Meet the Risen Road, a charm in Marian’s new Sidereal Martial Arts, allows Marian not only to walk on walls/ceilings, but on the air itself.
So at this point, that would be redundant. But thank you for the suggestion, I appreciate more heads trying to solve this dilemma.
Marley doesn’t celebrate Valentines, but she capitalizes on discount candy the day after. (Chocolate dipped in blood is apparently delicious, but it’s hard to trust her taste).
Tabor picks up extra work shifts at the Coffee Shop and stares, somewhat sadly at all the couples. His friends, particularly Blake, are always good to repay him though.
So long as Scarlet doesn’t have to work, she and Amber have a very quiet and intimate day of pampering. It’s also the only day where spirits are banned (and salt lined) out of their home. Amber treasures Valentines as a holiday of peaceful ritual (and warm baths and sweet smells and deep kisses).
Piperit, although single, sends a professional Valentine to Marian and his respected library regulars. They’re all surprisingly sincere. He dotes on the “Featured” section (novels with romantic focus, usually heavy on YA material) more around this time of year than any other.
Nadia spends the day in the graveyard with the many spirits that have no where to go. She listens to their stories of love and passion and writes them down. She tries to get to everyone, but no one seems to mind as the day wanes and she grows tired. She sometimes takes breaks to buy flowers for the graves of the sadder spirits; a peaceful offering in dark times for the lost.
Sherwood is that guy who sets up a kissing booth in the park (25 cents) for a few hours, pops out of trees with roses for women (single or nah), and turns his “I totally understand romance” dial to 100. Ashe has debated arresting him on Valentines just to keep him safe from the barrage of men and women out to kick his ass.
Tho is Sabriel was interested in a date, he would do his best to make the best date he could. Prolly like: “I found this captain and organized a dinner cruise and rented a tuxedo and bought…..way too many candles.”
Robin and Elodie laugh in the background like it’s the freaking Parent Trap.
Okay!
Marian actually stresses really hard about Valentines day. The house is full of roses and candy. The kids love it. Her loves make her dinner and they have a lovely family night celebrating how much they all care about each other; romantically or otherwise.
Red Sand Angel takes Harmony to the Aquarium where they spend all day hanging out. Sandy sketches crabs while Harmony talks to all the sea creatures who can hear her beyond the glass. Everything goes well until she attempts to help the Octopus escape.
Doyle sits at home and plays music on an old record player. He has a glass of milk and pulls out a picture of his deceased wife. He contemplates going back in time, just to see her, but knows it’s foolhardy. The day is one of soft contemplation to soft music; a reflection of time and love and spirit.
Dulcie is busy with her family in the kitchen; Valentines is a popular time of year for them. She bakes cookies in the stone oven special; shaped like hearts. Her sisters ice them with steady hands and each bag of cookies has one. She takes a batch to school, iced with classmates names.
Phineas brings Hope flowers from his private gardens and the two hang out. Everyone assumes its romantic, but really they spend their time talking about how Phineas has a huge crush on Crash and can’t bring himself to tell her. Hope helps him keep calm and reminds him that since they’re already friends, he shouldn’t have to worry so much. He never gets closer to admitting his feelings, but he appreciates the time he spends with Hope.
Jacqueline plans elaborate dinner dates with candles and music and atmosphere, but also refuses to be the one to set up the date (she’s the sort who should be swept off her feet, don’t you know). She leaves little notes all around to hint at what she wants. Of course, she also goes all out for Cayden; putting together a bundle of all his favorite things in an elegantly decorated gift basket.
Alice (the robot) spends her time in heavily trafficked date areas to observe couples. She takes down data and compiles advanced analysis of couples throughout the city for her databanks. She practices holding hands with herself and keeps pestering her friends to talk about their relationships for weeks afterwards.
That sounds delightful and full of shinanigans
They had the advantage, two versus one. One of them could escape. Marley closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The girl was somewhere in the house. Something broke in the kitchen. They didn’t have much time.
“Charlie, listen to me,” she said. He turned and looked at him. He was shaking. She’d never seen him like this. It had never mattered what it was; demons, angels, trees, crushes; he had never looked so unbelievably terrified. With a pang of guilt, Marley pulled down her glasses and locked eyes with her brother. “Please, listen.” She kept her voice calm, praying somewhere in the back of her mind that her powers of persuasion would hold up.
Charlie’s posture calmed. He blinked once, took a deep breath, and nodded at Marley. She smiled, though her eyes were sad. Something else crashed in the kitchen. Marley could smell smoke.
“When I say ‘now,’ you’re going to climb out the window and run as fast and as far as you can. Okay?” She had pushed her glasses back up. He nodded anyway.
“What about you?” he asked.
Marley couldn’t sense the girl anymore. She unlocked the window and pushed it open. She checked around outside; just darkness.
“You need to find Chris and he needs to get you somewhere safe,” she said. She headed for the bedroom door and squared her shoulders.
“Marley, please,” Charlie sounded like he was going to cry. Marley felt a tear drip down her cheek.
“She knows what she’s doing. She’ll catch us both if we try to run.”
Marley could make out the soft sound of bells down the hall. She waited a few seconds. The bells kept ringing.
“I love you Charlie, but you have to go. Now.”
Marley grabbed her scrap-booking scissors from the desk by the door before kicking it open. Charlie scrambled out the window and hid against the siding of the house. Marley hissed as she entered the hall, the scissors raised and ready to strike.
The girl, the hunter, stood against a backdrop of flames. The jingling of bells came from her skirt, a fringe of coins knocking together along the bottom edging. She had a host of weapons; a few wooden stakes, an athame, a couple of glass bottles, and a white pistol strapped to her thigh. She was leveling a rifle at Marley’s chest, platinum blonde hair tucked behind her ears, tinted glasses sliding down her nose while she looked over them.
Marley ducked just as the hunter pulled the trigger. She dashed forward, chest nearly touching the ground, and shot upward with the scissors. The coins jingled, and Marley smelled blood. The rifle crashed to the floor as Marley’s face met the hunter’s. The girl turned and shoved her shoulder into Marley’s chest. She fell on her ass onto the hallway floor. Her scissors clattered next to the discarded gun, and Marley wished she had taken the time to learn how to use a firearm.
Marley moved to stand, but the huntress was quicker on the draw. One of the glass bottles, previously dangling from the belts over the hunter’s skirt, smashed open against Marley’s chest. Marley coughed, finding it hard to breathe. The hall smelled like blood and smoke and garlic. The offending liquid burned at her clothes, just what was in that bottle?
A movement in the corner of her eye.
Marley scrambled back across the floor. The hunter sunk a stake into Marley’s abdomen; close but damn did that hurt. She watched the hunter push her glasses up her nose and tear the stake out. Marley looked over at the bedroom door. The hunter looked too. She took a step forward and Marley cursed her worried heart. She pulled back a leg, against the pain in her abdomen, and kicked at the hunter’s legs as hard as she could manage. Between that and the prior injury, the hunter fell on top of her.
There was a mad scramble on the ground while the air filled with smoke and the fire spread.
Charlie ran once he heard the gunshot. He bolted, straight on through the back yard, through the field behind it. He was out in the open, but he had little choice. Tears streamed down his face.
“Please,” he whispered between breaths. “Please, someone…anyone…”
He ran until his lungs burned, and he kept running.
Prism crawled along the hallway floor to the furthest room she could find. She’d cut off her own escape with the fire, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. She wondered if anyone had noticed enough to call the fire department. She was in a bedroom. She pulled the sheets off the bed and pressed them against her wounds.
She pulled a cellphone from a pouch on her belt and put in a number.
“Yeah. Hey. No. I’m fine. I just….need a ride.”
She hung up the phone and let out a long breath.
That kid couldn’t have made it far.
Maybe she still had time to catch him too.
She had failed. Against all odds, she had failed and now the consequences were upon her. It did not take much. No torture could compare to the last years spent in futile attempt to bring back what was lost. No pain could compare to the ache in her heart. She had failed, and now she had to face what that meant.
But there would be no tree planted in the ancestral forest.
The shambling creature that roamed the North became legend. It came into villages, in the dead of night, and slaughtered whole families. The bodies were arranged together, in bloody embraces. No one was spared. Those who claim to have seen the beast note that it might be more armor than man, and the flesh that does show through is scarred beyond imagining. It’s coarse, and warped, as though it no longer fits the shell it was meant to cover. From a distance, it might be a warrior, but up close…there’s something so very wrong.
The only thing that drives it away is the sound of machines.
Good Friends!
hyperionnebulae replied to your post “Old Friends”
Wait so dulcie is actually a baker like she bakes things?
She’s like….7 years old in most of the stories I write for her, so she doesn’t actually have a profession?
However, her Father owns a bakery that her family as a whole operates. It’s a hole in the wall place but it does pretty well. Dulcie likes to spend her free time helping out at the bakery because its warm and it smells good (and who doesn’t love sweets?)
She also bakes at home in the old stone oven in the back yard and shares with her neighbors. Her parents let her go as far as the coffee shop in town with a wagon full of goodies.
Of course, they also seriously doubt anyone would dare to kidnap a 7 year old who can set herself on fire.
you want me to make it a shirt?
If I had this on a black T I would wear it all the time
A Quiet Respite 