The Trip

Amber smoothed out her dress in the mirror and teased at her side-pony to separate the curls. She blinked a few times, turning to check that she looked alright. She pulled at a loose stocking and checked the joints of her leg; everything seemed to be alright.

She turned around and faced the room full of freshly bought camping gear.

“I’m not sure how you plan on packing all this, lass,” remarked Captain bones from the doorway.
Amber studied the bags for a moment before looking back at him. “…It will be fine,” she assured him. He didn’t have eyes to roll, but she could recognize the feeling in their connection. “….you may help if you like.”

You will help me pack if you’re going to make such a big deal out of it.

The nice thing about a soul-bound connection was the deeper sense of understanding. The Captain came in and started sifting through bags. Amber brought out the bags she bought to transport it all.
“How long do you two think you’ll be gone?” Captain Bones asked as he examined a rolled up sleeping bag.
“….I have decided a week might be too long. An extended weekend would be best.” Amber shoved a bulk container of salt into her travel bag. “The camp grounds have alerted me if I wish to extend our reservation I may; it is not a busy time.”

“I’m surprised you decided against the cruise,” said the Captain.

Amber looked at him and blinked. She felt him smile in jest.
“Whaaaat?” he asked.
“I did not want to frighten her. This is supposed to be a fun vacation.”
He nodded. “Aye, and I bet it will be.” He slid his fully packed bag across the floor to her. “And don’t you worry, I’ll keep the fort while you’re out.”

“Do not invite anyone over.”

The Captain sighed.

Amber zipped up the other bag and leaned the pair against the wall. “She’ll be home soon,” she said. She crossed the room and put a gentle hand on the Captain’s arm. “…Would you help me get dinner ready?”

“Aye lass. I’ll get the food out, you start the grill.”

Trust

It was a quiet, breezy afternoon. Marian was out in the park, sketching an open field on the northern edge with a bit of charcoal. She needed to get the sketches done for the butterfly garden before they could start construction.

She was avoiding being home.

Marian was no stranger to secrets and lies. Even her name, though it came so easily to her and sounded so fine, was as much a lie as anything else. She hid dreams and fears in locked notebooks. She had forged identities and costumes to keep eyes off of her true self. Nothing could be crueler than society, and without her reputation Marin felt as though she had very little. Therefore, it stood to reason, that she shouldn’t be bothered or surprised by the lies and secrets of others.

So why did Hana’s lie hurt so much?

Because you tell her everything, came the sound of Marian’s inner logic, unfortunately carrying Hana’s voice. You never kept secrets from her.
An old piece of advice from her Uncle Roku had been, “always tell someone your secrets.” She had every reason not to trust him on that, given his infamous reputation within the house, but she had taken the advice to heart anyway. There wasn’t a thing about Marian that Hana didn’t know. Perhaps that’s why she felt so blindsided by the whole ordeal.

“Miss?” rang the ever familiar tones of Hana’s voice.

Marian turned. Hana had come all the way out here to fetch her, it seemed. She watched Hana tuck a strand of hair behind her ear before undoing the action. She focused on Hana’s still broken glasses; on the beautiful blue eyes that matched Hana’s loose silk dress. On eyes that she had always sworn she could see the reflections of the stars.

She turned back to her work.

“Do you need something?” Marian asked. She tried not to wince at the curtness of her words; she hadn’t meant to be so harsh.
Marian’s hand stopped drawing when he heard Hana’s answer, “I have upset you.” Hana pulled up her dress so as not to stain it and got down on her knees. Marian turned and watched her bow. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s fine,” Marian replied. She felt bad. She shouldn’t be so upset; it was just a silly lie.
Hana remained with her face towards the grass. “You said that earlier as well, but I don’t think you’re being honest with me.”

Marian let out a long sigh. Hana took that as her cue to sit up.

They locked eyes and Marian could see her own concern reflected in Hana’s otherwise passive composition. She knew it wouldn’t do to keep hiding how she felt; to keep hiding her worries and concerns.
“Was any of it real?” she asked, “You past, your mother, slavery….any of it?”
Hana brought a hand up to her chest and kept a grip on the silver locket she had always worn. It was rare to see emotion in Hana’s face, but even she couldn’t keep it locked up forever.
She spoke slowly, “part of it were,” she paused and moved her eyes down in thought- “-embelleshed.” She looked back down at Marian. “But the parts about my mother were true.”

Marian allowed Hana to continue, “we had very little. She had grown to be very sick. My father had never come home from work one day. My sister cried a lot with hunger. Mother didn’t feel like she had much of a choice at that point, I was the only hope she had to make things better.” She turned her eyes away again and moved her hand from the necklace to wipe at the corners of her eyes. Those memories still hurt her.
“That was true, and I hadn’t told anyone until you asked, Miss,” Hana reaffirmed.

While she still lacked the whole story, a weight had been lifted from Marian’s shoulders.

Marian set down her drawing tools and pulled Hana into a warm hug. Hana tried to hide her sniffles. She whispered small apologies laden with sorrow. Marian felt the sting of tears playing at her own eyes as the guilt crept in.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too.”

Waiting

Something was wrong.

Luviia stood on the old creek bridge and stared off at the pool of magic at the forest’s edge; that hadn’t been there before. That wasn’t so concerning, streams backed up into pools now and then, or their courses would change here and there. Typically this was when something strange happened; when a powerful magic user got desperate. But who was coming out to these woods?

Luviia came to the bridge a lot to smoke and escape her brother; that’s what she was doing now. The magic had always flown from the creek out into the woods; but she’d never seen it pool. She’d never seen another soul down here, so why would it be pooling?

Something had to be wrong.

It wasn’t just the pooling. That much she could accept; she understood enough to know that magic was unpredictable at times and the lines flood just as the creek does, but something about this twisted at her gut.

It looked odd.

The lines cycled through colors; most of which she could not describe but knew they had to be colors of some sort. The pools cycled too. The magic would ebb and flow and change as it was used by the world and the magic users (magicians?).

She had never seen this color.

The magic felt wrong. It didn’t radiate out like the line that flowed through the creek. It set her hair on end and curled her insides into knots; even from this distance. It turned the sky into a blinding white the longer she looked at it. It looked thick, and heavy. She was finding it hard to breathe.

She tore her gaze away from the magic and focused on the world around it. Nothing had changed. The trees looked fine, dull as they ever had been. The ground was green and overgrown. An opportunistic squirrel dashed through the shadows.

Fine.

She took one last drag of her cigarette before putting it out on the railing. She focused back in on the magic while she let out the smoke.

Something was happening.

What was it waiting for?

A Rose by Any Other Name

“Am I going to have to change my name some day?” Charlie asked. He was sitting in the living room, his homework on the table but without progress since he had arrived home an hour ago. The television was muted, but Marley could hear the static hum even from her computer desk. She turned and looked at him through the doorway, but he was focused on his textbook.
She answered, “maybe” and stood up to close the distance between them. “But I promise it isn’t so bad,” she added. She sat down in the armchair and glanced at the TV. A cartoon bear was talking to a cartoon human over lunch; she’d never grow used to children’s television.

“How many names has Aunt Cosette had?”
Marley couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Cosette was the worst name her aunt had ever picked, especially since they hadn’t lived in Europe for over a century. “Many,” was the only answer she could provide. “Aunt Cosette changes her name more often than most of us, I think.”
“What’s her real name?”
Marley closed her eyes and thought about this. All creatures were bound by true names, these were the laws. The good fortune in changing ones name every so often was that, occasionally, the true name became lost and so did the fear of someone unsavory getting their hands on it. “The oldest name I can remember is Lillian, though I know that’s not the oldest.”

Charlie flipped a page in the textbook that Marley could tell he wasn’t actually reading. It was also, probably, inaccurate but she made efforts not to argue about such things.
“What’s your real name?” He looked up at her. She hadn’t been asked that question in a long time.
“Ah,” she started, but the words wouldn’t come out. She switched to redirection, “what has you so worried?”

Charlie shrugged and turned back to the book. “Just…having a hard time imagining not being…me,” he admitted. Marley frowned and adjusted her glasses; poor kid. She supposed this whole lifestyle was a lot of pressure. Sure, he wouldn’t have to worry about the issues she had faced as a young vampire, but that didn’t mean that the life was easy. Eternity is always longer than everyone thinks.
Marley stood up. “Wait here,” she said. Charlie shrugged. She bustled off down the hall to her bedroom and opened up the closet. She pushed through collections of hanging clothes until she reached a small bookcase in the back. When she arrived back in the living room, her arms were filled with several leather-bound books in varying conditions; most of them with wrinkled spines and well loved covers.

“Make some room, then,” she said. Charlie looked at her for a moment, then moved his work aside. Marley set down the stack with a small thud and pulled the top book down. She flipped through it a bit before setting it down, open, on the table in front of Charlie. The two of them looked down at a picture of a young girl in an elegant dress. She was standing by a man and another woman. Scraps of fabric and pressed flowers decorated the page around the picture, and a name was written in elegant script beneath: Margaret.
“Admittedly,” Marley said, pointing at the elegant woman, “this was not my best portrait. But finding a good realism painter was hit or miss, and then later, preparing for cameras was quite a chore.”

“That’s you?” Charlie asked. The disbelief in his voice was palpable. Marley giggled. She answered him by flipping a few more pages to another portrait. The girl showed little difference, but her companions had changed considerably. The name written beneath said Madeline.
“That’s the second time I used that name,” she said, pointing at the script. “But I figured it had been some time since then, there was little harm.”
She let Charlie flip through a few more pages. Every few had a portrait of her with another person, often in sweet poses with broad smiles. She hardly changed page to page. In between pages were filled with love notes written on ancient paper, pressed flowers, and delicate ribbons or fabrics. Some of the pages were stained. Some of the pages were stained with blood.

“These are all you?” Marley could tell her brother meant it more as a statement than a true question. She nodded anyway. “Do you have a favorite name?” he asked.
“I’m partial to my current one, actually,” she admitted with a giggle. “But Madeline was one of my favorites, and…” She paused and looked over the stack of books. She settled on a newer looking one, and pulled it from the middle stack. A few page flips, and she set it in front of Charlie.

A newer picture of a girl, of a slightly younger Marley, holding hands with someone else. Her clearly Victorian inspired garb clashed with the more modern look of the friend beside her. They were smiling. Marley’s eyes fell to the other items in the scrap book; a napkin with a coffee stain and writing too messy to read, a single dried violet, a few receipts from an old general store.
“Maxine?” Charlie read the name scrawled below the portrait as a question.

Marley nodded.

“I liked that name a lot.”

A Cornflower Favor: Part 3 (Final)

Hana took a deep breath, then took her
first steps into the crowded room. She pictured the masses of people
pausing in their reverie and parting to allow her to pass. She
pictured a long and silent procession as she walked with grace and
poise towards her new Mistress.

That didn’t happen.

The crowds paid her no mind and she was
forced to find breaks and spaces between them in order to cross the
room. She nearly bumped into a few guests who had moved, at the last
second, into her path. When she finally broke free of the crowd, she
squared her shoulders and looked down at the young girl. Her hand was
grasping at her Uncle’s robes as she stared up at Hana. She was so
small.

“Mayumi, I would like you to meet
Hana,” Rokuji said, gesturing to her. Hana bowed. Mayumi bowed her
head.
“It is wonderful to meet you, Miss,” Hana lied. She
hadn’t wanted this. She’d no idea what she was meant to do; this girl
was still so young. Was she even old enough for Hana to teach her?

Mayumi reached out towards Hana,
gesturing to her hands. She obliged, and Mayumi took a hand into her
own. She traced Hana’s arm with her eyes, pausing on each perfect
blue bow. Mayumi smiled.
“You bought me a friend,” she
said.
Rokuji chuckled, placing a hand on Mayumi’s head. He tried
to explain, “more than that.” He paused and Hana watched him chew
lightly on the inside of his cheek while he thought. He found the
words he was looking for, “Mayumi, it is tradition that when a
child comes of age they are given a companion to help bring them into
adulthood.”

Hana found it hard to believe that
Mayumi still appeared to be confused; her house had a reputation
across Creation for its hedonistic ways. House Cynis owned many
brothels all over the land and the name was common on the tongues of
even quiet slaves. Could they really have sheltered her from all of
their activities?
Without letting the confused silence linger,
Hana spoke up, “like kissing,” she said.

“Oh!” Mayumi pulled a hand up over
her open mouth; she was blushing. The corner of Hana’s mouth
twitched. Rokuji chuckled. Hana watched Mayumi give her uncle another
hug. The young girl looked up at Hana again with a broad smile.
“Can
that wait, Hana? I think we should just enjoy the party! Do you like
cake?”

Hana had almost forgotten about this
massive house as her prison. Mayumi and Rokuji had welcomed her into
the party like another guest; even if other party goers would only
cast her sideways glances and predatory stares. But here, in the dark
quiet of Mayumi’s massive bedroom, she was reminded that this was her
destiny for as long as someone else held her papers.

“My bed is very large,” Mayumi
said, pulling Hana over by a hand. Her touch was delicate. “You can
sleep in it with me.”
That’s the idea, Hana
thought. Mayumi hopped up onto the bed; she was blushing again.

“My…cousins,
talked to me about…kissing and things,” she managed to stammer
out. Her nervousness was rather adorable. She sat there, trying
almost desperately to smooth out the non-existent wrinkles in her
dress.

Hana
quirked an eyebrow. “Does this mean you think you’re ready for your
first lesson?” she asked.

Mayumi
nodded slowly.

Hana’s
face remained stoic even as she approached. “Your first lesson is
boundaries and assertiveness,” she said. She reached the edge of
the bed and looked into Mayumi’s chestnut eyes. “There is a lot
involved in the art of sensuality, in the physicality of love.” She
approached it all the way she approached anything; with logic and
forward thinking. Hana placed a hand on the soft sheets and loomed
over Mayumi.
She continued, “but knowing what you’re comfortable
with, and telling whoever else is involved is key.”

“I…I
don’t…”

Hana
locked eyes with Mayumi and spoke softly, “if you ever feel
uncomfortable, all you ever have to do is tell me to stop.”

A
careful pause.

Hana
was uncomfortable, but that didn’t really matter. She had a duty to
perform or she would never earn her freedom. She had a job to do and
she was going to suffer through and do it. She closed the gap between
them and brought her lips over Mayumi’s, their breath mingling for a
swift second before the girl cried out, “stop!”

Hana
pulled back. Mayumi’s lips were quivering at the corners, her hands
gripping the sheets like their release could cause her to fall
through the ceiling. Once Hana had pulled far enough back, Mayumi
pulled her knees closer; a tiny ball of nervousness.

Hana
bowed, unable to hide a relieved and satisfied smile. “As you wish,
Lady Cynis,” she said. When she looked back up, Mayumi hadn’t
moved. The girl looked on the brink of tears.

Hana’s
smile faded; the poor girl. She adjusted her glasses and considered
trying to lay a hand on the girl’s shoulder to console her, but
decided against it.
“Lady Cynis?” she asked. Mayumi looked up
at her and blinked away tears.

“Could
I get you a cup of chamomile tea?”

Blood in the Water

Southbound was like any other quiet Suburb of the City. Most people paid its tired streets and little houses no mind as they drove through on their way to a farther destination. Few outsiders dared to stop at local gas stations for emergency fill ups, only to note how almost impossibly quiet the little town was; they never stuck around for long. Lost travelers who dared to ask for directions were pointed along their way, but always first recommended to Tracy’s Diner on Maple Ave. Too many black cats watched lonely cars navigate back streets.

Southbound was just another sleepy suburb.

There was a sizable population that regarded Southbound as a ‘bad neighborhood,’ but the same people that spread those rumors also tended to be a bit racist. In truth, the houses were small but quaint, and the many families that spent their lives on Southbound’s sleepy streets were happy and polite. New neighbors were always welcomed in with little gifts and kind words, and strangers were always shown a helping hand. The disappearances and violent murders were nothing more than racist ghost stories.

Grocery store employees weren’t supposed to transform in the shop, but no one had been in in hours, the manager was on break, and the sunlight shining in through the window was too nice for Salih to resist. She stretched out on the freshly cleaned floor and let her deep black fur soak in the sunshine; a midday snack and this would be true bliss.

The bell above the door jingled.

With a small sigh, Salih transformed back and stood up behind the counter. She brushed the loose cat hair off her uniform and adjusted her hair. She didn’t recognize the woman who had come into the store.
“Hello! Let me know if I can help you find anything!” Salih called out. The woman smiled, nodded her head in thanks, and then headed off with her basket into one of the isles. Salih watched her disappear and wrung her hands. She had wished for a snack.

With a deep breath, Salih faded into a haze and crossed the store in silence. The woman was in the soup isle, comparing a few cans. The haze settled itself around her head and within moments, she was out cold on the floor.
Salih transformed back and helped herself to her victim’s wrist before pulling out her cell phone and hitting speed dial.
“Hey Nikki? Yeah, need your help.”

“Ma’am? Ma’am?” Salih called with feigned concern as the woman came too. There were four of them in the back room of the grocery store with the woman laying on an old couch.
“Wha-“ the woman started, but Salih cut her off.
“You passed out in the isle and I freaked out so I called Doctor Leroy,” she explained.
The older black gentleman standing next to Salih gave the woman a warm smile. “You should be alright,” he said. “Low blood sugar, I would guess. Might want to make sure you’re eating okay.”
The woman looked down at her now bandaged wrist.
“You must have cut it on something when you fell, I patched it up,” Nikki explained. She held out a chocolate bar. “I also took the liberty of buying you one of these, in case Dad’s right about your sugar.”

The woman sat up, still clearly confused, and thanked the trio for their help. They helped her out of the back room.
“I’ll add a discount to your purchase, I’m sure your family must be worried sick that you’ve been here so long,” Salih said.

The woman paid for her groceries and left.

Nikki gave Salih a look. “Salih, we are literally going to Antonios after your shift. You couldn’t have waited?”

“I didn’t eat breakfast and this shift is long.”

Everything Stays…

Two problems had made themselves very apparent in the past few weeks. First, there was a vampire hunter on the loose. The underground had been absolutely abuzz about it. Descriptions varied too much to pin down the perpetrator, but the few witnesses who had made it out alive remembered the sound of bells.
Second, the Devil had upped the reward for the return of his son. The city’s demons had been working double-time to hunt him down; a chaotic mess of violent mistakes that had sent more than one party on a one way trip back to Hell.

And each story that met Esial’s ears sent a shiver down his spine.

It was dawn by the time he made it back to his trailer. Dogs from neighbors in the park growled and whined as he walked past. He pulled the wad of cash from his pocket and flipped through it; not a bad night. Two more weeks of this and he would be able to afford that vacation he wanted.

He unlocked he door and headed inside, hanging his jacket up on the coat rack and keeping his shoes off the carpet. He stretched and took in the musty smell of his trailer; he needed new air fresheners. This end of the city was so damp that it was nigh impossible to keep the smell out; harder still with half of his time spent at the fire station. He made a mental note and walked to the bathroom.

Esial took a long, hard look in the mirror. His hair clumped a bit from the fading product and sweat from a long night of work at Cassidy’s. He ran his fingers through it, separating stuck strands and pulling it back out of his face. His gaze fell then on the scar peeking out from under his eye patch and he became aware of the pain that lingered there. He took the patch off and let out a relieved breath as a thick, purple haze began to flow up from the freed socket. He needed a weekend without that thing on, a weekend to let what was left of that eye rest without fear of running into some startled mortal.

But he had another shift at Cassidy’s tonight and Sunday marked another week at the Fire Station.

With his eye free and the fear of the outside world passing with the exuding haze, Esial dropped his glamor. His ivory skin took on its familiar purple hue. He watched his horns and wings fade back into existence; wings stretching out as well as they could in the cramped bathroom. He didn’t have to worry here.

Esial turned on the sink and splashed his face with water. He was going to get some sleep today. He was going to go through the motions and enjoy a quiet rest.

His cell phone rang. Azurla. He ignored her; she was the last thing he needed right now. He went back to his routine; brushed his teeth, combed out his hair. His phone buzzed. A new message. Azurla never bothered to leave a message. She usually just showed up a few hours later.

Esial left the bathroom and started down the hall. He unlocked his phone.

“You have one new voice message. First message:”

Bells.

Esial dropped the phone and kicked it back towards the bathroom. He stood, frozen in the hallway, wings wrapped protectively around himself as he stared at it. The hazy socket throbbed.

Why was it so hard to just live a normal life?

Lover’s Lovers

“Are you sure they haven’t noticed we’re following them yet?” Yuri asked. He was sitting on the quarterdeck of the ship, legs dangling over the side, a hand shading his eyes from the noonday sun. Hana stood nearby with a writer’s board, engrossed in what could have been the same piece of parchment she’d been staring at for the past week as far as he knew.

She replied, “fairly certain,” never taking her eyes off the parchment. The trip had been rather boring; aside from the Mnemon blockade. Yuri was still unsure of how Hana had managed to talk them through that without delaying their trip.

“I recognize your concern, Messere, but even if they do notice our presence I believe we hold the advantage, coming from behind,” Hana explained. He watched her touch the locket that hung at her neck; she did that when she lied or wasn’t sure. It was a very clear tell, but he wouldn’t say anything about it.
“And-“ Yuri started, but Hana held up a hand.
“They’re safe, Messere.”

Marian’s kids had snuck off early on in the trip, to Yuri’s surprise. Hana hadn’t seemed bothered, which only added to the young V’neef’s confusion. He worried about them if only because Marian cared for them so much.
“Can’t we just meet up with them now?” He didn’t mean to whine and complain, but being trapped on the ship with Hana and her skeleton crew made him antsy.
Hana shook her head. “It’s not really feasible. It will be better to wait for docking.”

Even if it was improper, Yuri couldn’t help but sigh. For the first time since they had taken this trip, Hana’s face turned sympathetic. She took a seat beside him and set the board down.
She stared off at the horizon off the front of the ship and adjusted her broken glasses. “I am…sorry that she is so protective. I know it can be frustrating,” she said.
“I’m capable. I can take care of myself. I can take care of her,” Yuri argued.
Hana nodded. “I am aware, Messere, as is she. But you must forgive her. She has been through a lot.”

“She didn’t have many friends after Miss Junko passed. Her family life was rough, there was much expectation. She lost her cousins in the war with the remains of Lookshy and Juggernaut, and the memories and consequences that surrounded her exaltation gave her nightmares on the trip off the Isle. They didn’t stay, thankfully, but…she has been frightened for so long.” Hana’s voice was sad and distant. Yuri frowned. “I’ve been through a lot too,” he said.
Hana nodded. “As have I. But that’s why she’s trying to protect us. She would rather shoulder her burdens and ours.” There was a pause, and Hana spoke again, “there is no good answer to her conundrum, but her belief is one of living with consequences; and alienation is less terrifying than loss.”

Yuri looked at Hana, then back out at the horizon. They sat like that and stared for a while, accompanied by only the sounds of the small crew bustling about the ship. He felt her hand grab his and offer a gentle reassuring squeeze. Something within him calmed, just slightly.

“She’s a beautiful idiot,” Hana said with a smile. Yuri tried not to laugh, but a single ‘snert’ escaped. Hana followed up with, “and I love her.”

Yuri squeezed her hand back and replied, “me too.”

Home Again, Home Again

“We’re back,” Marian announced as she opened the door to the cottage. Havok came in behind her and sought out his sister; the details of the day’s events needing to be told. Marian chuckled and made her way to the bedroom. Discord was right where Marian had left her: sitting in bed. She looked up as Marian entered and smiled.

“Welcome home,” she said. Marian took a seat beside her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
She replied, “thank you.”
“Everything work out okay?” Discord asked. Marian nodded, then let her head rest on Discord’s shoulder. Everything had worked out fine, but she still felt wrong. “What’s wrong Mare-bear? Is Havok alright?”
“He’s fine,” Marian replied, trying to assuage Discord’s fears. A small sigh of relief and a beat before Marian spoke again, “we ended up investigating a shadowland.”

Discord took one of Marian’s hands and ran her thumb over it gently.

It took her a moment, but eventually Marian found the words she was looking for. “There was a…spike, with skulls on it at the entrance. I didn’t think anything of it, but Havok….” Marian squeezed Discord’s hand and snuggled in closer. “They’re kids, Artemis. They shouldn’t have to be put through all of this. They shouldn’t have to see things like that. I….I don’t want them to think of such horrible things as normal.”

“Shhh. I know,” Discord cooed. “Believe me I know.”
“I don’t want them to go through everything we’ve been through. It’s too much,” Marian whispered.
“I know,” Discord repeated. “And I know you want to protect them, but Creation has been at war for a very long time. You won’t be able to keep them from all of it.”
Marian looked up at Discord, tears welling in her eyes. The truth hurt, but she was right. Still, it did little to calm her fears. “What can we do?”
“Your best,” came Discord’s response.

“Love them, protect them from what you can, teach them to protect themselves, remind them that they are loved, and instill within them with the same compassion that makes you so brilliant,” she said. Discord nuzzled Marian’s head and gave her a gentle kiss. Marian sniffled and nodded.

“Bedlam it was so cool!” Havok was having a tough time containing his excitement. Bedlam held up a hand and put a finger over her lips; she loved her brother but he could be louder than she cared for. He blinked in surprised and offered a small, “sorry,” before continuing his story in a softer volume.

“There’s this huuuuge army of ghosts, right? And Messere V’neef starts walking over with Papa and Knott flies over and smashes at the army with his hammer like, wham wham wham.” Havok took a few steps back and squared his shoulders before smashing away at an imaginary army with an imaginary hammer.
“Then, out of nowhere, this giant fire bird flies over and explodes, PWSH!” Small fires erupted off of Havok’s excited hands, sending embers onto the floor. Bedlam gave her brother a punctuating stare before dumping her glass of water on the flames. Havok’s face turned sheepish. “Whoops,” he uttered. He ran a still warm hand through his hair. Bedlam rolled her eyes and gestured for him to continue.

“Oh, right,” Havok said, his smile returning. “So then, Messere V’neef sets Papa down and moves her arms and all the ghosts are grabbed by ice! And papa’s arm does the glowy thing and she gets that look on her face.”

Bedlam paused him and made a devilish grin; a wicked smile of someone who is about to be far too satisfied with their actions. Havok nodded, beaming. “That’s the one!”
Bedlam giggled.

“And the ghosts are wailing and Messere V’neef is slashing at them and Knott is hitting them and I fly in and POW!” Havok punched the air for emphasis. Bedlam jumped and made a face. Havok frowned. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, sorry.”
Bedlam let herself take a few deep breaths before allowing her brother to continue.

“Uhh…” Havok had lost track of where he was. Bedlam punched the air. “Oh! Right,” Havok continued, “So I pop one right in the face and Papa was so proud and then she runs in and leaps into the air and smashes the ghosts into paste!” Havok jumped up and came down with his fists, misjudging his distance from the side table and knocking over a decorative plate. It fell to the floor with a crash and the table was left with a charred dent.

“What was that?” they heard Marian call from the bedroom. Havok opened his mouth to shout back but Bedlam put her hand over it; she’d had quite enough shouting. She walked off towards the bedroom. Havok waited a moment, then scampered along behind her. They met their father halfway; standing with her hands on her hips in the kitchen.
Havok broke a plate, Bedlam wrote in the air. Marian sighed and looked at Havok, who shrunk down.
“Sorry,” he said. “I got excited…”

“It’s alright. Are you both okay?” Marian asked. They nodded. She nodded back. “Bedlam, go sit with your mother. She could use the attention. Havok, you can come help me pick up. I promised we’d talk when we got back anyway.”

The kids nodded again and followed their father’s directions, with Havok following his father back to the living room.

A Very Stressful Carnivale

starlight-flight:

Xen didn’t much care for the flight back to the Plateau from the Ashfall wastes; but he supposed it had to be preferable to remaining in a mechanical war zone. He was rather pleased, he had made it out mostly in tact (nothing the clan healer couldn’t fix, and nothing infected as far as he could see) and he had saved an egg.

Unfortunately, the egg was awkward and hard to carry.

He gave a small sigh, but did his best. He made it to the edge of the windy territory when a flock of bats passing overhead caught his attention. He set the egg down and futzed with the controls on his gauntlet; surely now it would be safe to use B.E.A.C.O.N.
The small robot chirruped and fluttered up to the bats. It greeted a seafoam Nocturne who swooped down with what Xen recognized was en expression of joy. He signed frantically at her regarding the egg and getting home, and she understood. The courier bats were called into action, and the pair of them (along with the egg) were off towards home.

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