his face.

“Take it,” she said, insistently, “you’ll need to give it to the proprietor of the coaching inn just south of town.” Mulder slowly took the paper from her, his face still frozen in surprise. “He will give you a trunk in which you will place the 20,000 pounds. Once the trunk is secured, he will give you further instructions. You have… you have one week exactly to comply, my lord.”

She turned to go. Shaking himself, he grabbed her arm. She startled but turned.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

She smiled sadly. “You have made your choice in this life, Lord Wexford,” she said, “and I have made mine.”

Anger flared in him and he gripped her arm a little tighter.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “You could have just as easily given these instructions via the post. Why have you implicated yourself in an act so heinous as this?”

“I suppose I wanted to see you, one last time,” she said. “I wanted to say to you… I could have made you happy. We could have been happy together.”

“I am happy,” Mulder said simply.

“But I am not,” she replied in a voice devoid of feeling.

His anger coiled into a snake of rage, fangs bared and ready to strike. He squeezed her arm harder -- hard enough to leave a mark -- and she winced.

“We are going to the constable, you and I. Right now,” he said, his voice low and angry. He turned to leave and pull her along but she resisted.

“If I am not back to my father by an appointed hour, he will hurt Lady Wexford. I swear it.”

Mulder released her and took a step back, gasping. The hand that gripped the paper she had given him was curled around it like a vice, the paper crumpled and crushed. “Tell me where she is,” he whispered.

Diana nodded toward his hand. “Take care with that token, Lord Wexford,” she said, “your wife’s life depends on what you do next.” With that she turned and walked through the back gate, disappearing under the branches of a tree in the village center.

When Mulder emerged onto the street, walking in a daze, Byers, Frohike and Langly all came trotting up from different directions.

“What happened?” Frohike said. “I saw no one. Langly?”

Langly shook his head. They turned to Byers.

“I saw no one but a gentlewoman praying over a grave,” Byers said, a little out of breath.

Mulder couldn’t bring himself to meet their eyes.

“A gentlewoman in a light green frock?” he asked. Byers nodded, his brow creasing in concern. “It was Miss Diana Spender,” Mulder said without inflection, “I have one week to put together 20,000 pounds.”

He turned toward the blacksmith’s and walked away from his friends.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The next morning after bringing her breakfast and a fresh chamber pot, Duane Barry came to clear her plate and stood in the doorway of her room, hovering.

“Mr. Barry?” she asked, looking at him in question.

“If you care to follow me?” he said, “you’ll want to grab your washing.” He then turned on his heel and marched out the door. She grabbed her clothes and rushed to follow him before he could change his mind.

He hastened through the house, and she looked around her, trying to memorize the layout. The house was well appointed, but not necessarily well kept. There seemed to be a layer of dust that lay over all the furnishings, reinforcing Barry’s stance that he was indeed the only other person (or at least the only staff) in the house. She listened for any other movement but heard none.

He led her down a hallway and a staircase, turning left, then right, and down a small set of stairs to the kitchen, through a scullery door and out into the blazing sunshine. He turned to her expectantly and she gathered her wits, looking about her.

Several feet away sat a large copper boiler atop a small fire, which steamed in the sunlight. Next to it sat a tub, a two foot long wooden paddle and a short table upon which sat lye soap, chalk, a lemon, and a small bottle of clear liquid. She approached the table and gave the bottle a dubious sniff. Kerosene.

“The kerosene is for bloodstains, ma’am. My lady,” Barry amended, looking away. She nodded. “Has a lady as fine as yerself ever done the washing, ma’am?” he asked.

She took a deep breath and decided honesty was the best policy. She knew the basics, but...

“I have not,” she said, “But I am a woman of my time, Mr. Barry, eager to learn anything and everything.”

“You’ll boil the clothes first in the copper kettle,” he said, then pointed to the paddle, “you’ll want to agitate them for a quarter hour. Then into the tub with the lye soap. Once washed, you can treat for, uh, stains… Again, the kerosene is for blood,” his cheeks colored, “the chalk for grease, the lemon for any bleaching as it may need. Should you, uh, ever need to do laundry again, nearly every kitchen is outfitted similarly.” She nodded. “Then you wring out excess water, and hang to dry. There is no clothesline here, but some fine bushes and hedgerows. If’n you’re lucky, they’ll be dry by evening.”

Scully looked about her, taking the opportunity to scan the area around the small kitchen garden. Beyond the garden gate, there was a decently sized but unkept lawn and beyond that, the iron fence. There was a back gate in the fence, likely used by household staff.

She looked back toward Barry, who lowered himself onto a three-legged stool by the kitchen door and watched her warily. She turned toward the few pieces of clothing she needed to wash and dumped the lot of them into the boiling kettle. Picking up the paddle, she swirled it through the water, tentatively at first, and then with more force, careful to keep the hem of her skirts away from the small fire beneath it.

Once she got into the rhythm of it, she turned to Barry, stirring all the while. “Is this your first kidnapping?” she asked, peering closely to gauge his reaction. “Or is it your main profession?”

He had the decency to look abashed.

“It is my first time being abducted,” she went on, and with that word, he got a queer look in his eye. “I suppose we shall get through it together,” she finished. She turned back to her washing. Her arms were beginning to ache and her brow to sweat, but she was too proud to do anything but carry on.

“I am sorry for it, ma’am,” he said, “my lady,” he corrected.

“Are you?” she challenged him.

He took a deep, bracing breath, and then he looked away.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“I care not about the money. I will pay it,” Mulder said, as they sat around the dining room table later that same evening. The Wexford fortune was large enough to weather a 20,000 pound blow. “But I’ll not let the Countess be imprisoned by that man for another minute. We must find him. We must find her .”

The other men around the table grumbled their agreement. Suzanne was so distraught by what had happened that she’d taken to eating all of her meals in her chambers.

Mulder pushed the food around his plate for one more minute and then rose quickly, startling the footmen who stood about the room, ready to serve. Food tasted like ash in his mouth. The world had no flavor and less color without his wife beside him to enjoy it with. “I cannot countenance this,” he spat and turned to leave the room. “Alex!” he said -- his own footman had been helping serve the meal.

“My lord?” Alex said, stepping forward.

“With me,” Mulder said and strode from the room. Alex followed obediently. The footman had been extremely helpful; going out of his way to assist Mulder with nearly all of the searches for the Countess. Mulder thought that perhaps he felt guilt for not being able to identify the rider who had returned to the estate with Easterly the day Scully had gone missing. When pressed, Alex did admit that it could very well have been Duane Barry. Alas, there was nothing for it, Mulder concluded, but to carry on.

“Get a coat,” Mulder said, making his way to the door of the manse, “and meet me in the stables. We’re riding into the village.”

#The X-Files #Fanfic #MSR #AU #Regency #The Countess #The Earl #Sequel #My fic

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a-lonely-tatertot · 4 years

Text

Kiss me like it isn’t allowed

Pairing: Keefitz

Word Count: 3111

Warnings: Underage drinking (briefly mentioned), cursing, and internalized homophobia

A/N: There’s a happy ending I swear, Fitz is just a repressed gay and doesn’t like feelings, I also know nothing about laser tag so sue me. And thanks to @bookwyrminspiration

The night it all started was normal. Keefe sprawled on Fitz’s bed, staring at the ceiling lost somewhere in a world of thought. “I wonder what it’s like to kiss someone,” Keefe said to no one in particular.

Fitz looked up startled, “Didn’t you kiss my sister once?”

“She turned her head!” He put his hands up in defense. “I meant like, kiss someone for real.”

“Come back to me when you have an answer,” Fitz sighed indifferently. He never really understood the gain there was to smashing mouths together and moving them around. He hadn’t realized Keefe had moved to sit criss cross in front of him until he pulled away his book. “Hello to you too,” he said. Keefe’s ears were pink against his pale hair.

“What if- if you wanted to- maybe we- I could- uh,” he swallowed, eyes darting everywhere. Fitz smiled a bit.

“Spit it out, buddy.”

“CanIkissyou?” Fitz’s brain short-circuited, and Keefe began to fidget, playing with his hands like he would die if he didn’t. Purely out of impulse and not thinking straight, Fitz surged forward his forehead smacking into Keefe’s. “Ow,” he groaned.

“That definitely could’ve gone better,” Keefe laughed weakly. Before he could grab the book again and hide behind the pages, soft hands ghosted his face. Oh, he thought, realizing what he agreed to.

“This still okay?” he asked softly. His hands fell gently on Fitz’s cheeks. They were light, barely there, waiting to be refused.

A breathy, “Yes,” was all Keefe needed to press their lips softy together.

There weren’t any fireworks as Fitz’s eyes fluttered closed and pushed back slightly. There wasn’t anything grandiose about it, it was sloppy and messy. There was only this: Fitz’s vague thought of Oh, as the air was stolen out of his lungs by Keefe’s soft irreversible touch.

Eventually Keefe pulled away, panting slightly. He chased him for a quick second, quickly realizing that his hands had left with his mouth. So it went, Fitz winding up the courage to put his hands in his hair, his eyes widening at the sudden touch but leaned into it. So it went, hands, mouths, hair.

When it’s over he watched Keefe leave. Frizzy hair, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips. Some part of him realized that he had done that. A dopey grin took over his face.

But his small paradise shattered the moment Keefe closed the door and someone else opened it. By harsh words and stern looks. His father said it wasn’t okay, that if he wanted to matter the kiss couldn’t matter. So the next day he doesn’t let it change things and he tried to miss the way Keefe stared after him. It doesn’t matter, because he mattered.

His heart was in his ears as he moved through the warehouse. A shout rang out to his left followed by a buzz signaling that someone was out on his team. He filed that somewhere in the back of his mind as he hid behind a wall. If he could just spot someone- There! Tam was running between two walls-

“Hey, Princey,” whispered Keefe, right as he was about to pull the trigger. And just like that, his concentration was gone and so was Tam.

“Dammit,” he breathed, lowering the gun. Fitz tried to ignore Keefe, he was supposed to be helping his team. That couldn’t happen if he thought about the annoyingly persistent boy next to him. They did this often, the group finding themselves more often at the old warehouse converted to a laser tag company. It was known that Fitz was the best shot, his aim was unmatched by the others. Most of the time he found himself like this: behind a wall, or on top of something, trying to hit the people running in and out between the walls.

He watched the layout for a bit and tried to not think about Keefe’s heavy gaze on him (keyword: tried, he didn’t succeed). A flash of blue and his finger was on the trigger, firing. There was that familiar tension in his chest, waiting for the light to turn blue and the buzzer to go off-

And it didn’t. “Having some problems there?” Keefe teased.

“Uh, yeah, you,” Fitz responded flatly. His eyes stayed on the field even though he knew it’d be useless. As he fell deeper into his thoughts he saw Keefe’s vest, blue. The beginning of an idea formed when Keefe gently wrapped a hand around his wrist. Don’t tense don’t tense-

Keefe let out a soft laugh, “Your pulse is racing.”

“Oh?” Fitz was barely even thinking about what left his mouth, his mind somewhere else. “Maybe it’s cause of how close you are.” He was close, Fitz could feel his breath brushing his cheek. “Maybe I want you closer.”

A small blush spread across his face, rising to the tips of his ears and racing down his neck. In one quick move, Fitz laced his fingers through Keefe’s and spun them around and pinned Keefe against the wall he was hiding behind. “Hey.”

Keefe stared at him, wide-eyed. “This was not how I expected this to go,” he said finally. Fitz chuckled.

Keefe leaned in slightly and Fitz didn’t stop him, nor did he when Keefe kissed him. It was messy and slow like the first time and every bit as distracting. Some part of him knew that he should probably shoot him right then, it would be so easy and he wouldn’t see it coming-

There was the soft click of the trigger and the buzzer went off in the distance. Fitz didn’t notice, he was too focused on the feeling of Keefe pulling away. “You shouldn’t let yourself get distracted so easily Fitzy,” he said, a smirk pulling at his mouth. The tips of his ears were pink as ran off, there was a hit of sadness in his eyes when he looked back once more.

“What the fuck,” he whispered to the wall.

9. He ran, laughter barely held in. 8. He spun around the corner, wide empty hallway in front of him. 7. Don’t slow down, he thought, destination already in mind. 6. Quieter this time as he swung the closet door open. 5- “Well this is ironic,” said Keefe, his voice next to his ear. Fitz forgot how to breathe.

“Don’t pass out on my account Fitzy,” Keefe chuckled.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Hiding, though I think you’re a bit better at that than me.”

“Oh just shut it,” Fitz grumbled. “Can you scoot over?”

Before he could as again, Keefe’s hand covered his mouth and the other gripped his side. In a second, he had turned them and pressed Fitz into the back of the closet. A squeak escaped his mouth before he could stop it.

“I didn’t think you’d be so noisy,” Keefe whispered, his voice a warm breath on Fitz’s lips. Without his permission, his eyes found Keefe’s mouth. Like he’d been waiting for it, Keefe leaned in a bit and he dimly realized he would have to be on his toes.

“We shouldn’t,” he breathed, regretting the words as soon as it was out.

“Okay.” Keefe leaned back into the wall, eyebrows furrowed, eyes trained on the floor. Fitz found he couldn’t move his gaze; that he didn’t want to.

So he didn’t. His eyes traced the way his eyebrows furrowed, the smooth curve of his nose, the sharp lines of his clenched jaw. With a sudden burst of confidence, he placed a hand above Keefe’s head and leaned in.

“What, Princey?” Keefe said with a growl.

“Kiss me,” it was a challenge. A shot in the dark. A make or break. And even as Keefe’s eyes narrowed, he wasn’t gonna say no.

When he thought about it later, his father’s disapproving look burned it’s way into Fitz’s mind. He wanted to cry because why did it have to be wrong? Why did it feel right?

In the end his father’s words won as the sick feeling found home in his stomach because of a single text.

11:30pm

Fitz: We cant do that again

1:05am

Keefe: Okay.

The stars filled the sky. “They’re like pimples,” Keefe laughed, his voice soft, words slurred.

“What?” Fitz asked, rolling on his side. It was mesmerizing watching Keefe look at the stars. He got this look in his eyes, sometimes he would tell Fitz what he was thinking. Others, he would pass meaningless jokes, and on the worst days, he would sit, and stare, and drink so much he passed out on the roof.

“The sky has acne,” he giggled a bit and threw back another swig.

“I think they’re freckles, freckles are better than pimples,” Fitz sighed, alcohol seeping into his words. They came out here on bad nights. If their dads were rough all it took was a call. If school was hard, they’d ditch it all. Tonight, Fitz hadn’t even had to specify. On the second tone, Keefe picked up and responded, “I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

“Keefe only hummed in vague recognition. He jumped down, hitting the ground with a soft thud and slide in the driver’s seat to turn up the music. When he climbed back up there was something else in his eyes. The beat thrummed through the car, matching the quick pace of Fitz’s heart. “If you’re gonna say something, say it,” he whispered into the tentative silence.

“Can I kiss you?” There was a rushed ask, a careful impulsive decision in his voice, he didn’t know if it was the beer or just Keefe.

Stop. His heart, his breathing, the beat. “Pardon?” Start.

“Like the other night, can I kiss you?” The other night. The words he had carelessly thrown out, the way he could feel Keefe’s shattered heart through his simple ‘Okay.’ The other night was not something he wanted to repeat. But he was drunk and he shouldn’t be thinking and all he could think of was Keefe. He already knew the answer before it left Fitz’s mouth.

“Yeah.”

And there was that feeling again, the one he had told himself he would never feel again. The intensity, the openness, screw the stars this was so much better. There was an air of forbiddenness to it, Alden had said no to both these nights and the kisses, so was it really different? Out there, the woods, the car, the beat edging everything in them on, Keefe’s mouth moving on his, it wasn’t allowed; Fitz had never wanted anything more.

He was warm, it was all warm. Hard and solid, but comfortable. He was laying on something that felt more like home than any pillow ever did. It was steady. Keefe, something told him.

It doesn’t mean anything, he responded automatically, and he hated himself for it. It didn’t, it couldn’t. Yet some part of him wanted it to, some part that was quickly growing bigger. He shoved the thought away as another wave of drowsiness hit.

It wasn’t warm, it was very cold. “Took you long enough Princey,” Keefe said, “You know it was a pain in the ass hauling you in here. If you weren’t such a bitch when you wake up hungover, I might’ve made you do it yourself.”

He chuckled lightly and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. When memories of the night before came racing back, he shoved them out. He couldn’t, he wasn’t allowed, it was a mistake. It meant nothing, he repeated like a mantra.

The drive back was normal. The radio playing steadily, talking about meaningless things. They didn’t bring up last night. But they should and Fitz knew it. Keefe was tense, his hands on the steering wheel were tighter than they need to be, his back was slumped, and tightness gripped his words. He wanted to ignore it. He wanted to be oblivious to the telltales. You’re the reason, a nasty voice said. You broken thing.

“Look,” Keefe said turning off the car. “We need to talk.��

“Do we?”

“I know you’re not big on feelings and all that-”

“We were drunk okay? We’re teenagers it’s normal, it doesn’t change anything.”

Keefe let out a helpless breath and stared at him with wide eyes. He wanted to take it all back, he wanted to fix the broken expression Keefe wore but he couldn’t, he couldn’t.

“It was no different from the others,” he said finally.

“You can’t kiss me like that and say it means nothing!” There were tears in his eyes, and Fitz was falling apart from the inside out, staring at him.

“It didn’t, Keefe.” He opened the door.

“Then don’t expect to mean anything to me.”

Somehow he still knew how to rip him up with a single sentence. It didn’t matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget Keefe’s words. He couldn’t forget Keefe.

It’s so cold. There’s ice under his skin, eating him up inside. As soon as he stepped inside it all came crashing down. Because he couldn’t forget Keefe. Keefe and the weight of his mouth. Keefe, his best friend since they were kids. Keefe and his thoughts, his idea,s his everything. He couldn’t forget his dopey smile when he agreed the first time only two weeks before. How he threaded his fingers through Fitz’s hair. His raspy voice, the way he only looks at peace with a pencil in his hands. How his confidence was a facade crafted by years of hurting. And there was that bubbling feeling that burned his throat as the rest of him froze with regret. So he screamed and yelled, his voice a release of the flames scorching him from the inside. He didn’t give a damn who heard him.

Time passed, but he paid no attention. He didn’t know how long he was there. Angry and bitter and pissed. He screamed until his throat went dry and his voice was a whisper. Until his eyes hurt from the tears and he didn’t have any left in him. And he was finally as empty as he should’ve been.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Biana stood in the doorway. “Wow, what happened here?”

“Screw off, Bi,” he muttered.

“It’s Keefe isn’t it?” At the mention of his name Fitz rolled over and groaned into his pillow. He knew the drill at this point. He was an open book to Biana and there was no point in hiding it. So he explained. From the beginning, every stupid kiss that made his stomach twist. When he finally finished, she let out a low whistle.

“You messed up big time buddy,” she said solemnly.

“Thank you for stating the obvious.”

“You’re quite welcome. Do you know what I think? I think you’re in love with him.”

“What?” The worst part was, it made sense.

“You love him and you know it,” she said with a smirk. “You’re just burying all of it cause of Dad.”

Everything clicked into place, the puzzle that was Keefe Sencen finally made sense. He didn’t know how he hadn’t gotten it. Before he knew it he was in the car, starting on the hour drive to Elwin’s, Biana next to him, the siblings grinning like idiots.

Biana’s phone almost buzzed itself off the dash startling both of them.

“It’s the Team,” she smiled, “This’ll be fun.”

“Why the hell is your after school club calling?” Fitz asked, incredulous. She didn’t respond, only answered the phone on speaker.

“We owe Dex twenty dollars,” Sophie said solemnly.

“I thought Wylie was closer,” Biana responded.

“No, I was last week,” said Wylie dejectedly.

“You had too much faith in the idiots,” he could hear Dex’s smirk through the phone.

“What’re you all talking about?” he asked finally speaking up.

“We bet on you dumbass,” Biana said not a hint of sympathy in her voice. “Turn here.”

“Where are you guys going?” Stina’s voice betraying how interested she was.

“To Elwin’s so Fitzy here can dramatically confess his love, I’ll give y’all the details after,” Biana said hanging up. As he stared at the blue door of Elwin’s it all came crashing down on him.

“Dad’s not gonna like this,” he whispered, finding it harder to breathe.

“Hey,” Biana said, forcefully grabbing his shoulders. There was that stubborn determination in her eyes that he had seen so many times before. “You get the boy, let me handle dad.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he swallowed hard.

“Now go get ‘em, tiger.”

Well, that was the plan. As he walked up to the door he wondered if he should have flowers or an apology or where to even start. Turns out he didn’t have to worry about it. Because Keefe wasn’t home.

“Do you know where he is?” he asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

“It’s a clear night, where do you think?” Elwin said with a small smile. “He’s been out all day.”

“Shit,” he cursed. Of course, he was so stupid!

“Hey, language,” Elwin laughed.

“Thanks, sir,” he spun on his heel and ran back to the car.

Biana didn’t say anything as he hightailed it out of the driveway, driving way too fast for a neighborhood.

The woods weren’t far, he was lucky it wasn’t another hour. Yet when he found himself confronted by trees, he wanted more time. “What do I say?” he asked.

“Whatever your heart does.”

“My hearts going in every direction, it’s not used to being needed.”

“There’s a direction,” she said with a small laugh, “take it.”

So he did. The winding path was practically burned into his memory. The sun had set, he didn’t remember when. The stars were appearing as he found Keefe on the roof of his car, that same look in his eyes.

“What’re you thinking?” he asked, voice so quiet he didn’t know if Keefe had heard.

“I’m thinking,” Keefe said, eyes still trained on the sky. “There's a boy. And I think he's lying to himself. I think he's scared of his dad and doesn't understand his feelings. A boy who gets so angry and hates himself for it. I think he's angry for being different. I think he regrets it but doesn't know how to say it,” Keefe jumped down and locked eyes with him. “There's a boy, and I know him. And I think he knows me. And i really don't wanna be wrong.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Prove it.”

“Kiss me,” Fitz said. One more challenge.

“No,” He shook his head. “You’ve brushed that off enough times.”

“Then how?”

“You kiss me.”

And Fitz couldn’t say no to Keefe.

#finally freaking d o n e #kotlc #keefitz #tater writes #tw drinking #tw cursing

68 notes · View notes

inscribed-in-asteroids · 4 years

Text

AN: Here’s chapter two!

Title: The Ripple Effect

Characters: Hordak, Entrapta, Odessa, features original characters

Pairing: Entrapdak, features other canon couples (and some fanon)

Rating: M

Read on AO3. It’s always posted there first.

Evaluation

“You want us to help you… find your dad’s… home planet?” Hydrangea questions.

“Not necessarily that,” Odessa replies. “I’ve been mulling over this the last couple of years. Wandering through space, it’s apparent that my father’s species has predominantly settled into Etherian life. But when I ask my father where we are from, he has no answer.”

“Not in the withholding information way,” Tristan clarifies.

“Exactly. In the sense he has no answer to give. Period. I’ve discussed it with my mother, and she believes it could be an exciting chance to find out where he’s from!” Odessa claps her hands together. “We know about the biology, physiology, mental health, behavior of one person. My father has been studied thoroughly for years, but his makeup can only tell us so much.”

They nod in understanding. It does make sense. He has been genetically manufactured over and over, thousands of versions of him co-existing among species that still have yet to see anything like him before. Hordak has lived among Etherians, has explored world upon world, but they know he is an anomaly. They all do.

Odessa looks down at her hands, an anomaly herself. Her parents have always been supportive of her intellectual pursuits, and this could very well be one of the greatest. She has filled a medical textbook composed of both Entrapta’s research, Hordak’s explanations, and her own observations, theories and notes about how his species operates. But what good is it if it simply applies to a single individual; that’s not applicable to how science or medical practice works.

Hydrangea pours them tea. She knows how determined Odessa can be once she sets her mind to something. There’s no stopping her once her brain gains traction on an idea. Tristan’s set face comprehends this as well.

Tristan speaks first, “When would you like us to begin?”

Odessa smirks, “Soon as you’re done with your drink.”

“Hm, of course you’d say that.”

“Damn right,” Odessa answers.

Hydrangea places her hands on her hips, “Alright, Des. We’ll get going soon as we’re done!”

“Or you could chug your chamomile in one go.”

“No.”

Dryl is etched further into rocky cliffs, its labyrinth excavated deep inside the mountain. Its residents welcome their princess, happy to see her return. Entrapta’s kingdom had been left to its own devices for years, even prior to Entrapta’s departure; yet they view Odessa as the rightful heir, and treat her as such. She supposes it's something to be grateful for, as it does leave them with a place to rest and organize without much interference.

Though she could do without the large paintings of herself lining the walls.

“I never get over how cute you were as a baby,” Hydrangea says, giggling. “Look how chubby you were!”

“You were so adorable,” Tristan gushes. “So innocent.”

“The sweetest little baby,” she continues. “I still want to pinch your itty bitty face!”

“Shut up,” Odessa pouts, blushing. Curse these portraits… and curse their laughter...

“Odessa! Hello, hello!”

Relieved, she turns, smiling at the friendly face, “Hi, Uncle Wrong-Man.”

Crushing her to his chest, he presses their cheeks together, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen my most favorite niece in the world!”

“You’re going to make all the other nieces jealous,” she says. Then smiles, “But it’s true.”

“I can’t help it, you were the first niece I had!”

Back on her feet, Odessa glances at the vicinity. Normally, there’s more of her uncles wandering through the halls. “Where is everyone?”

“Oh, they’re working outside or in the kitchens. We heard you were back and we felt a welcoming party would be fun!”

“You don’t have to throw one every time we come back.”

His eyes turn watery, a sad, morose frown on his features, “Oh… I see… You don’t… like my parties anymore…”

“No, no, that’s not it!” Odessa says, trying to cheer him back up. “I just meant you don’t need to go through all the trouble each visit.”

He looks up at her, ears drooping lower, “Do you like them?”

“Yes, Uncle Wrong-Man, I love your parties,” she insists. “You’re the best at it!”

In seconds, his bubbly personality returns, “Excellent! I look forward to giving you another party suited to your tastes!”

Tristan leans toward Odessa, hand held up to his mouth, “Wow, for a minute I thought I heard violins.”

“He has that dramatic flair to him,” she agrees.

“How have your parents been? I haven’t seen them yet!” W.H. asks.

“Mom and Dad are fine,” Odessa tells him, following him through the halls. The maze has been modified to be easier to map out. The first time she had come here, they had gotten lost since Entrapta couldn’t quite recall where all the secret entrances were. Odessa took it upon herself to make her own layout, and added to it whenever a change had been made. “They went to Beast Island to see how it is there.”

His ears fall for a moment, “Aw, I hope they’ll visit soon!”

“I’m sure they will,” she assures him. “They had some business to conduct over there.”

“In the meantime, what brings you to Dryl?”

“I wanted to talk to you and some of the others regarding your past,” she explains.

W.H. enters the closest kitchen, walking toward the oven. Tucking on mitts, a perplexed expression crosses his features, “Our past? My dearest niece… have you been afflicted by amnesia?”

“No, my memories serve me right,” Odessa says, patient. “I am asking for information regarding where we had come from, as a whole species. What world we originated from, what our culture was like. I had spoken with father about the matter, but he said he didn’t know due to being younger than the rest of you.”

W.H. crosses over to the countertop, removing the cookies onto a cooling rack. He is silent for a few moments, and it is clear he is choosing his words carefully, trying to understand what she’s asking. He turns, a serious mien about him, unusual on his face. “I… I’m not sure, either.”

Odessa walks over to him, “Is it because you were separated from the hivemind?”

“I don’t believe so,” he replies. Folding his arms over his chest, the fact they’re all one person reveals itself in his posture and tone. “We had been created to serve Horde Prime. Nothing more or less. And I do think that I myself had been cloned after your father. He had been Horde Prime’s general as well, and if he didn’t know, one of our elder brothers might have the knowledge you seek.”

Odessa glances at Hydrangea and Tristan, then back to her uncle. “Do you know who would?”

W.H. ponders for a minute. “Hm, no one here, I am certain. The residents of Dryl are like myself—of the younger group, since we have more people skills to associate with the Etherians.”

Hydrangea says, “I always wondered how that worked. Where you were designated and why.”

W.H. nods, “Oh, yes, we put thought into what our new purposes would be. After I helped my brother and sister with Beast Island, I came here to demonstrate how to function with Etherians!”

Tristan walks over to the counter, “Where do you recommend we go, then? Also, can I have one?”

W.H. beams, nodding enthusiastically, “Please do! I am going to make much more. But in regards to your first question, I would suggest visiting family in Mystacore or Beast Island.”

Odessa takes a cookie off the rack as well, munching. Mystacore is closer, so it would be prudent to try there before traveling to Beast Island. There are portals stationed throughout Etheria, but it’ll be worth stopping by Mystacore. She hasn’t seen anyone there at all yet. Although, it’s not as if there are many who live in the clouds, visiting her family there is always exciting.

“Thank you, Uncle Wrong-Man,” Odessa says, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “We’ll head there now!”

“Take some food with you to go,” he insists. In a flash, he’s bagging the cookies into a cellophane sack, tying it with a pink ribbon that shapes into a butterfly. “Healthy meals are important, but so are treats! Otherwise, you get moody.”

Hydrangea and Tristan are handed their own bags, much to their surprised delight. Before Odessa can accompany them out the door, W.H. stops her, giving her another, “Would you mind taking this with you for your cousin?”

Odessa smiles, “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Hordak and his brothers were categorized not by their clothes, or hair dye choices, but by their eyes. Odessa and her mother had noted the various shades of eye color, their teeth matching them the most; however, inside of their mouths, it adjusts to mimic the change as well, affecting the tongue and beneath it, gums, hard and soft palates, uvula, even extending down to the oropharynx. All her uncles are in good health, and with none of them dead, she can only assume that the change continues down the esophagus. She got it in writing several years ago that, should any be willing to be dissected for scientific purposes, she has a few choices for her study.

Their eye colors are fascinating: while they all reflect light to glow, which is meant to intimidate opponents, she has observed the change serves as behavioral distinction. The lighter the color, the more mellow and passive the personality; the darker or more intense, the more independent and aggressive. A chameleon-like feature, reflecting mood. And, in turn, signifying mental and physical health, as peppier individuals tend to be less plagued by feelings of inadequacy, anger, and low self-esteem. W.H. had his eye color eventually become the joyful chartreuse yellow she’s known since birth, and her father’s returned to their fiery red sometime after the war. This is the one true variation that doesn’t need attire or fanciful hair styles and dyes to show that no matter how alike they are by DNA, they are their own separate people.

So when she teleports to Mystacore, and she finds dark blue eyes staring at her from above, she remembers, quite immediately, that sometimes, darker eye colors don’t indicate low self-esteem but rather, an egregious amount of confidence.

Her uncle jumps down from his perch, landing daintily on his feet. He narrows his eyes, leering, “Odessa… it has been ages since you’ve arrived on Mystacore.”

“Hi, Talon,” Odessa says.

He looks at her friends, “You two are faring well, I hope.”

Hydrangea smiles, “Yes, thank you for asking!”

Tristan nods, “You look good, too, Talon.”

“Indeed,” Talon answers. “It would be a shame if I lost my abilities.”

With that, he throws knives out from his sleeve. Tristan dodges the attack by barreling to the side, somersaulting along the ground. Hydrangea calls up plants from underground, knives embedding into the sides. Odessa leaps into the air, reaching behind her to draw out a handheld bar. With a click, it extends to a staff, and another morphs it quickly into a pilum.

Reeling back her arm, she launches it with full ferocity at Talon. He avoids it, jumping to the left and pulling out more knives, but he aims them at Tristan, who runs toward the nearest fountain to pull water out from its containment. Tristan moves his arms upward, pushing out enough water to create a vertical depth, the knives slowing down as they pierce its surface and float inside.

Odessa tugs her spear out from the dirt, cornering her uncle at the right. Hydrangea pulls plants forward, fingers splayed in the air. From her fingertips, electricity strings across her exoskeleton. Tristan rushes to their side, water sloshing around them, encasing Talon in its center, creating a barrier.

Talon sneers, then bursts out laughing. His stance loosens, standing upright, “Your senses haven’t weakened. Good. I’d be vexed if you squandered my generosity to teach you combat.”

Odessa smirks, minimizing her staff and settling it behind her back, “We wouldn’t do that.”

Hydrangea grins, “Tristan and I do practice on our own.”

Tristan shifts the water back toward its source, then rubs the back of his neck, “Which is great, since there was no holding back from that attack.”

“Enemies don’t show mercy,” Talon says. Adjusting his collar, he nods his head, “But tell me, what brings my niece and her companions to Mystacore?”

Odessa speaks, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Me?” he replies, curious.

“Yes. It’s about your origins. Uncle Wrong-Man said it might be beneficial to come to Mystacore and question my relatives here.”

Talon raises a brow. He looks up at his home, then addresses the trio, “Are you intending to stay for longer than an hour?”

“Most likely.”

“I will invite you to my home, then. Come. Dinner will be prepared soon, and we may discuss the topic during.”

Accepting this, they head in the direction of his home. An impressive, ornate building that’s three stories high; they tread up wide steps, where one can overlook the weigela bushes lined around the vicinity’s front entrance, a fountain spouting water in the garden’s center, surrounded by lilacs and roses. Cool air wafts over their bodies, welcome from the heat outside. Odessa remarks that the decor has only slightly changed, the furniture taking on silver, blue, and white qualities, polished until they gleam.

Going to the stairs, Talon nods at them, “Make yourselves at home. As usual, do not break anything. I will see you at dinner promptly.”

Once he’s gone, Hydrangea chuckles, “He’s still intense.”

“He’s gonna kill us one day,” Tristan sighs.

Odessa pats his shoulder, “Only if we let him.”

He lips thin out, “Not reassuring, Des.”

Climbing the steps, they decide to wait until they are called, and opt to entertain themselves by bothering someone else.

Magic radiates within the room, energy felt even behind the door. Odessa carefully pushes it open, seeing a slim figure move around. Putting a finger to her lips, she leads her friends into her cousin’s quarters. His face is stern, staring at the spell hovering over the ground at shoulder height.

Hydrangea sits quietly on a cushion on the floor, and Tristan does the same. Odessa leans against the wall, and they all watch. Eon is her cousin, and their similarities begin and end with their fathers having chosen Etherian women as their partners. He differs from her, and any other potential cousin, by having the capability to do magic. Real, Etherian magic.

Eon takes measured breathing, focusing on the spell. It elongates toward the ceiling and floor, then narrows to a thin line. Reaching for it, he plucks it with his forefinger. It snaps, and a discordant sound follows, uncomfortable and shrill. Hydrangea and Tristan cover their ears, as Odessa winces.

Eon looks at them, brow raised. He grins, “Did you all enjoy the show?”

“We did, until that,” Hydrangea complains, glaring at him. She frowns, lightly slapping her ears, “Aw no, there’s some ringing!”

“It’ll pass in a few moments,” Eon explains. “Besides, you three coming into my room unannounced and unwelcome deserves a bit of retribution.”

“By popping our eardrums?” Tristan asks, deadpan.

“Exactly,” Eon says, one hand on his hip. He turns to Odessa, and smiles. “You’re here sooner than expected.”

“I believe we arrived on time,” she answers, grinning back. She hasn’t seen him for a while, but he has gotten taller since then. He takes after their species' propensity for large heights, but she knows he’s grown a few inches and might continue to grow for the next couple of years as well.

Eon begins putting away his spellbook and notes, arranging them neatly, “What are the three of you doing here? With you on Etheria, you normally visit me later on your returns.”

“I came to ask your father some questions, but then he invited us to dinner.”

“He can be standoffish, but oddly enough, never when it comes to hosting meals.”

Hydrangea sits up, “We got into a sparring session with him right away too.”

Eon joins them on the floor, one knee bent to prop up an arm, “I had mine early this morning. You know him, he’s never done with training.”

Crossing outstretched legs, Tristan reclines against the wall, “Your parents don’t let up, huh?”

“No, but I head to my place at Bright Moon later in the month. I check in biweekly to continue my sparring and magic training, then head back and repeat.”

“That’s a lot of back and forth,” Hydrangea adds, holding a pillow to her chest.

Shrugging, Eon says, “I don’t mind. Keeps me busy.”

Odessa chuckles lightly, taking a seat beside Tristan, “For being super busy, Uncle Wrong-Man said to give you this.” Pulling out the bag, she tosses it to him.

Eon catches it deftly, a quiet ‘yes’ of triumph leaving his lips. His diet is strict when he’s with his parents, for optimal nutrition and betterment. But he has a sweet tooth that rivals Odessa and Entrapta, thus any opportunity to consume sugar is taken. Using a levitation spell, he has it placed atop his desk, and an invisibility spell follows after, keeping it from view.

“Won’t your parents find it? It’s not like you can’t smell cookies,” Odessa states.

“I’ll say it was one of you.”

Hydrangea laughs, “I don’t think they’ll be entirely fooled by that.”

“If not, that’s fine by me too,” Eon says. “I let them think they’re savvier than myself.”

Tristan smirks, “How often has that worked?”

“More than for you,” Eon says, smirking back.

Odessa and Hydrangea whoop at Tristan, who laughs in good humor.

Stretching his arms up and to the side, Eon turns to his cousin, “How did the last journey go?”

“It went as planned. We went to Pilan, and my parents found what they needed for research.”

“And you two?” he asks, addressing the others.

Hydrangea lays on her stomach, drawing circles on the pillow, “Hm… my moms have started taking me to council meetings, which is interesting. We had a gathering with some of the leaders in Plumeria that are helping to manage its growing space. And New Chelicerata has been thriving for years now, since we removed all the machinery in the Fright Zone and expanded it into the Flower Field.”

“Not all the toxins have been removed, I’m assuming.”

“Some of the groundwater had been too polluted, and it leaked into larger bodies of water, but, as a whole, we started seeing real progress six years ago.”

“I’ve been helping the residents there by removing water too far gone,” Tristan adds. “We’ve been separating them into larger containers as instructed, and we’re hoping that newer technology from Entrapta and Hordak will yield positive results in another decade or so.”

“Even if it’s slow, progression is always good.”

Odessa glances to her left, letting her mind drift. Time doesn’t pass by the same when traveling through space. She watches her mother age, while her father stays the same, and that’s the extent of how often she pays attention to the changes happening around her. It’s not from ignorance, but from not giving too much thought to it, even with the years she has spent returning to Etheria to evaluate and aid her people here.

Settling against Tristan, Odessa yawns. He keeps his body still as she falls asleep, finding their chatter relaxing. Dinner will arrive sooner if she’s napping. Even closing her eyes is enough for her body to rest, breathing quietly as she listens to them discuss any topic they happen upon.

Her friends are interrupted mid-conversation, a knock at the door grabbing their attention. Odessa opens an eye. The housekeeper bows her head, addressing Eon, “Your parents are waiting for you in the dining room. Please, follow me.”

Odessa knows her uncle, Talon, is a force to be reckoned with in combat, but her aunt, Nyxia, is a woman with severe features and a severer personality. If there was ever given a choice between fighting him or her, they may have to weigh their options a little more carefully.

She is seated next to Eon, with Hydrangea and Tristan placed across from them. Odessa leans toward her cousin, “Did Nyxia poison the food this time?”

Eon shakes his head, “Maybe Tristan’s.”

Tristan bawks, “Hey!”

Waving his hand, Eon smiles, “I’m teasing. It’s more than likely Hydrangea.”

“What?!” she demands, worried.

“You two are making this easy,” Eon grins, shaking his head. “Really, after all this time, you continue to doubt my parents’ hospitality.”

“I haven’t seen your mom in a while, okay? I wouldn’t know if I offended her last time,” Hydrangea breathes out, leaning back in her chair.

Ear twitching, Odessa catches the sound of footfalls, her aunt coming into view from the corridor, chin-length, violet hair framing lithe, dark features, gown flowing behind her. Definitely not a person to be out of line around.

But that only applies to non-relatives.

Nyxia smiles warmly at her niece, “Odessa! My charming girl, how have you been?”

“Wonderful, Aunt Nyxia, thank you,” Odessa replies, nodding her head in respect.

“Excellent. I heard all of you did well in your impromptu session with my husband earlier,” she says, making her way to the other end of the table. Standing beside her chair, she looks at her son’s other friends, “Talon remarked that you’ve improved considerably.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Hydrangea and Tristan reply at once.

Talon comes from the opposite corridor, walking toward Nyxia. Pulling out the chair for her and sliding it beneath, he moves to the other end and takes his place at the head. The staff bring out their meal: roasted pheasants and potatoes, slathered in its drippings, with baked seasoned vegetables on the side. Wine is served to all of them, as Nyxia and Talon are lax in this department of child-rearing, though the option to have different beverages is always available. Odessa requests her usual fizzy drink, as Hydrangea asks for lemon water. Tristan and Eon have no qualms with the choice displayed in front of them.

“Smells delicious, Miss Nyxia,” Hydrangea compliments.

“Thank you, my dear,” she answers, laying a cloth on her lap. “When I heard you three were in Mystacore, I chose to make this instead.”

Odessa and Eon twiddle each other’s fingers under the table, a silent ‘fuck yeah’ to the change in menu. Nyxia is a phenomenal chef, but she abhors cooking. The usual staff do lovely work, except they are meant to keep things simple, clean, and balanced. Nyxia, despite agreeing with her husband on meal preparation, manages to create rich, satisfying food each time. Normally, when Odessa and her family are visiting.

Relishing this opportunity, Eon cuts into his pheasant, stabbing a portion of potato with it, melting on his tongue. Trying not to pretend-weep. Or actually weep.

“What was your question, Odessa?” Talon asks, swirling the wine in its glass. “It’s not like you to come without your parents.”

Dabbing her mouth, Odessa looks at him, “I wanted to ask you questions about your time serving as a soldier for Prime.”

He doesn’t break the smooth motion of his wrist, not minding that part of his life, “Yes?”

“I was told that older clones might have information regarding our origins. A life before Prime sought out to conquer the universe. My father and W.H. are too young to remember, or were never privy to it. You’re one of the eldest, so I figured to come here before heading to Beast Island.”

Talon sets down his glass, lifting his fork and knife. He takes a bite of his food, chewing quietly. Swallowing, he says, “I will be blunt: it is not possible to know such a thing. Our purpose, our life, was to do Prime’s bidding.”

“There isn’t anything you can think of?”

Talon mulls the question, glancing up at his wife, then back to the plate. He narrows his eyes, and they flicker to an even darker shade of blue for a fraction of a moment. He gives a minute shake of his head, imperceptible to all but his wife.

Odessa waits for him to speak, slipping out her recorder with a strand of hair.

“I… cannot remember a time before Horde Prime. There was only war. Ravaged lands, and screaming,” he leans forward. He meets his niece’s gaze, “You might have to go to Beast Island for your answers, though I do not trust they will know more. Many of us have been alive for decades, but not millennia.”

“Is there a reason for that?” Tristan wonders. “The hivemind was the source of connection. Did you lose memories once it left?”

“No, it doesn’t seem to be that way,” Talon answers, sipping his drink. “It’s more… you have recollections, starting from the present. And it continues backwards until it stops. A wall in your head, which is the moment of when we, for lack of a better word, are ‘born.’ From what I’ve gathered, raising Eon, and observing all of you growing up, an infant that develops naturally can have memories that are faint—both in sensation and imagery, and the mind’s eye develops scenarios of what could’ve happened. Piecing puzzles in your memory banks. Attempting to make sense of your childhood and surroundings, and it even causes you to feel certain emotions into adulthood on a subconscious level. For us, and my brothers, there is no guesswork. There is the instant of emerging from the vitrine, and from there it goes on. Our memories are crystal clear, and gaps do not occur. If we feel emotion, it’s from direct experiences, not preconceived ideas of maybe how we experienced living. The hivemind being removed made us how we are now, but its absence didn’t seem to affect anything else.”

“Fascinating,” Odessa says, forgetting her meal. “So, you remember everything?”

“Yes. It would seem my brothers and I recall memories at greater capacities than most.”

“Would you say you have photographic memory?” Hydrangea asks, leaning forward.

“Our superior intellect allows us to retain knowledge quicker, and we remember things for longer, but a true photographic memory isn’t an aspect we have considered.”

Nyxia cuts into her pheasant, “It’s not unlikely. Your brothers and you have shown an uncanny ability to remember things more greatly than Etherians. It might be prudent to research it further, wouldn’t you say?”

Nodding in agreement, Odessa would not rule it out. She’ll discuss it with her mother for an unbiased opinion later.

Dinner finishes with chiffon cake and fruit, leaving guests and hosts satisfied. Talon and Nyxia wave at the door, as Eon walks them to the portal.

“It was good to see you all,” Hydrangea says, turning to Eon. She clasps his hands, “You should visit more!”

Eon blushes slightly, still not used to open demeanors, “I’ll try to make an effort.”

Tristan pats his shoulder, “You have to get out more. Between you and Odessa, I don’t know who’s more of the hermit.”

“It’s definitely me,” Eon replies. “Odessa’s too needy.”

Punching him in the arm, Odessa gives a side-hug right after. She and her friends step onto the portal, “I’ll drop by again soon! And visit my parents sometime, dumbass.”

He flips her off, smirking.

Hopping through the portal, they arrive in Plumeria, where she bids goodbye to her friends. Then, she heads to Beast Island.

“Odessa! My little cupcake, how was your trip to Mystacore?” Entrapta asks. Imp, crawling around on the walls, chirps his greetings with Emily beeping at her return.

“It was very interesting,” Odessa says, pulling out her recorder. “Would you like to listen with me?”

“You bet!” Entrapta shouts, sidling over to sit on her hair. Odessa takes a proffered seat before playing back the conversation at dinner. She listens with rapt attention, the two of them quiet. Afterward, Entrapta grins, “That was fascinating! I had noticed that your relatives tend to be more affluent with recollection than most, but this requires more study.”

“Do you think there is a possibility that they have photographic memory?”

“We won’t know unless we test the hypothesis,” Entrapta turns to her daughter, grinning wide. “You know what that means!”

Odessa grins wide too, saying it with her.

“Time to experiment!”

Odessa and Entrapta had to decide what and how to measure. The test is simple on paper, but part of the reason memory tests can be difficult is due to fallibility of nature. Recalling a memory does not equate accuracy. They also had to take into account that Etherian children were more susceptible to false memories, which could affect them as adults, hence, why Talon said that there’s no guesswork for his brothers and himself. And when it came to the ethics, Entrapta reminded Odessa that it’s part of experimentation, much to the latter’s chagrin. Odessa would’ve followed, regardless, but she’s more determined to see things through without obstacles.

A lack of true full-blooded children for Hordak’s species, and Eon and Odessa were not little anymore, that wasn’t necessary to entertain. However, Odessa and Entrapta believed it would be prudent to test the memory of Eon and any other hybrid cousins simultaneously to the Etherian and Horde groups, sans Odessa.

After deliberating, they chose to experiment by gathering Etherians between the ages of 15-50, to cover the age bases of both Etherian teens and adults, hybrid offspring, and Horde descendants. After age 14, correct absolute judgments and relative judgments have better succession rates and are not as affected by false positives. With this in mind, Odessa sends out a mass message asking if anyone would like to be part of a study.

She receives her answers quickly from her uncles, who would be more than delighted to aid her in any quest. She splits them into four groups, Group A, B, C and D. To accommodate for the choice in subjects, they will be separated into three sections, Etherians being the first, hybrids the second, and her uncles will be the third subsect. Over the course of the week, she receives the rest of her subjects at Beast Island.

Tristan and Hydrangea are the first to arrive, looking forward to spending time with her and her family in the meantime. Hydrangea gives Emily and Imp hugs and kisses, cooing over them incessantly. Imp clings to Hydrangea’s neck, completely at ease.

Tristan pats Emily’s surface, smiling at her beeps, “It’s good to see you too.”

She beeps even louder and harder, spinning around in place.

Entrapta grins, “Aw, you made her day!”

“No one else is my favorite robot, are they, Ems?” Tristan asks. She spins again, and the whirring becomes softer, almost shy.

Odessa nudges his ribs, “Great, my sister has a crush on you.”

Tristan rolls his eyes, smiling.

Odessa peers at his face, “Hey, you shaved!”

“Yeah, you were right. It was horrible,” Tristan remarks.

“You look better this way,” Odessa affirms, pinching his cheek, and he lightly whacks her fingers away.

Scorpia comes a moment later, and immediately bolts over to them all. Once the hugs are done, Scorpia and Entrapta discuss things on their own. Entrapta settles into the crook of Hordak’s arm, resting easily over her shoulders. Scorpia gushes over how cute they are. Hordak humphs in disdain, despite the blush on his cheeks.

Another five minutes pass and the portal hums. Catra, Adora, and two of their children come through.

Odessa sighs. Not looking forward to having some of them here. But she smiles, walking to Adora, “Hi! Thanks for coming.”

Adora smiles, giving Odessa a warm hug. She pulls back, holding her at arm’s length, “It’s no problem. We’re glad to help! You’ve gotten taller.”

“You’ve definitely sprouted more than we thought. I remember when you were knee-high,” Catra says. “You were the worst ankle-biter in Etheria.”

Odessa teases, “Still am.”

Laughing, Catra pats her back, walking hand in hand with Adora to their friends.

Her smile falters after that, though she manages to keep it in place. If Catra and Adora weren’t there, she wouldn’t hide her contempt or indifference.

They have four children in total. Quadruplets in fact. All a year younger than her at 15. Two of them, Clawdeen and Marlena, tend to spend their time in Bright Moon, and she has no opinion of them other than they’re not her sort of people. Well, that’s not true. They’re surprisingly elitist and refuse to associate with anyone they find unworthy of their time. They mind their business enough, however, so Odessa doesn’t pay them attention.

Barely coming to five feet tall, Molly is one of the children here today, a skittish, timid thing; the runt of her litter. She inherited Catra’s heterochromia, one eye blue, the other green, and that’s the one interesting thing about her. She stands, unsure, by the portal. Her appearance here is odd, since she tends to be alone. Odessa doesn’t hate her, or even dislike her, but the girl’s meekness doesn’t make her striking enough to have an opinion on either.

Adam, their one son, is another story. His eyes are bright blue, and slightly jarring in the feline face. The opposite of Molly, he is loud, prone to temper tantrums, and his temerity leaves much to be desired. She prefers the company of confident, open people, but he’s, without a doubt, the most obnoxious fucker she’s ever had the misfortune of knowing.

His eyes, the only one to resemble Adora’s, land on hers, and he leaps over, grinning. Placing an arm on her shoulder, leaning, he says, “Yooooo, what’s up, girl?”

Odessa turns to him, narrowing her eyes, “Please don’t take my smile for welcome, you complete ass.”

“Ooh, baby, you need to chill,” Adam says, poking her nose.

“Try that one more time and I’ll bite it off.”

He winks, “That a promise, thottie from space?”

Odessa smiles wider, eyes flashing, “It’s a threat, you parasitic fool.”

Sensing her growing irritation, her friends bound over. Hydrangea waves at Adam, “Hey! We haven’t seen you in a long time. How’ve you been?”

Adam turns to her, “Hey, Dragon Fruit! You know how I be—taking care of all this,” Adam gestures to his thin body, puffing out his chest. “What you been up to lately? Those flower braids are doing everything for your look.”

Hydrangea urges him to walk far, far, far, far away from Odessa’s area.

Rubbing her temples, Odessa takes a breath.

Tristan rubs her back, “Remember, Des: think of the experiment.”

Odessa nods at him. Science. Her one true refuge. “I know. It’s a little… irritating that he’s here. But I’m sure that empty-headed dolt will yield some results for me.”

Tristan smiles at her, ensuring she doesn’t lose her cool. Once he’s sure she won’t murder, he looks at Molly, “Hi! I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Molly brushes hair away, looking briefly at the ground before addressing him. “Yeah… Um, my moms thought it would be cool to take one or two of us. To help Odessa out.”

Odessa shakes her head, “So glad about that.”

“Um… I’m sorry about Adam...” Molly starts.

“It’s fine,” Odessa replies, focusing back on her clipboard, walking away.

Sighing, Molly bites her lower lip, feeling uneasy.

Noticing that, Tristan smiles at Molly, “Come on. We can wait over here.”

“Sorry you’re stuck with me,” she mumbles.

“I’m not stuck with you,” Tristan answers. He leads her to an unoccupied stone ledge, the occasional pooka darting across it. “Though, I didn’t think this was your sort of thing.”

“It isn’t. I don’t really want to be here,” Molly answers, pulling her legs to her chest.

“It might be fun, right?” Tristan asks.

Shrugging, Molly places her chin onto her hands.

They both watch the portal light up, a plethora of clones marching through. It has to pause for a brief moment, then it continues to spew individuals out of it. Tristan glances down at Molly, knowing there’s no point in attempting to converse. The silence doesn’t bother him, and she seems to take more comfort out of not having to make dreadful small talk. He hates it too, so this works.

Eon and his parents eventually pass through. Waving at him, Tristan reclines in his seat, “You and your folks actually came. I didn’t think any of you left the house.”

Standing with his arms behind his back, at ease, Eon smirks, “You’re all lucky we don’t come out more often.”

Tristan sticks his tongue out at him. He gestures to his left, “You remember Molly?”

Eon looks down at her, “Yes, we have met before. Nice to see you again.”

Molly flushes, turning away, “Nice to see you too…”

He glances at Tristan, who gives a one-shoulder shrug.

She keeps quiet, looking at the people around her. Hordak and his brothers all stand out as one unit, and other cousins similar to Eon slowly arrive. Not as large in number, with more variation than Hordak’s species but less than natives. She watches Etherians coming forth as well, and doesn’t wave or acknowledge them. Hoping to blend with the background, she scoots further away, sinking behind Tristan.

Tristan notes her discomfort and doesn’t move.

Eon, however, waves at some relatives, who rush over to greet him.

Molly frowns, accepting her fate. She takes to watching Eon speak with his family, his tall, sleek body impressive even among those similar to him in build. His hair, cropped shorter at the sides, falls in front of his forehead, a darker hue than his cousin Odessa. His eyes are a lovely shade, bordering on magenta with a stronger red tint, the sclera an equally pretty color, lighter than his irises. His usual confident smirk remains on his face throughout, bright, sharp teeth against the usual backdrop of pale face with the sides of his cheekbones and neck becoming a shock of dark blue or purple. It seems to be a common male trait, since Odessa’s face is white all around, but she isn’t sure. She doesn’t see the other cousins close enough to tell.

She spies Odessa wandering with her device, either barking orders or quietly checking off things. Long, lilac hair floats behind her when not in use, her frame just as slim and tight as the others, and inheriting a tall height seems to be the norm for them. Despite her gorgeous features, Molly finds it interesting, also intimidating, how much redder Odessa’s eyes and sclera are compared to Eon’s.

Hydrangea is speaking with Odessa now, platinum blonde hair brushing against her body, falling in the softest of waves to the small of her back. Her lithe frame befits the gentler, kinder nature she has, which isn’t surprising considering who her parents are. But there’s that powerful change in limb, her arms spiking at the shoulder in dark red, the skin of her arms mottled with it, until it reaches her elbows, where it spikes again, hardens, forming another patch of chitinous skin that reaches her fingertips, claws neatly filed down. And then there’s the tail, shorter, but as potent as Scorpia’s. Deadly and graceful.

She looks up at Tristan, beautiful, brown eyes staring off to the distance. Long lashes frame them, delicate yet full. His hands rest lightly over his knees, fingernails painted black. Hair reaching the end of his neck, lightly touching muscular shoulders, it enriches brown skin with its color, more than a mere dark purple. It’s the color of wine in the dark, of a gorgeous night as the last remnants of light dash away. The blue of his clothes highlight everything further, lavish gold trim clashing against the bright colors, revealing every taut muscle without meaning to, and she traces the curve of his spine with her eyes.

She feels a gaze on her, and finds her brother staring at her from a distance. Molly, snapping from her reverie, darts her sight to the ground. Unaware of Tristan looking in her direction.

Once enough participants have arrived, Odessa claps her hands, “Alright, people! Listen up: I have divided you all into the following groups. Step up this way, where I will assign you all with a place to go to.”

Adam bounds up out of nowhere, whispering, “Can whatever group I’m in be called Team Sexy?”

Odessa ignores him, “Let’s begin, shall we?”

HYDRANGEA

Age: 15

Species: Etherian

“Alright,” Odessa says. “I’m going to show you 10 pictures. You will have seven seconds to absorb all the details for them, and afterward, I will ask you one simple question about what you can remember.”

“You got it!” Hydrangea sits in her chair, comfortable. “Sounds easy enough.”

Odessa smiles, “Here’s your first one.”

She holds up a simple image of table mats atop a wooden surface, decorated with plates of breakfast foods, drinks, and fresh fruits.

“Okay, ready for the question?”

“Yep!”

“What fruits topped the waffles?”

“Oh, um… berries and apples?”

Writing it down, Odessa proceeds with the next image.

TRISTAN

Age: 17

Species: Etherian

“Hello!” Entrapta says, bringing him in. “I’m going to show you 10 pictures for less than 10 seconds each, and you’ll let me know what you remember.”

“Sure thing,” Tristan replies, sitting upright.

She pulls out an image of miscellaneous items and personal effects on a desk, three photographs in the middle, a drawing in one of the corners, a grey notebook, and a folder with intricate patterns.

“Okay, ready for the question?”

“Yes.”

“Were there tickets on the table?”

Tristan mulls his answers for a moment, “No.”

MOLLY

Age: 15

Species: Etherian

Odessa approaches the girl, relieved that she doesn’t have to deal with the handful that was her brother. She looks at Molly, “I’m going to hold up 10 pictures for you, and you will have seven seconds to absorb the image. Afterward, I will ask you questions.”

“Alright,” Molly nods, nails clicking against each other.

The image is of a mountain peak, glinting from the light; the moon shines above it, and a trip of hoofed animals moving along its surface.

“What was the total number of baby goats in the image?”

Molly thinks over the total, and says, “Five.”

ADAM

Age: 15

Species: Etherian

Entrapta comes into the room, “Hello! I’m going to be showing you some pictures—”

Adam interrupts her, “Is this going to take long?”

“Nope! It takes less than five minutes for this segment to be complet—”

“Do we get paid to do this?”

“...No.”

Scratching his nose, Adam leans back in his chair, “Got it, got it. Lay it on me, girl!”

Entrapta smiles, “Great! So, I have 10 pictures and I will show them to you for about seven seconds. I will ask you questions after each one about what you saw.”

“Question real quick: is this one of those tests that explain anything about your psychosis?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it gonna tell me anything, like, am I gonna learn about who is the most likely to be a murderer or nymphomaniac?”

Raising a brow at him, Entrapta says, “I can’t divulge too much about the study to participants. But this is not that kind of test.”

“Aw… okay,” Adam shifts back further in his seat, lifting the front legs from the ground. “Well, that’s less fun.”

Entrapta proceeds to bring out a picture: a series of potted plants are lined on shelves, different heights and colors smashed closely together in the frame, their pots not resembling the others save for a few.

“What was the centre motif for the pots?”

Adam scratches his chin, “Frog, I think.”

EON

Age: 18

Species: Etherian and ?

Odessa approaches her cousin, sitting relaxed in the seat. She had gone through the first ten pictures with him already. She glances at him, “Are you ready to continue with the process?”

“Whatever this study is, I’m assuming that you need me to come back again for another trial run.”

“Yes, you will be returning a few times after today to aid in the study, as per your agreement on the written form.”

“Of course.”

“You went through the first half, and you’re going to begin the second half now. This is slightly different,” Odessa explains. Instead of photographs, she holds up a pad, similar in size and weight to her telecommunicator. “I am going to hold up one image: a grid of white and black squares. Then, I will show you a second image, of the same number of squares on the grid; however, you will choose the one square you believe was white in both image one and image two. Image three will have the grids with numbers in the squares instead for you to pick. The amount of time will be the same, seven seconds. There are four levels of difficulty, and you will proceed until we reach the last level.”

Nodding, Eon watches her lift the screen to his eyes. A grid of white and black appears, and he keeps in mind which are white only. The second image appears. Then the third. He makes his decision. He will not know if he is right, as the data is processed within for the researchers alone.

Odessa keeps her face neutral the entire time, intrigued at what this part of the test will yield from everyone else.

TALON

Age: approx. 90 (total) | approx. 52 (mental) | approx. 52 (physiological)

Species: ?

Entrapta smiles, “We do appreciate you helping with the test.”

“It is no trouble,” Talon states. “You and my niece are a select few that do not leave me…”

“Irritated?”

“We’ll use that word.”

Entrapta approaches her brother-in-law, setting herself down on swathes of hair, “Are you ready for the second half of the test?”

“Yes. By all means, little sister, proceed.”

“Excellent! I’m going to show you a grid with black and white squares. Another image will appear after on the device. The number of squares will not change, however, you have to decide what is the one square that remained white. You will pick that in the third image, where the squares will all be numbered.”

“Understood. You may show me the first image.”

W.H.

Age: approx. 40 (total) | approx. 23 (mental) | approx. 27 (physiological)

Species: ?

“This must be exciting for you, isn’t it?” W.H. asks. “You haven’t done a study like this in a while.”

Readying the pad, she nods, “It has been a few years since I’ve conducted anything in this manner.”

“I still remember when you were little, and you insisted on having your first experiment be a methane explosion. You were so cute!”

Odessa smiles, “Speaking of memory, we’re going to begin the second half of the test. You will have the same amount of time to memorize the image on screen. Another will follow right after, and your task is to choose which square on the grid remained white. The image will be your selection on a numbered grid.”

“Sounds fun!”

Holding it up for him, Odessa watches his eyes stay in place, focused. A flicker to indicate change on the screen, then another before he makes his decision.

HORDAK

Age: approx. 56 (total) | approx. 57 (mental) | approx. 35 (physiological)

Species: ?

Entrapta can’t help but smile at him, “Thanks for helping, Lab Partner!”

Hordak smiles back, rising from the chair, “Of course. The experiment seems to be going well.”

“It’s been so fascinating!” Entrapta lifts herself up in the air, at his height. “Everyone has been super helpful, even when they’re rambling about their own assumptions!”

“Who was rambling?”

“One of Catra’s kids—the boy. He was very interesting when he talked, but I had to stay focused! We’re collecting so much data… Odessa is going to be ecstatic!”

Happy to see her in good spirits, Hordak leans forward, kissing her cheek, “When you’re done, I will be waiting for you in our room.”

Entrapta waggles her eyebrows at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Ooh! Is this about that new maneuver you wanted to show me?”

“We’ll see if your memory serves you just as well tonight,” Hordak smirks.

Squealing, Entrapta kicks her legs behind her, pecking his mouth with her own. “Can’t wait!”

The results, overall, took two months to compile through the data machine and to check back in with the participants. None of the groups had different numbers, pictures, objects, or words. Odessa and Entrapta tested everyone on their eidetic and photographic memory ability. Group A had no distractions, Group B had Etherians with distractions only, Group C was where her cousins had the disturbances, and Group D it was her uncles with diversions.

When it came to eidetic memory, the numbers didn’t vary too much. But the photographic memory yielded noteworthy results. Each group was brought back a month after being tested to see if they could recall things better. A few Etherians showed some promising ability for it, but overall it wasn’t strong. Her cousins showed stronger signs for photographic memory, Eon being one of the best candidates.

But her uncles were nearly at a 97% rate of accuracy. Talon and W.H. showed an adeptness for remembering things weeks later. Hordak was somewhere in the middle. She wonders why.

“Mom,” she says, holding the charts in her hair. “I know that photographic memory is rare, but these numbers are unreal.”

“I know! The majority of your relatives have a knack for it! That’s so fascinating.”

“I have a theory that it might be due to the hivemind, and perhaps the military training they underwent. It would make sense why they have such capability, even two decades later,” Odessa says. She pulls another chart toward them, tapping her forefinger in quick successions behind it. “It may or may not be that, since we’re not certain of Dad’s origins, but it would explain aspects of it.”

Entrapta’s hair moves her behind her daughter, peering over her shoulder, “It may. I saw that Wrong Hordak was remarkable with photographic memory, and Talon as well.”

“I believe it’s possible that it might be due to neither having depressive episodes. It may have been a group study, but I saw that clones similar to Dad in terms of mental health had a tendency toward memory loss or confusion. It’s not as often or strong as Etherians, or a couple of my cousins, but it’s there. Brains are brains after all.”

“It is exceptional to write this in our records. I wish we had more examples to go by,” Entrapta says. She smiles, “I think it says quite a lot when you compare it to Etherians and your cousins, though.”

“I do find this riveting. Even if it’s Dad cloned thousands of times, there’s something in their brains, their minds, that can provide clues to them as a whole. It’d be prudent to conduct more research, but I’d like to begin as soon as possible, and I can add notes as I go along.”

Entrapta pats her daughter’s head, “And now that you have this information, what do you intend to do with it?”

Odessa looks up at her mother, then back at the data. “I’m going to have Tris and Gea come with me on a little field trip.”

#entrapdak #entrapta #hordak #entrapdak fankid #odessa #shera #spop

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