#I CANNOT HANDLE WHEN MY WIFE USES THEM CUTE NICKNAMES ON ME

[mjtheartist04]

send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome. My lovely my darling my beloved. 💌🍒

Aw youuu😚🙈💕💗💖

#I CANNOT HANDLE WHEN MY WIFE USES THEM CUTE NICKNAMES ON ME #DARLING??? #BELOVED??? #I’m over here kicking my feet and giggling like an idiot😔 #thank you pookieee🥺🩷💐 #ask #mj answers #mj rambles #wifey in my inbox💖🍒

[spectres-fulcrum]

I did finish binging the Alexander docuseries last night but by the end I had a migraine so I went to bed early and just hung out on my phone cause my mind was so not up for bed but it was the most light my head could handle(If I didn't move).

Overall, I did really enjoy it and I learned a lot. I didn't care much for the battles of Alexander in my fandom days, caring more for the relationships and people around him. I also just find imagining action pretty hard. I'm semi okay with Star Wars battles in space but I've like. grown up with them. They don't count. So I learned a lot about Alexander the tactician I think.

And I really did love the acted parts. Like can we get a full drama on Alexander, some TV network???? It could be SO LONG. Cause if there's one thing about Alexanders, they will never sastifyed. The Great, Hamilton, Claremont-Diaz, Kallus. Also: I hated the nicknames Heph and Alex(It's Phai and Xander thank you very much) but the stupid nickname Ptol grew on me. Ptol is so stupid but so cute. But I will never shut up about the lake make out scene cause it's so perfect and Phai giving Xander a place to be human and back out is so perfect.

I really did love the Persian parts too. It was great contrast, and perhaps happiness. Love between Stateira and Darius, luxury, Stateira's actions driven to protect her daughter in contrast to Phillip disowning Alexander when Alexander didn't like him siding with Attalus hoping his new wife would grant him a son, Barsine having to grow up so quickly. Memnon is always love for me and they did him very well. Darius deserved so much better than to be slain by a traitor. I could rant about Hephaestion being in Babylon after the death and how if that was accurate then in my fanfic where he and Drypetis fell in love during the Persian campagin then I could've used that for a good scene but it wasn't accurate so it was all hurt/no romantic comfort :(((((( And I'm kinda salty they changed that up not knowing what they were missing. But I'm not going to rant. (She had Bagoas though at least!)

I wanted so much more. Wanted Aristotle and the boys at Mieza and the flashbacks to taming Bucephalus(I cannot be bothered to check if that is the correct spelling) and more of the Persian royal family(Drypetis! Being strong during Stateira's death! Sisygambis!) and Bagoas and mentions of Phai being Xander's Patroclos and oh and Darius's brother and his daughter Amastris in the baggage train and more of the companions(Not including Leonnatus is a crime imo. Just cause I like Leonnatus).

Like I recognize they needed a small cast but also-a girl can dream. A girl can dream of what she was teased with. One day, maybe we'll get a proper series. *le sigh* I did really like that Lloyd historian guy too.

#alexander the making of a god #alexander the great #i'll probably do a meta post on phai and xander's relationship #overall very good #VERY salty at the post darius death in babylon scene #and them being nice about the barsine and mazeus engagements #that is what headcanons get you ya'll #Official stuff will be criticized for not adhering to stuff that doesn't exist outside your google drive

[pikaflute]

hi, sudafed cleared my sinuses long enough to think so here’s a giant post about most of my charles headcanons

Playlist

OH btw here’s my 4 hour and 23 minute playlist for Charles. Enjoy. Yes I know I’m insane: https://open.spotify.com/user/pikaflute24/playlist/4DBxaaxbqsmJt9Fvl8AgwZ?si=OcXlYCdFRzOhuKa4p_HdUQ

General Headcanons

He was born November 24 1965. He’s currently 56, but I usually write him in his late 40s in most fanfic and content I make. So there’s this middle aged man....

He has hazel eyes. Sometimes they look green, sometimes brown. Sometimes they’ll be white but that’s when he’s using his magic so mind your business

Gear brand over his heart >:)c

:) i think he has piercings and tattoos, a skull (dead man teehee) on his upper arm, a tattoo of a date (the date pickles and him first met TEEHEE) on his left arm also has a tattoo on his arm of the day he “died” on his right. had his ears pierced when he was a teen.

Has a sweet tooth so hard. Smuggles in treats into the drawers of his desk just to snack on during the day and has a mini fridge just filled with ice cream and also sorts of other goodies. He loves brownies and cookies the most

Likes to work out and keep himself in shape. it takes his mind off of stressful things like work and the boys, and just take his morning practice sparring and doing various exercises in the mordhaus gym. 

he’s uh also very flexible so he does yoga a lot when he exercises. don’t. look too deep into that

cannot cook to save his life. he almost burned mordhaus down trying to make himself a sandwich

he can play guitar! he used to play it more often when he was younger but he rarely has the time to play it nowadays. when he does get to play it, it’s usually in private (and mainly songs by dethklok), or it’s to show off to a certain lead guitarist that yes he is playing that solo wrong

he’s ambidextrous but prefers using his right hand. he’ll use his left hand to spar in order to go easy on his opponents because hes a smug cunt

he’s 5′7 but intimidation factor adds a couple inches doesn’t it

has a scorpion named princess as a pet. he lets her sit on his desk sometimes and it scares the shit out of dethklok which makes charles laugh on the inside

hes also a cat person. one time toki brought a cat home and it settled on charles’ lap and he almost cried

loves to be a smug asshole and relishes in it. will not take shit from anyone, especially from some asshole who is trying to pull one over on him

he has no idea how social media works at all. will print memes out to show to dethklok, he’s very fond of cat memes specifically (i can has cheeseburger type beat)

he has no idea what any internet memes means he isn’t going to start learning. he is going to misuse internet phrases. are you boys, ah, finding the imposter? [cue five groans from dethklok]

knows a lot of languages. not a comprehensive list but: french, swedish, norwegian, spanish, italian, japanese, chinese, german, russian and korean

is very competitive. scarily competitive. once he starts losing in smash or mario kart all hell will break lose

very bad at showing emotions or affection, when he gets compliments he gets all red and quiet and mumbles a thank you. 

weird about being touched as well and will usually avoid it unless it’s with someone he trusts

speaking of, his love language is acts of service :)c

hates being called charlie or chuck, unless the right person calls him it ;)

he’s autistic. was nonverbal for most of his life and only talked to certain people, or anyone at all. he stims with his hands and uses his pens to fidget.

has a collection of novelty socks. he likes the ones that have polka dots or stripes

sleeps with a garfield plushie he had since he was younger. it helps him with the nightmares

when any of the boys need help sleeping (usually toki or pickles), he’ll sleep with them in his bed. after dying he had trouble sleeping some nights, so dethklok returned the favor and all piled up in his bed and helped him sleep. he didnt have nightmares after that night

hes nearsighted, and prefers to wear glasses over contacts

lactose intolerant, hes still eating mac n cheese and paying the price

metalhead but pretends to not be just to mess with his boys

crippling addiction to match 3 games. also loves to play minecraft.

overly self sacrificial. puts ones he love needs before his own, results in himself being very isolated and distant from those he cares about because he’s afraid of hurting them

his favorite colors are black and purple

coffee kinda guy. black coffee or bust

has a lot of cute novelty mugs to put his coffee in. he ones from places where dethklok tours, dethklok official ones (the only two that aren’t adorned with spikes), some cat themed ones, a couple that have ties and math references, and one from his boys that says “most brutal manager”. he drinks out of that last one the most

he has a couple of grey hairs and wrinkles, but he keeps them because they remind him that he’s human. also pickles said old men were hot but you didnt hear that from me

likes to play chess but he can never find a good opponent. all the klokateers are too scared if they win and dethklok is too distracted to ever play with him or they end up losing to quickly if charles plays against them

really wants kids. he babies his sister’s sons and daughters a TON (uncle charles always brings the best gifts :) ) and also treats toki like his own son in a way. toki doesnt mind, he really appreciates the love

speaking of, toki does call charles dad once and it makes charles cry for like. a week and a half

his favorite dethklok song is the gears :)

he likes to collect knives as a side hobby, his favorite of his collection is a sleek black one with skulls on the handle

he has a motorcycle and likes to drive it around sometimes to just be alone with himself. it’s all black with a red gear on it

lightweight but only if he drinks the amount dethklok drinks. can hold his alcohol fairly well if he drinks like a sensible human, prefers brandy and wine

he can smoke cigars to be sexy for me and me ONLY

likes to read in his spare time. he likes mystery novels and science fiction

he has soft spot for cheesy sitcoms, they’re his guilty pleasure

his favorite youtuber is lockpickinglawyer. yours should be too

usually sleeps in only his boxers but will wear a shirt if its’s cold. he tends to sleep on his side (also wants to be the little spoon when cuddled but he will never admit that)

takes vacations sometimes away from the boys despite his worry that something will go wrong (it will!). many of his vacations are usually going to visit his family and going to the shore with them, or travelling to somewhere new for a change (cue charles being a yakuza substory on his one vacation per year)

he can sew pretty well. learned from his mom and used to sew the whole his sister use to put through her soccer uniform.

can also do makeup, and usually does it for one of the boys of there’s no one else around to help

bites his lip when he’s nervous. which is a lot

likes chococat and gudetama. he’s a man of tastes

laughs really loud if you catch him off guard. he snorts sometimes too. he’s embarrassed by it, but i think its’ cute

loves law and order obviously 

he likes men

has a lot of pent up rage. very good at compressing it. sometimes

as high priest, he stays up very late trying to decipher the ancient prophecies that dethklok needed to fulfill. he doesnt sleep very much when he starts out because he misses home, so the band makes him come back (or else)

also as high priest he becomes more intune with magic granted to him after he died and he mainly uses his magic to protect his boys when they go back to being a band. also to fuck with them

the band he managed before dethklok was a band named savior who said they were a metal band with a unique sound, but that unique sound was actually just being a christian metal band that were bad at playing music. they also treated charles like shit and blamed him for them doing so poorly with sales and shows. had an unfortunate “accident” with a tour bus after charles had enough of their attitude towards him.  he denies he had anything to do with it (he did.)

Family/Childhood

He’s the baby of the family. Spoiled rotten to the max. He doesn’t admit it though but whenever he comes home you know he abuses the “:)c im the favorite” card

He has 4 older sisters: Caroline who is a high school civics teacher, Cynthia who is a librarian, Callie who is a coach for a soccer team, and Charlotte who is a lawyer/manager who manages Ladyklok, which gets awkward (and funny) when Abigail starts dating the lead singer Natalie

charles is actually one of the tallest in his family. his dad is 6’1 and his older sister Callie is 5’11. cynthia is 5’6, caroline is 5’6, and his mom and charlotte are 5’5.

his mom is a doctor and his dad is an accountant. his mom’s name is giovanna and his dad’s name is elijah

caroline is the oldest sister, followed by cynthia, callie, charlotte then charles.

Charlotte and Charles are sworn enemies since they were born on the same day a year apart and basically have the same job. They do love each other though

His father calls him Charles. Caroline and Cynthia call him Charlie. Callie calls him Chuck. Charlotte calls him Charles (derogatory). His mom calls him a whole slew of nicknames that she made up when he was young (she calls him cheese ball and he turns red)

caroline has a wife (lauren who is a chef) and two kids (evan and shelby)

cynthia is dating a coworker (viola)

callie has a husband (john who is a stay at home dad) and they have three kids (brenda, melissa, and jeff)

charlotte is dating ladyklok (and abigail). this is a weird flex on charles i think.

He had a race car bed when he was like 5

He also was also one of those kids at family game night. He almost killed Cynthia over a game of monopoly

Always got to lick the spoon first after his mom baked brownies

He grew up in North Jersey (derogatory) (also yes im projecting state shot)

He’s also Italian (derogatory)

He got bullied in middle school for a little bit but once his older sisters found out, oh boy did all hell break loose

Was in band in high school. He played flute (DONT TALK TO ME I LIKE PROJECTING), he was of course a soloist and incredibly smug about it

Took gymnastics as a kid. Can do a backflip on command. Also very flexible.

First manager gig was helping his sisters sell girl scout cookies. They raked in a lot of profits when baby bro was behind the scenes. His cut was eating thin mints for free

Loved Star Trek when he was a kid

Was incredibly gifted, and taught himself to read at a young age. didn’t talk that much though

was always sick when he was little. he would always get sinus infections and colds if someone even sneezed weird

was in mock trial in high school. one guy on his team was a jerk to him so charles made it a point to be this poor kid’s nemesis

was on the student council, treasurer of course.

was also in nhs, and he was treasurer there too

was that kid who insisted on doing the group project by himself because he didn’t want to wait on anyone to finish their part

was super rowdy as a kid, always got into trouble but his mom was a little lenient of punishment (hes a mommas boy)

when he was like super young he bit people cause he was just a little monster (charles' sisters: mom charles is biting again. charles, biting one of them: im not :/ sheesh)

wanted to be a lawyer since he was 7

put his own siblings and parents on trial and would win every trial and would always get the last cookie or a higher allowance

he shared his room with his sister Charlotte and they would set up a pillow fort on one of the beds and stay up late reading together 

loved going to the beach as a kid, his mom still has his collection of shells from the beach

on the boardwalk, he would dominate at claw machines anad carnival games. he won a bunch of plushies from himself (and his sisters obviously)

his dad and him have a super close bond. they watched star trek together and also like to watch how the stock market would do. his dad was also sometimes the judge in charles’ mock trials at home

they were very supportive when he came out as gay, he was also the first of his sibilings to come out of the closet

College

Got his masters in business management at rutgers and a JD (law degree) from seton hall law.

Started college when he was 18 (1983) and ended college when he was 26 (1991)

Wasn’t a party guy. Never got invited to many, but he never went unless a certain redhead was in town

Sustained himself off of ramen, coffee, and SSRIs to get his masters (hey man i feel ya)

Did weed like three times. Three of those times were because of, you guessed it, a certain redhead

Speaking of, his first time having sex was in his dorm with Pickles. Pickles also kicked him off of the bed (those beds are fucking tiny) while they slept, and almost burned Charles’ dorm down trying to make toast the next morning

Absolute did not do essays until the night before. Bad habit that made it’s way into Dethklok managing when he’s forced to write a legal brief before 12 am.

Loved calculus 2 for some reason. Nerd

Had a mullet. Pickles thought it was hot (still is) while Charles would rather die than remember anything about that horrid hairdo

Also went through his goth/emo phase while in Law School. He stuck out amongst the sea of sweater vests and polo shirts

Was in a band with his fellow college bandmates. The band was called Habeas Corpses and he was the lead singer who also played guitar. Their sound was kind of similar to TWRP’s first two EPs (The Device and 2nite). they had a grunge aesthetic, and yes charles dyed his mullet black (with a purple streak), for the band.

his bandmates were all fellow law students. dillan was on drums, margaret was their bass guitar, and nick was their keyboardist. all three of them also got tutored by charles while in law school. they are still best friends and write to each other sometimes

Was on the debate team, but uh kicked off due to be very competitive (he threatened to punch the opposing debater)

Was also in the chess club, also kicked off for being too competitive (lunged at a kid for cheating)

After being kicked from the two previous clubs, he joined fencing, his very competitive nature made him the best in the state

nick (the guy in charles’ band) was charles’ roommate the whole time they were in college. they may or may not have had a brief relationship before they realized they would be better as friends

nick also has a nes and charles loved to played zelda and wrote an entire guide for himself because he’s was that into the game (nerd)

occasionally would be found sleeping in the library on campus

wanted to be an RA but the resident association at his schools thought he was a little much. charles took this as a compliment

worked out a lot between studying and classes. a lot of jocks underestimated him because of his size but charles was just :) [casually lifts something heavy]

a lot of fellow classmates thought he was super cool cause of the leather he wore, and how cool and quiet he was, too bad they didnt know he was a huge nerd

tried skateboarding. once.

had a cadillac that barely started and drove like a piece of shit but that was charles’ baby

pickles tried to have sex with charles in said car btw, charles almost killed him for even daring to suggest to tarnish his beautiful baby

has damaged his back permanently because of all the books he used to carry around in his crappy back pack

did some modelling for one of his friends in college. he was very attractive and got some other modelling job through it. he tries to hide that from the boys in the future because he thinks it’s embarrassing

Relationship with Dethklok

Pickles - he’s known the drummer the longest out of any other member, and if you couldn’t tell by now, he had a brief relationship with the drummer back in the 80s (and maybe also still has a crush on him :)). charles respects and admires pickles’ talent as a musician and sometimes they play together when they have time alone. he tries to be there when pickles has a relapse in either emotions with his family or something else, but still tries to maintain a distance because he thinks that pickles doesn’t feel the same as he did in the 80s. (he does btw). nothing could break the bond these two share. not even death

Nathan - understands nathan’s quiet nature (nonverbal kings!) and strive for perfection in everything dethklok creates because he is the same way. their similarities allow them to connect on a level that allows nathan to open up about his feelings that he likes to lock away. nathan also gets charles to open his feelings up and actually care for himself for once in his damn life. charles also helps nathan with the depression he develops after charles dies and how to deal with it despite it being not brutal. nathan wants to give back and he does by becoming one of charles’ closest friends (and maybe even lovers hehehe)

Toki - charles has taken it upon himself to be toki’s father figure after seeing the way toki’s family has left him for essentially dead. ever since toki joined the band, charles has made it a point to be there for him whenever he needed it. even if it meant spending late nights reading to toki or sleeping over in toki’s room to help him sleep, he’ll do it. he blames himself for toki’s disappearance but toki assures him that he did the best he could. toki calls him dad a lot after doomstar. it makes charles cry.

Skwisgaar - unstoppable asshole meets immovable object. skwisgaar sees himself above everyone else like he does with the other dethklok members but with charles, skwisgaar knows that charles isn’t intimidated by him nor will he bow to the guitar god in anyway. this develops a game of cat and mouse between the two, with skwisgaar trying to no subtly push charles’ buttons and to see what makes him ticks, while charles resist him at every turn with a smug ‘:) is that all you got’ and it delights him to finally see the guitarist squirm under pressure.

Murderface - at first the two are very. distant to say the least. murderface used to see charles as unemotional robot and charles was fine with that and accepted the distance. overtime however, and especially after charles died, murderface warmed up to charles confiding in him things he hasn’t told the band, mainly things about his insecurities because charles is ‘fucking smart with crap like this’. and charles helps him and is happy to see him work out his problems and not bottle them anymore like the rest of his bandmates. charles also enjoys murderface’s company as a friend as well. and….he’s gonna help murderface the most with the whole traitor stuff too.

Abigail - mlm and wlw hostility. but seriously they’re good buds. he sympathizes with having to deal the moronic actions of dethklok on a daily basis and also thinks she’s really intelligent and overall fun to hang out with. they take lunch breaks frequently together and like to make fun of people at dethklok dinners together as a fun activity together. abigail will bully his ass once she finds out she’s dating charles’ sister and WILL bring up those baby pictures to get a higher raise thank you very much

Knubbler - can you say coworker besties! like abigail, he gets along because they both have to deal with dethklok being, well dethklok, but with knubbler, charles can relax a little more. the two cause problems on purpose just because they can. the two are also close friends and knubbler tries to get charles to relax for once in his life, and despite charles protests and objections, he sometimes caves and hands out with his friend (maybe boyfriend OOOOO who knows)

Sex Headcanons (IM SORRY)

um maybe he can have a giant dick (10 inches for me), it do be swinging though

daddy kink (everyone stay on this side, ill take care of him….come to daddy ;)c)

likes to do roleplay. he has a lot of costumes prepared for when his partner wants to do a scene with him

likes to bite and be bitten during sex. after a very long night, he’ll be covered in bite marks, it’s kinda hot

no gag reflex ;) he likes to deepthroat but good luck trying to get him to go down on you without him teasing

remember how i said he was flexible like eight times? yeah he uh, uses that a lot to his advantage. likes being fucked in weird positions because of it

the suit stays on during sex

he likes topping because he likes to be in control of everything he does all the time, but really wants to be told what to do sometimes and will let those he trusts do that for him

he has a dick piercing i know it

he's a very busy man, so he relies on his huge collection of toys he keeps in his bedroom and office

really good with his hands. as soon as those hands are on you, its game over

he loves to do it on his desk, makes him feel powerful. when he gets blown under his desk, it really takes all of his willpower to not cum immediately

really sensitive in weird places, specifically his ears

he likes to cuddle after sex, hes the little spoon :)

likes to be tied up, sometimes he’ll get tied up under his suit

mating press and riding are his favorite positions, giving and receiving

size queen, likes large toys and well ;)

has a private room that he sometimes goes to relieve stress, it has a fucking machine that he likes to use often when his job gets too stressful

he’s sucking people off at the klokateer glory hole, he’s uh, very good at what he does

likes to be spanked and like to spank

uses collars and leashes

maybe the klokateers can fuck him, if they’re good ;)

freeballing

likes cum on his face but doesn't seem to realize that means he’ll get cum on his glasses and will need to clean them

he can wear a chastity belt :) for me

likes being came in but will still complain about being gross after

pretty much up for anything, he’s not picky, he just wants to be in control and get off

#metalocalypse #charles foster offdensen

[fanaticfangirl001]

Like Real People Do Ch 6: The Stain

Taglist: @p3nny4urth0ught5, @kissofvenom922,

Author’s note: Considering Sam’s TT, it’s very common in the South to give relatives nicknames, especially in the African American community(Just in case anyone was confused during the episode)

Winnie flops down on the couch and sighs.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“Sam, this whole thing is fucked up.” Winnie rubs her temples.

“Well once this is all over, I’ll leave you and Buck alone.”

“No reason to. He hates me.”

“Huh?”

“ At Sharon’s place. I confronted him and he brushed me off. I mean it was stupid to think that.”

“Wait, you think Buck hates you because he wouldn’t open up to you.”

“Exactly, we’ve talked about stuff before.”

“Stuff like feelings?”

“No. I’m pretty sure we’re just going to stuff those down and then one day, we die.”

“That’s not healthy.”

“Did you imagine us to have a healthy way of coping with our shit?”

“No, but once everything is over, try therapy.”

“I’d screw it up.”

“There’s nothing to screw up.”

“I’d screw up the therapist. There’s a lot, Sam, none of it is great.”

Zemo walks out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist and Bucky walks through the front door.

“Well the Wakandans are here. They want Zemo. Bought us some more time.”

“Were you followed?”

“No.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Winnie sits up from the couch.

“Because I know when I’m being followed.”

“It was sweet of you to defend me at least.”

“Hey, you shut it. No one’s defending you.You killed Nagel”

“Don’t put too much stock in it.” Winnie warns. “You mean to an end.”

“You’d be bored without me.” Zemo says to Winnie then adds “ Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened.”

“There’s nothing to litigate. You straight shot a man.”

“Point blank.” Winnie adds.

“Sam.”

“What?”

“Karli bombed a GRC supply depot.”

“What? What’s the damage?”

“Eleven injured, three dead. They have a list of demands and are promising more attacks if those demands aren’t met.”

“She’s getting worse.”

“Take it from the man that bombed the UN to know what worse is.” Winnie muses.

“I accept the assistance but I can handle these two.” Zemo pours himself a cup of tea. “I have the will to complete this mission. Do the three of you?”

“She’s just a kid.”

“You’re seeing something in her that isn’t there. You’re clouded by it.”

“Sam, she is a kid, but she’s making some adult moves.” Winnie adds. “But she has done more for the displaced than the GRC ever did.”

“She’s a supremacist. The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It’s that warped association that led to Nazis, to Ultron, to the Avengers.”

“You’re talking about our friends.”

“The avengers, not the nazis.”

“So, Karli is radicalized, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her.”

“It would have to be in some neutral location. I don’t want any surprise attacks. Sam, you’d be the best choice.”

“The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals. Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her.Or she kills you.”

“Maybe you’re wrong Zemo. The serum never corrupted Steve.”

“Touche. But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?”

“One of a kind, a good man trained to be a soldier.”

“Well, maybe we should give him to the Wakandans right now.”

“And you’ll give up your tour guide.”

“Yes.”

“From my understanding Donya is like a pillar of the community, right? So when I was a kid my TT passed away.”

“Your TT?”

“Yeah, my TT, yeah.”

“Who is your TT?”

“Fine, when I was a kid,my aunt passed away, and the entire neighborhood got together for a ceremony. It was like a week long. Maybe they’re doing the same thing for Donya.”

“We’re not crashing a memorial.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Your TT would be proud of you.” Zemo tosses a piece of candy towards Sam “ Turkish Delight.”

He gestures towards Winnie.

“No thank you. I’ve read The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, too many times to be taken in by perfume candy.”

“Shame what’s become of this place. When I was young, we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties.I know nothing of the politics of the time, of course.But I remember it being beautiful.”

“I’ll play you a song from the smallest violin, later, what we need is information.” Winnie says from behind him.

“I’m gonna take a look upstairs.See what you can find down here. Keep an eye on him.”Sam says leaving the group.

“I’ll stay out of your way.”

Winnie looks around seeing small groups of children playing. She softly smiles.

“You like children?” Zemo asks softly.

“Yeah so.”

“Follow my lead.”

Winnie rolls her eyes but takes Zemo’s outstretched hand.

“Baa baa black sheep have you any wool.”

Winnie sings with him.

“Yes sir, yes,sir, three bags full. One for my master, One for the dame.” Zemo pulls out a bag of the same candy he had offered them, Turkish Delight.

“One for the little girl who lives down the lane.” He sets up a table and pours out the candy.

“Turkish Delight. It was always my son’s favorite.”

Winnie kneels down so she’s at the kids level.

“My old friend Donya passed away. Did you know her?”

“Yes.”

“I would like to pay my last respects. Do you know where her funeral will be?”

Zemo motions for the child to whisper to him the location. She whispers then turns towards him again.

“Is there something else?” He asks.

“Your wife is pretty.” She points towards Winnie.

Winnie smiles, keeping up the appearance.

Sam comes down and stands by Bucky.

“It’s starting to feel like a dead end.”

“The hell are they doing?”

“Do you see these men there?” Zemo asks the child softly.

“Zemo, darling.” Winnie adds putting a hand on his shoulder.

“They are very bad, not to be trusted.” Zemo adds to the children. “Donya is our little secret, okay.”

Zemo and Winnie walk back to the two.

“Cute kids.”

“Ass.”

“Darling, there’s children present.”

“I don’t like them, together.” Bucky breaks the silence.

“I know Buck. I know.”

“Well I got nothing. No one is talking about Donya.”

“Yeah, it’s because Karli is the only one fighting for them.”

Winnie turns to Zemo.

“And she’s not wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“For five years,people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbed wire. There were houses and jobs. Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild. It wasn’t just one community coming together. It was the entire world coming together. And then boom. Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them at least Karli is doing something.”

“You really think her ends justify her means. Then she’s no different than him, or anybody else we’ve fought.

“She’s different. She’s not motivated by the same things.”

Zemo is making cherry blossom tea and brings it over.

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?”

“The funeral is this afternoon.”

“You know the Dora’s coming for you any minute.In fact they are probably lurking outside right now.Keep talking.”

“Leaving you to turn on me, once we get to Karli. I prefer to keep my leverage.”

Bucky stands up and walks over to him. He grabs the tea pot and throws it against the wall.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage.”

“Take it easy, don’t engage him. He’s just going to extort you and do that stupid little head tilt thing.”

Zemo straightens.

“Let me make a call.”

“Do you want some cherry blossom tea?

“No you go ahead.”

Zemo turns towards Winnie.

“Uh sure, I’d love some.”

Once Bucky leaves the room Winnie looks at Zemo.

“It’s rude to stare.”

“Infuriating Bucky isn’t going to help you in the long run.”

“You care a lot for him. Pity.”

“Why?”

“Because he will always throw himself into the fight. He will never settle down, or help himself, because not so deep down, he knows he’ll never lose the Winter Soldier side. You saw how easily he went back into it.He believes that he’s not worth the effort.What is that they say about old habits. Ah, they die hard.”

“Pissing me off isn’t helpful to you, either.”

“Why does the truth anger you so?”

“Because I believe that Buck is stronger than everything he’s been through.”

“You have great expectations for James.”

“I do.”

“You think he is worth the effort.”

“Yes.”

“So tell him.”

“Why would I trust you? Two seconds ago you were being a dick. Now I’m supposed to take your relationship advice.”

“So you do want a relationship with him.”

“I’m not talking to you, anymore.”

“How sweet the silence will be.” Zemo gives her a cup of tea.

“Fuck you.”

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.” John and Lemar jog up to where the four are.

“What happened to tracking John?” Sam asks Winnie.

“Someone must have disabled it, it was working before.”

“Ah! How’d you find us now?”

“Come on. You really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?”

“No more keeping us in the dark.”

“It was nice while it lasted.” Winnie adds to Sam.

“And you..” John walks up to Winnie,” Stop messing with my suit and my shield.”

“Doesn’t feel too good to get tracked by your own stuff, huh.”

“You are interfering with the United States Government.”

“What are you gonna do, kill me.”

“Don’t.” Bucky grabs Winnie’s arm and pulls her back.

“You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.”

“He did that himself, technically.”

“This better be an unbelievable explanation.”

“Take it easy before it gets weird.”

“Too late.”

“I know where Karli is.”

“Well, where?” John stops Zemo with a hand on his chest.

“All we know is, it’s a memorial. So we’re going to intercept her there.”

“I still don’t like the idea that we’re crashing a memorial.” Winnie adds.

“That means civilians. High risk of casualties.” Lemar adds.

“Which means we need discretion, you two aren’t exactly subtle.” Winnie gestures between John and Lemar.

“All right, we’ll move in fast. Take her by surprise.” John says.

“Did he not hear me?” Winnie asks outloud.

“I want to talk to her alone.” Sam nods at Winnie.

“I’m not losing her again.”

“You won’t, if you let Sam talk to her. This is his bread and butter.”

“Look the person closest to her died, she’s vulnerable. Now is the best time to reason with her.”

“No wait stop! Hold on! I think we’re way past reasoning with her,unless you forgot that she blew up a building with people still in it.”

“So did Zemo, and he’s here.”

“Winifred, if you really lov…” Zemo starts and is muffled by Winnie’s hand.

“Sam if you walk in there cold, she could kill you.” Lemar reasons with Sam.

“If I go in hot and the op goes wrong, more people will die.”

“You’ll let him do this. You’re gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone.”

“He’s dealt with worse, and he’s not my partner.”

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay. This is in my wheelhouse, like Winnie said.”

“I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this a bad idea.”

“Wait John, if he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.” Lemar reasons with John.

“We’ll deal with you later.” John says to Zemo.

“I’m sure it will come to an agreeable conclusion. My associate is just up ahead.”

Zemo leads the way to the small girl he was talking to earlier.

“Hello my friend.” Zemo gives her money,” This is for your family. Can you show us the way?”

The child motions for Zemo and the group to follow her.

“What the hell?”

“Language.” Winnie warns. “ Come on John, there’s a kid.”

The child leads them to the building.

“Karli is in there.”

“All right.” Sam goes in alone.

Zemo is handcuffed to a pipe.

“Hey, you got ten minutes.

“Really?”

“Then we’re doing things my way.”

“Aggressive.” Zemo comments. “ But I get it.”

“John, you okay?” Winnie asks as she watches him begin to pace.

“No, I’m not okay. I wasn’t expecting to see Sam and Bucky, two avengers, an ex member of Shield, and a terrorist that bombed the UN.”

“Okay, and neither did I when Bucky and I came out here. But we’ve done a pretty good job so far.”

“A pretty good job? Really?”

“Yeah, actually with less resources than you have.”

John waits and readjusts his cowl across his nose.

“John.”

“Whatever it is Winnie, I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m not trying to antagonize you, but you really don’t seem okay. Take a few breaths. Sam’s a good man and he knows how these things go.”

Bucky looks up watching Winnie.

“I also know that you want to be a good man. You want to be the best Captain America, you can. And to do that you need a clear head, and some good people around, and a big ass heart.”

“A big ass heart isn’t going to help.”

“I think it helped Steve.”

“Well I’m not Steve.”

“I know. No one is asking you to be Steve, John.”

“She’s right.” Zemo adds.

“Good call, the terrorist agrees with you, Winnie.”

“I’m trying to genuinely help you. Don’t be a dick.”

“You could have helped more by joining us. That tracker you put on my shield is still being dissected. Your modifications on old shield tech is incredible.”

“Governments have agendas and blind spots. I’m not getting back in just to be told it’s happening again.”

“So what’s next then, for you?” John asks.

“I don’t know, but I’m sticking with Sam and Buck until the end of the line.”

“Don’t ever say that again!” Bucky snaps.

Winnie recoils hurt from his words and the silence grows.

She looks over when John begins pacing and talking to himself.

“Nope No, this is a bad plan.”

“It hasn’t been ten minutes. Just sit tight.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

“He knows what he’s doing.”

“I’m going in.” John walks up to Bucky. He stops John.

“This is all real easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin through your veins. Barnes, your partner needs backup in there.”

“Lemar.” Winnie nudges him and gestures to John,” Has he always been this intense?”

“He’s got a lot on his plate.”

“Lemar no bullshitting me, is John okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll be okay.”

“Care to make a wager?”

“Sure. what’s the bet?”

“If John snaps,you owe me, Bucky and Sam:Juicy Lucys, fries and malts once we’re stateside.”

“If he doesn’t, you owe us a steak dinner. The works.”

“Deal.” Winnie puts out her hand for Lemar.

“Deal.” Lemar shakes her hand.

“What about me?” Zemo asks.

“Malts aren’t for terrorists.” Winnie answers.

“Neither are steak dinners.”

“Karli Morgenthau, you’re under arrest.” John calls out.

“This is what that was.”

“No, wait.”

“Tricking me until help came.”

“We had enough time to talk.”

“Nazi”

“Why don’t you.”

Karli shoves John and the shield against the table.

Winnie helps John back up, he shoves off of her.

Bucky goes after Karli as does Lamar.

Sam helps Winnie up and the two run through trying to find Karli.

“Shit.”

“I lost her.”

“So did we, and John’s a dick.”

“This place is a maze.”

“Pretty smart move though. We need to find Karli before John or Zemo do.”

Zemo finds Karli and shoots at her following her through the pipe room. He shoots twice more. To avoid him, Karli vaults over a table, her pouch of the serum vials falling to the floor with her. The blue vials litter the floor. Karli starts to crawl towards it but Zemo shoots once more. She finds cover behind the table.

“Is this what I think it is.” Zemo asks. He picks one up.

“No no no.” Karli starts.

He throws it to the ground, the glass vial shattering. Zemo stomps on them. Karli runs out seeing that Zemo is busy. The shield flies out of the air and knocks him out.

Sam, Bucky and Winnie run in to see John.

“You found Zemo, good.” Winnie says.

“What did we miss?”

Back in Zemo’s home he rests on the couch with a wash cloth on his head.

“Anything new from Sharon.”

“No, just keep an eye on John.”

“Were you ever offered it?” Zemo asks Sam.

“What?”

“The serum.”

“No.”

“If you had been, hypothetically, that is, would you have taken it?”

“No.”

“No hesitation. That’s impressive.”

“Sam, you can’t hold out hope for Karli. No matter what you saw in her, she’s gone. And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people. Super soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how gods talk?”

“And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky.”

“He never chose anything.” Winnie asks.

Sam takes Zemo’s silence for a chance to continue.

“Blood isn’t always the solution.”

Bucky comes back in.

“Somethings not right about Walker.”

“Clocked that a mile away. I made a bet with Lemar.”

“ What kind of bet?”

“I think John is unstable. He’s gonna snap at someone. And when he does we get cheeseburgers and malts.”

“You can’t make a bet like that. It’s wrong.”

“Lemar knows John better than I do. And he has faith in John. That should make us feel a little better.”

“What does he get if John doesn’t crack?”

“Him and John get a steak dinner.”

“Steak dinner vs cheese burgers, the classic American battle.” Zemo adds.

“Well get ready to eat a burger, Sam, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

“I didn’t give it.”

“Well Steve definitely didn't.”

“All right. That’s it. Let’s go. I’m now ordering you to turn him over.”

“Hey, slow your roll.”

“Shield or no shield, the only thing here you’re running is your mouth. Now I have Katli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today. We’re going to need all hands on deck for whatever’s comin’ next.”

“How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, huh. Should I put down the shield, make it fair?”

“Malts here we come.” Winnie adds sending a smirk over to Lemar.

John puts down the shield and a woman dressed in crimson, and gold armor throws a spear.

“Woah.” Winnie looks from the woman, to Sam, to Bucky as if to ask if they saw that too.

More women in armor with spears come into the room.

“Are they the Dora Milaje?” Winnie asks Bucky.

He nods.

The lead woman speaks to Bucky in a language Winnie has never heard before. Even she knew that whatever they were here for wouldn’t end well for Zemo.

“Release him to us now.” The woman says.

“Hi, John Walker, Captain America.” John introduces himself. “Well let’s put down the pointy sticks and we can talk this though huh. “

“Now he wants peace.” Winnie mocks.

“Not the time.” Sam says shaking his head. “John, take it easy, You might want to fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje.”

“They don’t have jurisdiction here.”

“The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.”

“Okay. Look I think we got off on the wrong foot.” John claps her on the shoulder.

The woman looks at John’s arm and then him. She hits him with a spear multiple times then kicks him away, hitting the spear in the wall and back to the ground. He uses the shield to deflect a spear aiming for him and continues fighting the women.

Zemo continues drinking his cocktail.

“We should do something.”

“Yeah.” Winnie pulls out a bag of popcorn from her backpack. She offers some to Sam. He takes a handful.

“Looking strong, John.”

“Bucky.” Sam warns.

“So the Dora Milaje is the Wakandan army?” Winnie asks the two guys as they watch the fight.

Bucky nods.

“The spears look beautifully made.”

“Ayo.” Bucky grabs the spear in the hands of one woman. “ Let’s talk about this.”

Sam and Bucky enter the struggle.

“ Guys!” Winnie yells.

“We’re a little busy!” Sam yells back to Winnie.

Winnie chases Zemo, but he gets the door and locks it.

“You’re a rat! You know that!” Winnie is banging on the door trying to break it.

Ayo taps Bucky’s arm in a few places and it falls off. She walks off towards where Zemo locked the door.

“He’s gone. Leave it.” She tells another warrior holding the shield.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asks.

“No.” Bucky puts back on his arm and rotates it. The vibranium shifts and hums as it moves back to place.

“You all right, man.” Lemar asks helping John up.

“They weren’t even super soldiers.” John gets up.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo.”

“I can, come on.”

“She said what? Hold on Hold on, I know. Listen pack an overnight bag and take the boys.”

“What happened?”

“Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews.” Sam turns back to his phone,”Okay. Go somewhere safe. Only pay in cash. All right? Let me know when you get there.”

“Damn.” Winnie’s expression grows serious. “ She can’t keep this up.”

“I know. I love you. I’ll never let anything happen to these boys.Okay, bye.”

“Karli wants to meet. She left a contact number. She said just me and Winnie.”

“Me?” Winnie asks. “ Why?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Karli!” Sam yells out.

Winnie walks with him, rocket boots and other weapons up her sleeves ready.

Bucky follows.

“You called my sister.That’s how we’re gonna play this.”

“I would never hurt her. I wanted to understand you better. I see you two didn’t come alone.”

“You have to end this now.”

“Karli there’s nothing good that can come from this. Just stop this from escalating. Just stop.” Winnie says.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t have to hurt anyone.”

“Sam, you’re just a tool in the regimes. I want to destroy. You’re not hiding behind a shield. If I were to kill you it’d be meaningless. I was going to ask you to join me.And you, Winnie, you’re not a tool, you’re a free agent. You could join us. I saw the gadgets the first time we fought. Also you were the closest to downloading all of our mugshots before we started erasing our trail. We could use you.”

“I can’t do that Karli.” Winnie shakes her head.

“Hey Sam,” Sharon’s voice says through Sam’s gear. “ Looks like new Cap is moving. Looks like he found them or maybe they found him.”

“It’s Walker.”

Sam and Bucky jump down colliding with Karli.

“ I’ll send you the location. Go!”

Bucky runs off in search of John.

Winnie kicks on her rocket boots and takes a running leap off the building following Sam.

Sam comes in through the ceiling, Winnie follows through the large hole.

He and Winnie watch as John bends a metal pipe.

“What’d you do?

“They’ve got Lemar.”

Sam and Winnie follow John.

Two super soldiers drop down from the ceiling. One takes on Sam, the other John.

John tosses the shield and hits one in the back and Sam lets his wings take the action.

“What’s with all the knives?”

“Guns are hard to get in Europe. Knives are stylish.” Winnie shoots one in the leg.

Bucky runs in and catches a knife.

Sam now has two super soldiers on him.

Bucky punches one

“You’re welcome.”

An electrified whip hits the other one and knocks them out.

“Sup.” Winnie nods.

Karli, armed with a knife, sees her moment to kill John. She takes it and then is grappled by Lemar dropping her to the ground. They get up and Karli punches him into a pillar in the middle of the room.

John goes over to Lemar.

“Hey. Hey. Hey.” John pats his face. “Lemar. Lemar. Lemar.”

“Shit.” Winnie says softly.

The Flag smashers and Karli flee.

Sam, Bucky, Winnie run after Karlie.

John jumps out of a window and slams onto the street below.

“Where is she?!?” John yells running after the one of the flag smashers.

John knocks the man down beside cement stairs and hits him with the shield. People begin to watch.

“It wasn’t me.” The man pleads. “It wasn’t me!”

John lifts his shield and brings it down several times. Onlookers take videos and scream.

Winnie leans her head on Bucky’s shoulder closing her eyes, away from what just took place in broad daylight, in front of people.

“He snapped.” Winnie whispers with tears in her eyes.

#bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes #tfatws

[tothelasthoursofmylife]

“To bring order to a disordered world was the detective’s job.”

Nanteuil-la-Forêt, Marne, France – June 1848

~Cedric~

The bed looked untouched; it was arranged exactly like Cedric’s when he had arrived. There was nothing on the desk, nothing on the bedside cabinet. Nothing hung on the clothes hooks, and there was no suitcase in sight. There were no move-marks from the nearby armchair on the carpet; no slight body-mark in the pillow.

When Cedric had stepped over the threshold, coldness had washed over him even before he had taken a closer look at the orderliness of the room. The room was significantly colder than the corridors, and the fireplace inside it did not look like it had been used recently although it had been fairly cold lately.

At least, there was really neither an adjourning room nor a divider.

“Duke Kristopher?” said Anaïs, and Cedric flinched when she spoke to him. “Is something wrong?” she asked and walked from the desk to him. Before she reached him, Milton hurried forward and wrapped an arm around her. Surprised, Anaïs blinked at him. “I will handle this,” Milton said, his voice strangely breathless, and gently pushed her back to Gérard and Arnaud. Then, he went to Cedric and closed the door.

“Are you all right, Kristopher?” Milton wanted to know. His voice still sounded a bit shaky, and he dug his fingers into his palm. “Do you want to sit down? Lie down?”

Cedric looked at him in bewilderment. “I’m okay.”

Milton nodded absentmindedly and walked to his bed and knelt in front of it. He reached under it and – to Cedric’s slight relief – pulled out a suitcase. He retrieved a smaller case from it before he put the suitcase back. With a heavy strait, Milton headed to the desk and sat down. Cedric went to join the others, and Arnaud put the birdcage clock on the table.

Milton took a deep breath, then unlocked the case with an odd key to reveal numerous tools. They were perfectly polished and neatly arranged, and Cedric did not recognise most of them. He could only make out some screwdrivers, a hammer, and a little saw, but there were many, many more, and he could only wonder how they could all fit into such a small space. From his jacket pockets, Milton took a pair of white gloves which he put on before he started to inspect the clock. Milton was focused in a way Cedric had never seen before. The nervous energy that constantly flowed through him seemed gone, and he sat there perfectly still and calm while he scrutinised the broken clock. The children must have noticed Milton’s strange calmness too as they silently spectated him work as if they did not dare to interrupt him.

While everyone’s attention was on the birdcage clock, Cedric sneakily stepped back to glimpse into the wardrobe and the drawers of the bedside table which were all empty. When he went back to the others, Milton had already opened the cage and taken out the bird. Now, he turned the cage around to open the casing and look inside. He took a good look at the cogs and wires before he went to work. It was wondrous to see him work so meticulously. With quick, swift movements Milton alternated between various tools which he used on the clock. Although Cedric was undoubtedly interested in this process, he could not help himself but drift away now and then.

Not that he could make out much anyway: Cedric saw Milton doing things, but, for the life of him, he did not know what he was doing. While blissfully ignorant spectating was a lovely thing in many cases, it certainly wasn’t when one was halfway to dreamland. Cedric snoozed off for a few minutes at most and when he jolted awake again, Milton had moved on from the inner workings of the clock and was now putting back the bird. With a few more skilled movements, it was done, and Milton closed the cage. He waited a moment, and everyone held their breaths.

Then, Milton turned on the birdcage clock.

And metallic sing-song filled the air.

The bird, now perched on a top again, moved its beak and head and sang its melody which sounded only a little bit off to be true birdsong; and the clockhands had been set in motion too. The children jumped around happily, and Cedric could only stare at the now again intact clock, entranced by its uncanny song and in disbelief about what Milton had accomplished.

“That’s amazing! How can you do that, Baron Milton?” asked Anaïs.

“A lot of practice and…” Milton began, his eyes glowing as they had in the corridor, but then he interrupted himself and the glow vanished. He and Cloudia displayed the same enthusiasm for what they loved; only Cloudia’s was persistent while Milton’s was always cut short. “I was a very bored child,” Milton continued and packed his utensils in his case and locked it. “And you do not have to call me ‘Baron’ or ‘Lord,’ Miss Anaïs.”

Anaïs put her hands on her hips. It was a funny gesture on someone so small and young. “Only if you stop calling me ‘Miss Anaïs.’”

“Of course,” he replied, and she beamed. “Is it simply Milton then or may I call you something else too? Am I allowed to give you a nickname?”

Arnaud blinked at her, seemingly horrified at the request and familiarity, but didn’t say anything.

“I allow you to give me one,” Milton told her, and Anaïs jumped up and down. “Thanks! It has to be something cute…” She weighted her head left and right. “How about ‘Millie’?”

Milton tensed a little bit. “Could… could you please pick another nickname?”

“Why?” asked Anaïs.

“It…” Milton fumbled with his toolbox. “It’s only that my father used to call me that.”

“‘Used to,’” she repeated before it dawned on her and she put her hands over her mouth. “I apologise. I didn’t want to…”

“It is all right,” he assured her. “How could you have known?” Milton stood up and took the case from the desk. Milton returned his toolbox to his suitcase and then looked at Anaïs who still seemed uneasy. “All is fine, Anaïs. I could never be upset with you.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He smiled. “You may pick any other nickname.”

Anaïs returned his smile. “I’ll think of one!”

Milton’s smile widened a little before he turned to the singing clock, and as soon as his gaze fell on it, the shine from before reappeared in his eyes. “I still cannot believe it,” he said dreamily to no one in particular. For a moment, Cedric wondered if he should interrupt Milton to spare him any potential embarrassment that might grow from his absentminded monologue, but he decided against it. After all, Milton usually did a fine job cutting himself off – and Cedric wanted to see if Milton’s enthusiasm could hold firm.

Milton picked up the birdcage clock and turned it in his hands. “Automata,” he said. “A fascinating subject that has kept humankind busy since ancient times. How could they not? Artificially created life – or, at least, life-like entities. Clockwork birds have been reportedly designed since the Hellenistic Period, but then there’s the legend of King Solomon’s throne and its mechanical animals which is, of course, dated much earlier. Even if it may only be a story, it is still a testament to people’s continuous fascination with automata.

“And then we have this lovely piece,” Milton continued and turned to Cedric with the clock in his hands. “Born 1721. Died 1790. Pierre Jaquet-Droz. His ancestors were from the Brandt-dit-Grieurin, Sandoz, and Robert families of clockmakers, and this made him pursue this craft, this art, as well – and we can only be blessed that he did as he is one of the, maybe even the, best creators of automata of all time. His first singing birdcage came out in 1780 and featured a miniature pipe organ; each pipe was for a different note. He and his partner later exchanged the pipe organ with a chamber whose size was altered by the movement of a piston.

“While Jaquet-Droz’s career is astonishing, it was fuelled by tragedy: He lost both his wife and daughter in short succession and, in his sadness, fully dedicated himself to his work.” Milton placed the clock back on his desk but did not let go just now. “Still, although he became internationally famous after he created six magnificent pendulum clocks for the Spanish king and his court and went on to present his crafts to various other kings and queens and even the Chinese emperor, he did not neglect his only living child, his son Henri-Louis. Instead, they worked together, and Jaquet-Droz made him the director of his workshop in London. Jean-Frédéric Leschot, Jaquet-Droz’s partner, was also his adoptive son. It was a family business that flourished despite its tragic history.

“But their success did not last forever. Towards the end of Jaquet-Droz’s life, they lost their partners in China and London. Their business started to show losses, and Jaquet-Droz moved to Biel where he died. A year later, his son Henri-Louis and his daughter-in-law died on a journey. Leschot, now all alone, worked hard to keep the business afloat, but the revolution and Napoleon’s Continental System led to the eventual ruin of Jaquet-Droz & Leschot.”

“Out of your system, hm?” said Cedric and leaned against the desk. The sudden flush of wakefulness was beginning to wane, and he could feel his eyelids getting heavy.

Milton abruptly let go of the clock as if it had stung him and craned his head to Cedric. “I rambled again, didn’t I?”

“You did, but it’s fine. How are you?”

“I am…,” Milton began and tilted his head a bit. “I am feeling better than before. The… the repair was quite…” He fiddled with the hem of his right sleeve. “… refreshing.”

“If it’s such an intricately made clock,” said Cedric, “it is even more impressive that you could fix it.”

Milton let his hands fall to his sides. “There was not much wrong with it. A few sprung-out gears, loose bolts… I suppose the owner does not maintain the clock enough. Fixing it was nothing.”

Cedric yawned. “Still, it was quite amazing. You must have practice in this.”

“As I said, I was a very bored child.”

“I was bored at times too,” Cedric replied with a shrug. “Still, I never went to try my hand on fixing clocks. You were even so focused and calm. I barely recognised you. You must be quite fascinated by clocks.”

Milton looked at him. Even if Cedric had been fully awake, he would not have been able to read them. “It is not the clocks. Not just them. Or just automata. I appreciate their composition, their machinery, but I would say I am fascinated more by the reason why they were invented.”

Cedric wanted to respond something, but then Anaïs walked to them and said, “Milton? If you can repair things, can you build some too? I am asking because, if you are feeling better after fixing the birdcage clock, I think you should continue spending your time doing something like that until the rain stops. Arnaud, Gérard, and I can help too if you want.”

Milton blinked at her and then smiled softly. “This is a good suggestion, Anaïs. How about we create a chain-reaction machine? Then, you can all help me with it. And, I suppose, it will be more fun and interesting for you than the repair of a clock. I have to bring Kristopher to his room first though.”

“Oh, no,” replied Cedric. “I still feel sleepy, but I also feel more secure on my feet than before. I can go to my room on my own. You only need to tell me how to get there.”

“Kristopher, are you sure? You…”

“I am. You are not in the best state yourself, and I think it would be better for you if you stayed in your own room instead of wandering through the château. If you get an attack again, it would be better it happened here instead of anywhere else.”

Milton wanted to fight against his words but restrained himself and only said, “Very well, Kristopher.” He was about to turn around and reach for his notebook when Arnaud came forward.

“If you do not mind, Duke Kristopher,” he said, “I would offer to bring you to your room. I do not feel comfortable letting you go on your own, and I know the château’s layout very well. I also fear that, if you are told the way to your chamber, you may forget your given instructions in your exhaustion and get lost.”

Cedric blinked at the little boy. It was a bit weird to get help from a nine-year-old, but did he really have another choice? It was either Arnaud or Anaïs after all who could guide him through the building. Perhaps even Gérard could, though that would stretch the absurdity too much. “That would be good. Thanks, Arnaud,” Cedric replied, and Arnaud bowed his head in response.

***

~Cloudia~

There is still so much left to do, Cloudia thought while she and Yvette walked through the shadowy village to the inn once again. She hoped that Maxime and Violaine had returned so that she had not taken the effort to go to the pension in this weather twice in vain. She hoped Lisa and Kamden would find something interesting while inspecting the corpses. She hoped that whatever she could learn from the Guilberts or the bodies would be enough to find out who the culprit was.

Still, there was so much left to do. For example, she had to speak to the victims’ friends.

This case. Part of me wanted to end it here and now. Run to the mayor and tell him that he was on his own, then turn the village upside down to find out anything about Townsend, find the Queen’s box, and return home after spending time with my relatives and a brief round of leisurely exploring France.

But this was not to be. I was too deep into this now, and another part of me did not want to abandon the villagers to their murderer. Especially considering that such a development might prove to be difficult to hide from Milton, even if he was leaving for Paris tomorrow. After all, he would return in a few days and might catch sight of the aftermath of the hypothetical chaos that could be unleashed in Nanteuil-la-Forêt.

Also, I did not want to give up now. Giving up was like losing, and I did not like to lose.

Cloudia straightened against the rain for the last few metres of their way, for the rest of their investigation.

A hot bath. A change of clothes. A meal.

The storm was making me impatient, tried to fray my thoughts. I needed to calm down, sit down, make myself comfortable and think everything through at the château. On my own or with Cedric if he could be bothered.

I could do it like this. I would be able to do it like this.

At the pension, Yvette knocked against the door, and they waited for a few moments until the door was thankfully opened by Maxime.

“Yvette, M Gauthier,” he said, his gaze darting between them. “What are you doing outside in this weather? Come in.” Maxime ushered them inside and closed the door.

“We would not have come here again if you had been here before,” Cloudia told him, pulling down her hood. It had been wonderful to have been able to dry herself at the church, but now she was as wet as before again.

Only a few more hours.

Maxime turned to her. “Hm?”

“We have been here before,” Cloudia informed him. “Hours ago. Where were you, M Guilbert, when it’s pouring outside and a murderer is going around? Even if they have only been acting at night so far, we can never know when our killer will change patterns.” Again, she added in her head.

“Maybe we should sit down and talk?” suggested Maxime. He walked ahead to the inn’s community room, and Yvette and Cloudia followed him. There, they were greeted by a woman who smiled awkwardly at them and shifted nervously on the sofa.

“Violaine,” said Maxime. “That’s M Gauthier, one of the men I’ve told you about.”

His wife nodded at his words, and Cloudia smiled at her. “Good afternoon, Mme Guilbert. I am glad that you are here too, and I want to apologise in advance for potentially ruining your furniture.” She spread her arms, water dripping from them as if she was a fountain. “The weather has not been particularly kind lately.”

“Yes, it hasn’t, but don’t worry about the furniture, M Gauthier,” Violaine replied. “Please just sit.”

Cloudia sat down on an armchair. “I shouldn’t worry? I thought you would be very upset. Not only as the wife of this tavern’s owner but also as its housekeeper who meticulously makes sure that all the rooms look immaculate.”

“Well,” Violaine said and touched a lock of her brown hair that had sprung free of her up-do. “The state of the furniture is only a subsidiary matter in our current situation, isn’t it?”

Cloudia smiled. “Yes, of course, it is. Mme Guilbert, I’ve already told your husband about this, but Mlle Guilloux and I were here earlier today alongside two of my colleagues who are currently investigating elsewhere. We knocked and knocked and waited a considerable period, but you were not present. Considering that the village is in a state of emergency with a murderer going around and Mother Nature herself trying to destroy this place with this heavy rain, could you tell me where you and your husband were, Mme Guilbert?”

“Where we were earlier?” Violaine repeated and then clutched and unclutched her hands.

“My apologies, M Gauthier,” Maxime interjected, “but my wife may not be suitable to answer any questions right now. She is easily unnerved and, as you said, a killer is going around.”

“Chamomile tea,” Cloudia said, and Maxime blinked at her, perplexed. “If you have correctly guessed that your wife is anxious right now, M Guilbert,” she explained, “why not bring her a cup of chamomile tea or do something else to ease her nerves? After all, you guided us here, fully knowing that she would be here and the reason I am here – fully knowing that your wife is nervous and uneasy. Why not help her a bit? Chamomile has relaxing properties, and so has peppermint if you have no chamomile tea at hand.” She smiled at him, and, for a fraction of a second, Maxime narrowed his eyes at her before he wordlessly left for the kitchen.

“How kind of him,” Cloudia said hollowly. “I wonder if he knows how to use a kettle.” She looked at Violaine. “At any rate, Mme Guilbert, I do not want to unnecessarily distress you or anyone, so I’ll ask you: Are you comfortable with answering some of my questions? Please be honest.”

Violaine tensed immediately and looked from Cloudia to Yvette and back, glanced briefly to the door through which her husband had left. “I…,” she began, “I think I can answer some questions.”

Cloudia smiled at her and wrapped her arms around herself. She was cold from the rain, so she was not certain if it was true or not, but the room itself seemed unusually cold too. “Thanks. Let us wait a moment until M Guilbert returns with the tea. I also want to address that it is very considerate of you to agree to help. We need as many to help out, need to find out as much as possible to bring this to an end. Cooperation is key, especially when it is about a murderer roaming around. They have been predominately targeting young people too – and if I remember correctly, you have a daughter around the age of the latest victims. What was her name? Marie-Claire? How is she?”

Violaine’s eyes widened. “Marie-Claire? Oh, she… she is doing well.”

“That is good to hear. I assume she is at home? You don’t live at the inn as well, right?”

“Oh, she…” Violaine trailed off and curled her loose lock of hair around her finger.

“They do not live here,” Yvette came to her rescue. “They live down the street in a little house and come every morning to the inn for work. Marie-Claire is someone who prefers to spend her time inside; you have to practically drag her outside.” She chuckled.

“I see,” said Cloudia. “How far is the kitchen from here?”

“It is down the corridor, why?” Yvette replied.

She raised her shoulders a bit. “I wondered when M Guilbert will join us again. While he is still absent, Mme Guilbert, may you tell me where you were earlier today? Were you with your daughter?”

“Yes,” Violaine answered. “Maxime and I were with her all day.”

Cloudia smiled. “I see. Spending time together with your family is good. As you have said that you were with her ‘all day,’ can I assume that you currently have no guests at the inn?”

Hesitatingly, Violaine shook her head. “No, we do not. We… we rarely get any guests at all. The stranger was the first in a while.”

“Must be terrible business,” Cloudia remarked, “having a pension in a place such as Nanteuil-la-Forêt. When it is not pouring, the village is beautiful enough, but it is certainly not in the best of locations.”

“We are working on advertising Nanteuil-la-Forêt,” Yvette said. “My father and M Descombes want to give Nanteuil-la-Forêt more presence and prominence as they want to share our cosy place with others. Soon, the inn will flourish because many will come here.”

“How very nice,” Cloudia replied. She pricked up her ears, but she could still not hear it. How curious. “Then, Vidocq and I should hurry to wrap up this case so that the inn’s flourishing will indeed happen ‘soon,’” she proceeded. “Though I suppose that a place that has once harboured a vicious murderer may become an attraction even without a pretty village around it.” She smiled at Yvette, and Yvette replied with a crooked, uneasy smile.

“Now, Mme Guilbert,” Cloudia began, “did you know any of the victims better? Mme Allemand, Dominique Duhamel, Gustave and Marius Beaubois?”

“I…” Violaine’s grip on her lock tightened. Cloudia almost feared that she would rip it out. “I knew Dominique, Gustave, and Marius. Marie-Claire went to school with them, but they were not very close.”

“I see. And the boys amongst one another? Were they close?”

“No,” said Violaine before she backtracked. “Yes. You must know how boys are at that age: often quarrelling and arguing, but still being close. It is a little hard to tell whether they are friends or not because of that. However, they were friendly.”

“Thank you for the information,” Cloudia said at the same time as Maxime returned with a cup of tea which he handed to his wife with a slightly breathless “Here, my dear.” Cloudia glanced at the floor and then smiled at Maxime. “Welcome back, M Guilbert. You have left us waiting for quite some time.”

***

~Cedric~

A few corridors into their little journey to his room, Cedric realised that Arnaud was not very talkative. He had associated noise with the boy; now, he understood that it was only attached to him in the form of Anaïs who would always talk and laugh. Cedric would not have minded this aspect on any other day, but right now, he needed anything to help him stay awake or he feared he would fall asleep here and now.

“Arnaud,” Cedric began. “What do you think about Anaïs calling Milton a faerie? I know Jacques does not like it, and I’m curious what you think of it. I think of it as childishly charming.”

“That is how Anaïs is,” Arnaud said. “She is very fond of associating people with something – as you have found out at her picnic.”

“Yes, she is,” Cedric replied. “Only she is especially insistent about the whole faerie affair.”

“Anaïs is also very fond of faeries. She loves reading about them and telling everyone about them. As Papa is an expert when it comes to birds, Anaïs loves to talk to him about faeries as they are, like birds, flying entities. They also sometimes explore forests.”

“In search of faeries?”

Arnaud nodded. “Anaïs, at least. Papa ‘helps.’”

“I see,” Cedric said and yawned. With difficulty, he dragged himself to his room with Arnaud’s guidance. At his blessed bedroom door, Cedric said goodbye to Arnaud and then walked straight to his bed.

A quick nap before Cloudia returned. I wanted to reach at least some level of rest until she came back so that we could talk. I also wanted to catch some sleep before dinner or I feared I might miss it like I had missed lunch.

With a tired half-smile on his face, Cedric took off his jacket and threw it on the closest chair, freed his hair from the band, and kicked off his shoes on the way to the bed. He was about to jump into it when he heard someone say, “How unsightly, Not-Kristopher.”

Cedric flinched and every fibre of his body sighed.

Could one not find rest in this damn château?

He rubbed his eyes. “Dammit, Cecelia, what are you doing here?”

Cecelia leaned back on the armchair she had made herself at home on. “Waiting for you, obviously.”

“But couldn’t you have waited a bit longer?”

“Don’t worry, Not-Kristopher. The servants have informed me about your sleepiness. Thus, I have brought you a gift.” She gestured to the little table in front of her which bore a tea service.

Cedric laughed hoarsely. “I’m not drinking anything you offer ever again,” he said, and she rolled her eyes. “A butler brewed the coffee. It’s to help you stay awake.”

He scrutinised the pot. “I don’t believe you. Now, leave.”

“You are being dramatic.”

“So would you be if you had been nearly killed by some unknown substance. Now, go.”

“Not-Kristopher, sit down.”

“I will laydown and you can go.”

Cecelia sighed and then poured herself a cup of coffee and took a sip without taking her eyes off Cedric. “See? I’m perfectly fine,” she said when she sat the cup down again. “There is only one pot. You will drink from it too. Its contents are fine. Now, stop being difficult and drink your coffee and sit down.”

Cedric ran a hand over his face, defeated, and then poured himself a cup and sat with it down on his bed. He sank into the soft blanket, and his heart tightened with longing to simply curl himself up in it and drift into dreams. Instead, he glared at Cecelia and took a deep gulp.

And started coughing.

“What isthat?” Cedric said, grimacing at the evil dark tincture in his cup.

“Coffee.”

“I hadcoffee. That’s not coffee. What’s this?”

Cecelia rolled her eyes. “It is coffee, Not-Kristopher. There are different kinds of tea. Did you think there wouldn’t be different kinds of coffee too?”

He scowled at his cup. “It’s vile and bitter. The coffee I had was a little bitter too, but not like this. I thought drinks have to be drinkable.”

“The French like their coffee harsh and bitter,” she said with an elegant shrug. “And you cannot deny it did not wake you up thoroughly.”

Cedric opened his mouth to say something but immediately closed it again. She was right. Even if the coffee itself might not have kicked in yet, its taste had certainly shaken off part of his sleepiness. He put his cup on the little table. “I don’t like anything that tastes bitter.”

“I realised.”

“That includes you.”

Cecelia laughed. “Oh, don’t make me repeat that to Cloudia.”

Cedric glared at her, and she smiled at him. “Now,” she said, “tell me: How was your day with Milton?”

***

~Cloudia~

Cloudia and Yvette said their goodbyes to Maxime and Violaine and headed back out into the rain and to the hospital. It had been an interesting conversation, and Cloudia could not wait to go over and discuss it with Cedric.

And write down everything in a fresh, new notebook. After Maxime’s arrival, I had taken out my notebook and learned that it had not survived the rain although I had safely put it in my pocket.

A new notebook, a night to myself. Normally, my memory was good enough that I did not really need to write everything down, but I liked to have everything structured and laid out in front of me. Also, good memory or not, one could not recall all at once, and writing everything down helped to draw everything out of one’s mind.

Considering the amount of input I had received in the last few days, it might be quite beneficial to write it all down.

And considering that I felt a little frayed – the dread of one of those episodes was always at the back of my mind – writing down everything when I still remembered it all would be for the best.

Yvette informed Cloudia that it was a relatively long way from the guesthouse to the hospital. Hearing of a distance was wildly different from experiencing it though. A “short ten-minute walk” could feel like an eternity when it went up a hill, the path was uneven, or the sky had spontaneously decided to empty its water storage for several weeks in a single day. If it was not a ten-minute walk, but a thirty-five-minute one with similarly awful conditions, one could not help but wonder which deity they had upset to have to suffer like that.

Just the hospital left. It was just the hospital left, I told myself all the way to it.

When Cloudia and Yvette finally arrived at the hospital, a nurse led them to a waiting room after greetings and introductions. There, Vivienne, the nurse, told them to sit down and wait while she would go to get the head doctor. Cloudia thanked her and sat down.

I was athletic. I trained whenever I could, but today’s ordeal was unnecessarily exhausting.

But it was just the corpses left now. At least for today, only the corpses were left. Then, it was time to–

Cloudia sat up straighter when another nurse hurried into the room, an angry man following her and demanding to speak to Laurent Michaux, the head doctor. The nurse began to say “I am sorry, but I cannot help you. I have already said that he has…” when Cloudia stood up and went to take hold of the man’s arm before he could grab the nurse’s.

“I am sorry for interfering,” Cloudia said to the man. He had looked stunned the moment she had taken his hand, but his surprise was slowly eaten away by his anger yet again. The nurse took a few steps back. “However, it seems that this situation is getting out of hand. Monsieur, may I ask you what you are doing? Yelling in a hospital and running after this nurse?”

The man narrowed his eyes at her. “And you are?” he said. He tried to get out of her grip, but Cloudia held on tight. He was considerably taller than her and seemed strongly built, so it was quite a strain to keep her grip on him, but she wouldn’t let go just yet. “Wait. I’ve never seen you before: You are one of those people from Paris, aren’t you?” the man continued and his tone became even angrier.

“Exactly. I am Jean Gauthier, Détective Alexandre Vidocq’s assistant,” Cloudia replied, holding her gaze steady when she looked at him. “And who are you?”

“Fernand!” exclaimed Yvette and walked to them with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Yvette, what are you doing here?” the man asked.

“I am guiding M Gauthier through the village.” She turned to Cloudia. “My apologies. This is Fernand Beaubois, the father of Gustave and Marius. Could you perhaps let go of him?”

“Of course, I can,” Cloudia replied and glared at Fernand. “He has to promise not to do anything though.”

Fernand glared back at her. “Fine,” he growled. “I promise.”

Smiling at him, Cloudia let go. “Much obliged,” she said and then looked at the nurse who was standing frozen a few steps away from her. “Are you all right?”

The nurse nodded.

“Would you like to sit still? You look a little pale.”

“No, it’s fine. I need to be elsewhere now anyway.”

“I see. What is your name?”

The nurse blinked at her. “Uhm, Corrine.”

“Corrine, do you have a few minutes to spare or are you in a hurry? I want to ask you something, but it is fine if you have no time.”

“One question will be all right.”

Cloudia smiled at her. “Thanks, Corrine. Could you please tell me why M Beaubois has been running after you?”

Corrine glanced briefly at Fernand. “M Beaubois wants to speak to M Michaux about his sons. I was strictly instructed to send him and anyone else away as M Michaux does not want anyone to tamper with the bodies. It was decided that nobody could access or retrieve the bodies until the murderer is apprehended. I don’t have the power to undo that decision, and the doctor is busy right now. I have told M Beaubois this, but he does not want to hear and keeps enquiring.”

“‘Tampering’?” Fernand’s face turned red. “I only want to see my sons. I cannot understand why I’m forbidden from seeing them.”

“M Beaubois, as I said, I am sorry, but M Michaux has prohibited it specifically,” said Corinne with a halting voice. “No one is to see the bodies except for the doctor himself and the investigators until the murderer is caught.”

How interesting.

Cloudia smiled. She had been smiling so much all day; she hoped her face would not hurt tomorrow. “Thank you, Corinne. I will handle this from here on. We have impeded you enough.”

It seemed as if Corinne wanted to protest but then decided against it. She just bowed and said her thanks before she left the room. As soon as she was gone, Cloudia turned to Fernand who still looked highly displeased. “M Beaubois, I am sorry. It must be terrible for you not to be able to see your sons now. However, I cannot condone that you are directing your anger towards innocent people. I hope today will be an isolated case,” Cloudia said firmly. “At any rate, I am here because I sent two of my colleagues to the hospital earlier to inspect the bodies. Of course, this will not be the same, but I will promise to tell you about the conditions of your sons’ bodies – and make sure that the investigation will be wrapped up as soon as possible so that you can see them yourself before the funeral.”

Fernand continued to glare at her, and Cloudia fought back the urge to sigh and tell him that, if he neither wanted help nor reassurance, he could leave and stop wasting anyone’s time and pestering people. She was not patient enough for such things. Still, she forced herself to soften her voice and repeated, “I promise to ensure that Détective Vidocq will quickly wrap up the case. Also,” Cloudia sternly looked at him, “I was at your house earlier, M Beaubois, and met your wife and son. I know that you are hurting because of your loss. I promise to take care of the dead; I urge you to take care of the living.”

Fernand held her gaze for a while before his shoulders sacked. There was still fight left in him, but it had mostly cooled now. “You better catch the killer soon,” he said and then turned and left.

“M Gauthier, Yvette?” said Vivienne when she returned a few minutes later. “I will now lead you to the deadhouse – the doctor has said that he will meet you there.”

***

~Cedric~

“How should it have been? It was a normal day. We played some chess. Ate some sandwiches. That’s it,” Cedric said dryly, and Cecelia raised an eyebrow.

“Not-Kristopher, do you need more coffee? Because your mind still seems to be fogged from sleepiness – or are you deliberately answering my question in such an obviously avoidant way?”

“I have told you all we did today,” he replied. “Did you really expect thorough replies when you broke into my room and are now preventing me from sleeping?”

Cecelia chuckled. “You sure are prickly today, Not-Kristopher,” she said and broke into an impish grin. “Of course, I expected thorough replies because you know exactly that they are the only way to ever get me to leave. I also did not break into your room. A break-in is a forced entry, but your door was never locked and I, thankfully, did not have to resort to using force.” Cecelia took a sip of her coffee. “Please indulge me, Not-Kristopher, what did you and our dear Baron Salisbury do today?”

Cedric sighed. “We played chess and ate lunch I prepared because we missed the actual lunch.”

“I wondered where you two were.”

“You had lunch with the others? I thought you preferred to eat alone in your room.”

“And I do, but every once in a while, you should be polite and eat alongside your gracious hosts. Anyway, it must have been a veryengaging game for you to get so caught up.” Cecelia smiled. “Did you have any engaging conversations as well?”

“If you want to know if we talked – of course, we did. And I did learn a few more things about Milton. I just don’t think they will interest you much. It was nothing particularly substantial. However, what I can say after spending time with Milton today is that I doubt that he could be capable of something like arms smuggling. He’s overflowing with anxiety and can barely hold himself together. If he truly were a weapons smuggler, he would have surrendered himself to the authorities a long time ago.”

“Still, there is the rumour,” Cecelia replied.

“Yes. While I think that Milton is not involved in any smuggling himself, I do believe someone is using his company under his nose to engage in illicit activity.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Who do you believe to be the actual weapons smuggler, Not-Kristopher?”

“Wentworth,” Cedric said, and while he felt confident when he said it aloud, his confidence vanished when Cecelia started to laugh.

“Enough of the joking. Tell me, who do you believe to be the actual weapons smuggler if not Milton?”

“It… it was not a joke,” he replied, now feeling quite silly and foolish. No, I don’t have to be, he thought right afterwards. It makes sense that Wentworth is the culprit. I cannot allow Cecelia to talk me out of it; I only have to explain my logic to her.

“Wentworth? Don’t be absurd. It’s not him.”

“Are you saying this because you did not consider this possibility yourself? You only gave me notes on Milton; you only focus on Milton. Everyone does. Who would ever focus on the butler? That’s how Wentworth could do it – even if it was at the expense of Milton who is supposed to be his beloved protégé. You made no effort to look into Wentworth or consider him as a legitimate suspect, Cecelia, and now you–”

Cecelia glared at Cedric, effectively cutting him off. “Making false claims on my persona? On my abilities? Of course, I researched Abraham Wentworth, Not-Kristopher, who do you believe me to be? Only because I did not tell you about my findings regarding this part of my research does not mean I did not do it.”

“You did?” said Cedric, slightly taken aback. “Then why didn’t you inform me about this?”

“I did not inform you as I did not think it would be necessary, Not-Kristopher. We are, after all, focusing on Baron Salisbury, not on his butler. That’s what I’ve told you. I wanted you to focus on what is of importance. If I wanted you to keep an eye on Wentworth too, I would have given you two files, one for each.”

“But if you looked into Wentworth, you surely must have found anything that could explain everything – that incriminates him because I am sure his background is as sparsely documented as Milton’s and–”

“And why do you think that, Not-Kristopher?” Cecelia interrupted him.

“Because he has always been at Milton’s side, and Milton’s life is like ‘Swiss cheese’ as you said.”

“Of course, there’s a large gap between when Wentworth moved with Milton’s family to Milton’s mysterious birthplace until they went to London. Rather unfortunately for your speculative daydreams, the rest of Wentworth’s life is as well-documented as anyone else’s.”

Cedric blinked at her, and Cecelia sighed. “What do you want, you pathetic fool? Proof? A summary?” she said, and he slowly nodded.

“God, I cannot believe Cloudia has still not thrown you into a ditch,” she proceeded and poured herself a new cup of coffee.

“Abraham Wentworth was born in Cadgwith, Cornwall to Asher Wentworth, a fisher, and his wife Leah. They were not bathing in money, but they had enough to feed their family of six. Wentworth was the second oldest amongst four children; he had an older and a younger brother and a younger sister. His family was quite liked where they lived and their business provided food to the nearby gentry. This eventually allowed Wentworth to be schooled to be a butler in the household of Lord Helmer Carrington for whom he worked until he was hired by Milton’s grandmother in 1811.

“I hope you remember that Milton’s mother Kordelia was adopted after she had lost her entire family in a shipwreck of which she was the sole survivor? Her adopted mother was a certain Idella Scarborough who was quite the character.

“She had been adopted too, was a rich heiress, and quite the traveller and an acquaintance to many – amongst others, to Lord Carrington. When she took in Milton’s mother, Miss Scarborough – who was never married and, as I heard, very much refused to be wed – looked around for servants to hire. She did not have any herself as she thought they were only a hindrance in her nomadic lifestyle, but she changed her mind after becoming a mother as she certainly needed a bit of assistance to take care of her new daughter while scouring through Great Britain. At times, Miss Scarborough would even leave Kordelia and her little household in a rented house in Britain while she ventured to the continent. You can only wonder why she adopted Milton’s mother in the first place. After all, Miss Scarborough evidently had never planned to settle down and having a traumatised child and a few new servants did not quite agree to her chosen lifestyle… Surely, she needed an heir, but the timing seems to have been inconvenient… Anyway, enough of this; I am diverting.

“Miss Scarborough talked to Lord Carrington about searching for staff, and he warmly referred Wentworth to her. Wentworth was hired to take care of Kordelia Bloomfield – apparently, she took her adoptive mother’s surname for a while, but did not use it when she moved to London. Miss Scarborough also employed a maid and companion for Kordelia.

“The little household around Miss Scarborough – she, Kordelia, Wentworth, the maid, and a family friend – travelled through the kingdom until 1819. The longest they stayed at a place together was a month. When Miss Scarborough decided to cross the Channel, the others would stay at the same place for a considerably longer time. After eight years of constant travelling, Kordelia got tired of it and asked her mother if it was possible for her and the others to settle down somewhere while her mother would indulge in her travels on her own. Miss Scarborough accepted Kordelia’s request, and Kordelia went to live at her mysterious choice of settlement. There are reports that her mother visited her as often as she could – Kordelia was only fifteen at that time after all – but there is nothing on where Miss Scarborough went, where Kordelia chose to live. And this absolutely ridiculous circumstance leaves us with a gap of eighteen years.”

“A very large, very suspicious gap,” chimed in Cedric.

“Definitely, but not exactly something that would incriminate Wentworth now, eleven years after he re-emerged into common society with his household. There are no documents on Wentworth having been spotted anywhere else in those missing eighteen years, so I would presume he had simply been staying there, taking care of Kordelia Bloomfield’s household day in, day out. Still, this is obviously an eyebrow-raising topic and needs to be examined further. Unlike Milton, however, that’s the only gap in Wentworth’s timeline. After the death of his mistress, of Milton’s mother, in 1838 Wentworth was regularly seen running errands alone or accompanying Leland,” Cecelia said, counting the differences between Milton’s and Wentworth’s stories on her hand. “Milton was only seen twice in the same year. In 1841, Milton travelled overseas and did not take Wentworth or anyone else with him – he went alone. Again, Wentworth’s schedule is perfectly documented in contrast…”

“Wait – Milton went away alone?” Cedric cut her off, earning a glare from Cecelia. “He alwaystakes Wentworth with him, why not then?”

“That’s the mystery, Not-Kristopher, for God’s sake,” she snapped. “And how often do I have to tell you that you should not interrupt me!” She took a deep breath to calm herself down before she continued, “After Neal Salisbury’s death, Milton went missing from the public eye again; Wentworth was still seen in the city. When Milton engaged more in society, his butler was at his side, loyal and true as a shadow. When Milton was in Cardiff around the time of his uncle’s death, Wentworth was with him. He accompanied him to his travels afterwards – to Germany, to France, to Sweden… all the way to China and Korea and back. He was with him when Leland died. He was with him when he got involved with Cloudia. He was with him when he travelled again. He is with him now. Whenever Milton is in public or away, Wentworth is by his side; and when Milton is unseen, Wentworth is observed running errands for his young master. Wentworth’s file is airtight except for the eighteen-year gap. The rest of Milton’s gaps aren’t Wentworth’s too. He did not use them to his benefit to hide his criminal schemes if you believed that, Not-Kristopher.”

“But that does not mean he isn’t doing any criminal scheming; it only means that he didn’t hide it with that,” Cedric pointed out, and Cecelia rolled her eyes and took another sip of her coffee.

“You’re hopeless, Not-Kristopher, and I wish I brought something stronger to drink to get through this,” she said. “If you are so adamant about Abraham Wentworth being the true arms dealer, why don’t you explain his motives to me? After all, this business would harm the Salisbury Company – and it almost did. The Salisbury Company, the pride and joy of Milton’s family; his dear protégé’s company. Why should he purposefully try to exploit and hurt it? What is he gaining from it?”

“Maybe he doesn’t care for the Salisbury Company and Milton? Maybe he intends to ruin Milton and run off to have a better life elsewhere with all the money he accumulated on the side with his smuggling business?”

“You’re wrong: Wentworth does care for Lord Milton.”

“No, you are wrong. Milton flinched when Wentworth spoke to him in Dover. Wentworth left him alone when Milton was not feeling well. Does this sound like he cares to you? And since when are you a sentimental person?”

Cecelia put down her cup. “I am not sure if you know that, Not-Kristopher, but Milton needs his butler to function. In the time he was involved with Cloudia, she and I came to understand that Wentworth is his safety net. He is independent in any other manner, but emotionally he isn’t. This isn’t surprising considering that Wentworth is the only constant he has ever had. Everyone else either died over the years – his parents, his sister, his uncle, his cousin – or left; his mother’s lady companion and the family friend left his household in 1841.”

“This only proves how much Milton needs him. How much he loves Wentworth, not the other way around.”

“Cloudia grew fairly close to Lord Milton in the months they spent together,” said Cecelia, ignoring his interjection, and Cedric flinched a bit. He hoped that Cecelia hadn’t seen it, but she tilted her head and smiled. “She hasn’t told you yet, has she? I suppose she will soon, so be patient. And don’t contemplate to ask me. I have neither the time nor desire to inform you about those months. Also, Cloudia would be very mad at me if I did tell you, and I am already walking on thin ice with her considering that I researched Baron Salisbury and his butler.”

Cecelia leaned back. “At any rate, Cloudia grew quite close to Milton – not that she would ever admit this; their relationship has always been a little odd and complicated. And at some point, Milton told her that when he let go of his mother’s lady’s companion and his family friend left his household, he also talked to Wentworth about his retirement. Apparently, Wentworth was quite insistent that he would not retire anytime soon despite his advanced age.”

“Of course, he does not want to retire,” Cedric replied. “If he did, he would lose access to the Salisbury Company, and his illicit business would be harder to undertake.”

“Once you got your teeth into something, you really won’t let go of it, will you?” Cecelia sighed. “Cloudia did not go into detail as she may not know the full extent of Wentworth and Milton’s relationship, but from what I’ve heard, Wentworth very much cares for the Baron.”

“Milton said that while he views Wentworth as his family, Wentworth does not return this sentiment.”

“He’s a butler, is he not? I suppose he would want to keep a certain distance between himself and his master because his occupation requires him to do so. Just because he says that he does not think of Milton as family does not mean that this is the case. What you say is not necessarily the same as what you do and actually think and believe. Cloudia certainly believes that Wentworth cares a lot for Lord Milton.”

“And what about Dover? What about Wentworth’s neglect of Milton today?”

Cecelia rolled her eyes and poured herself another cup of coffee. “We are talking about Cloudia who has observed them for months and a few isolated cases that happened in the span of a few days. What may give us the best data to work with? You also care for Cloudia, don’t you? Do youget along with her all the time? Lord Milton and his butler are still human. Maybe saccharine Milton would never be upset with Wentworth, but Wentworth may have the capacity to be ‘harsh’ to a certain extend – and they have known each other since Milton’s birth. There isa certain familiarity and closeness between them; that cannot be denied. Also, have you asked why Wentworth was not with Milton today?”

“Wentworth wanted to spend time with Alfred and…” Cedric began before he stopped himself when the memory flowed back.

“Bram didn’t just leave me alone. I… I had to convince Bram for quite a while that I would be fine on my own. I didn’t mean to ruin Mr Newman’s day. I can look after myself after all.”

“Milton sent Wentworth away to be with Alfred because he knows they get along well and he did not want to hinder them from spending time together,” Cedric said ultimately.

“See? Milton ordered Wentworth to leave him alone – and a butler can only fight that much against his master’s wishes,” Cecelia said. “And in Dover… did the Baron flinch because his butler spoke to him or because someone said anything to him at all?”

Cedric blinked at her. “What?”

“In what state was Milton back then? Did he flinch because of Wentworth’s words or because of something else?”

“He flinched when Wentworth called him.”

“And?”

“Wentworth said Milton’s name when… when Milton was staring at Alfred,” Cedric replied haltingly, slowly drawing out each word as it dawned on him.

I had often seen Milton flinch like that. Every time he was deep in thought or very focused on something, and someone – anyone – interrupted him, he would flinch.

I had been the cause of this plenty of times.

Cecelia looked at her fingernails as she spoke. “Have you understood? Milton flinched not because Wentworth was the one who spoke and addressed him but because someone pulled him out of his thoughts.” She looked up. “And now, please answer this question for me:

“What is with you and your insistence to prove Milton’s innocence in this still very hypothetical matter that he may be an arms smuggler? Have you become so smitten with him in this short time? Or are you simply trying to convince everyone and yourself that you don’t hate and aren’t jealous of Milton for the petty fact that he was ‘there first,’ whatever this entails?”

“I am not jealous of Milton. I don’t hate him either.”

“Do you like him then?”

Cedric was silent, and Cecelia laughed. “Not-Kristopher, how idiotically amusing you are. What does it do for you to lie to yourself? No wonder why your hair is all grey. I never lie to myself as I believe it to be a matter too pointlessly exhausting. And look at me: As youthful as ever.” She leaned back. “So?”

“I barely know Milton,” Cedric said matter-of-factly. “I neither hate him nor am I particularly fond of him.”

“And still?”

“And still… There’s no ‘and still,’ Cecelia.”

“And still you were almost about to tell.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“No, you are being ridiculous,” replied Cecelia, raising her voice ever-so-slightly. “From all I know and from all I have heard, I believe that there must have been at least one instance today when you thought that there is something off about Milton. Am I right?”

Cedric stiffened a bit. Agitated by his stubbornness, Cecelia did not seem to notice as she energetically carried on. “I know you’re a fraud,” she said, “but I assume you have not lived under a rock until last year, have you? So, is there not something about Milton that strikes you as fundamentally odd?”

Cedric blinked at her. “I haven’t lived under a rock, but what do you mean? ‘Fundamentally odd’?”

She sighed. “A young man, well-bred, titled, extremely wealthy, and if I dare admit, rather easy on the eyes – do you understand it now?” Cecelia asked and when Cedric stared blankly at her, she sighed anew. “In his social class, people his age with such good attributes usually cannot save themselves from possible suitors – or are already married. I would even dare to say that if you ever glimpsed at Milton Salisbury’s bank statement, you would drop those trousers faster than humanly possible. Still, Milton is a bachelor, and there are only very few who even consider trying to win him over. In part, this has something to do with his constant travels, but then, don’t you think he should have still found someone by now? Maybe even in a different country? I believe Milton is like Blanche Ingram.”

“Blanche Ingram?” asked Cedric, and Cecelia rolled her eyes in frustration. “You cannot tell me I am the only one Cloudia is telling detailed plot summaries of novels to. I refuse to believe this.”

“Well, sometimes my brain automatically turns itself off while she rambles. I try to listen, but it’s an old habit and I haven’t managed to outgrow it yet…”

“What a wonderful suitor you are, Not-Kristopher. Cloudia should consider herself fortunate,” Cecelia deadpanned. “Anyway, what I want to say is that Blanche Ingram from Jane Eyre is beautiful, quite talented, and comes from a good family. All this should make her very desirable to everyone. However, like Milton, she is in her mid-twenties and still unmarried. For a woman, this is even more eyebrow-raising than for a man as women of the gentry usually marry in their early twenties or, in some cases, their late teens which means that she has surpassed the ‘usual’ age of marriage by a few years. The question is: Why does nobody want to marry Blanche Ingram despite her apparently good qualities? Because she’s a haughty person: beautiful on the outside, rotten on the inside with skin quivering in rot and on the edge of breaking up and falling apart. The kind of apple you would not even throw to the pigs. Beyond disgusting.”

“And you think Milton is like that… an apple rotten on the inside?”

“Maybe not as dramatically as Blanche, but I suppose there’s still rot inside him too. What kind of rot do you think it is? Blanche’s rot is her arrogance, her haughtiness, her ill-treatment of those below her in social status. I am aware Blanche does not know that Mr Rochester is in love with Jane Eyre by the time he faux-courts her. Still, imagine ‘indirectly’ insulting the governess of the ward of the man you are pursuing and that right in front of him? Reminiscing with your family how you maltreated your own governesses?” Cecelia shook her head. “Now, I am sounding like Cloudia, going on and on about books and fictional characters. What I am intending to say, and I am putting this as plainly and clearly as I can so that evenyou will understand it: There must be something about Milton Salisbury that is driving people away which is especially interesting as, from my observation, people are often strangely drawn to him as well. This is, of course, not always the case as can be seen from me and Cloudia’s maid Lisa Greene.”

Cedric yawned. He knew he should take another sip of the coffee, but every fibre of his being protested against it. “You are not particularly companionable people though.”

Cecelia raised an eyebrow. “Would you describe Cloudiaas a ‘particularly companionable person’?”

“No, but she’s not as openly hostile towards people as you and Miss Greene are. Or, well, in your case your hostility is packed up twenty times and wrapped to seem to be a gift.”

She smiled. “How nicely put, Not-Kristopher. Maybe your true calling is to be a writer of fiction. I believe Cloudia would very much welcome the career change.”

Cedric scowled at her, and Cecelia continued, “Maybe what draws others to him also keeps others away. However, I don’t think this characteristic of his is the one we are looking for. After all, this particular adverse effect does not seem to occur very frequently and, if it does, is more ‘severe’ if I can put it this way. Whatever drives others away from him must be something else. It may be more like a ‘feeling’ someone has in regards to Lord Milton rather than anything he does and says considering his personality.”

“Like some kind of ‘sinister gut feeling’ whenever he is around?” suggested Cedric.

Cecelia smiled. “Exactly. Have you felt something like that, Not-Kristopher?”

“I cannot say I have.”

She shrugged. “Very well.” Cecelia stood up, and relief made his heart jump.

I could sleep. I could have my peace. I could rest before Cloudia returned. I could rest to have the energy to talk to her for hours and hours, maybe even through the entire night. I-

“I will leave you now,” said Cecelia and those five words were an even more beautiful sound than the birdcage clock’s song to Cedric. She walked to the door, and he was ready to let himself drop onto his bed and promptly fall asleep as soon as the door fell into its lock behind her when she turned to him once more, a sly smile on her lips.

“This question has left me wondering for quite some time now, and I want to give it to you to ponder over as well,” Cecelia said.

“Have you never wondered why Lord Milton’s in love with our Cloudia?”

***

~Cloudia~

Hector hurried towards Cloudia, Yvette, and Vivienne as soon as he spotted them. “M Gauthier, Mlles Guilloux and Gaumont!” he greeted them with a wide smile. He was so happy and enthusiastic; one could almost forget that corpses were stored in the next room. Vivienne had told Cloudia that they did not have a separate deadhouse; they only refurbished a basement room to function as one some years back. They still called it a “deadhouse” though.

“I am glad you’ve finally arrived,” continued Hector.

“I am sorry to have left you and the others waiting for so long, Officier Monteil,” Cloudia returned. “Our conversation with M and Mme Guilbert took quite some time, and the way from there to here is long – and even longer in this horrible weather.”

Hector nodded a little excessively. “Indeed, indeed.”

A moment passed in which nobody said anything, though Hector kept smiling.

“Officier Monteil,” Cloudia asked slowly, “won’t you lead us into the deadhouse?”

“The deadhouse?” He looked to the door. “Oh. Oh, no. I cannot. I am prohibited from entering. I am standing here so that I am not a hindrance while they are working inside. M Fouille and Mlle Ledoux even told M Michaux to leave. However, he waits outside with me for a while, goes into the deadhouse to speak to your colleagues, M Gauthier, then comes back out, goes back in... I am not quite sure why. Every time, I try to stop him from entering, but he ignores me and goes inside anyway. M Michaux just entered the deadhouse again, so I would say that they will send him out any moment now. Mlle Ledoux in particular does not seem to enjoy being watched while she works.”

“That’s how she is,” Cloudia replied. “However, she does not mind when I see her work, so I would say that I can enter safely. If there is nothing else, I would like to go into the deadhouse to talk to my colleagues.” She stepped past Hector and barely touched the doorknob when he said, “The door is fairly heavy and a bit tricky to open. Not that I doubt that you can open it; it is just difficult and I want to warn you before you start to wonder. Perhaps, it would be better to wait until M Michaux is sent outside again…”

“Thank you, Officier Monteil, but I think I will be able to handle opening a door – no matter how heavy it is,” Cloudia said. She turned the knob and before she could push or pull the door – she assumed it was a “pull,” though could not be sure – the door opened and a man with greying hair came out… and flinched back when he noticed Cloudia.

“Not much was needed and then Mlle Ledoux could not oppose my presence in the deadhouse anymore,” Laurent Michaux said, glaring over his shoulder and into the room. Then, he cleared his throat and turned back to Cloudia and the others. “Vivienne, you are dismissed,” he said. “Please go and help out Corinne.”

Vivienne bowed her head and left without a word. Laurent cleared his throat again and held out his hand to Cloudia. “Laurent Michaux, pleased to meet you.”

Cloudia took his hand and shook it. “Jean Gauthier, likewise.” They let go of each other, and she proceeded to say, “I apologise if my colleagues have been troubling you too much.”

Laurent’s expression soured. “Not too much.” He narrowed his eyes and looked sideways to the deadhouse and closed the door to it.

Oh dear.

“M Michaux, may I briefly ask you a few questions?” Cloudia said.

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” she said and then proceeded to ask him about his relationship to the victims, to Nadia, Dominique, Gustave, and Marius. Laurent told her that he knew Nadia better than the others, but still barely knew her at all. He spent most of his time in the hospital or at home, wanting to spend the time he was not working away from people. As Laurent was one of the three physicians in the village, he was always pestered by everyone and, over the years, he had developed quite a distaste towards people. It did not affect his work; it only made him not spend any time with his fellow Nanteuillats. His house was even a bit farther away from the rest of the buildings to guarantee that he saw as few people as possible when he was home. Thus, Laurent had not been anywhere close to the crime scenes when the murders happened, though this circumstance did not provide him with an alibi that could protect him.

“I have one more question,” Cloudia said. “M Michaux, have you examined the corpses yourself? I know Grégoire and Maryse are currently examining them, but I want to know what you’ve learned before I talk to them about their findings.”

“I don’t have anything to say to that,” Laurent replied, and Cloudia looked at him in bewilderment. “I am not being uncooperative, M Gauthier. I did not examine the corpses myself at all.”

“Pardon?”

“Ever since I started working here as a doctor, I was never confronted with a murder case,” he explained. “Neither were the other two doctors. I asked them both, and both told me ‘Laurent, I am sorry, but I have no idea how to handle this.’ I stored the corpses and made sure they stayed in good condition which is not easy. Now, I am telling you what I have been told: M Gauthier, I have no idea how to handle this. Preserving the bodies was all I could do – Mlle Guilloux said I should keep them safe; it may be important for the investigation, she said. So I did. I cannot do anything else. Therefore, I cannot tell you about anything concerning the bodies, M Gauthier. I swear I did not tamper with the corpses in any way though.”

Cloudia nodded. “I see. Thank you for your efforts, M Michaux. They are much appreciated. Now, pardon me as I have just remembered that I wanted to ask you yet another question: I can see that the door is rather thick. Are the walls of the entire deadhouse built as thickly?”

The doctor nodded. “Yes, they are. To contain any putrid smells. People also wanted to keep as much distance from the dead as possible. No one lying in a hospital wants to be constantly reminded that they may potentially die and end up in the deadhouse.”

“I see. I assume this also means that nobody can hear you gag or something like that?”

“Indeed. Nothing can penetrate these walls: no smells, no sound. That’s why always at least two people have to be here in case of an emergency. One has to remain close to the exit to get out quickly and call for help. It is quite tedious, and we are working to install some sort of bell system.”

“Thank you. That’s all I wanted to know. I know that you dislike it when you are told to leave your own workplace but may you please leave me and my colleagues alone? We have to discuss some matters of utmost importance and confidentiality,” said Cloudia.

“Of course,” Laurent begrudgingly replied. “I will wait for you upstairs if you need me.”

“Thanks. We will not take long.”

The doctor bowed his head to her. As soon as he was walking upstairs, Cloudia turned to Yvette and Hector. “This, of course, also applies to you. I am sorry, but you cannot go inside with me.”

They nodded, and Cloudia gave them an appreciative smile before she entered the deadhouse – a cold, grey, windowless room which was well-lit by multiple lamps – and closed the door behind her. Hector had not exaggerated: The door wasextraordinarily heavy.

“We can talk,” Cloudia said in English. “The walls are thick enough that nobody will hear us.”

“Oh, finally,” Lisa exclaimed. “I was going mad being moved around like a brainless game piece, not knowing what anyone is talking about, and not being able to say a single word. And then we were always with this girl – Yvette.” She grimaced. “I have no idea what she said all day, but she sounds insufferable.”

“Maybe when we are back in England or have some time left here after everything is wrapped up, you should learn French,” suggested Cloudia.

Lisa huffed. “Of what use is it to me then? The mission will be over; it’s unlikely that we’ll return to France. And it’s not like I am one of those fine ladies who may need to know French to find a husband, accumulating and listing ‘good traits and skills’ as if they are applying to a job, or to be able to continue gossiping even in the presence of lowly maids.”

“Oh, dear,” said Cloudia. “Kam, would you agree with me that Lisa’s grouchier than usual today?”

“I am not grouchier than usual.” Lisa turned to Kamden. “Mr Kamden, if you take her side, I’ll shave your head and make a broom out of your hair.”

Kamden looked between them. “I… I will not comment on the level of Miss Lisa’s grouchiness. However… learning French may be useful for you, Miss Lisa. You can never know enough. Mr Newman could help you practice.”

“You could listen in on the secret gossip of the young ladies you think are irritating,” Cloudia pointed out. “Imagine their faces if you reveal that you actually understood everything they said.”

Lisa crossed her arms in front of her. “Hm. This does sound intriguing. Let’s see.”

Cloudia clapped her hands together. “That’s good. Now, what did you find out?”

“Some things,” Lisa said. “Yvette is not the only nuisance. That man Lawrence…”

“Laurent.”

“…whatever his name is, is also tremendously annoying. Mr Kamden tells him to please go and wait outside, we want to do the examinations in private, and he keeps coming in! You have barely touched a corpse, he comes in, starts to chatter – don’t ask me what could be so urgent and important – and I stand here,” Lisa pointed next to a table with a body laid out on it, “or there,” she pointed to another table, “and can only think ‘If I could talk to him, I would cuss him straight to his own grave.’ Another reason why I should perhaps learn French. Mr Kamden has the most difficulty to get him out again – you know how soft he is – and I can only seethe and glare in silence. A pain. I don’t care what that doctor’s name is. He’s a pain. I’m calling him that – Pain.”

“‘Pain’ is bread in French,” Cloudia told her.

“That fits too. If we chop him up, we’ll likely find pieces of bread wedged between his cerebral lobes. Assembling the pieces might even give us a whole loaf.”

“A whole loaf?”

“A whole loaf! This village is infested with the most idiotic people.” Lisa gritted her teeth. “And then there’s this moronic police officer or whatever he is.”

“Hector Monteil.”

“He is so stupid, he’s wholly undeserving of any name. He got lost multiple times from the church to the hospital. We lost so much time because he has a worse sense of orientation than a headless chicken! And then when we finally arrived, he let Pain enter the deadhouse every two minutes! How can you be so spineless as a police officer? If someone says to maybe take care that someone does not enter a room – and Mr Kamden politely told him that after I could urge him to do so in the short window between us being all alone and Pain barging in again – you make sure that person does not enter the room!” Lisa pinched her nose. “If he was in charge of protecting someone, his protégé would die within minutes because he would let the killer into the room – maybe give them a little gift basket too.”

“Miss… Miss Liiisa,” Kamden said. “Do you want to sit down…?”

“Nice of you to ask, Mr Kamden, but I cannot simply sit down in Lady Cloudia’s presence.”

“You have my permission to sit,” Cloudia said.

“Well then,” Lisa replied and threw herself on the deadhouse’s singular chair.

Kamden took a deep breath. “Cloudie, what Miss Lisa was trying to say was that we did our best but were unable to do much due to outside factors.”

Lisa huffed and crossed her arms in front of her. “Don’t be so kind to those idiots, Mr Kamden. They hindered us at our work. It is a miracle that we managed to do a full external examination for all four bodies.”

Cloudia pressed her lips together. “That’s definitely not ideal.” She glanced at a clock and sighed. “And it’s too late to continue now.”

“It is not that late, Cloudie,” Kamden meant, but she shook her head. “No. Today is an awful day. You must be tired. I do not want to force you to do the internal examination now too. Also, if you do it while you are exhausted, you are more likely to make any mistakes which I’m sure you don’t want. This is not ideal at all and things can change overnight, but whether we like it or not you will have to continue tomorrow. The results of the external examination are better than nothing.” Cloudia leaned against the door. “Now, Kam, tell me, what did you find out? Then, we can finally head back and have dinner.”

Kamden grabbed his notes and walked to the table with Nadia’s body on it. “Nadia Allemand. 61 years old. Killed in the night from the 16th to the 17th of June. She was found by Mme Armelle Peletier in her tailor’s shop. As you can see, Cloudie, Mme Allemand wore only her nightgown when she was killed. Her bed was untouched, so it can be assumed that she was killed shortly after she changed clothes. Mme Allemand possibly heard noises downstairs and went to look for their source. I doubt the culprit changed her clothes; neither her wardrobe was in disarray nor could we find any marks that indicate this happened.” With his pencil, he pointed to the numerous pins that still protruded from Nadia’s corpse, though many had already been carefully removed and placed in bags. “Her nightgown exposes large parts of skin. Every exposed part has been meticulously punctured with pins. Miss Lisa found the same pins in a tea box at the tailor’s shop, meaning that the culprit knew Mme Allemand and used her own property against her. However, the pins were not the cause of her death.”

“It would be odd if they were,” Lisa continued. “They are quite thin and have not been stabbed very deeply into Mme Allemand’s skin. It’s a bit like acupuncture: There are so many pins in her skin and it makes for a horrifying image, but she did not die of that. I checked the needles and can say that they aren’t laced with poison.

“There’s nothing special about her nightgown; it’s some old rag-type thing, too often washed, too long in use. This is surprising considering that Mme Allemand used to be a seamstress. I guess, she was simply fond of it. Thomas is also weirdly attached to his especially stinky pieces of clothing that won’t ever lose their horse stench no matter how often I wash them.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, apart from the hundreds of little puncture holes, Mr Kamden and I found only one more outward blemish on her body.” Lisa touched the back of her head. “The backside of her head shows clear signs of blunt force trauma. Fractures in skulls aren’t as ‘flashy’ as hundreds of needles, I suppose, so it was overlooked. Mme Allemand was likely hit in the back with something and died. Then, the killer spent an ungodly amount of time putting metal-toothpicks into her skin for whatever reason. Maybe they wanted to distract from the head injury, no idea.”

Kamden moved to the next body and pointed with the pencil at it. “Dominique Duhamel. 19 years old. Killed in the night from the 17thto the 18th. He was found by the clergy when they went to the church to prepare for Sunday Mass. He was hanging from the church’s roof and a knife pierced his heart.” He pointed to the “empty” wound. “We removed and bagged the knife. The knife seems to be perfectly ordinary.”

“Imagine if the culprit had used a knife with their initials on it. We would only need everyone’s name and the case would be wrapped up in no time,” Lisa said. “We might have caught Townsend by now and be on our way home. Who knows?”

Cloudia sighed. “If only things were that easy,” she said and immediately remembered Cedric’s frequent suggestions to use “his method:” “Don’t be like that, Countess. You know that my method is much easier and faster. We can spend the time we save getting something to eat.” She knew that “his way” was indeed easier and faster; only, she did not want to become too reliant on such methods and use Cedric’s “short-cut.” As long as a case was not virtually unsolvable through regular means or she had not completely lost patience with an investigation, Cloudia had no desire to use it. While this investigation was wearing her nerves thin, it had not snapped them yet.

Maybe that would happen one day; maybe it would not. I hoped it would not. I very much wanted to avoid seeing Cedric’s triumphant face and hearing his snappish remark.

“Kam, please continue,” Cloudia said.

“Of course.” Kamden looked at Dominique’s body. “He was hanged on his neck, though he was not strangled to death. He was already dead by the time he was hanged. His neck didn’t break and uhm…” He looked at his notes. “M Duhamel was stabbed in his heart twice. The first stab killed him. Miss Lisa guesses that the murderer removed the knife when carrying his body to the roof as it may have been inconvenient to carry it with a knife protruding from it.”

“‘May’? Mr Kamden, I want to see you carrying a corpse with a knife lodged in its chest without any problems,” Lisa interjected.

“I wouldn’t be able to carry M Duhamel’s body though,” Kamden said. “Obviously, the culprit has to be strong as he was able to hang M Duhamel from the church’s roof. According to M l’Abbé, no contraption to get the body to the roof has been used after all. Also, Dominique Duhamel is quite muscular; it would not have been easy to carry him at all. We have no idea where he was actually killed before he was brought to the church.”

“Someone stabbed M Duhamel in the heart,” said Lisa. “Then, that someone brought him to the church, hanged him and stabbed him anew. It is curious that the culprit stabbed him again.”

“Indeed,” Cloudia replied. “I would say that it has some significance; maybe not the fact that he was stabbed twice, but that he was stabbed in the heart. It’s interesting that he was stabbed cleanly through the heart – and that the murderer made the effort to bring him to the church. Are there any other injuries? Any signs of a struggle?”

Kamden shook his head. “Nothing. I can’t say yet if he was drugged or not, but I would assume he was. It would be strange if he had stood still while someone stabbed him in the heart.” He moved to the next table. “Let’s continue with Gustave Beaubois. 18 years old. Killed in the night from the 18th to the 19th. He was found by Marc Cazal in the woods. He was lying on the ground, and, unlike M Duhamel, he was stabbed in the back. The kitchen knife that was used to kill him still protruded from his back. We bagged the knife too, and it is, again, a regular knife. M Gustave was lying on his stomach, but his head was turned to look up. His eyes were still open when he was found. Again, there were no signs of a fight. It is likely that he was also drugged before he was stabbed. His pockets have been emptied. Because he is the woodcutter’s son and helps his father a lot, I think, M Gustave is very fit and muscular.”

“If there had been a fight,” Lisa added, “he could have easily subdued his attacker. So, he musthave been drugged. However, there are no signs that Gustave Beaubois was carried to the woods. The culprit must have given him the drugs then and there, though why would he have taken something from someone he potentially did not know at all? It’s weird, but then the living residents of this place are all horribly dumb. I guess, he was as much of an idiot and took something a stranger gave him. In the forest, no less.”

“Or it was not a stranger,” suggested Cloudia. “The killer knew where Mme Allemand stored her pins. The killer could easily give Gustave something to drug him. If the stab to the heart and the church have some deeper personal significance, the killer may have known Dominique too. I do not want to completely disregard the ‘the murderer is the stranger’-hypothesis just now, but it seems more probable that the culprit is one of the villagers. Furthermore, the stranger was seen by multiple people – he does seem to exist. The question is: Where is he?”

Kamden nodded. “I would also say that one of the villagers is the true culprit.”

“And everyone is blaming the stranger because it’s always easier to blame the stranger,” said Lisa.

“Exactly.” Kamden walked to the fourth and final table. “Marius Beaubois. 17 years old. Killed in the night from the 19thto the 20th. He was found in the fountain on the village square by someone on their way to work. His entire body was submerged in the water. His skin is shrivelled because of this and his clothes are completely wet. It rained heavily that whole night, but he is not wearing a jacket or a cloak. There was also not an umbrella found at the crime scene. The rain made it impossible to check for any marks that indicate that he was carried to the fountain or that he fought against his assailant. Thus, unlike with the others, it is harder to discern whether M Marius knew his killer or not.

“M Marius did not drown. His head was smashed.” Kamden nonchalantly circled with his pencil over the damaged head. “He was both hit in the back and the front with possibly a hammer or something similar.”

“It looks like someone tried to pry open his scalp with a hammer and brute force,” commented Lisa. “As if the murderer saw Marius Beaubois and thought ‘oh, canned food.’ Only the culprit did not manage to open him up properly and then threw him in the fountain out of frustration.”

Kamden looked at her, horrified, and she shrugged. He blinked at her and then cleared his throat and looked through his notes. “I think that is all for now. We’ll have to look further into everything tomorrow.”

***

~Cedric~

“Have you never wondered why Lord Milton’s in love with our Cloudia?”

If I had not seen her eyes and knew better, I could make an excellent case detailing why Cecelia Williams was a demon – maybe even the devil. It would be a case so convincing that everyone would hunt her down, and I would finally be at peace.

Cedric rolled around on his bed, trying to shake away the question and rattle his restless mind into silence.

What had I even done to her? Nothing. Nothing at all. I was her “ally,” and she still did this to me. Heavens, how would Cecelia behave if I had done something to her? If I were her enemy?

If she ever found whoever killed her husband Michael, I would not want to know what she would do to that person.

Cedric turned and turned around. He rolled over his bed countless times, even changed his position from correctly to sideways to upside-down and all the way back. The bed must look like a warzone.

He kept his eyes firmly closed while he tried to find a comfortable sleeping position and shut out his thoughts. Unfortunately, Cedric was quite unsuccessful in either as Cecelia’s damn question had taken root in his mind: “Have you never wondered why Lord Milton’s in love with our Cloudia?”

He turned on his back and sighed. The question was haunting him, but he had refused to give it an answer.

Until now.

Lying in his bed for what must have been hours and being unable to find any sleep while a very persistent question asked by a demon lady knocked against the walls of his mind had drained the last bit of energy and strength Cedric had. His willpower had been filed off, and when the question knocked again, he answered in his mind: “How could he not.”

My sleepless, restless, haunted mind kept threading this string of thoughts into a cursed blanket that laid heavily over me.

I had no idea how they had met, how they had interacted and been at each other’s side, but if Milton had spent such a long time with Cloudia, he should have collected plenty of reasons to fall in love with her. How could he not have fallen in love with every bit of her being then?

The light in her eyes when she rambled about anything she was passionate about. The mischievous shine in her eyes when she had a witty remark on the top of her tongue. The triumphant smile whenever she solved a case. Her smiling face, her thinking face, her annoyed face when I teased and teased her…

Her sternness, her stubbornness, her eagerness to succeed and win. Her determination to take on all challenges. The calmness that appeared on her face whenever she was reading and which made her look so youthful – made her look as young as she actually was. Her softened expressions when she read a sad part, a lovely part, a funny part.

Her glares and scowls and strained patience… The brief moment of disdain that laid itself over her face whenever she had to eat olives – or any other bitter or overly salty food.

Her hand in mine. Her warmth against me.

The warmth that filled my body whenever she laughed at a silly joke or made one herself.

And her laugh. Her laugh, her laugh… Carved in my memory was the meadow in Wales, the sunshine, the bright blue sky… and her laugh that filled the air, rang in my ears and heart and which had been more beautiful than any song I had ever heard.

It was one of those memories I liked to dust off and replay on bleak, grey days when I had worked long, tiring hours, and her and my work had kept us apart and busy for too long.

If he had heard this laugh once too, what other reason could he even need to be in love with her?

“God, what am I thinking?” Cedric mumbled into his pillow. “What’s the matter with me,” he said and rolled around again, trying to shake off these thoughts, shake off these thoughts which had not arrived with Cecelia’s words. They had been infesting his mind for weeks and weeks and months and months. They had come one day in silence and never left again, no matter what Cedric did.

These thoughts had been there all this time, but he had managed to hide them away temporarily –only for Cecelia to drag them out again with her damn, damn question.

Cedric rolled around again, though his movement was a little too wild this time and he fell with a shriek. He opened his eyes, saw himself tangled in blankets and stared up at the ceiling.

If I did not know better, I would be certain that Cecelia was a demon.

“I am not,” said Cedric to himself as he struggled to sit up in this tangled mess he had made, “in love with the Countess.”

“I am not,” said Cedric as he pulled himself up and sat down on his bed, “in love with the Countess.”

He let himself fall back. “I am not in love with the Countess,” he said a moment before he sat up quickly, his heart pounding vehemently in his chest, because Newman came to his room to tell him that Cloudia and the others had returned and were currently taking baths.

***

~Cloudia~

Relief overcame Cloudia as soon as she walked over the threshold and into the château. It felt as if she had been away for a year or more, as if she had travelled far and long and finally returned home after spending a long time on the road and living through countless adventures. Only, she had been in the village down the road for less than a day. Cloudia wondered how intense the feeling of return would be when she came back to Phantomhive Manor after actually having travelled far and long with many hours on the road and adventures on the way.

One step after another.

First a bath. Then Cedric. Then catch the murderer. Then Townsend.

Then return home.

But, first, it was time for my bath…

“What is this mess?” Lisa asked. She pulled down her hood and stared at the weird “apparatus” that took up most of the entrance hall and even went up to the main staircase’s first landing. It was made out of all sorts of things, and Cloudia had no idea where to look as there was so much to see. So many unrelated objects – cutlery, books, wheels, toys, a service wagon, etc. – had come together to create this Frankenstein-construct, but for what purpose?

“That’s not a mess!” said a very upset voice. A second later, Anaïs walked into the entrance hall, carrying a few boxes of playing cards. Gérard followed her like a duckling.

“Miss Lisa,” Anaïs continued when she stood in front of them. “This is a chain-reaction machine Arnaud, Gérard, and I have been creating with Milton’s help.” With a bright smile on her face, she gestured to the machine. “Oh! And welcome back, of course,” Anaïs quickly added and curtsied to them.

“Thank you, Anaïs,” said Cloudia as servants came to help her, Kamden, and Lisa out of their wet cloaks and wrapped them in dry blankets. They wanted to usher them to their respective rooms to take a hot bath and change clothes, but Cloudia told the servants to prepare the baths and that they would go to their rooms in a little while on their own. With nods, they left, and Cloudia, Lisa, Kamden, Anaïs, and Gérard were alone in the entrance hall.

“With this now over…” Cloudia said and wrapped the blanket tighter around her. She yearned for this bath, but her curiosity prevented her from rushing to her room just now. “…could you tell me more about this chain-reaction machine as you have called it, Anaïs?”

Anaïs nodded enthusiastically. “After lunch, Arnaud, Gérard, and I explored the château. We have been here so often, but its unique shape allows you to discover new things, no matter how well you think you may know the place. So, we found this one room and a beautiful clock was in it. All gold, shaped like a cage – it even had a bird inside! And the bird sings!” She sighed. “It’s sopretty, Claudette! But then we made a mistake and the clock was damaged. The bird fell off and the clock stopped working… We panicked and walked around in the château and eventually met Duke Kristopher and Milton. Milton recognised the clock and said it is a Jaquet-Droz and very expensive and important. We panicked even more and then he said he could perhaps repair the clock! We went to his room, and it was like magic, actual magichow he fixed the clock, Claudette! I shudder only thinking about it. Afterwards, Duke Kristopher went back to his room because he was sleepy. We returned the clock to its original place and then gathered all kinds of objects to build a chain-reaction machine. As you know, Milton can’t be left alone now, so I suggested that we could build something together if he can do such things, and he said we could make a chain-reaction machine. And it’s been so fun to put everything together! Milton is amazing. He thought of most, but we helped too, of course. We are almost done! He and Arnaud should return soon with the last few bits and then we can see if the machine works. I know you are wet and tired, but it will not take long, I suppose, until they come back.” Anaïs looked at Cloudia with big eyes.

Cloudia blinked at her cousin, trying to make sense of her words. Milton had fixed a broken birdcage clock that could sing? A Jaquet-Droz even? She had heard of the Jaquet-Droz and Leschot clocks and while she did not know much about them, she knew that they were definitely not simple to build or repair. And then, Milton had also planned out this convoluted monster-machine that had taken over the entrance hall and wound up the stairs?

“Yes, I will wait a while to see the machine in motion,” Cloudia eventually said. “But Milton and Arnaud better be quick.”

Anaïs smiled at her and then turned to Kamden and Lisa. “And what about you two?”

Kamden glanced at the machine. “I think… I think I’ll wait and see the demonstration.”

“Lady Anaïs,” said Lisa, “excuse me, but I will not stay. I am wet and cold to my bones, so I must decline.”

“I understand. Warm yourself up well, Miss Lisa,” Anaïs replied, and Lisa bowed her head at her words. She was about to leave when Newman and Wentworth entered the entrance hall.

Immediately, Lisa stopped in her tracks and huffed at Newman’s sight. “There you are,” she said. “I have started to wonder whether you were eaten by this unnecessarily confusing building.”

A soft blush crept into Newman’s cheeks. “I profusely apologise, Lisa. I have been busy all day. Still, I should have worked harder to wish you a good morning earlier at least.”

“How dramatic you are being, Al,” said Lisa as if she had not complained about his busyness and absence this very morning and said that she had begun to believe that he was eaten by the château a moment ago. “It’s fine.”

“Let me make it up for you later,” Newman replied with a smile and then turned to look at Cloudia and Kamden as well. “Welcome back, Lady Cloudia, Mr Emyr,” he said with a bow. “I suppose preparations for your baths are being undertaken at this moment?”

Cloudia nodded. “Indeed, though Emyr and I are waiting until Milton and Arnaud arrive so that we can watch the chain-reaction machine’s demonstration.”

“I see,” Newman replied, and right on cue, Milton and Arnaud entered the entrance hall. They halted at everyone’s sight.

“Lady Cloudia, Emyr, Miss Greene,” said Milton, looking rather surprised to see them. “Welcome back. I did not expect to see you here. Or you, Mr Newman and Bram.”

“Everyone has been waiting for you, Milton,” Cloudia told him. “We are very much looking forward to seeing you demonstrate the machine you put together with Anaïs, Arnaud, and Gérard.”

Milton’s eyes widened. “You have been waiting to see this machine work although you are wet and cold?”

Kamden nodded. “Yes.”

Milton blushed and looked down at the final piece in his hands, a small toy wagon. “Then, we should not leave you waiting any longer.” He was about to set out to make his finishing touches on the machine when Wentworth said, “A moment, please, Master Milton.”

Milton turned to his butler who walked to him, held his arm, and put a hand on his cheek to crane his head to inspect him. “Mor,” Wentworth said softly. Cloudia had heard this voice of his many times before; still, it always surprised her anew. “We have been separated all day – how have you been?” the old butler continued. “Did you get lost?”

Milton leaned a bit into his touch. “Almost,” he answered faintly. Their conversation, despite being held in the presence of others, felt so private, Cloudia was nearly embarrassed for listening to it. “But Kristopher was there for me, and then Anaïs, Arnaud, and Gérard. It was all right. I am all right – I am as well as the circumstances allow me to be, Bram.”

Wentworth let go of Milton’s arm and cheek, and Cloudia could have sworn to have seen a smile on the butler’s face for a split second. “That is good to hear, Master Milton.”

Cloudia tore her eyes from the scene – and noticed Lisa next to her grimacing at them which made her chuckle. Lisa had always disliked seeing Milton and Wentworth displaying their closeness.

Some things never changed.

“Ah, the chain-reaction machine,” Milton exclaimed, “but first before I forget it.”

He swiftly took hold of Kamden’s hand, and Kamden blinked at him, clearly taken aback by the sudden touch. “I know this is several hours late,” said Milton with a smile on his face. “Still, I wanted to thank you for helping me during breakfast.”

Kamden blushed and promptly looked away. “Youu… Yooou’re we-welcome, Milton.”

Milton’s smile brightened a little and then an embarrassed blush crept into his cheeks and he let go of Kamden’s hand. “I am so sorry, Emyr. I got carried away. I didn’t mean to take your hand like that.”

“No-no, it… it is aaall right,” Kamden replied, still keeping his gaze diverted from Milton.

Milton smiled awkwardly at him and then looked at Anaïs. “Anaïs, do you have the card games?”

“Yes, I do!” Happily, she handed them to Milton. “Thanks,” he said and then hurried upstairs to do… something. Cloudia could not tell what he was doing from where she was standing, though he seemed deep in concentration as he set the pieces in place.

“Anaïs, Arnaud, Gérard,” Milton said after a little while. “May you come up here please to set the machine in motion?”

The children looked at one another for a moment before they bolted upstairs with surprising care not to destroy the precarious apparatus. When they arrived by Milton’s side, he turned to speak to those downstairs, a shy smile on his lips, “It has been a while since I last created a chain-reaction machine, but as this one has been a group effort – and Anaïs, Arnaud, and Gérard did so well for this being their first one – I would say that it will be a success. I hope you will enjoy the demonstration.” He nodded to the children who together pushed the wagon forward to set the machine in motion.

The wagon collided with a row of playing stones that fell down one by one. Like dominos, they fell – and so did the rest of the machine. One part fell into the other, drove into the other, circled and catapulted and pirouetted and rolled into the next. One by one, the separate parts and objects handed the energy the children had put into the machine with their push to the next in line. This inanimate relay race continued down the stairs, circled and zig-zagged over the entrance hall’s floor. It was fascinating to watch the objects interact, and all their interactions cumulated into a set of domino stones falling against a doll that had held down a wound-up music box. The doll tumbled down, the pressure was taken from the music box – and its song echoed through the hall.

Excitedly, Anaïs and Gérard and even calm Arnaud jumped up and down when the music box’s melody rang out. “It worked! It worked!” they chanted and hugged one another.

Cloudia started to clap and the others joined her, even Lisa who had said that she would leave but who had been intently watching the machine in action. The children hugged a taken-aback Milton. He turned red in all this joy and the praise he and the children received from those downstairs. It was a lovely sight, and it had been a triumphant, satisfying moment when the box had begun to sing. Still, a bad feeling had overcome Cloudia when the machine had reached its end. She was glad no one noticed how stiff her clapping was.

***

~Cedric~

Cedric thanked Newman for the information, and when Newman asked him what had happened to his bed and offered to tidy up everything, he declined the offer and said he would fix it himself. He forced himself to smile to seem normal and not distressed from his mind infestation and sleep deprivation. Then, Newman left, and the first thing Cedric did afterwards was to rub his eyes and stand up. He swayed a little, but quickly recovered and went to the little desk where Cecelia’s evil coffee still was.

Cedric had planned to sleep a bit before Cloudia’s return so that he would be energised enough again to be able to talk to her at length. Only he had been unable to catch any sleep, and the coffee had helped him earlier. It would have to help him now too. Cedric braced himself before he poured himself another cup and drank it like it was bitter medicine.

It was worse than before. Earlier, it had at least been hot and fresh, now it was cold, and every fibre of his being protested as Cedric forced the cup down.

If this didn’t work now…

Grimacing, Cedric put the cup down. It was as vile as before, and the coffee’s bitter taste stuck to his mouth and throat in the worst way possible. He then walked to his bathroom and splashed cold water into his face – however, he had forgotten to remove his glasses first. Cedric cursed and took them off. His vision blurred, and he kept his face close to the furniture to see anything at all. It must have looked comical how he was hunched over, dripping to the ground and onto objects, carefully moving from the sink to the shelves to find tissues. Normally, Cedric would have wiped his glasses on his clothes, but that would wet them, and he neither wanted to look even more dishevelled than he already did when he met Cloudia nor was he pretending that he would have enough energy to change.

If someone entered my room now…

After an agonising while, Cedric finally found some tissues and dried his glasses. He put them back on, walked back to the sink, took them off to wash his face again and dry himself off, and then put his glasses back on. He felt like a fool with every action he took, but it couldn’t be helped. Cedric rubbed his eyes and squinted at his reflection.

He looked awful. Maybe, before he had washed his face, he had looked worse, but he had forgotten to look into the mirror beforehand. At any rate, he looked pale and exhausted and had dark rings under his eyes. Cedric knocked against his head to set his tired brain in motion to think of good excuses and come-backs for later when Cloudia would remark on his appearance. At least, while he could not fix his face, he could fix his hair which had turned into a bird’s nest.

Cedric leaned against the sink – he wanted to sit down but knew very well that he would be unable to stand up again if he did – and stared at his reflection while he brushed and brushed his hair. The length was a hassle. Hard to wash, hard to brush, hard to maintain. Still, Cedric could not imagine ever cutting off more than just the tips again.

When he had brushed out all knots, Cedric bound his hair to a ponytail and then stood for a moment in his bathroom. The coffee’s bitter taste still clung to him, and the cold water had minimally helped to wake him up.

Maybe I should move around a bit. Wake up my body, get my blood pumping. I had no idea how many minutes ago Newman had come to tell me that Cloudia, Kamden, and Lisa had returned from Nanteuil-la-Forêt, though I discerned that enough time must have passed that Cloudia would now be in her room.

I guessed she would want to talk. She always did even if I were to say nothing at all, not that I had ever sat quietly and listened; she liked to have someone to whom she could talk about her cases. Talking to yourself too often was, after all, maybe not the healthiest in the long run.

Still, I didn’t think that Cloudia would come to seek me out. She would want me to come to her. After all, I had, theoretically, the opportunity to rest and catch up on some sleep, and she had been wandering around Nanteuil-la-Forêt all day in terrible weather and must now be awfully exhausted. Cloudia couldn’t know that I had delayed my rest and that Cecelia had come to ruin my day and sleep.

Of course, I could tell her that “yes, I know that you are expecting me to come to you, but Cecelia was being a nuisance and did not let me sleep, so could you come to me instead?” But I didn’t want to sound whiny, and moving would likely help me to shake away some of my sleepiness. And I needed to be, I wanted to be awake when I talked to Cloudia. I had, after all, much to say to her too.

Cedric clapped his cheeks a bit and then coerced his protesting body to leave the room and get to Cloudia’s. At least, it was not far.

***

~Cloudia~

Cloudia sighed in relief when she slipped into the warm bath. She had known that she needed this for hours, but she had not known how much she needed this until she was doused in water.

My body warmed up and relaxed, soaked in bubbly, scented water. The water soothed my muscles, untangled my thoughts that laid in my mind as a ball of string. The strings came loose, snippets of today rattled my mind: the carriage ride, the rain, Yvette, Antoine, the tailor’s shop, the bakery, the church, Nicolette and Marcel, Hector, Armelle, the rain, the rain…

I could stay in the bath forever. Let my skin shrivel for warmth and relaxation, for comfort and peace.

At least, I wanted to stay until I could sort all I learned today and the days before. Bring the pieces together bit by bit like the chain-reaction machine, laying the pieces out one by one in my head before I wrote them down. Laying them out until they clicked into place and I reached a conclusion.

But it was only a small part of me that wanted to remain here. To think this through all by myself. A small piece that was still the lonely girl of the past that had no one to talk to, no one to listen to her words.

I had one now.

With yet another sigh, Cloudia emerged from the water. Her body was refilled with energy. She could do anything – sprint over fields, climb mountains, swim across seas – but for now, it was enough to get dressed and cross a few corridors.

And the thought excited her more than anything else she could do now.

***

~Cedric~

It was such a short way to Cloudia’s room, but Cedric’s tired bones made him feel every step, every movement, every minute and second. It was not a long way; still, he felt like he had been wandering for hours like an adventurer crossing forests, deserts, glaciers in the hope to find anything at all that was not a tree, a dune, a sheet of ice.

Cedric had seen enough carpets, enough lamps and portraits and vases of flowers, had wandered enough corridors that looked the same.

His destination was so close, yet so far. And so he trudged through monotony until finally, finally he arrived.

***

~Cloudia~

Quickly, Cloudia put on layer after layer of undergarments before she stepped into a yellow dress. It was not a colour she usually wore and would pick herself. Cecelia had chosen the dress, telling her that yellow complemented blue and that she was young and should bring more colour and change to her wardrobe. Cloudia had accepted the gift with a raised eyebrow. After all, she very much doubted that even though blue and yellow were complements, the dress would look flattering on her – and Cecelia who had not worn anything but black for nearly seven years had made this remark. On a whim, Cloudia had agreed to pack the dress when Lisa and she had been laughing over it during travel preparations. And she had only chosen to wear it now because, after all that rain, she could not bear to wear anything blue or dark.

Now, wearing it for the first time and looking at herself in a full-length mirror, Cloudia had to admit that Cecelia had chosen well: She looked brighter, looked like she was glowing, and the yellow of the dress went exceptionally well with the blue of her eyes and hair. Baffled, Cloudia gazed at herself from all sides. If Cecelia saw her in this dress, she would never talk about anything else again.

Let her talk. I did not care. At least not now.

Cloudia tore her gaze from her reflection and then went to leave her room. Talking to Cedric about cases had become a normalcy in the past months; he would expect that she wanted to talk about the Nanteuil-la-Forêt murders now. Expecting this, Cedric often came to her, but Cloudia would seek him out just as often. She could wait a while until he appeared on his own. However, she doubted this would happen today: Even if Cedric had been able to sleep for a few hours, he would still be tired. Newman would have informed him of her return by now, and this and the expectancy that she wanted to talk made her sure that Cedric was awake now – awake and waiting as he, while he was ready to talk and listen, would not want to go to her room in his current state.

It was her turn to visit him.

Cloudia pushed open the door and walked down the corridors to his room. It was, thankfully, not very far.

***

~Cedric~

The carpet looked the same in all passages. No matter the wing nor the floor, the carpet was a rich burgundy hemmed with gold and lightly threaded with other shades of dark red. Every step Cedric took was heavy as if his shoes were made of lead. The corridor did not seem to end, and he grew sick of the carpet.

And then a dash of yellow entered his sight. The colour clashed horribly with the carpet but still brought a smile to Cedric’s lips.

***

~Cloudia~

Energised by the bath, Cloudia wanted to dash through the halls, gather her skirts and run, but she held herself back and covered the distance between her and Cedric’s room in long, fast steps instead. The corridors’ colours blurred a little, ran into one another – the burgundy of the carpet, the beige of the walls, the gold of the frames and the light emitted by the lamps –, partially because of her speed, partially because Cloudia did not pay much attention to them.

Gracefully hurrying through the halls, it did not take long until Cloudia spotted a dark figure. He moved slowly and did not mix with the other colours. A steady, separate spectre – and she smiled upon seeing him.

***

~Cedric~

Cedric wanted to rush to her, wrap his arms around her, whirl her around. Only, his body betrayed him, and while he made the first step after they both had halted for a moment when they had spotted each other, it was her who reached him first.

He wanted to tip forward, fall forward and into her arms, but he caught himself and stood upright.

“Undertaker,” Cloudia said, and his heart stopped for a second when she took his hand and smiled at him, shining so brightly from inside and from outside in this yellow dress… “Undertaker, come, let’s go.”

***

~Cloudia~

Cedric’s body temperature was slightly too low. It was something she always noted whenever she touched him. Colder than the living, warmer than the dead. Cloudia wondered if it was a trait he shared with the other Grim Reapers or one that was all his own. She tightened her grip on his hand and did not let go until they were inside her room and she had placed Cedric in an armchair. As soon as she let go of him, he fell back into the chair like a puppet whose strings were cut. He looked pale and had dark rings under his eyes. The few hours of sleep she guessed he had definitely hadn’t been enough. Cedric certainly needed to get back to bed after their conversation and dinner.

Cloudia clenched and unclenched her hand. Apparently, it was now her hand’s turn to be cold. She sat down on a sofa opposite Cedric and when she was done arranging her skirts and brushing her hands over them, she looked up and saw him grinning like an idiot at her.

“You are grinning like an idiot at me,” Cloudia said, and his smile widened.

“I must be an idiot,” Cedric replied, and she was stunned by his sudden introspection. “Because I missed you all day, Countess. You were gone for a day, not even a day, but it feels like years have passed since we’ve last seen each other.”

Cloudia chuckled, and he continued, “Who would have thought that, at the end of the day, you are the most normal person here.”

“Beside you?”

“Beside me, of course.”

“I would not exactly describe you as ‘normal’ in any way, Undertaker.”

“Me neither, but this is a madhouse! A madhouse! No matter how weird you are, you become the most normal person as soon as you enter a madhouse. The competition is too hard.”

“Even for you?”

“Even for me.”

Cedric smiled at her, and she smiled at him. There were a million things she could have said now, so many possibilities that were ready to be spoken out – and out of them all, Cloudia chose a question she wanted to ask, but not one that rang true now. “How was your day, Undertaker? Did you play chess with Milton like you planned to?”

Cedric sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “Yes. Yes, I was able to play chess with Milton. He was fairly good, but I still beat him every time. Except once.”

Cloudia’s eyes widened, and he laughed. “I lost on purpose! He is doing so badly today; I didn’t want to be too hard on him. I let him win the first round we played, but Milton noticed it and told me to play normally. I did not think that he would notice. But then – I told you that, remember? – he somehow correctly guessed that I’m allergic to cats. Milton is as strange as he is nice. Anyway, we also ate together and then he fixed some pretty birdcage clock Anaïs, Gérard, and Arnaud accidentally damaged.”

“Anaïs told me about it,” Cloudia said. “Earlier in the entrance hall. They were building a chain-reaction machine there, and we arrived just in time for it to be completed and watch the demonstration.” She let her gaze drift through the room, let her eyes jump from shelves to books to lamps to paintings.

“You look worried. Are you all right?” Cedric asked, and she looked back at him. “I am. There is just so much on my mind right now, as you know,” Cloudia replied. She took a deep breath. “I… I didn’t know that Milton could build such things.”

“You didn’t?”

She shook her head. “I would say that I know him fairly well, but I did not know about this until today. Just like I didn’t know that you were allergic to cats until today.”

“It never came up. We’ve never run into a cat together, and I could start to sneeze like I’m a step away from my second death and tell you, ‘Countess, I have a confession to make: I am allergic to cats.’ You were my cat-repellent until now, Countess.” Cedric shifted in his seat. “You can know people for years – friends, family, colleagues, etc. – and never know all they are. Some things simply do not come up in conversations. You can know people for decades and still discover new aspects of them. It happens.”

“You’re right. It’s only…” Cloudia sighed and brushed non-existent dust from her dress. “I doubt this will become an issue. I do not want to sound overly arrogant, but if I didn’t know, what are the chances many others do? Milton’s quite isolated after all. Still, I cannot wonder: How many do know about this and how good he is?”

Cedric blinked at her and then his eyes widened when he understood what she meant. “The box.”

Cloudia nodded. “The box. It was the first thing that came to my mind when I saw the chain-reaction machine work. I’m not sure if you’ve seen it, but it’s not a simple construction at all. And the Jaquet-Droz clock – I have heard of those clocks! They aren’t easy to create or fix either. I have no idea if this means that Milton can open the Queen’s box. It doesn’t even matter if he can or not. If Townsend could not find the Clockmaker and learned that Milton might also be able to open it, he would definitely force him to try.”

Cedric took a deep breath. “I would say you are worrying too much about this, Countess. As you have said, it is highly unlikely anyone knows beside those who are here in the château…” He suddenly stopped talking and all colour vanished from his face.

“Undertaker?” Cloudia said and stood up to walk to him. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, but...” He looked at her. “Countess, I’ve been in cahoots with a demon.”

“Excuse me?”

“You see, Countess, two days ago, Cecelia gave me some papers on Milton. She said that you forbade her to research him, but she still did it because she didn’t want to go on the same ship as him unless she knew all about him. Only she could not find out everything because Milton’s extraordinarily secretive and large parts of his history are widely unknown. That’s not all: Cecelia has also heard of a weird rumour that Milton’s smuggling weapons with his trading company! Those rumours surfaced one day. Interestingly, before they could blow up and be everywhere, they vanished overnight. Cecelia caught them in time though and as the situation is so odd, she is, of course, especially suspicious. Rumours don’t have to mean anything, but the fact that they disappeared that fast means that someone wanted to get rid of them. Of course, this could have been done to protect the Salisbury Company’s reputation, though it’s unclear if this was the case or if there’s not another reason…

“Anyway, Cecelia is immensely suspicious when it comes to Milton. The rumour is bad enough, but then there is also his hidden history. It’s easy for her to find out everything about anyone else; only, she cannot find out many things about Milton. It annoys her. It also annoys her that he learns his employees’ names and gives them gifts and amazing pay and benefits. Cecelia thinks that it is only a ‘good persona’ and that he is, in fact, a terrible person. As Cecelia is Cecelia, she does not want to take the rumours at face value and told me about them so that I can spend time with Milton for her and find out if he seems like the kind of person who would viciously smuggle weapons.

“I think that everything about this is silly. I swear I only spent time with Milton because I wanted to spend time with Milton and because there was no one else I could spend the day with – not because Cecelia made me do it. Only, of course, her wicked words were always at the back of my head while we talked and played and cooked and you know. And I spent the entire day with Milton! It was interesting. He’s very odd, but under no circumstance, I would say that Milton is an arms smuggler. This doesn’t fit at all. And then I thought: If Milton is not the smuggler but his company is, in fact, involved in illicit activities and that’s how the rumour came to be, who else could be the smuggler? Milton is so careful and observant. However, he mentioned that he is good at ‘reading’ people – except for Wentworth. Thus, I thought: Wentworth is so close to Milton, and Milton can’t ‘read’ him, so it would be fairly easy for Wentworth to exploit Milton and use his company for his illicit activities. I told Cecelia how I believe Wentworth to be the actual weapons smuggler and she laughed in my face – she actually laughed at me! – because she thinks my hypothesis is beyond outlandish.

“And now, you have talked about Milton and his hobby of fixing and building objects and machines and whatnot and who could know of it: Wentworth knows of it! He literally watched him grow up and changed his garments when he was an infant! He knows of Milton’s aptitude and is apparently a dangerous smuggler that does not seem to genuinely care for Milton: Who says that he wouldn’thand Milton over to Townsend?” Cedric clapped his hands to his cheeks. “Countess! Milton is here because something went wrong with his company! What if Wentworth made sure something would go wrong and Milton had to go to France of all places to fix the problem? Like that, he brings Milton to Townsend without him knowing! Perhaps, Wentworth is already in cahoots with Townsend like I am in cahoots with the demon Cecelia. What if Townsend is not here but in Paris and Wentworth will give Milton to him when they go there? What if…”

“Undertaker,” Cloudia said, holding up her hands to emphasise that he should stop. “How much sleep did you get today?”

“I am not sleepy. No worries, Countess. Where was I again? Oh right… What if…”

“Undertaker.” She walked to him and looked down at him, narrowing her eyes. “How much sleep did you get? Did you take a nap before I arrived or not?”

Cedric sank deeper into the armchair’s cushions. “I tried but I could not. But I am awake, Countess. I drank the horrible coffee Cecelia gave me. I put my face in ice-cold water and all.”

For a moment, Cloudia was surprised that he had done all this and wondered what reason he could have had. Then, she sat down on the armrest and said softly, “Undertaker, you are talking nonsense. You always do. Right now, it is especially nonsensical. Wentworth and Milton hold each other very dearly. They would never do anything to each other. And don’t listen to that rumour: Milton would never do anything like that. Maybe someone else has been secretly using Salisbury Trading to smuggle weapons, but I assure you that it was neither Milton himself nor Wentworth.” Cloudia chuckled to herself. “What else has your exhausted brain cooked up, Undertaker? That Milton is the murderer terrorising Nanteuil-la-Forêt?”

Cedric slipped a bit down from the chair, and Cloudia stared blankly at him. “You cannot be serious.”

I had been looking forward to this – and he came with that? Seriously?

“Countess, I know it sounds a bit outlandish, but hear me out,” Cedric honestly continued and sat up properly again, and Cloudia was too poleaxed to interrupt him just now. “You remember what Maxime said? The stranger is a tall man – Milton is a tall man! The stranger likes to vanish – Milton likes to vanish! Maxime said the stranger has a ‘nice’ eye colour – Milton has nice hazel eyes! The stranger hid his hair beneath a hat – Milton has very noticeable gold-blond hair! And you found blond hair on the stranger’s bed! Today I was in Milton’s room because he had to get some tools to fix the birdcage clock. You know how odd it is that the stranger’s room is completely untouched as if no one was there? It’s the same thing with Milton’s room! Nothing looks like he ever even touched it. There are no signs of anything. I had the same feeling I had when I entered the stranger’s room when I entered Milton’s.

“I’ve not told you about this because I didn’t have the chance until now, but last night, I went to the kitchen to get some biscuits for our night talk which did not work out. I saw Milton on my way there. I turned invisible and followed him. I wanted to see where he was going because it was so late, you know? What could he possibly want to do at such a late hour? I followed him, and when I noticed that he was also going to the kitchen, I waited until he was inside, turned visible again, and went in too. I wanted to greet him and say ‘oh, what a coincidence to find you here, Milton!’ – only Milton was nowhere to be seen when I entered the kitchen! I entered it a minute after him! Maybe there was even less time between his and my entering. He couldn’t have left. Still, he managed to disappear in this minute. I was in the kitchen for about five to ten minutes and he never reappeared. What if there is some sort of secret passage in the kitchen that leads outside? What if Milton has been leaving the château via this passage to get to Nanteuil-la-Forêt and murder people? He does not seem at all like a person who would ever kill someone, but you can never know! Someone can be the nicest person around and still have a basement full of skeletons.”

While Cedric had been talking, a laugh had built up in Cloudia – a laugh that now burst out of her in full force. She doubled over with laughter and it took her several minutes and multiple attempts to calm herself down enough that she could say anything.

“Dear Undertaker,” Cloudia said, smiling. The laughter still lingered in her and it was hard to say anything without accidentally reigniting the ember. “I appreciate your efforts and that you went out of your way to make deductions to bring this case forward. However, you are disregarding one very crucial aspect: The stranger came to Nanteuil-la-Forêt and the murders started a day before we even arrived here. How could Milton have committed the first murder when he was still on his way like we were? He could have only done it if he were like you and capable of transporting himself instantly to another place. And I know for a fact that Milton cannot possibly be like you.”

She brought her face close to Cedric’s and noticed him sinking into his backrest a bit and sucking in his breath. “After all, as you’ve told me, all Grim Reapers have eyes like you, and I’ve seen yours enough to be able to say that Milton certainly doesn’t share that trait with you.”

Still smiling, Cloudia backed away, and Cedric breathed out again. Did he forget to brush his teeth and did not want her to know or why was he doing this? “Undertaker, you are too sleep-deprived to think properly.”

“I am not,” he protested.

“You can barely keep your eyes open as we speak. Go to sleep.”

“No, we had this already!” Cedric sat up straighter and then fell back again, his body too tired to hold him up.

“You don’t have to push yourself like that. If the rain stops tomorrow, you’ll have to wander to the Clockmaker, have you forgotten?”

“I do not care about the Clockmaker!” Cedric exclaimed. “I do not care about this case, about this mission. I am only here for…” He trailed off and looked away.

Cloudia raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you are here for, Undertaker, it is no reason to die a second time because you didn’t want to go to bed.” She brushed over his face, and he tensed for a second but there was not enough strength in him anymore and he immediately relaxed again. Cloudia rested her hand in his hair, and Cedric’s eyes fell closed.

It was astonishing how feathery and soft his hair was, considering how rarely he washed it. It was so silky and pleasant to touch; one could almost forget to wash their hand afterwards.

“You should go to sleep now, Undertaker. You are completely exhausted. We can always talk later.”

“No, Countess,” Cedric mumbled and opened his eyes again. “Perhaps I can’t talk much anymore, but I can listen. I can listen.” To her surprise, he took her hand. “Just tell me anything. I’ll lend you my ear for anything. I don’t want to sleep now. I can’t sleep now. I…” He yawned. “I’ve waited for you to come back all day…”

Cloudia’s eyes widened and she suddenly pulled back her hand from his head, and Cedric’s head rolled back and fell hard against the backrest. He groaned, and she put a hand over her mouth. “Why are you always hurting me… Countess…”

“This time I didn’t mean to do this,” Cloudia said and stood up. Surprised by her own action, she had forgotten that they were still holding hands. Thus, when she abruptly stood up, Cedric was first pulled forward and then let go and his head collided just as hard against the armrest. He groaned and mumbled something into the armrest Cloudia could not make out.

What was wrong with me?

“Let me get you something to cool your head. You’ve hit it twice now,” Cloudia said and hurried to the bathroom. She grabbed a towel and ran it under cold water. Cloudia turned off the tap and briefly looked up, catching a glimpse of her flushed face, before she hurried back to the main room.

“Undertaker,” Cloudia said, “this will be cold now; beware.” She was about to put the cold, wet towel on Cedric’s head when she noticed that he had fallen asleep.

Cloudia sighed and smiled at him. Then, she put the towel in the washbasin and called Newman to carry Cedric to his room.

***

Her stomach made highly unladylike sounds while Cloudia walked to the dining hall, and she was quite relieved that no one was with her to hear them, even if it was a little boring to walk alone. She sighed. It couldn’t be helped though.

To entertain herself and drown out her stomach’s noises, she mumbled a poem to herself: Thy soul shall find itself alone/’Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone –/Not one, of all the crowd, to pry/Into thine hour of secrecy:/Be silent in that solitude/Which is not loneliness – for then…

“‘The spirits of the dead who stood/In life before thee are again/In death around thee,’” Cloudia heard a voice behind her and startled. She halted and turned to see Milton behind her who was looking absentmindedly ahead. “‘And their will/Shall then overshadow thee: be still,’” he finished the stanza and then blinked – and turned red when he saw her.

“Ah, Lady Cloudia,” Milton struggled to say. “I am sorry. That must have been so weird… I’m so sorry. I… I heard you start and I recognised the poem and I couldn’t help myself and continued half-consciously – I had not heard it in a while and…” He craned his head to the empty corridor behind him and swallowed. “After the kitchen… Anaïs forgot to get something for Gérard, but Arnaud had to go to his father, and she could not leave Gérard with me and could not leave me alone. I assured her that it would be fine; I said I was fine enough to walk a bit alone, and she left after I convinced her, but said she would be quick and would catch up with me in no time. She’s still not here, and I feel very guilty relying on a little girl. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have. I thought… I thought…” Milton scratched at the hem of his sleeve, a nervous movement that Cloudia had not seen before and which made her eyes widen in concern.

“I thought it would go well because I did fairly well while we assembled and disassembled the machine and then went to... Then, she left… she left, she ran away, and I…” His eyes became distant, and Cloudia stepped forward and gently took his hand. It was an instinctive action – how many times had she seen him like this? how many times had she helped him through this? – and what little awkwardness she might feel now, taking his hand again after all this time, was drowned out by focusing on the situation at hand.

“Milton,” Cloudia said softly, “what do you need me to do?”

Milton looked at her, though it seemed more as if he was looking through her, his wide eyes looking, searching for something, someone else. Cloudia had never doubted the story of his weak heart and childhood illness, but she had always wondered if there was not more to it than he was comfortable to share; it just seemed so much like he was stuck in a nightmare.

Cloudia slightly squeezed Milton’s hand, and it seemed to help. His face twitched a little, and he closed his eyes, breathing a bit raggedly. “I… I…” Milton pressed out. “There is too much, too much… I cannot recall how it goes on.”

She smiled. “It is fine, Milton. I do. I do. ‘For the night – tho’ clear -- shall frown –/And the stars shall look not down, /From their high thrones in the Heaven,” Cloudia said and wished to have chosen a more pleasant, less heavy poem than one titled “Spirits of the Dead.” “‘With light like Hope to mortals given –/But their red orbs, without beam, /To thy weariness shall seem/As a burning and a fever/Which would cling to thee for ever.’”

“‘Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish –,’” Milton continued slowly, eyes still closed, his hand loose in her tight grip. “‘Now are visions ne'er to vanish –/ From thy spirit shall they pass/No more – like dew-drop from the grass.’”

Milton opened his eyes again and the odd far-away expression was gone from them. A little smile appeared on his lips, the kind that made it seem as if he was half-dreaming, half-awake, and Cloudia was rather relieved to see it. “Lady Cloudia, you’re here,” he said as he always did.

“I am,” she responded. “Tell me, what do you need now?”

“I want to sit down,” Milton said after some time of consideration. Without letting go of his hand, Cloudia carefully helped him to sit on the floor and lean against the wall. She sat down opposite from him, and their entwined hands hung between them as if he would float away and disappear if she were to let go.

Maybe that’s what would happen – that Milton would float away like a balloon into the sky or like a buoy out to the sea.

Milton and Cloudia sat like this in silence for a few minutes. He breathed in and out evenly to calm himself down, and she scrutinised him. Seeing Milton like this reminded her how ridiculous Cedric’s words from earlier were. Still, thinking about them again, Cloudia remembered something. The thought had lingered in the back of her mind since Lille, only she had been unable to grasp it until now. She had heard the name “Quentin Nichols” before; she was sure of it now.

In 1843, he had killed one of his co-workers. Quentin had managed to escape, and Scotland Yard had been searching for him since.

However, Cloudia could not imagine Milton hiring anyone without doing a background check first. Quentin’s crime had been in the newspapers for some time. It wasn’t an unknown case. Perhaps the Quentin Nichols she had met in Lille was not the same as the one she had heard of? That was possible. Milton surely would not employ a wanted criminal, and Quentin’s full name was “Quentin Thibault-Nichols.” The Quentin from the papers didn’t have a hyphenated surname. The Quentin from Lille might have been born a “Thibault-Nichols” or one part of it might come from his wife. As “Thibault” preceded “Nichols,” it was more likely that “Thibault” was Quentin’s birth surname.

Cedric’s absurd theories had really got to me.

“Lady Cloudia,” Milton said eventually. He still looked like he had seen a ghost, but some colour was slowly returning to his face. “I am sorry for making you see and do this again.”

“It is all right, Milton. You cannot help it,” Cloudia replied.

He smiled weakly at her, and at once, they let go of each other. Cloudia held her breath for a moment, but Milton stayed where he was.

What a silly thought, Cloudia.

Milton dug his hands into the carpet as if he too was thinking about floating away. “Thanks, Lady Cloudia.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I may need another moment.”

“Take your time. It’s fine.”

He leaned his head against the wall, and she heard him count to himself from thirty downwards. When Milton was done, he let go of the carpet and rose to his feet. As soon as they were both standing again, Cloudia heard a screeching sound behind her. Someone was running and had momentarily lost balance. She craned her head to see Anaïs hurrying towards them.

“Milton,” she said when she reached them, “was everything all right?”

Cloudia looked at Milton, and Milton avoided her eyes and replied, “Yes. Everything was all right.”

Anaïs beamed. “That’s good. You’re getting good! I feared something might have happened while I was away. And hello, Claudette! I am so happy. Now, we can go to dinner together.” She trotted ahead, and Milton and Cloudia readily followed her.

“Where did you leave your brother, Anaïs?” asked Cloudia.

“We walked into Maman on our way! He wanted to stay with her which was better anyway.”

“You ran into your mother?” Milton said. “Anaïs, you did not have to find me then.”

“Of course, I had to! I promised I would come to find you. You never break promises!” Anaïs replied energetically. “And I could not risk an incident and lose you back to the faerie realm.”

Milton smiled. “Of course. I’m sorry for saying that. Thank you, Anaïs.”

She returned his smile and then started to chatter about helping out a bit in the kitchen with Milton and the others – they had brewed some tea –, getting the item they forgot, and running into Amélie. Cloudia listened intently to what she had to say but kept glancing over to Milton. He looked fine; he thankfully looked fine. Under normal circumstances, he would have long left such a rain-heavy place, and Cloudia felt bad again to have dragged him here.

I only hoped Paris would have nicer weather.

They had almost reached the dining hall when Cloudia saw Milton putting a hand over his chest. A cold calm rushed over her, and she was about to ask if he was fine… and then, he smiled. Cloudia looked at him in bewilderment.

“It has stopped,” Milton answered her unspoken question. “The rain has stopped.”

***

Except for Cedric and the Marquis, everyone was at the dinner table today. Even Cecelia had come and was now conversing with Sylviane about something Cloudia could not catch. Jacques and Anaïs were arguing again. Aurèle was grimly eating his food, and she spotted him glaring at Milton now and then. She had to talk to him about his, to her, unreasonable dislike of Milton later. Arnaud was helping Gérard, though the little boy could eat remarkably competently for his age. On the other end of the table, Amélie was talking to her husband and brother. A few moments ago, the constellations of the conversations had been different: Anaïs had talked to her and Kamden, Jacques had asked Milton something, and Arnaud had spoken to Aurèle. Now, the exchanges and interlocutors had shuffled and Cloudia had no one to talk to. She did not mind much. This would change soon again after all, and like that, she could properly savour the delicious soup that was part of the entrée.

Cedric would be over the moon if he had it. He would swoon and then say something along the lines of “If the appetiser is this good, how would the dessert be?”

A few times, Cloudia glanced over at Kamden and Milton who were talking. They got along rather well, and Kamden seemed slightly livelier than usual when he spoke to Milton. Since the rain had stopped, Milton was looking and doing well again. He still seemed a bit shaken up, but he was almost back to normal.

By the time the main course replaced the appetiser and tea was served with the meal, Cloudia was telling an interested Anselme about her experiences during the last Season and the bit she had to endure this Season before she had been thankfully sent away by the Queen to France – not that she mentioned the latter part, of course.

It never stopped being strange to engage in such ordinary conversations in such normal settings after having looked for a murderer and inspected corpses hours before.

Halfway through the main dish, Amélie addressed Milton: “Lord Milton, I heard that you will leave us tomorrow.”

Milton halted in his movement with the sudden addressing and put down his cutlery. “Indeed, I will leave you tomorrow, Baronne, though it will not be for long. A few days, a week at most.”

“I see. For business, I heard?”

He nodded. “Yes. I have to do some business-related duties in Paris.”

“Paris?” Amélie repeated, and an odd silence fell over the other adults. “You may not have heard of this, Lord Milton, but the atmosphere in France and especially in Paris has been considerably tense in the last months. Lately, a great number of people are heading to Paris to find work. I am sure that this will not end well considering the current situation. Lord Milton, I advise you, if you haveto go, to wrap up your business quickly and return here.”

“Thank you for your piece of advice, Baronne,” replied Milton with the trained calmness he reserved for social events such as this one. “I will take care. I will do my best to complete my work there as fast as possible then.”

Amélie smiled. “You are welcome, Lord Milton.”

***

After dinner, Cloudia instinctively headed to Cedric’s room. Only halfway there did she realise that he was sleeping and that she should not disturb him. She hovered for a while in the corridor, not knowing where to go. Suddenly, Cloudia remembered that she had wanted to speak to Aurèle, and now he was elsewhere and she scolded herself for forgetting. At least, she didn’t want to talk to him about anything urgent.

Eventually, she decided to just walk. Cloudia hoped she would think of something to do while she was moving around – and that her legs would not lead her to Cedric nevertheless. Also, she had barely been in the château since her arrival; she still had so much to see and explore.

And now, I sounded like Milton. I wondered how he was doing right now. The rain had stopped before dinner, but it had bothered him all day long. It must have been awfully tiring; not that he would ever admit it.

Cloudia wandered a while through the labyrinthine château before she grew bored. The building was immensely beautiful and filled with objects that could make her talk and talk for hours – but without having anyone to talk to, it was not enjoyable at all. She had already spent years of her life talking to herself. She was not very eager to repeat the experience. Sighing, Cloudia gathered her skirts and headed downstairs. She had no idea where those stairs would lead her but they would eventually bring her to the ground floor of which she had a fairly good grasp. From there, she could go to her room, wrapping up this tiresome day even though her blood was still boiling with the desire for more. Cloudia’s entire day had been filled with the investigation; she wanted to do something for herself. The bath had re-energised her, but since dinner, she felt even more vitalised.

With nothing else to do, I supposed I would have to satisfy this want by simply reading a book. First, I would have to navigate my way through this maze though. Next time, I should ask Lisa for the Maid’s Manifesto.

Lisa.

With an idea overcoming her, Cloudia stopped on the stairs. Of course, she had been with Lisa all day long, but apart from the deadhouse and the drives to and from Nanteuil-la-Forêt, they hadn’t had an opportunity to talk. And she had barely spoken with Newman all day too. Smiling, Cloudia bolted down the stairs to the next landing and sought out the next best servant to ask which way she had to take to get to the servants’ quarters. The servant told her how to get there, she thanked him, and then excitedly went off her way.

Cloudia was almost there – only the corridor down and then through a hidden stairway – when she noticed familiar footsteps behind her. For almost a year, those footsteps had followed hers, and she would forever recognise them: His ghostly steps which came along with a soft metallic clack. She had always wondered why, but never asked.

And then, they were sometimes so ghostly I could not hear them at all. That had been the case when I encountered him before dinner.

Her smile widened a bit as Cloudia turned around to face Milton. “I had thought of you a little while ago – and now you are here as if I managed to manifest you, albeit a little slowly.”

A small, sheepish smile appeared on Milton’s lips. “I…” He took a deep breath. “It’s good to see that you are still so lively.”

Cloudia looked at him in bewilderment. “Why shouldn’t I be lively? Because my powers of manifestation are weak and lacking?”

“Oh, well.” He looked at his sleeves and fumbled with them. “I suppose my mind is still a bit muddled from today. I did not mean to blurt it out. I… Anyway, I said this because you have been so busy lately, and you also seem deep in thought whenever I see you.”

She chuckled. “I suppose my mind is still muddled from today because I should have figured that you noticed. Don’t you always notice?”

“Not always.”

Cloudia looked at him and then shook her head before she realised with a pang that, for the first time in years, they were actually all alone again. Earlier, it had been an emergency, and Milton had barely been with her in that hallway mentally. There had been much else to focus on besides the awkwardness between them. Now, the rain had cleared and they were both well and conscious and all alone again.

The last time had been on the day of the failed proposal, and Cloudia felt awkward thinking about it. Everything had become weird and fallen apart after that day. Although they had resumed their talks via letters a few months afterwards, it had never been the same again. Their written words were always laced with a certain stiltedness, one worse than the one when their little acquaintanceship or whatever one could call it had begun. Cloudia had never known how to describe their relationship.

With the others around, it had been so easy. She could have nearly forgotten that anything had ever happened at all. Now, being alone with Milton, the distance between them was palpable again. He stood only a few steps away from her, but he could have been kilometres away. Cloudia had never been a natural when it came to understanding people. She did not have the talent to look at someone and understand, see every bit of them and realise what might be hidden. She had had to acquire this skill through hard work and training, and although she was good at it now, the skill failed her every now and then.

It did not fail her now. Cloudia had intentionally not paid it any attention before, but there was always a bit of hurt in his eyes whenever they talked. He was still friendly to her, still smiled at her, had still helped her with this trip. Cloudia had been shocked and annoyed when Milton had behaved as if nothing had occurred the day his villa blew up – a month after the proposal. She also had not expected him to write to her months later.

It had seemed as if Milton had been doing well after the failed proposal, as if he had got over it well. Accepting that he was not, that he had not, made her realise with a heavy heart that they had yet another thing in common: For one and a half years, they had pushed the memory of the proposal away and pretended that all was fine although the event still clung heavily to them. It was easier like that. Even now while acknowledging everything, Cloudia’s first instinct was to push it all away. It was a bad habit, yes, but it had been a long day. A very long day. This was her hard-earned time off. She had a murderer to catch and a thief to find. She had no time and strength to deal with the remnants of the past.

Maybe one day, she would. But not now. Not now.

“Where were you heading to?” Cloudia asked, smiling as if nothing had been. “You are quite a bit away from your room. Did you get lost again?”

“I didn’t,” Milton replied. “I wanted to go see Bram.”

She blinked at him. “In the servants’ quarters?”

He nodded. “In the servants’ quarters.”

“Isn’t it funny how I planned to go to France at the same time you planned to?” she said. “And how now, again, I am going to the servants’ quarters at the same time as you are?”

Milton chuckled. “It is indeed quite funny,” he said and walked towards her. “I guess you know the way?”

“Yes, a footman told me. Do you?”

“Yes. I…” He hesitated. “I have been charting the château.”

“Huh?”

“Did I never tell you?”

“No, never,” Cloudia told him.

Cedric’s words came to my mind: “You can know people for decades and still discover new aspects of them. It happens.” And now I had found out two new things about Milton in a single day.

Milton smiled bashfully. “I like to create maps for buildings, make my very own blueprints. It’s an old habit of mine, and I know it is strange but…”

“There is so much to see, so much to explore even in a building?” Cloudia continued, smiling.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Yes.”

“You are becoming predictable, Milton.” She put her hands on her waist, content that she got at least that. “Also, when I said that I was thinking of you – and unwittingly conjured you by doing so – I thought about this exact thing.”

Milton closed his eyes. “‘There is so much to see, so much to explore. Roads to travel, people to meet, mysteries to unravel.’ Right, I said that to you.” He reopened his eyes, and they began to walk, side by side, down the corridor and to the hidden stairway without any of them having to indicate to do so.

“Mysteries,” said Cloudia; the word alone brought excitement with it, and she hoped she did not sound too eager as she continued. Not that Milton had ever seemed to care for that. “Have you found any on your most recent travels? Where have you been last again? Sweden?”

“Yes,” Milton replied, paused, then added: “Yes, I’ve been to Sweden last. I’m not sure about mysteries though. There has been the occasional misplaced document, but that’s not really a mystery, isn’t it? And while this is also not a mystery – after all, I know how this came to be – there is this mistake I have to fix and for which I have to go to Paris. Maybe you could call it a bit of a mystery still… the Paris part at least. I need to go there to find something out; however, I don’t quite know what will await me there. I cannot measure the extent of what I will learn there and…” He fidgeted with his right sleeve. “I mean I knowmore or less what will await me. It’s just the details, you know? Perhaps it’s more of a ‘surprise’ than a ‘mystery’ though. I am not sure.”

Despite our commonalities and Milton’s odd little habits, he was still so amusingly ordinary. My mystery was a serial murder in the nearby village. His, a company-intern mishap.

“Let’s call it a mystery,” declared Cloudia as they descended the narrow stairs together. He let her go first and followed her. “It sounds better like that. And it’s not quite a ‘surprise’ if you know that you will find something out, isn’t it? Only the content of the information will be a surprise, but that’s essentially what a mystery is anyway.”

“You’re right,” Milton said. “Of course, it cannot be a surprise when I am expecting it.”

“Your mind is still really quite muddled. Are you okay?”

He nodded. “It has been a long rainy day. I should be completely normal again by tomorrow.”

Cloudia threw a glance over her shoulder at him. The light was so dim here that he looked quite ghostly. “Speaking of today… how was spending time with the Duke?”

“It was lovely,” Milton replied. “Kristopher is so kind to have kept me company despite being unwell himself. I’m glad that he could finally find some sleep. I hope he will sleep well and sound. Kristopher was very patient with me all day, and he defeated me in every round of chess we played. He is really talented.”

“He sure is,” said Cloudia, remembering the countless days they had spent playing chess together and how Cedric had beat her in every single round without fail. He would always tease her for being so bad at the game. She was not even that bad; he was simply very, very good.

“Kristopher surprised me quite a lot of times today,” Milton continued. “Not that I believe that he was incapable of any of the kinds of prowess he showed today, of course. I simply have not met anyone with such chess skills in a very long time. Or anyone at all who, I suppose, correctly guessed that when it rains and my senses act up, I anchor myself by focusing on all kinds of details – often details concerning people. I have never thought about this myself before. It’s usually just Bram and me on rainy days after all.”

Cloudia halted on the stairs and turned around to him. “Oh, he did that?”

Milton stopped too, and she noticed that he had been walking a few stairs behind her to keep his distance. “It was a remarkable observation. Kristopher did not believe that you would believe him, so I wanted to let you know.”

“He did not make you say so?”

“No. He…” Milton paused. “He did say I should be the one to tell you, but what I am saying is not a fabrication. Kristopher cares a lot about what you think of him.”

“The Duke? Caring for what I think of him?” Cloudia laughed. “I assure you, Milton, that this is not the case at all. He does not care for anyone’s opinion of him or he would not walk around the way he does. He cares for mine the least of all. If he truly did, would he do me such a disservice with the way he dresses and carries himself? And have you ever seen him dance? It’s like watching a chicken hobble about.”

Cloudia felt Milton’s eyes scrutinising her. As if he was searching for something specific. Then, he smiled.

“Is something?” she asked, and he shook his head. “No. It is just that…” His gaze softened. “I’m just glad for you.”

Cloudia blinked at him, then turned and continued to descend the stairs. “Milton, the storm had gone on for very long today. Your mind is still all scrambled. Are you really fine?”

“Yes,” Milton replied, sounding a bit merrier than before. She heard him following her. “I am perfectly fine now.”

They walked for a while in silence, but the silence soon became stifling. The stairs seemed unbearably endless, and Cloudia felt herself suffocating under the stillness and her overflowing energy. “Milton,” she said to break the silence open and be able to breathe again, “the clock you’ve repaired – do you think you can show it to me before your departure? I am interested to see this birdcage clock of tales. I have heard of Jaquet-Droz clocks but never seen one in real-life.”

“I can show it to you on the way back from the servants’ quarters if it has not become too late by then,” Milton replied. “I have to head out so early tomorrow; I doubt I will find the time then. Though I will return in a few days or a week at most anyway. Thinking of it… maybe, if it does not work out later, it may be better if one of the children showed it to you.”

“I can wait if it does not work out. I want you to show it to me so that you can tell me what you fixed and how.”

“Eh,” blurted it out of Milton, and Cloudia smiled to herself. “I, uh,” he stammered. “You are interested in this?”

“Yes, I am. Very much so. I have never been very adept at creating or repairing anything, so I am quite fascinated whenever someone can. I am actually a little bit mad that you have never mentioned this talent of yours before, Milton.”

“It’s… it’s not a talent. It’s just… something to pass time with. A little hobby. I am not even very good at it.”

“Let me be the judge of this,” Cloudia said. “How many know of this ‘little hobby’ of yours anyway?”

“Not many. Before today, only my family knew. Now, everyone here knows too,” Milton told her the very instant Cloudia reached the end of the staircase and arrived in front of the door that would open up to the servants’ quarters. She waited until Milton was caught up with her before she put her hand on the doorknob.

“Lady Cloudia,” Milton said then, and she stopped her action and looked at him. “I will not ask for specifications regarding the matter that is keeping you busy,” he continued. “All I want to say is that, if you require my help, I would be happy to offer my assistance in any way. And if it is a mystery you are busying yourself with and at which you are stuck… at times, it is best to take a short break and think of anything else, do anything else. Sometimes thinking too intensely is the problem: It often blocks your mind. Letting your mind wander to different places, you may be able to think of possibilities you have not considered before.”

Cloudia’s gaze softened. “Thank you, Milton. Let’s see if whatever chaos my servants will hand me behind those doors will ease me up,” she said and opened the door. They stepped into a hallway with multiple doors left and right that led to the servants’ personal rooms. Newman had told her before that Lisa’s, Wentworth’s, and his rooms were those closest to the door and that there was a community room at the end of the corridor. Cloudia knocked on Lisa’s and Newman’s rooms and Milton on Wentworth’s. When they got no response, they walked to the community room.

“… to Nanteuil-la-Forêt today,” said Lisa when they entered. She was sitting at a table with Wentworth and Newman, some biscuits and sandwiches spread out before them. There was a pot of tea on the table and everyone had a cup in front of them. “And I tell you: Denis Cuvier attempted to kill us – what other reason could he have to race into the village with such speed? Gallop there if you want, but don’t drive a wagon like that, least of all one with people in it. Mr Emyr was rather green throughout the entire rides.”

“Telling everyone about our adventure in Nanteuil-la-Forêt, aren’t you?” Cloudia said, and everyone turned to her and Milton. From the corner of her eye, she could see Milton’s gaze wandering to Newman before he discreetly looked away.

“Our disgustingly wet misadventure, Lady Cloudia,” Lisa replied and shuddered. “I took a bath and still feel cold. I’ll be counting the sponges I waste trying to scrub off the moistness that seemed to have sunk into my very flesh and bones.”

Newman stood up and bowed to Cloudia and Milton as a greeting before he turned to Lisa. “Shall I fetch you a jacket if you are still so cold, Lisa?”

She patted his hand. “That would be nice if you can be bothered, Al. Maybe a blanket would be even better.”

“I can always be bothered for you, Lisa,” Newman said with a small smile. “I will go and get a blanket from your room at once.” He looked at Milton and Cloudia. “If you may excuse me for a moment.” Cloudia nodded, and Newman left the community room.

Lisa grinned at Cloudia. “I see you are wearing the yellow dress.”

“Yes. I surprised myself by picking it today,” Cloudia replied and looked down at herself. “I didn’t expect Cecelia to be at dinner for once, so she has seen me in it. Until now, she wasn’t able to say anything to me about it, but the time will definitely come…”

Lisa chuckled. “It had to come to this. You don’t look as silly as we imagined you would though, Lady Cloudia.”

“That surprised me too.”

“You do indeed look very lovely, Lady Cloudia,” Milton said and immediately blushed and looked away. Lisa rolled her eyes.

“Thank you, Milton,” Cloudia responded. Then, Wentworth stepped to them and bowed to Cloudia before he asked, “Master Milton, are you all right?”

Milton took a deep breath to compose himself and then smiled at his butler. “You asked that earlier already, Bram. When Lady Cloudia, Miss Greene, and Emyr returned, and we all met in the entrance hall.”

“The rain didn’t stop until shortly before dinnertime. A lot could have changed between the chain-reaction machine’s demonstration and dinner. Between dinner and now.”

“I promise that it did not,” Milton replied, and Cloudia was surprised that he lied to Wentworth like that. Though perhaps he didn’t want to disclose what had happened before dinner to Lisa?

“What I told you before still holds true,” he went on. “Kristopher and the children helped me, and I have been doing well because of that. And since the rain stopped, I have been even better.”

“Albeit your mind is still a bit muddled,” added Cloudia, and he looked at her. “Indeed.”

“I am glad, Master Milton. It was a strong storm today,” Wentworth said. “Even with the support you received, I was worried. Forgive me if I am overstepping my boundaries, but my duty is, first and foremost, to ensure your well-being, Master Milton. Next time, I will not leave your side; today was an exception I do not want to make a rule.”

“I’m sorry to have worried you, Bram. I…” Milton fumbled with his sleeves. “I should not have asked for that.”

“It is also my duty to worry about you all the time, Master Milton. You do not have to apologise for something that cannot be helped,” Wentworth replied, and Cloudia could see Lisa grimacing in the background again.

“I have returned,” Newman announced as he stepped into the community room, a blanket in his hands. “I apologise for having kept you waiting.” He walked to Lisa and gently draped the blanket around her.

“Thank you,” she said, and his cheeks roused a bit. Pulling the blanket tighter around her, Lisa said to Cloudia, “Not that I oppose your presence, but why have you come here, Lady Cloudia?”

“To see how you and Newman are doing, and what you are doing,” Cloudia replied and sat down at the table where Lisa was sitting. “And to talk to you for a while.”

“Is His Grace still asleep?”

“Very much, but I might have come here anyway.”

Lisa scoffed. “Very well, Lady Cloudia. Do you maybe want to play something then? To pass the time and have something else to do while we talk?”

“Why not?”

“Great,” said Lisa and took out a deck of cards from beneath the blanket. She was always carrying playing cards with her, eagerly awaiting the first available moment to take them out and make someone cry.

“Milton,” Cloudia said and turned to him. “Would you like to play too?”

Milton blinked at her, taken aback by her offer. “Oh. Sure. Thank you,” he responded and sat down – keeping a chair between them free.

“How about we play poker?” suggested Lisa while she shuffled the cards. A mischievous light shone in her eyes.

“Still taking every opportunity to practise, aren’t you?” teased Cloudia, and Lisa scowled at her.

“One day I will return there and be victorious.”

“Return where?” Milton asked, puzzled.

“Earlier this year, Lisa lost to someone in poker,” Cloudia said and earned a dirty glance from her maid. “Apparently, I am forbidden to say more on this matter. Anyway, she taught me how to play poker afterwards so that she had more people to play with. Lisa already taught the servants at the manor as they regularly arrange game nights.”

“That sounds interesting,” replied Milton. “Miss Greene, I wish you the best of luck that you will win against that person one day.”

Lisa nodded at his words and kept shuffling the cards. “Lord Milton, have you heard of poker?”

“I have, actually.”

“And can you play it too?”

“Yes,” said Milton, and Lisa was surprised by his answer – and so was Cloudia. After all, poker was still very unknown in Europe.

“Of course,” Cloudia said when the realisation hit her. “You have told me you travelled often to the States.”

“Do you want to play poker with us then, Lord Milton?” Lisa asked with a little sly smile on her face. “I can guarantee that this will not be a pleasant game to play as a newcomer, and it may be better if you found something else to do.”

“Every game is not a particularly pleasant one if you play with Lisa,” Cloudia interjected. “She is quite passionate and competitive when it comes to games.” At her words, Lisa’s little smile became a wicked grin.

Milton smiled sheepishly. “I do, in fact, know how to play poker,” he told them and worried at the hems of his sleeves. “However, I have not had an opportunity to play poker for quite a few years. Or to play any card game, to be frank. Playing cards is common at social gatherings of a more familiar nature, but as you know, I do not really attend such gatherings or any at all as I have been on the road for the last year and…” He cleared his throat. “I want to say that I do know how to play poker but I may be a bit rusty.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, it is good that you know, but I hope you don’t expect us to play kindly for your sake, Baron.”

“Oh, I would not want that,” Milton replied. “I think that no game can be enjoyed if the participants do not give their fullest. I will try my very best. I simply wanted to inform you that I’m not very good even at my best.”

Lisa shrugged. “Well, not that you would have had a chance if you were any good,” she said, and he chuckled.

“Wentworth, do you also know how to play poker?” Cloudia enquired.

“I do, Lady Cloudia,” the old butler replied.

“Then, do you want to join us?”

“I am thankful for the invitation, but I will have to decline. I have only played the game once myself and have mostly watched others play. I do not want to slow the game down and would rather spectate.”

Cloudia nodded. “I see. Feel free to watch then, Wentworth.”

“But you’ll have you watch from a place where Lord Milton can’t see you but I can,” interjected Lisa. “I do not want to outright accuse anyone of cheating – not before we have even begun playing at least – but I want to make sure that it does not happen at all.”

“I can do this if it eases your nerves, Miss Greene,” said Wentworth.

“Thank you.” Lisa smiled at Cloudia. “See? Manners.” Then, Lisa craned her head to Newman who was still standing behind her as if he was her butler and not Cloudia’s. “Al, you’ll play too, won’t you?”

He bowed his head. “As always, Lisa.”

She smirked at his words, and Newman sat down next to her.

“If I am recalling correctly,” said Wentworth, “chips are needed for this game.”

“Yes, of course,” Lisa replied. “I put a bag of them on my nightstand. Could you fetch it, Mr Wentworth?”

“Of course. I will hurry.” Surefooted and quick for someone his age, Wentworth left the community room.

“I’m glad that you play too, Mr Newman,” blurted it out of Milton whose eyes lingered a bit too long on Newman yet again. Cloudia frowned. She would have been a fool if she had not noticed Milton staring at Newman back in Dover, but she thought that, by now, the initial surprise would have waned. Apparently, it had not. At least, Milton was seemingly trying to suppress his staring.

“As it is said,” Milton continued, fidgeting with his hands, “‘the more the merrier.’ How well can you play poker, Mr Newman?”

Lisa chuckled and distributed the cards. “Trying to find out if you will have any chance at all, Lord Milton?”

“Not at all, Miss Greene. I only wanted to ask,” Milton replied. “I do not care whether I win or lose as long as the game will entertain everyone.”

Lisa rolled her eyes which Milton, fortunately, didn’t see as his own eyes were fixed on Newman who answered him, “I am not as proficient as Lisa, though she assures me that I still play fairly well.”

“Definitely better than Thomas,” said Lisa. “Which isn’t that hard, but still.”

At this moment, Wentworth returned with the bag of chips which he handed to Lisa before he went to sit at a nearby table, a bit away but still close enough to spectate. Quickly, Lisa distributed the chips and then smiled. “Let’s begin.”

***

They had not agreed to bet actual money. Lisa had never asked, and Cloudia thought that she might not have wanted to be overly brash, though she was still very brash, to Milton even if he likely would not have minded playing for money. Still, Lisa grinned like she was doubling and tripling her monthly wages with every won round and envisioning retiring early. Although Lisa was triumphant in every round, they had great fun playing the game. Milton had said that he might be rusty as he had not played poker in years, but he was a surprisingly good bluff. He was almost as good as Lisa. However, here and there, his façade would crumble: His mouth would twitch, his eyes would betray the truth… Cloudia caught it twice.

I wondered whether this was normal or a product of the fact that Milton had not fully recovered from today’s “phantom pains.”

Lisa was better at that and relentlessly played everyone to the ground. It was past midnight when everyone decided that it had become too late for another round.

“That was fun,” said Milton with a smile on his face and stood up. “Thanks for letting me play.”

“You are such a strange one, Baron,” Lisa replied and closed the bag with the chips. She did not have to do much collecting as the chips had naturally wandered to her anyway. Newman, on the other hand, had to walk around the tables to collect all the cups and the empty teapot.

“All smiles although you have not won a single round this evening,” Lisa said.

“It is only a game. I don’t particularly care if I lose or fail.”

Lisa huffed. “Well, once or twice you were fairly close to winning.” “I was?”

“Yes. It was quite a surprise – you are not half as bad as I thought you would be.” Lisa grimaced at her own words, and Cloudia chuckled at Lisa’s anguished appraisal. Then, Cloudia stood up too.

“The evening ended as expected,” she said. “Nevertheless, that were some good games. I’ll head to bed now. Tomorrow will be a long day again.” Cloudia looked at Milton. “And didn’t you say you will leave very early in the morning?”

He nodded. “Yes, I will.”

“All the more reason to return to our rooms now. You need to be well-rested for tomorrow’s gruelling carriage ride to Creil.”

“That would be good,” replied Milton and fumbled with his sleeves. “Good night, Miss Greene, Mr Newman, Bram.”

Everyone returned the “good night” and Cloudia gave her own before she and Milton left the community room and walked down the corridor and back to the château’s main area.

Unlike when they had gone to the servants’ quarters, they were silent now as they ascended the stairs. This time, Cloudia was too tired to perceive the silence as suffocating or awkward and attempt to pierce it. Upstairs, they walked around until they found a servant still wandering the halls to ask for directions and then headed to a forking the maid had referred them to. According to her, they could go to their respective wings and rooms from there.

“Until here and not farther,” Cloudia said when they arrived at the forking and halted. “Well, at least, not together.”

Milton smiled at her. “Good night, Lady Cloudia. I suppose we will not see each other tomorrow, so I guess this is also goodbye for a little while.”

“Seems like it. I wish you well in Paris, Milton. Don’t forget that you will have to show me that clock upon your return, and good night.”

His smile brightened. It was like sunshine after a long grey day. “Thank you. I will not forget this, and I wish you all the best for your mystery. Speaking of mysteries… we haven’t finished the poem earlier: ‘The breeze – the breath of God – is still –/And the mist upon the hill/Shadowy – shadowy – yet unbroken, /Is a symbol and a token –/How it hangs upon the trees, /A mystery of mysteries!’”

***

I could not sleep.

I had not looked at the clock since I had laid down, but I was sure that it had been about two or three hours since I had said goodbye to Milton at the forking. I had tossed and turned in a desperate attempt to find some sleep. I needed to be rested for the day. However, the energy and restlessness that filled my body did not allow me to sleep.

I needed answers, I wanted answers.

This needed to be over.

I had told Yvette to barricade everyone inside for the night, to huddle them together, to keep them safe. But that had not worked before.

One slip-up would mean another dead body. Another web of strings I had to investigate.

Lives and time were running through my fingers, and I was sick of it.

Cloudia kicked away the blanket and stood up from her bed. She had to go back to Nanteuil-la-Forêt. The murderer had made the worst mistake to come here, and she was dead-set to show this to them.

A stakeout was something I had not done yet.

It was time to wait and watch from the front row.

It was time to catch the culprit red-handed.

Cloudia went to her wardrobe and pulled out some clothes she could wear as “M Gauthier.” When she was done changing into them, she let her skull pendant necklace vanish beneath her shirt. She had not taken it off before going to bed. She never did as it soothed her mind to have someone on close-call in case of an emergency. Cloudia only ever removed it when she bathed, but still kept it close to her then.

Of course, this only worked if Cedric wore his necklace all the time too. And I had no idea if he did.

Afterwards, Cloudia took off her blue Phantomhive ring which she also never removed before bedtime and went to her jewellery chest. She wanted to wear it on her finger all the time, but could only ever do it when she was at home or exclusively around family. Nobody knew that the ring was in her possession – it was, after all, “Earl Phantomhive’s.” Not that this mattered now, of course. After all, Cloudia would go to Nanteuil-la-Forêt as Gauthier, and it would be rather eyebrow-raising if a simple detective’s assistant wore such a fine piece of jewellery.

Cloudia opened the chest but did not put the ring inside. She did not like to leave it behind, and in cases she could not wear it openly, she wore it on a chain around her neck. Behind her clothes, it would be concealed for all; only she would feel the ring’s comfort against her skin.

She rummaged in the jewellery chest until she found the chain and then slipped the ring on it. Just as Cloudia had finished putting on the chain, she spotted something in the chest. Smiling, she took it out and inspected it.

The four-leaved clover necklace Cedric had given her for her seventeenth birthday was a piece for which she rarely found an occasion to wear. It was too simple to wear at balls and gatherings, and Cloudia generally disliked wearing two neck-pieces at once. She only, begrudgingly, did an exception for the Phantomhive ring. The clover necklace had no place next to the skull pendant one.

However, Cloudia sometimes put the clover necklace in her pocket if she had any. Skull pendant around her neck, ring on her finger, clover in her pocket – it was a bit like a spell. But then, the clover necklace was supposed to be a good luck charm on its own anyway.

Cloudia pocketed the necklace, grabbed her cloak, and left the room.

She had gone down to the stalls often enough to know the way herself, and she went there with quick, silent strides. Denis should be fast asleep now, and a wagon would be too bothersome to bring to Nanteuil-la-Forêt anyway. A horse would do; Cloudia would tie it to a tree before going to the village.

Cloudia pushed open the door to the outside and was relieved to see the sky dark and clear above her. No rain clouds. She had seen enough of them already.

She hurried to the stalls. There, while she was looking around, trying to find a suitable horse to borrow, a voice said behind her: “Cloudie?”

Surprised to hear it here and at this hour too, Cloudia turned around and saw Kamden standing at the doorsill to the stalls. The moonlight left him as a shadowed silhouette – except for his hair which shimmered a bit under the light. Lisa was right: Kamden just looked odd with blond hair.

“Kam, what are you doing here?” Cloudia wanted to know.

“I had the weird feeling that you would be here,” he said, and she smiled. “Cloudie, have you slept at all?”

There was no use lying to Kamden. “No. I have tried for hours, but could not. I am too restless to sleep.”

Kamden nodded. “Then let me accompany you. We can take a wagon then: I can drive, and you can take a nap until we arrive.”

There was no use fighting back either. Especially not when it was already so late and time was tight. “Okay,” Cloudia said. “Let’s go to Nanteuil-la-Forêt.”

***

~Cedric~

Cedric was woken up by Jacques and as soon as he saw his face, he groaned.

“Your Grace,” said Jacques while Cedric sat up and glimpsed at the clock – six in the morning, brilliant. “It is a clear day today. It is time to visit the Clockmaker.”

***

Somewhere, United Kingdom – May 1843

~Cloudia~

They had guided her into a room where she could wait while they released him. Cloudia had not expected much of this process – in fact, she had barely thought about how exactly Oscar’s actual release would go – but having now waited for over an hour, she admitted to herself that she had hoped that someone would have simply opened his cell’s door right after she was done talking to him. Right then and there. If they had done that, Cloudia could have been on the road home now. Instead, she was waiting in potentially the least shabby room the wardens could find for her, twisting and turning her father’s sketchbook in her lap.

I hoped they had at least informed Clifford that it was taking so long. I would not want him to worry whether or not the Yard Ripper had killed me on the spot after being released or not. But then, I supposed, the wardens would certainly tell him that.

Cloudia drummed her fingers on the sketchbook and looked at the clock whose hands seemed to move painfully slow. Sighing, she flipped open the book. Since she had found it in a secret passage in Phantomhive Manor three years ago, Cloudia had looked through it a million times and every time, it gave her a warm, comforting feeling. She loved the soft brushstrokes, the precise lines made with pencil and coal. Nobody had ever told her about this hobby of her father’s, and looking at his drawings made her feel closer to him than she ever had before. It was a solace Cloudia sought out whenever the days were especially bleak or she was hit with yet another wave of loneliness, though this had been happening less and less frequently since she met Kamden.

Cloudia thumbed over the landscape drawings and went to the one that had brought her to this place. She had stared at this portrait of Oscar Livingstone for three years and wondered who and where he was. Now, she looked at it and wondered how much he had changed since Simon Phantomhive had immortalised him on paper.

Not that I even knew how exactly Oscar had looked back then. The portrait was uncoloured, a quick sketch in black coal. His hair was drawn black in it because of that, but maybe it was not that dark at all. His eyes had not been filled in, so, I thought, they must be of a light colour. Blue or green? Maybe grey?

Cloudia closed the sketchbook. Soon, she would find out. She only hoped this “soon” would not break the word’s definition. Cloudia leaned her head back, looked up at the tattered ceiling, and kicked her legs back and forth. A year ago, her feet had hovered above the floor when she sat properly on a chair. Now, her feet reached the ground, and when she kicked her legs, her feet scraped the floor – click-clack like a pendulum.

Had so much time passed that I had become my own clock?

Then, the door opened, and someone entered. Cloudia had thought at least one of the wardens would be with him, but, apparently, they had only escorted him to the door and allowed him to enter the waiting room on his own. He was truly her problem now.

“They took their time arranging the final steps of my release,” said Oscar, “but here I am now.”

With a pounding heart, Cloudia tore her gaze from the crumbling ceiling and sat up properly on her chair. Her imagination of him was replaced by reality, and she hoped she did not stare as she scrutinised him.

Oscar Livingstone towered over her in the truest sense of the word as he was fairly tall and broadly built. He seemed robust and steadfast although he was not well-nourished: His cheeks were sunken and his skin taut. If he had not been so broad, his clothes would have hung on him like laundry on a washing line. He was only forty-four, but his black hair had largely faded to grey, and it hung long and wild over his shoulders. Oscar’s beard was also long and unkempt. Despite the wardens’ efforts to shield her eyes from the other patients in the asylum, Cloudia had been able to glimpse at some of them. Unlike Oscar, their heads had been shaven. She wondered if he had resisted when they tried to shave him, or if the staff had been too frightened of him to ever try.

But it was not the fact that Oscar looked like he had not spent the last six years of his life in an asylum but hidden away from the world in a forest that surprised and fascinated Cloudia. It was his eyes which were a beautiful light blue and which, despite the last few years, were still sharp and shone with life. They also provided such a stark contrast to his hollow body.

Looking at the rest of him, she might not have stared, but she feared that she was staring at his beautiful blue eyes now. Cloudia blinked, shook herself out of her amazement, and wrinkled up her nose when her focus was broken and her senses were not directed to one thing anymore.

“You need a bath,” Cloudia said.

#I'M FINALLY DOOONE #watchdog of the queen #main chapters #fanfiction #kuroshitsuji #cloudia phantomhive #undertaker

[auntiebioticslab]

I didn’t get any asks for this but that’s okay because unfortunately I am WELL capable of infodumping without anyone’s permission. so here’s the unplanned variable ask meme by @outervvorlds

read mores do not work on mobile because tumblr is garbage from a toilet and my computer is currently on a UPS truck to California. I am so sorry.

Basics! Name, age, personality, etc. What do they look like? Are they a new or old oc? 

Her name is Rocket Alexandria Hawthorne! Formerly Rachel Holloway back on Earth but I’ll get to the reason for the name change.

She’s extremely vague about her age (her go-tos are “older than you” and “over a hundred” which are both technically true due to the “being on ice” thing) but she can pass for anywhere between 30 and 50 appearance-wise and the timeline of her Earth memories pretty reliably pegs her as late 30s-early 40s.

She’s a really effortlessly confident and funny person, which is the main reason she could probably talk her way out of her own execution. Also because I have a disease that makes me project my brain shit onto every oc I have she’s prone to hyperfixating due to an Unclear But Definitely Present Brain Thing so she knows a lot of things about a lot of things. Also she’d never openly admit it but she’s a sucker for romantic things and definitely cries at weddings.

This is her:

Her mom was Pakistani and her father was Black but she usually just says she’s from Baltimore.

What are their attributes, perks, and flaws?

She’s got high charm and intelligence, average strength and temperament, and good everything else.

I got her up to level 30 my last play through, do not make me list all her perks. Most of them this go-round so far are buffs to vendor prices and boosts to movement speed.

She has weakness to both plasma and physical damage!

What do they believe in?

Religiously, she’s agnostic but she kind of likes the notion of Philosophism. Morally, she believes that there’s no reason for people to pointlessly suffer just so someone at the top can hoard money, and also that the colony would be better off if Byzantium suddenly burned to the ground.

...she did not burn Byzantium to the ground, don’t worry.

How did they react to becoming Captain of the Unreliable? Are they much of a leader?

She always kind of wanted to be a cool spacefarer, but she hoped it would be under different circumstances. She told ADA that the real Hawthorne was killed by marauders, offered the poor bastard some dignity in death.

She is a pretty effective leader but that’s because she doesn’t really see herself as one? The crew aren’t subordinate to her, they’re her friends.

What was their life like before being iced?

It was boring! She was stuck in a shitty line cook job which wasn’t terrible but also felt like a waste of her education, and she was barely scraping by anyway. That’s why she applied for the Hope initiative.

Did they have any family before becoming Captain? Do they think their crew as family? 

Obviously she had parents growing up; they werent as present as they’d have liked to be because Work but she never once felt like they didn’t care for her. They didn’t live to see their daughter off when she boarded the Hope, but that was because of natural causes.

She also had four older brothers! Darren, Brice, Gene, and Andre. She was closest to Andre because the age difference between them was only a year. He’s actually the one who gave her the nickname “Rocket” in the first place; when they were kids they would pretend to be space explorers and their pretend names were Astro and Rocket.

None of her brothers were on the Hope. Darren actually was doing pretty well for himself in a low-level government job and didn’t feel the need to leave the planet, Brice didn’t want to uproot his wife and kids, Gene, well...she still has no idea what Gene was up to when she boarded the Hope because he took a job in another country and lost contact with his siblings years prior. Andre had been dead for years, unfortunately, having died in a work accident a week before Rocket was due to graduate college.

It still nags at her that while she can at least assume all her other brothers died peacefully and surrounded by loved ones, she knows EXACTLY what horrible thing happened to Andre.

As for the current crew, ohhh yeah, they are definitely her family. She cried when Felix said “I’ve got a family” to Clyde.

What’s their fighting style? Who do they bring along?

Ironically for a timeline where Roosevelt was never president, she does practice big stick diplomacy. Well, it’s usually small stick diplomacy because she prefers one handed melee, but still. If she can avoid direct conflict (through stealth or negotiation) she prefers to. The only exception was Tartarus.

There’s no real rhyme or reason to who she has in her party because from a Me As The Player standpoint I just go with whoever gives me boosts to the stats I need for the quest I’m doing. Which, in practice, usually ends up being Parvati and Felix because of that sweet sweet Persuasion buff.

Is Spacer’s Choice their only choice? What do they think of the corporations?

She is...not a fan of the amount of power they have. Spacer’s Choice in particular has a special place in hell as far as she’s concerned. If you held a gun to her head and asked her to pick a favorite...she’d probably ask you to just shoot her. Or she’d choose Auntie Cleo’s because their jingle is the least annoying.

What do they think of the factions? Are they liked or disliked by any?

Rocket has to make an actual effort to get on someone’s bad side so she’s in pretty good standing with most of the major factions. She made an effort with the Board, though 😁

For her part, she’s especially fond of the folks on the Groundbreaker.

What’s their favourite place in Halcyon? Least favourite?

She likes the scenery on Terra 2 and the people on the Groundbreaker, but as corny as it sounds her favorite place in Halcyon is the Unreliable. It’s home to her, and it’ll stay that way forever.

She doesn’t hate Edgewater per se but being there fills her with rage because of how...indicative it is of the way the rest of the colony is being run.

Do they have a favourite alien creature?

She definitely has never done extensive research on the care and feeding of leather boas because she hyperfixated on the idea of getting one as a pet before realizing that recreating the necessary habitat conditions on the Unreliable was impossible, or at least way too expensive.

No, I’m not projecting the amount of times I have done something similar for bearded dragons.

Did they save The Hope?

FUCK yeah she did.

What do they want to do afterwards? - but do they get a happy ending?

She finally gets some use out of her degree; she’s qualified to be a food scientist, like a real actual food scientist, and that’s probably what Halcyon needs more than anything.

Considering a few other things that happen in the epilogue, she doesn’t get a perfect end. But it’s enough.

What do they think of the companions? Friendships, crushes, dislikes, etc. 

She immediately thought “now I’M the big sister” after recruiting Parvati and Felix, so there’s that. Probably accidentally called each of them by the name of one of her brothers a few times. Convincing Ellie that she actually cares about her as a person is her white whale of sorts, and she empathizes a lot with Nyoka given her own history of loss. Logically she realizes that Max is a fellow capital-A Adult but also she feels like she’s holding the leash on a feral dog whenever he’s with her. She likes to tell SAM he’s doing a good job.

How do the companion quests go?

Golden ends across the board, babey. I’ve never been one to half-ass shenanigans.

What’s their love language?

Gifts and acts of service!!! She always tries to play it cool until she’s ready to admit her feelings though, so there’s a lot of pretending she just HAPPENED to find this thing she damn near tore the planet apart looking for.

Also she especially likes to flirt by cooking. Even back on Earth she got into a fair few relationships by being like “hey neighbor, I underestimated how much this recipe makes, interested in taking some leftovers off my hands? ;)” when she knew damn well how much the recipe made and doubled it so she had an excuse to see her cute neighbor.

Are they in a relationship? Do they want to be?

She has a crush on a certain rogue scientist, and unfortunately for her it is such an intense crush that she actually gets tongue-tied around him sometimes, which isn’t something she’s used to and that stresses her out a LOT.

Damn now I want to write an immediately-post-game-but-WAY-pre-epilogue fic with the crew trying to get them together so they don’t have to listen to Rocket blasting classical music and frustratedly screaming into a pillow every time she leaves his lab.

How to win them over?

She likes to look into someone’s eyes and see a fire, you know? I mean this in both a platonic and romantic sense—if someone is downtrodden but still determined, she probably at least respects them.

Also if someone she has feelings for does some kind of tender touch thing like brushing her hair behind her ear she McDies. Just completely short circuits. Cannot handle it.

How to break their heart?

If she found out someone important to her was using her or going behind her back it would destroy her. Unwilling betrayals as a result of being under duress are one thing, but deliberate, calculated manipulation? That’s her absolute worst nightmare.

How did those cows get onto their ship??

She wanted to try making homemade cheese and didn’t trust the bottled milk to actually be from a cow after what she learned about the saltuna cannery in Edgewater.

Ok technically she just agreed to deliver the cows to a facility on Terra 2 after the actual ship carrying them had engine troubles on Groundbreaker but she liberated some of the milk while in transit. Not like they’d notice.

A song that reminds you of them,

Sucker Punch by Die Mannequin!

Three random facts about them.

She got that burn scar during her time on Earth. Be careful with hot liquids, kids.

She’s tall—like, 6’5” tall. People who don’t receive proper nourishment don’t get very tall so she towers over most of Halcyon.

After the events of Don’t Bite The Sun she went back to Stellar Bay and told Raymond “I’ll teach you my recipe for breded cystipig chops with mock applesauce if you’ll teach me how to make that casserole”. Good trade for both parties.

#oc: rocket #the outer worlds #yes im tagging it it took forever!!! #basically the moral of the story is #that my only two methods of characterizing are ‘project’ and ‘give them a job’ #which i think works effectively #long post #food ment #death ment

[ohscorbus]

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child: Saturday 28th July, 2018

Today was one of my favourite shows. Part One especially. It wasn’t perfect, lines were forgotten and tricks didn’t work, but there was something about it that made it special. I saw a cast that were now exploring the depths of their characters and were enjoying it as much as the audience. It felt new and the magic was very much alive.

PART ONE

Act One, Scene Three

So before Albus walks into Scorpius’s carriage, there’s always another student who walks in first, and then walks back out again very quickly once they realise it’s Scorpius Malfoy. Today said student sat down, saw Scorpius, and then literally screamed. It was hilarious, then utterly heartbreaking. It made me wonder how many students truly believe the rumours and are genuinely terrified of Scorpius. Can you imagine having to live with that? I bet it’s even worse after he’s returned from the Voldemort AU because then he’s seen how awful he can be. I wonder, in his lowest moments, if he fears these students are seeing what’s inside of him, and what he could be, and whether they’re right...  *slams hands down on her desk* Give me Scorpius’s struggle with his mental health after all the shit he’s gone through! 

Act One, Scene Four

“My son is suffering” - Draco feeeeels. I loved the way James said this today. Instead of its usual power, today he just sounded broken. He said it was his son that was suffering but clearly, so was he. Doesn’t that just break your heart? Draco is about to lose his wife and his son is being bullied at a school far away and he can’t do anything about any of it. Everything is falling apart and the fact that he can’t mask that in his voice, to Harry Potter while in public, says just how bad it must be.

Act One, Scene Ten

Scorpius properly leaned back in and sniffed as he tried to distinguish what Rose smelled like. I can’t with this boy. It’s like, the more he tries to save the awkward social interaction, the worse it gets... #relatable

“Do we hug?” - Scorpius is always surprised by this hug. No one has ever played it any differently. Until today. Oh Jonathan. Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan. So Scorpius was still initially shocked by it but it only lasted a second. Then as Albus pulled away, what had just happened seemed to dawn on him and Scorpius’s face instantly lit up. He was shining like a thousand suns. The very definition of pure joy. He liked that hug and he wanted more, and he wanted more now. So he immediately leaned straight back in and stretched his arms out, already half way round Albus and trying to bring him back into another hug. Sadly Albus stopped him but honestly… the way he just didn’t even hesitate before he went back in for another hug. Or the fact that he wanted another hug. Bless. Oh and his line!!!! So yeah, in case you hadn’t picked up on the fact this boy likes his hugs all Albus-y, his tone of voice said it loud and clear. “Do we hug?” didn’t sound confused like it usually does, today it was hopeful and full of excitement. Just like Scorpius.

Act One, Scene Eleven

“I feel like I’ve learnt a lot about me, something about you” -  After this, Scorpius turned round and bent down as if to start climbing back down into the carriage. This was enough rebelling for him, thank you very much. (Bless him.) Albus had to go over and stop him :’)

Jonathan gave me some serious Anthony flashbacks today. Remember Floorpius? Well his spirit lives on. Like the train roof today? Scorpius spent most of it on the floor, legs in the air (or worse, hanging off the side of the train!!!), and flailing like you would not believe. There are no words. All I could think about was that red panda video. Here’s a gif from it that perfectly demonstrates Jonathan’s Scorpius on top of the train roof once the Trolley Witch starts throwing exploding pumpkin pasties at them. The other red panda’s reaction isn’t far off from what Albus was doing to be fair... 

(You know how I like to think Albus’s Animagus form is a fennec fox? Well now I’m imagining Scorpius being a red panda. I mean, I still think he’d be a great fainting goat, but the idea of a tiny fennec fox and a cute fluffy red panda running around together is too cute. Also, a Malfoy turning into something so red would be amazing haha.)

Act One, Scene Nineteen

So green liquorice laces are used on stage for the Gillyweed. Fun fact. Anyway, I don’t know what happened today but Joe must have had triple the amount (and then some) of what they tend to have. So when he pulled out his handful (understatement of the year) and dumped Scorpius’s ‘share’ into his hands, Jonathan’s face was priceless. I love the fact that Joe could have taken more so at least they would have both suffered but nope. He kept his usual amount and gave the excess to Jonathan to deal with. And when I say deal with, I mean eat. I’m not sure if it was a growl or a desperate wail sound he made as he took a mouthful of the laces but whatever it was, it was great. I’m sorry for laughing at your expense Jonathan but you know… if it’s worth anything, I think it handled it like a pro. By which I mean Scorpius would have been proud :’)

Act Two, Scene Six

“Still get a tingle, don’t you?” - You know when you get a full body shiver for no apparent reason? The kind that leaves you with goosebumps? Well that’s what happened to Scorpius today when he was looking at Hogwarts through the trees. He had tingles you could actually see. I really liked that because this scene gives me that exact same feeling. It’s hard to describe but there’s something about seeing Hogwarts through their eyes that makes it one of the most magical parts of the show.

Act Two, Scene Nine

“I can’t, okay?” - Albus said this quietly to Scorpius as he held his arm. This was for Scorpius’s ears, not Harrys. Then when he speaks again (“We’ll be better off without each other, okay?”), it’s said much louder and definitely for Harry’s benefit. He wants his dad to know he’s following the rules even though the way he previously spoke to Scorpius tells us his heart isn’t really in it.

Act Two, Scene Sixteen

“Well, I wasn’t a loser before I met you” - I’ve never heard an audience collectively respond to this line with ‘ohhhh’s so loudly before. These guys were invested. I LOVE IT. (I’ve said this a thousand times before but a good audience makes a great show exceptional. To hear so many gasps and awww’s and laughs makes it feel like you’re seeing it for the first time with them. The shared excitement is infectious and it picks everyone up. That energy isn’t lost on stage either.)

You know the hug after their argument? Well when Albus pulled him in, Scorpius completely relaxed in his arms for a second. It was like he ceased to have any control over his limbs. (Which to be fair, is not unusual for Scorpius.) You know what his arms reminded me of actually? That time Harry lost all of his bones! I’d add a gif but you all know it... Anyway, he properly fell into that hug. Then as soon as the hug was over, Scorpius went straight back in for another hug, just like last time, but this time Albus let him. Good times.

PART TWO

@torestoreamends​ pointed out a few shows back how much Scorpius whispers in part two but I hadn’t really thought much of it until I was watching where and when he was doing it today. Because, correct me if I’m wrong, people with a stutter generally stutter less when they whisper. (And sing which you know, also explains a lot.) So it makes sense he’d do this. He’s under enormous amounts of stress in this part, something in which will only exacerbate the issue, so I love the idea of him getting around that. He knows there are times in which his speech cannot fail him. He needs to get these words out. He needs to be seen as calm and collected. (Does the Scorpion King stutter? Will Delphi see it as a weakness?) But also, there are moments when he whispers to Albus just because he can. Albus isn’t going to judge him for talking quieter or getting closer to be heard. He accepts this about Scorpius and so Scorpius is comfortable doing it. 

Act Four, Scene Three

“My geekiness is a-quivering” - His arms were literally shaking. Scorpius was looking down at them like he’d never seen them do this before. But then Albus ran over and called his name to focus him and went through his breathing exercises with him, so you know, this is clearly something that happens on a regular basis. Have I told you how much I love Albus and Scorpius recently? Because I do. A lot.

Back to Scorpius freaking out over his arms though. You know he’s that kid who had a massive growth spurt overnight and still hasn’t quite figured out what to do with his limbs now. It’s funny because my nickname for Scorpius was Bambi for another reason, but this just confirms its accuracy. (Also, before you ask, no! It’s not because his mother died! I’m not that heartless!)

Act Four, Scene Eight

“We can hug too if you like...” - I feel like this has been said before but it occurred me today why I loved the fact it’s Draco who now runs to Scorpius and stops before they hug, rather than the other way round like it’s always been. So in the Voldemort timeline after Draco pushes Scorpius away from his desk, Scorpius backs away as far and as fast as he can. He doesn’t willingly get closer again after that. (Sometimes Draco comes round the other side of his desk and gets closer but it’s never Scorpius anymore.) So I wonder if maybe Scorpius is still a little wary? I’m not saying he’s afraid of him because he knows his dad isn’t that person. But to want to hug him, in front of everyone, after everything that’s happened? Maybe Scorpius is just nervous and unsure, but I personally like the idea that he’s deliberately stalling. Waiting. Needing his dad to make the first move here. So when he does, and his initial run towards his son is done without hesitation, I think it floors him. Because this is his dad. He’s right here and he wants this as much as he does. It makes the line ‘we can hug too if you like’ say more than it actually does. It’s more than Draco asking permission. It’s Draco being equally nervous and unsure. He’s all too aware of how much Scorpius knows about his past now. He’s lived through it. Yet he doesn’t (and can’t) hide the desperation in his eyes to have his son back with him safe and sound. I wonder if in a way, he’s not just asking for a hug, but for forgiveness. For his past, for letting all this happen, for who he was and could have been. I can’t imagine how Draco must feel when Scorpius launches himself at him for that rib breaking kinda hug. It’s so much more than just a hug for them both. It’s a sorry. It’s a promise. It’s relief. It’s love.

Act Four, Scene Ten

“Blimey! There are two of them!” - Hermione and Scorpius looked across at each other at this and smiled, sharing this really sweet moment. I loved the happiness and reassurance in Hermione’s eyes at Scorpius’s own gleeful pride. They both took this as the highest compliment. The fact that Scorpius’s attention was on Hermione rather than worrying about his dad’s reaction (which I’ve sometimes seen in past) says just how much that comment, and Hermione’s reaction to it, meant to him. I don’t know if this was just a today thing or whether it’s a Franc and Jonathan thing, but I loved it and hope to see it again!

Act Four, Scene Eleven

“Then kill me” - You could see the adults all instantaneously lowering their wands or at least faltering slightly at her words. It made the fact that Albus did the opposite even more obvious. He too faltered here but was then quick to steady himself. It obviously was not what he was expecting her to say but he kept his wand raised and aimed directly at her, and was ready. (He wasn’t, but he trying to convince himself otherwise.) It’s always fascinating to see how Albus reacts here. He’s angry, and if there’s anything we’ve learnt over the past five hours is that this kid acts impulsively when he’s emotionally compromised. Yet it’s the logic he tries to apply over it that gets him in these situations. He convinces himself it’s the right thing to do and then his stubbornness enforces it. But to give credit where credit is due, when he backs down, he does so sincerely.

I probably should have mentioned this before, but this was my first time seeing our new Hermione, Franc Ashman. I absolutely adore her! I loooove her voice. There’s a tone in it that reminds me of book Hermione. She speaks with authority but there’s still that softness there which makes her who she is. I’m really looking forward to her year ahead : )

#harry potter and the cursed child #TCCleanne #one day I'm doing to post a recap told entirely through gifs and it's all scorpius malfoy's fault :')

[sahara-rose]

I’m currently playing Final Fantasy Type-0, now I’m at chapter 7. Well…. how the starting cut scene and the director of the game made me prepare for it but shit I was freaking wrong. ;____; Annnnnddddddd yaaa knowww i was thinking about the the kids like they actually look like the ffxv couples love child. I’m gonna mess around with this a bit because crossovers! and genderbent! like fem! iggy, fem!prompto and maybe fem!loqi

like:

fem!ignis and gladio’s child :

King :

- He’s the first child, the first one that make ignis feel so warm and bubbly inside when she gave birth to him (and she tug gladio’s shirt “I want more!”) 

- He looks like gladio but his attitude is like ignis i mean really he can handle things calmly, he’s smart and he can sass those milites soldier just like ignis does.

- He likes to read what gladio mostly read, because sometimes when he was a kid he’ll sit on gladio’s lap and hear his dad read the novel out loud though he doesn’t understand them but he enjoys it until he fell asleep on gladio’s chest.

- He can use swords but mostly into guns thanks to aunt prompt.

- Yes he like hunting and camping

Deuce 

- She was the first princess of gladnis’s heart.

- She likes to help her mom at the kitchen and she is so sweet and polite, sometimes ignis or gladio just kneel at her and kiss her.

- She likes make those cute shape cookies with mommy and those beautiful colouful icing cakes (ignis have all of the pictures of deuce with her cakes and cookies because mommy is so proud of her). She cooks meals too and of course king is her food tester (but he doesnt mind because she’s good at it)

- She likes to read too (she’s into those romance novels that was recommend by her mother and talks a lot about it)

- She plays musical instruments just like ignis (i like to think ignis play instruments) 

- She’s good at blades but she is more on magic mostly healing magic

Trey

- The second son, another prince of theirs

- Trey likes to lecture his friends (like seriously in the game, he talks a lot of facts) just like ignis like to lecture uncle noctis (he thinks mom is cool when she can make the king of Lucis to listen to her lecture)

- He is very well manner, calm and likes to give advice to his friends 

- He likes to hang around at the house’s library (his parents had this huge library at their house). He’s into lot of genre’s from historical to fictional.

- He just like king can use swords but prefer more on bow 

- and yes yes he likes hunting and camping too

Rem

-Their second princess

- She likes to hang around the kitchen with mommy and Deuce

- She helps her sister and Deuce will gladly teach her how to cook (ignis record tons of videos of them cooking together)

- She mostly likes to read on tactical and fictional.

- She mostly on daggers and magic.

The whole fam 

- Of course the boy love going hunting and camping with dad, being outside of the wall enjoying the fresh air is fun especially when they came back with ingredients for their mom and sisters to cook 

- Grandpa clarus is so proud of them (”You did a great job ignis” and gladio “But dad I did my part too!” “Hush now”) 

-Grandpa clarus gave them their own custom made weapons for them (again he is very proud of his grandchildren, he talks about them a lot with his friends)

fem!promtp and noctis

Machina

- Their first prince, noctis cried on the day he was born (he was panicking okay dont blame him)

- He’s brave but sometimes he have his own insecurities (like in the game), just like prompto so sometimes prompto will have a talk of encouragement with him because of course she wouldn’t want her son to feel what she felt when she was in his age!

- He is playful like his mother and surprisingly he enjoy fishing as much as noctis does (prompto had a hard time holding him when they arrive at a fishing spot until noct have to take him to his lap and let him hold some parts of the rod. He gets really excited when daddy reel in a fish)

- He likes chocobo (prompto took tons of pictures with him and those lovely birds), he even get to own one when he was old enough to be responsible to take care of it from grandpa Regis (yes he named is Chichiri *cries*)

- He’s good with magic just like noctis and daggers!

-He is very very protective of his family and friends

Jack

-Their second son and princes (again noct cried when he was born)

- Jack is totally like noctis + prompto’s attitude.

- He can be lazy and playful but he is actually smart.

- Machina and Queen will be really protective on him and he doesn’t actually mind because yay! they spoil him!

- He likes taking pictures like mom, sometimes they went out together just to take pictures, of course queen or machina is their model lol

- Very good with katanas and sometimes he spar with his dad or cor (the marshall is very impress like really this kid is good!)

Cater

- Their first princess (yes noct did cried)

-very playful and likes to be with mommy

-spoil by both parents and regis but she is well behave and kind

- like noct she just hate losing but optimistic like her mom

- she enjoys taking pictures with prompto and it became her hobby

-good with guns (like prompto) and magic

Nine 

-their last child (again noct did cried)

- impulsive but he is quite well behave

- protective of is siblings (he beat up the guys that bother his sister until his parents had to meet the teacher and noct “Yeah! son! i’m proud of you!”)

- can be call momma’s boy actually

-surprisingly to his parents he likes fishing (”its relaxing and its not that complicated” he said)

- good with lances and spar with dad sometimes

The whole family 

- Grandpa regis of course will spoil them, he and clarus sometimes had this little contest; who’s grandchildren is better like lol who isn’t proud of their beautiful and amazing grandchildren (”Don’t worry, all of you are the best grandchildren” - regis)

- Like clarus he also gave them the custom made weapon with the lucis family crest on it (noct complains because “heyyy how come I never get one?”)

- Congratulate prompto for doing a good job on being both a queen and a mother (”did I do a good job dad?” “Hush noctis, I’m talking to your wife here”)

Fem! Loqi and cor

Sice

first child, (loqi instantly fell in love with her)

- she’s not good with words but she got good judgement just like her dad

- she cares about others, she’s bad at showing it but she usually push them up to be better (she got it from cor) 

-she likes to hangout with her friends and mostly training because she wanted to be strong just like her dad

- loqi was the one made her cool hairstyle and mostly her fashion because loqi just love her so much

- just like her dad she is strong and brave but her weapon of choice surprise cor but made him proud of her skill nonetheless

- good with using scythe but she can use katana too and mostly on black magic

Seven

-second child (of course loqi loves her too! another girl! yes!)

- she’s reticent and seem cold (just like mom) but she is actually very caring a nice, she had a hard time saying no to people.

- like her sister she likes to train too but she mostly like to be indoors, enjoying drink while reading or maybe meet up with close friends only

- her mom helps her with her hairstyle and clothing. 

-She’s very good with whipblade though she can use swords too

Eight

- their first son (yes loqi love him too she just couldn’t stop kissing him when he was born “Its my first son!”)

- his sisters like to spoil him, they usually help him with his insecurities when people made fun of his height (they meet those boys and beat them up like really they did) 

-mom loqi always boost him up and is very proud of how smart he is and how honorable her son is. She helps him with his hair style (”you look a lot handsome with this kind of hairstyle! just like your father”) and his fashion mostly following on cor (and he looks so good in it Loqi couldn’t complain)

- he learn how to fight with cor, he’s very good fighting with Knuckles, given how fast and strong he is.

The whole family 

- Regis sees them as his grandchildren so they call him grandpa regis,

- Regis is actually amazed on how different their fighting skills so regis had their own custom made weapon 

- Regis showing Cor’s embarrassing photos to the children!

Luna and Nyx

Queen

- Their first child

- she’s mostly into reading and listening to her mother’s old Tenebrean stories, (yes she can speak with the Astrals too)

- She is always tried to take care of everyone 

- She likes to nag sometimes and being so straightforward like nyx but she is very well mannered and polite.

- Very skillful with swords and she spars with her dad and yes good at magic too mostly healing magic

Ace

- their first son! 

- ace is just like luna, he’s good with magic although he cannot speak with the astrals, his magic is mostly on offensive

- he had his own chocobo and he always play with it almost everyday

-he can be mature but sometimes reckless and he sometimes act out of anger (”I blame you on this” luna said to nyx)

- he likes going out with his father and can sing like luna does

- very good with magic and he can use daggers like nyx.

Cinque

- their second princess

- very playful and childish but she is actually very smart and sharp

- she sometimes talks to the astrals especially to gentiana because the glacian adores her so much (she gave the astrals weird nicknames but they dont actually mind because its adorable)

-very strong and powerful girl, she hangs out with deuce and seven sometimes.

-she likes to do her mother’s and sister’s hair, sometimes she will playfully do Nyx’s hair.

- surprisingly do very well with mace and do good with daggers and magics too

the whole family

-uncle ravus favourites! and sylva’s beloved grandchildren.

- ravus will spend time with ace at the chocobo ranch just talking and petting his chocobo (grandma bought it for him)

-sylva will teach them magics, offense and defence.

Welp its just me imagining things, so I’ll just tag you lovely people to talk about it….. @moonraccoon-exe, @yuu-be-good , @asoeiki, @theginia and @stephicness 

just hey me rambling again ahahahaha ;____; sorry if im bothering you guys! 

#rambling me #gladnis #lunyx #ffxv #ff type 0 #promptis #my headcanon

[angio-seraphim-blog]

Can You Love Me?

i.m.flores

    One night, Celine Ysabelle Lopez Mendez, a happy-go-lucky daughter who came from a very wealthy family, was in a hurry to go home because she already had twenty missed calls from her mother. She knew that she will be scolded again for she went to her friend’s birthday celebration without the consent of her parents. While she was driving, her phone rang again and this time, it was her father. She panicked for it was already a serious thing when her father already calls. She quickly grabbed her phone and it slipped away from her hand. She tries to find it while she was driving but she cannot until she heard a big bang from the outside of her car. She stopped her car and went out to look what happened. It was an unconscious man full of blood. Celine was very frightened of what she saw and she did not know what to do. She has committed a crime and she wanted to escape. But, she wanted to help the man so she parked her car near a tree where no one will see her and then she grabbed her phone to call for help.

    It was already midnight when the ambulance of Care and Cure Hospital received a phone call from an anonymous person stating that a man (who is around forty years of age) was being hit by a car. The caller told the exact place and quickly dismissed the call. After a while, the ambulance reached the exact location and immediately carried the unconscious man. Then, Celine went back to her car and followed the ambulance.  

    Back to the hospital, Celine witnessed how the doctor tried to revive the dying man in the emergency room. She hid at the back of a wall for she does not want someone to see her. “Please, save him,” she whispered while she was shaking out of fear. Unfortunately, the doctor was not able to bring back the life of the man. After that, the wife of the man appeared and asked the doctor what happened. “We received a call from an unknown person saying that a man was hit by a car. Then we went to the exact location and brought your husband here. We tried our best. We are very sorry,” the doctor said. Celine does not know where to go so she ran out and went home.

    When Celine arrived, her parents were shocked for her clothes were filled with bloodstains. Celine cried very loud in front of her parents. Then, her father asked, “What happened?” but Celine could not answer. Her mother gave her a glass of water and asked her to change her clothes. After a while, Celine explained everything. Her parents were both lawyers and they were speechless for their daughter committed something that was against the law. Obviously, they loved their daughter so much that’s why they thought of a way on how to conceal everything. Her mother, Mrs. Irene Mendrez, asked someone to pay for all the hospital bills of the man and her father, Mr. Roberto Mendrez, on the other hand, ensured that no one saw the crime scene so he hired someone to check all of the CCTV cameras and paid someone also to erase all of the footage. They even disposed the car and phone that Celine used, so basically, they removed all of the evidences.

    After a week, Celine was still having nightmares and she does not want to eat anymore. Her friends were also worried because she does not attend their volleyball training too. But, her parents told their relatives and Celine’s friends that their daughter was just sick and that there was nothing to worry about. Celine was very sick and tired because of the lies of their family but she cannot do anything for she does not want to go to jail too.

    After a month, Celine was not improving. She lost her interest about everything, she skipped her meals that made her lose her weight and she was not talking to anyone except to her mother. “Mom, please help me, I want to free myself from these worries,” she pleaded. “Celine, let’s now seek for help,” her mother replied. Celine agreed and the next morning, they went to a psychiatrist.

    Celine had several sessions and she was also prescribed to take a lot of medicines. Her mom felt happy, because somehow, there was an improvement. Maybe because Celine tried everything to recover, she helped herself, and she thought of living her normal life once more.

    First day of school was fast approaching and Celine was looking forward for it since she missed school. She even bought herself an expensive bag. Next day, she woke up very early and entered the school early. But before going to her room, she bought hot coffee first. Then, when she was about to enter the elevator, Joseph Dan Serrano Cruz, a transferee student pressed the close button and Celine’s shoulder was hit by the elevator’s door. As a result, the coffee that she was holding got poured straight to her expensive bag. Celine got very irritated. “Are you blind? Or are you dumb?” she shouted. Joseph said sorry and offered his handkerchief but Celine threw it away.

    When Celine’s first class started, she was surprised because the one who ruined her bag was one of her classmates and accidentally, all seats were occupied except the chair beside Joseph so Celine had no chance but to sit beside him.

    During their break time, Celine’s friends asked her why she was so annoyed. She told her friends about the incident. Then, one of her friends told her that Joseph was a transferee student, intelligent, and cute as well. That moment, Celine agreed to her friends for she found him attractive too.

    One morning, Celine was having a hard time doing her Math assignment. Because of that, Joseph grabbed the opportunity to help her for he was fond of solving math problems. He helped her and Celine was very thankful for what he did. Because of that, they became friends already.

    As days go by, their friendship became really strong until one day Joseph asked Celine if she wants to eat first before going home. She said yes so they decided to go to the canteen. Joseph was a very straightforward man so he confessed his admiration to Celine already. “I do not want to ruin our friendship but I cannot help it anymore. I like you so much Celine,” he said. “I feel the same way too, Joseph,” she replied without any hesitation. Joseph cannot handle his happiness that’s why he immediately embraced the woman of his dreams. They were both overjoyed.

    The couple both excelled in school for they saw each other as an inspiration. Celine started training for her volleyball team again and Joseph always got high scores during exams. Also, they even had a nickname for each other. Celine called Joseph as “JD” (it was Joseph’s initials) and Joseph called Celine as “Ysa” (it was Celine’s second name and for him she was his one and only). He even gave her a promise ring which signifies his true love for the lady.

    Months later, Celine decided to introduce Joseph to her parents. But her parents were against Joseph, for he was not from a wealthy family. Her parents even told her to not waste her time with someone like Joseph. She got unhappy for he loves Joseph so much. As Joseph comforted her, he said, “It is okay. I will prove to them that I deserve their trust.” She felt relieved after hearing those words.

    The next day, Joseph introduced Celine to her mother. She got surprised for the mother of Joseph looked exactly like the wife of the man who died because of her. As she looked around the house, she saw the pictures of Joseph with that man. She was very nervous that’s why she told a lie. She told Joseph and his mother that she needed to go home already. Joseph offered to accompany her but she hesitated.

    When she arrived home, she locked her bedroom’s door and started crying (all that she did was to cry out loud while she was staring at her promise ring). But the next day, she decided to tell her parents about what she knew about Joseph’s father. “I killed his father,” she confessed to her parents. Her parents told her to end everything already. But, she did not like to.

    Celine did not went to school for three consecutive days. JD got worried for she was not answering his calls so he decided to go to Celine’s house but when he was about to go, he saw her sitting on a bench. Joseph approached her and said, “Ysa, what happened to you? I’m searching for you all the time. I missed you”.  Despite Joseph’s eagerness, Celine stood up and said, “Please, do not ever look for me again. Take this ring now. I am giving it back to you”. Joseph was very clueless about what was happening. He started asking if he ever did something wrong but when he was about to grab his girlfriend’s hands, she cried so hard and said that she does not deserve his love. “But why?” he asked. “It’s because I was the one who killed your father,” she answered. Then Celine told the whole story. After that, Joseph felt so devastated for the woman that she truly loves was the reason why he lost his father. Out of anger, Joseph said that he cannot accept her and that he does not want to see her anymore. The lady understood his boyfriend’s reaction that’s why she just wanted to disappear from Joseph’s sight.

    On her way home, Celine felt really upset while crossing the road. The driver of a fast approaching car did not notice her and when she saw the car, it was too late. The people witnessed what happened so they immediately called the ambulance. Many people gathered to see her while the ambulance was still not arriving until Joseph saw the commotion. He approached the crowd until he saw Celine’s pitiful condition. He held her hand, telling her to hold on. But she cannot handle the pain anymore so she uttered these last words while she was looking at Joseph’s grieving eyes-“I am so sorry, JD. I have no idea that he was your father. But now, I know that this is my punishment for killing him. Please do remember that I have loved you the best way I know how. Thank you for everything, my Joseph Dan.”

    It was already seven years after that accident but Joseph was still wearing the promise ring that he gave to Celine. It was still hard for him, for he lost two important persons in his life but he was in the process of healing now. He even became a successful author, but he was still visiting the canteen where they both confessed their love for each other because from that exact location, he was able to write his best-selling book entitled “Can You Love Me?” which was based on his real life experiences. The title of the book was also inspired by the initials of the love of his life, and that is Celine Ysabelle Lopez Mendez.

#CreativeWriting

[queenieschronicles]

The Arrangement

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky needs your help impressing his boss and coworkers at a charity dinner. You accept the arrangement happily after a bit of begging.

Word Count: 2278

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I am so sorry this is so long. I was going to make it two parts, but I settled for one. I might turn it into a series. If anyone is interested in it, let me know!

“It’s just one night!” He whined trailing behind you.

In all four years of college, you hadn’t managed to find any other friends to replace Bucky Barnes or Steve Rodgers. You had counted yourself fortunate to make friends in Natasha and Wanda. Even after graduation, you were stuck rooming with the two dorks from Brooklyn.

“I’m not gonna do it!” You threw your hands up. “No way in hell!”

Bucky grabbed your hips and whipped you around. “Please?” He was on his knees. “I’m begging you. It’s just one night. One dinner.”

Your brow shot up just as your lips curled in cruel delight. “James Buchanan Barnes begging a woman on his knees. Ha. This is priceless.” His face was slack with irritation and his eyes were focused on some picture hanging on the wall.

“Come on, Bucky. Begging stopped me from slamming my door in your face.” You gave him a devilish smile.

“Technically,” He gave you a cheeky grin,” It was me grabbing your hips and man handling you.” There was no way he was getting away with that one.

You blinked at him. Unamused, you crossed your arms over your chest.  He sighed melodramatically. “(Y/N), I am begging you to please accompany me to the company charity dinner. I cannot possibly do this without you. You are my last hope.”

He was a bit lazy with it and he didn’t put forth his best effort, but it would do. “Groveling looks good on you, Buck.” You gave him a Shirley Temple smile and turned away to get ready.

“So… Wait… Are you gonna help me?” His eyes lit up. From this angle, he looked like a Golden Retriever puppy being praised. You nodded from your doorway.

Steve exited his room,” Help him with what?” His quizzical brows gave away his curiosity. You smiled at him,” I’m playing arm candy while Bucky schmoozes with the company boss.”

Bucky was still collapsed on the floor. He gave a mock smile to Steve,” Yeah. Lucky me.”

You shot him a look,” Hey! I can still cancel on you last minute.” You faked a small cough. “It is cold season.”

Bucky bolted up from the floor,” Nope. I’m luckiest man on earth. She’s the best date any man could ask for.” He nodded like a chump.

Steve and you laughed. He looked at you,” Better get to dressing up Pretty Woman.”

You punched his bicep,” I’m not a prostitute, Steve! Oh but –“You returned your attention to Bucky,” Am I getting paid for this?”

Bucky glowered at Steve. Steve shrugged at him with an apologetic face. “You’re getting paid in food.”

“Oh. I guess that will do.” You shrugged. “I’ll be ready tomorrow by six.”

Bucky leaned against the wall blinking into space. Steve nudged him,” You’re going to have so much fun. When was the last time (Y/N) got cleaned up? Senior year formal?” He grinned. Bucky hadn’t thought about that.

You gave one last glance at the clock – six sharp. You gave yourself a glance over in your vanity mirror. You had been gone all day shopping with Wanda and Natasha. Wanda curled your hair and left you with a proud hug. The dress was definitely Nat’s choosing.

You refused to wear anything that brought too much attention to your hips or your chest. You had settled for a wine red evening gown. You compromised with the plunging neck line, but adored the floor-length tulle skirt. Nat was happy with the neckline as well as the racy slit on the skirt lining underneath the tulle.

You sealed the package with a subtle red lipstick. You took a deep breath and nodded. Bucky wanted eye candy, well he got it.

You slipped on your silver heels; you hadn’t worn them in a bit, but would endure nonetheless. You exited the room promptly.

“Sorry I’m like three minutes late. I’m ready though.” You smiled snagging your purse off the kitchen counter. The men at the front door were fumbling with something you weren’t paying attention to.

They stopped immediately. In sync, their mouths fell open. Steve’s gawk turned into a grin. You two had always been platonic, but tonight he was checking you out head to toe. Bucky was still silent. His blue eyes trying to take in as much of you as possible. His eyes falling on your leg exposed.

“This tie. Definitely this tie.” Steve pressed a red tie to Buck’s chest. Neither of them taking their eyes off of you.

You stood there confused. Your brows furrowed,” Guys, what’s the hold up?” You realized their gawking and a mild panic rose in your stomach. “Crap! I got lipstick all over my face didn’t I?” You fumbled for a small mirror in your purse. “Or is it too much?”

You stopped to look up. Steve laughed,” There she is!” He walked over to you and offered a hand. You took it with a bashful smile. “You’re a fairytale.” You rolled your eyes trying to play off the blush rising on your cheeks. He leaned in to kiss your cheek and you happily accepted.

“Thanks, Steve. Maybe we can go out to eat sometime. At least you’re giving me compliments.” You turned an eye on Bucky who was still staring at your leg. You covered it up quickly, feeling self-conscious.

He shook his head with a scowl. “I was getting to it.” He finished off his tie as he walked over to you. “You do look – er – beautiful.” He offered it up. Saying that to you was odd for him.

You rolled your eyes and smiled,” That will do Prince Charming.” You checked him out in his suit. Tuxedos were way too much for Bucky. He preferred to be business and that suited you just well. He looked good. You stopped at his tie, which you straightened up.

He stared at you the whole time. “There you are. I couldn’t let my date go in there without looking as put together as possible.” You looked up at him and swallowed the shakiness. He had done an awful lot of staring at you tonight.

Bucky coughed. He diverted his attention elsewhere: checking for his wallet and grabbing the keys. “Thanks.” He walked to the door, gesturing you out.

“Have fun you two.” Steve called. He was grinning from ear to ear. You waved until Bucky shut the door.

The ride was pretty quiet. Bucky had been tense the whole way. You managed the silence between the two of you by singing to the music on the radio and staring up at the city lights.

It wasn’t long until you pulled up to a large building. The door abruptly opened and a valet offered a hand to help you out. You smiled graciously and thanked him. You stood elegantly until Bucky came to collect you. He tipped the valet and began prompting you.

“Carson Bullard is my boss. He is also the man behind this company. He’s the one you’re really trying to impress here.” You gave him a look. “Okay, I’m trying to impress him. The other guys are all my competition so be agreeable and make them jealous.”

He gave you a glance down. “If you can manage that.”

You glared at him,” I’m capable, thank you very much.”

It wasn’t long before the butterflies set in. Maybe it was the hair or the eyeshadow, but you didn’t know where this confidence and assurance came from. You let Bucky take the lead.

The brooding and moody Bucky you knew dissipated and he was all smiles. He introduced you to so many people. You tried to file all their faces and names together into a neat folder in your head.

The room went hush when a man began to speak. He introduced himself at Carson Bullard. You paid close attention to what he was speaking about and made sure to make a note for things to talk about later. Soon enough, Mr. Bullard came over to the two of you.

Bucky shook his hand,” Good evening, Mr. Bullard. It’s an honor to be here.” The man had a kind smile. He took Bucky’s hand and gave a firm shake,” James, my boy. How many times have I told you? Call me Carson.”

You gave Bucky a smile and applied a small pressure to his forearm to calm him. You could feel him calm a little. He laughed a bit. “Right, sorry Mr – I mean Carson. Thank you for inviting us tonight.”

Carson had moved his attention to you by then. He was smiling at you. You smiled back with a blush. “James, you are disappointing. Not introducing your lovely date first.” Bucky’s eyes widened and he looked at you.

“This is (Y/N).” He released a small breath. You released his arm and allowed Mr. Bullard to take your hand. He gave it a quick peck before releasing it. “Absolutely beautiful my dear. It is a pleasure to meet you.” His nose was a lovely red button and you couldn’t help but think of Santa Clause when you looked at him.

Mr. Bullard engaged in conversation with Bucky for some time before the dinner bell rang. Bullard straightened up and motioned for us to follow. “You’ll be sitting next to me, of course.” Bucky smiled at you and you gave his arm a squeeze.

Once seated, you studied the people at the table. There were three people fighting for the position at this table, which included Bucky. Bullard’s wife sat to the left of him and Bucky to the right. Bullard had asked for that rearrangement himself. There were also two other business associates with their wives.

You couldn’t help but be proud of him. You took delight in your champagne enjoying the background noise as the men talked business and the women engaged in small talk.

“What about you, (Y/N)?” You looked up, shocked to be put on the spot. They had been talking about meet cutes and their first impressions of their significant others.

You looked at Bucky. Bucky was lost and a little worried. You two hadn’t discussed specifics. You drew from real memory. You smiled and breathed out a short laugh,” My first thoughts of Bucky?” The women smiled and leaned in and Bullard smiled at the nickname.

“I met Bucky my first year of college. I was reading a book under a tree when this football landed right in my lap. It nearly tore the page I was on. I was angry because this spot was usually quiet. I looked up about to snap at whoever disturbed me, when – “You stopped. Your smile deepened,” When I saw Bucky smiling down at me. I forgot about my anger and I forgot what page I was even on. He looked so stupid grinning down at me. I wanted to laugh. I knew then, well, I knew he and I were going to be together.”

Everyone laughed a bit and you could tell there was some envy from the other girls. You looked at Bucky and blushed. You quickly looked away and found solace in Bullard’s smile,” My first impression was that this boy clearly had no idea how to introduce himself to a girl properly and it was obviously my job to help him.”

That got everyone to laugh. For the rest of the night, things went smoothly and Bucky was asked upon by Bullard so many times. On your way out, Bullard stopped you both and hugged you. He made you promise to come to more events. You promised and thanked his wife for her biscotti recipe.

You waved once more before tucking away in Bucky’s Aston Martin. The ride home was cheerful. The two of you laughed at Todd, one of Bucky’s competitors, and his big interruption of Bucky. Bullard had shut that right down. You chuckled about a woman’s earring falling into her soup.

Your stomach hurt by the time you got into the apartment. You had just enough champagne to keep you warm and bubbly. You laughed as Bucky fumbled with the door. He helped you inside. All was silent. Bucky dropped your shoes and you shushed him.

He grinned at you. He was helping you to your room when he tripped. His hand bracing on the wall to stop him from falling on you.

You blinked quickly, feeling a rush of anxiety. You’d never been in this situation with Bucky. He was just barely smiling. His eyes were studying you in this close proximity.

“You really do look divine tonight.”

You bit your lower lip,” You don’t look so bad yourself.” You calmed yourself with quips.

He brushed your cheek with his thumb,” I didn’t know you cleaned up so nice.”

You laughed and gave a shrug,” Who knew?”

He laughed, his smile turning into a grin. “You were incredible tonight. Honest, doll. I owe you.”

You shook you head,” Don’t worry about it kid.”

“Did you really mean what you said at dinner?”

Your brows furrowed.

“I mean, did you mean that we were going to be together?”

He leaned in a bit closer. You steadied a hand on his chest. He looked down trailing his gaze back up passed your plunging neckline to your eyes again. You could feel his breath, so warm and inviting.

You loosened his tie,” It’s bed time Bucky.”

He nodded, straightening himself. You let your hands fall, flattening yourself against the wall. You watched as completely loosening his tie and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt.

He smiled back at you. “Goodnight, doll. Thank you for everything.”

#bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky x reader #marvel f #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fic #Steve Rogers #steve x reader #steve rodgers fanfiction #fic #thor fic #bucky fluff #steve fluff #thor x reader #bruce x reader #tony x reader

[elvencantation]

VIXX 101: A Crash Course

inspired by this post

special thanks to @hongbins-wife​ for helping with ken and chiming in about hogbin’s dramas! & @poorunfortunateseouls for letting your inner ravi stan run wild, and opening up about your experiences with hyuk as your bias wrecker!

N/Cha Hakyeon

also known as Leader N! (and sometimes mother cha) he’s the main dancer, and a proud parent. has the voice of a goddamn angel, and when he dances? let’s just say eros would be proud. he’s just so goddamn elegant and graceful I really don’t understand it? basically he’s protective and loving but also somehow seductive with his voice and body and everything? came up with stage name N! Inspired by ‘fate’ [in-yeon] in Korean, so the ‘yeon’ in ‘Hakyeon’ also took that form.

he’s very hardworking and eloquent in speaking for the group, and really he deserves all the love and recognition! he has darker skin than most of the members which sometimes he gets picked on about but he’s more confident about it (which is good because his skin is gorgeous) he also kept a diary when he was a trainee of his hopes and dreams and achievements and apparently it’s one of his most prized possessions! how fucking precious is that im gonna die

Leo/Jung Taekwoon

the lead singer (my soul soars and my skin clears with each and every high note) and precious shy kitten. he may seem aloof sometimes because he doesn’t know how to react or is overwhelmed, but flowers actually bloom when this boy smiles (proof). he used to be really camera shy, but being in musicals (Monte Christo and Mata Hari) helped with that! and also helped in killing me because GODDAMN gorgeous does he look good in period clothing?

this boy loves his lattes (hence his nickname latte-fairy)! he’s the oldest member after N and they sometimes act like the parents of the group. knows taekwondo and won championships swimming and boxing?? loves children!! see his video with his nephew (melt my heart) and is easily embarrassed, which is when you are likely to see the top of his head. also a drama queen and is usually the target of Hyuk’s shenanigans (not that he doesn’t deserve it sometimes)

 okay ill move on now or ill never stop. he’s my bias and he’s too precious and attractive and can move his body like nobody’s business (see chained up) kill me

Ken/ Lee Jaehwan

main vocalist and king of aegyo! also called ken-jumma because he acts like an old woman sometimes. (but he also is called Power soul vocalist, Kenchopper, 4D Ken, Kenneth, and Kenyonce). he is incredibly extra and a goddamn sweetheart but then also turns around to stop starlights’ hearts? like for example being in the Boys over Flowers musical and apparently the Prince in Cinderella?? and recently Hamlet! he’s just really the most cheerful precious dorky flower ever ok and could probably make a rock laugh/blush

Ken is super suuuuper good at acting and I recommend checking out the musicals and dramas he’s been in! (that includes Boarding House #24 for a drama suggestion!)

Ken has two older brothers as well! His favorite foods include: instant foods and chocolate~ He’s also really great at drawing (he draws the little heads in the beginning of VIXXTV). Kenneth has also won multiple awards for song-writing. He wanted to become a voice actor if being an idol didn’t work out~

Ravi/ Kim Wonshik

im gonna turn it over to my bestie @poorunfortunateseouls​ who is Ravi-biased and loves this goddamn dork:

alright, let the Ravi bias take over, *cracks knuckles*

vixx’s main rapper. Is well versed in the art of body rolling and spitting mad rhymes. Loves his cool, collected, and manly persona but will not kill any bug, they are his kryptonite. Protect this baby. Doesn’t know what shirts are. Is an avid shorts enthusiast. Tends to be put in stupid hats. Vixx song hype man. Adores saying his name before he raps, literally cannot resist saying his own name. Desperately wants love from all things, especially dogs, please love him, he can’t handle not being an animal’s favorite. Enjoys tattoos (YOLO. on his chest.) and having a flaming question mark on his face because he is secretly the riddler.

Abs. Just abs. Acts embarrassed but wants you to see them because damn they were hard to get and yes, you like them. Talents and works under-appreciated. Is incredibly dedicated to both his solo music and vixx’s tracks. Very thoughtful about the music he produces, hard worker. Has a great back and a killer face, watch out, he’ll snatch you with those raps of his and you will thank him because he is lovely. (also he’s in love with Ken. but can you really blame him?)

Bean/ Lee Hongbin

precious cinnamon roll, literal human sunshine! the visual of the group, has a range so low it shakes me to the bone, and in general ruins my life with his goddamn dimples and that time he had pink hair?? he also took a photography class? looks absolutely drop dead gorgeous as a girl. is a giant dork and once said he was wearing green because he was a bean

is literally the sweetest? Leo fell during a race and bean ran over and cheered him to the finish line! giant Park Hyo Shin fanboy, which is precious, and knows a lot of girl group songs that he likes to sing along to. wanted to be a veterinarian if he hadn’t been a singer? how fucking precious is that? basically he’s a puppy in human form, but can be very savage, which is incredibly confusing

Hongbin also really hates couples but has had past relationships before debuting! HONGBIN IS ALSO A GREAT ACTOR??? LIKE ALL THE DRAMA’S HE’S BEEN IN I’VE NEVER SEEN HIM STRUGGLE???? (drama’s he’s been in are: Glorious Day, Moorim School, What’s Up With These Kids?,  and soon to be in the newest drama called ‘Wednesday 3:30pm’) He used to be an MC for SBS mTV’s ‘The Show’ from March 3rd, 2015 - October 13th, 2015 with T-ara’s Jiyeon and Super Junior’s Zhou Mi.

Hyuk/ Han Sanghyuk

the maknae!! precious, dancer and also has a gorgeous voice. mesmerizes with his dance moves. sexy out of nowhere after him being so cute? also shot up and is one of the tallest members and constantly picks people up (especially Leo) because suddenly now he has muscles? likes to tease his hyungs and think he’s a grown man, which amuses everyone (especially Ken). he apparently once danced to Super Hero while he was sleeping and cosplayed as Sasuke from Naruto with his cousin!!

-Hyuk advocate and best friend chiming in again-

A problem. Seems like a small, innocent, silly baby but it’s part of his mischievous maknae game. Don’t fall for it. Stacked. That’s just science talking. A dork, wants to make people laugh and isn’t afraid to be silly. Great voice. Don’t sleep on his sexy vocals, boys got pipes. Impulsive but sweet. Is a ray of sunshine but will burn you as he flips from giggly boy next door mode to mr. steal yo girl in 3 seconds flat. Hard to pin down, needs to pick a lane because you will get whiplash staning this bulky man-child. Cute to dreamboat at the drop of a hat. And that hat is probably Ravi’s. (any hat)

fun facts:

- here are the origins of their stage names if you’re interested!

-look here for some of their interactions as a group and fall in love with all of them in the process probably

-VIXX stands for Voice, Visual, Value in Excelsis!!

- the fandom is called ST☆RLIGHT and are probably the most humble and respectful fans I’ve ever encountered!

- here are some incorrect quotes i’ve done with them if you want an easy way to try to get to know some of their personality traits!

if this creates any new starlights (or just makes you laugh) i will be very happy 🌟

share the love!

#vixx #cha hakyeon #jung taekwoon #lee hongbin #kim wonshik #lee jaehwan #han sanghyuk #starlight #st☆rlight #vixx 101 #hyuk #hongbin #n #leo #ken #ravi #im so proud of this post #since its conception last night where i wrote out all about n and leo and bean #and then little as i knew about ken and hyuk #then got help today from my lovely friends!!

[stcrytcllerxinspo]

When you let those blue eyes turn grey I took it personal When you took my hero away I took it personal Now you're not here when I say I took it personal I took it personal Now every night

I scream at your ghost When I miss you the most I'll lace up my armour and fight for us both Finish what you started and crown your stone (I'll crown your stone) Maybe I could let go, let go, let go (maybe) Maybe I could let go, let go, let go (Never let go)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, MURDER, DEATH, GRIEF

With pale blue eyes focused on the large animal in front of him, Devon reached out with a weak hand and let his fingers brush over the back and white fur on Sunny’s neck. In the two weeks since Jade’s funeral, Devon had gone to visit the horse on almost a daily basis, usually late at night, when Alyssa was asleep along with his mum and sister, who had been staying with him ever since. Visits with his wife’s giant, furry friend had been serving as a source of comfort in a time during which he often found even waking up to be difficult.

“Hey, Sunny girl.” He murmured softly, kissing her nose. Sunny made a soft noise and nudged him, to which he responded with a weak smile as he unlocked her stall door and walked in, shutting it behind him. “Miss me since last night?”

Sunny made her noise again as she carefully watched him, stepping a little closer and nudging his back. Something told him that she was just as heartbroken as he was, as if she somehow knew that Jade was gone forever. He’d always believed that animals could sense these things.

“I cleaned your stall yesterday.” He turned to her. “I guess I don’t need to do it again, yeah?”

She nickered at him and let him gently rub her neck, and she continued to watch him even as he sat down on a bale of hay. He was so weighed down with emotion these days that it physically tired him out.  He couldn’t rest during the day, however, as he had a daughter to care for and he also had work six days out of the week. There was no time for resting.

“Remember when you and Jade took me for a ride for the first time?” He reached into a plastic bag and  took out a handful of oats, holding his open hand to Sunny. “I was a bit scared of you, wasn’t I?”

“This is 1,000 pounds of death and destruction!”

“You’re being dramatic.” Jade said with a playful roll of her eyes, taking notice of the death grip that Devon had on the reigns. For years, he had steered clear of getting on a horse, but when Christmas rolled around, he decided to surprise his wife and attempt to get over his fear by joining her for a ride. Now, though, he was wondering if he should be regretting the decision.

“Dramatic? Babe, what if she gets spooked and takes off running?! And you had a baby last month, so should you even be—”

“Dev, calm down!” Jade giggled as she leaned back against him, sliding her hands up the reigns until they were resting over his. The action did bring him some comfort, but he was still afraid of being thrown off. It wasn’t like that had never happened before. “Look, she’s harmless. Aren’t you, Snugglebutt?”

Devon’s nervous look became incredulous because did his wife seriously just call her horse Snugglebutt? That was a nickname one might give to a dog or cat, not a freakin’ horse? Could you even snuggle a horse? Wouldn’t anyone get crushed if they tried that? He knew that Sunny was her second baby, next to Alyssa, but honestly, what the hell.

“Love, no offense, but this is not a Snugglebutt!”

“I beg to differ.” Jade retorted as she rubbed his hands. Devon pressed his face against her shoulder and let out a soft groan. “What? She lays down and I snuggle her! It’s easy, babe.”

“Yeah right.”

“Well? It’s true!” “Whatever you say.”

“Yep.” There was amusement in Jade’s voice as she pulled on the reigns, bringing Sunny to a stop in front of the lake. She leaned back so she could look at her husband, one hand going from the reigns to his knee. Devon wrapped his arms around her, only to frantically grab the reigns again when Sunny moved. It was only a small movement, but still enough to startle him, and for whatever reason, it made Jade laugh. “You’re still scared, huh?”

“Yeah, a lil bit.” He gulped.

“Okay, let’s take a break.” She giggled as they got off the horse, patting the creature’s neck. Sunny neighed at the young couple and Jade kissed her nose before leading her over to the fence and tying her halter safely but comfortably. Then Jade was back at Devon’s side, her arms around his waist as she looked up at him. “What do you wanna do now?”

“This.” Devon answered simply before lifting her into his arms and kissing her with loving passion, her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. She squealed as he spun her around, holding on tight. He laughed at her cute reactions, planting kisses all over her face.

“Dev!” She squeaked. She clung to him as tightly as she could, crinkling her nose as she looked away from her and within seconds, he sat her back down, chuckling. Sunny sounded off in the background, almost as if expressing approval of them. Jade looked up at her husband with a big smile, standing on her tip-toes to give him a soft and loving kiss.

“I thought you were gonna flip out and throw me off.” Devon chuckled softly, with tears already welling up in his eyes, which had heavy bags underneath from lack of sleep. Sunny seemed to notice that something was wrong with him, once again nudging him. He tried to choke back the tears, because he truly was tired of crying all the time. He’d cried himself to sleep every night since Jade’s death. He honestly didn’t know how he was gonna live without her. He didn’t want to live without her.

“Um…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to imagine a world without her. We had so many plans, y’know? We eventually wanted to buy some land and build a home of our own. We wanted to try for another baby. I eventually wanted to take her on a trip to London. She’d never been there, but she wanted to change that soon.” He wiped away the tears that had begun to fall. “Shit, we were gonna grow old together.”

He stood up and touched the horse once more before stepping out of the stall and locking it back up. Then he stepped outside and headed for the walking trail, as he attempted (and failed) to keep his emotions under control.

“Do you ever think about the future? I don’t mean like…college plans or your dream wedding, but like…how short life is?”

The question came out of nowhere as they walked down the trail, having ditched their wedding reception to have some alone time on their first night as a married couple. Jade was walking hand-in-hand with her new husband, her green eyes focused on the starry night sky, the light breeze brushing over her face. She seemed to be deep in thought, her mind anywhere but in the moment.

Devon frowned, giving her hand a squeeze. “Why?”

In response, Jade shrugged, looking up at him with a tiny smile. “I don’t know. We think we have all the time in the world, but then I see all the tragedy out there. Sometimes we may think we have plenty of time to live, but we don’t really know when our time is up. I just…I don’t want to miss out on anything.” She placed a hand lovingly on her small but noticeable baby bump, letting her head rest against Devon’s bicep as they walked together.

“Yeah, I get that.” He admitted, giving a kiss to her head. “I try not to think about it, though. Like you said, life is short. So I try not to focus much on when I’m going to die. Living’s so much better, yeah?”

“Much better.” Jade grinned. Together they approached the pier overlooking the lake, with Devon placing his hands protectively on her sides to keep her from falling, then moved them until they were cupping her bump. “And I want our baby to see that too.”

“Is that a yes to me taking the kid skydiving?”

“No.” Jade answered before turning around and hugging his waist. With one hand on her back, he used his other hand to push a strand of hair from her face before he kissed her forehead. She stood on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his, giggling softly. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” Devon grinned against her lips, kissing her once more.

“No way.”

“Yep.”

“Dev!”

“It’s true and you know it!”

And so their laughter filled the air. In that moment, there was nothing that could take their happiness away.

Before Devon knew it, he was standing on that pier, staring out into the water, the moon illuminating it. He could see his reflection and just how tired and weak he truly looked. But nothing mattered to him right now, especially not his appearance. For a moment, he actually contemplated jumping into the water and drowning.

But he couldn’t do that to their daughter. Alyssa had already lost one parent and there was no way that Devon was going to allow her to lose him, even if he had lost himself.

He sat down on the pier as sobs threatened to escape, combing his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know how he was going to survive this. He wasn’t sure how he could handle the pain. It all seemed like so much more than he could handle.

“Okay, honey, just one more big push, okay?”

Cries filled the delivery room as Jade squeezed Devon’s hand, which he was sure she was going to end up breaking. But mostly, he just wanted to ease her pain. He couldn’t stand to see Jade hurting, even though the end result was going to be a good one.

“Dev, I can’t do it.” Jade cried as she collapsed against the pillows, her chest heaving as sweat dripped down her face. “I can’t—”

Immediately Devon cupped his hand over her cheek, forcing her to look at him.  “Love, look at me. You spent nine months growing this baby and now she wants to see you, and I know you want to see her and hold her. You have been so damn strong and you cannot give up now, okay?” He kissed her forehead. “So I need you to breathe and you need to push as hard as you can so we can hold our baby girl. Okay? Come on, love. You can do it.” He put his free arm behind her back and helped her sit up, nodding at the doctor. “Come on, beautiful. Just one more and you’ll be a mum.” Jade nodded and took a deep breath, then pushed while the doctor counted to ten.

“One, two, three, four…”

“You’re doing so well, babe.” Devon encouraged, rubbing her back.

“Five, six, seven, eight…”

“Almost there!” Devon grinned as he kissed her cheek.

“Nine, ten!”

A cry filled the room and Jade collapsed back against the pillows, breathing heavily and crying tears of joy this time. And once the umbilical cord had been cut, Alyssa Devonne Prescott was wrapped in a blanket and placed in her mother’s arms.  Jade’s fingers lightly brushed over the baby girl’s cheek, as if to check and see if she was real.

“There’s our princess.” Devon whispered, tears filling his own eyes as little Alyssa grabbed his finger. “We’re so happy to see you, baby girl.”

With his knees pulled to his chest, Devon no longer could keep the sobs in, finally allowing himself to break down for what seemed like the millionth time in the past two weeks. He just wanted to wake up from this nightmare. He wanted to wake up to Jade laying beside him or making him breakfast or playing with Alyssa. Her home was supposed to be with them, not a cemetery. He had been refusing to believe that this was real, but deep down, he knew that she was never coming back.

In the hours before it happened, they had been so damn oblivious. They dropped Alyssa off at his mum’s house, then they went to the library so Devon could work and Jade could browse through books and the internet. He could never forget sitting at the front desk and them exchanging flirtatious smiles. They had gone to their favorite Italian restaurant for his lunch break. In many ways, the day had been perfect. If only it hadn’t ended on such a horrific note….

It had happened in an instant. One minute every customer was on the ground, fearing for their lives. The next minute, a life was being taken. Devon had thought he and Jade could sneak out of their when the armed man in black wasn’t looking, but as soon as they started sneaking towards the back door, the bastard fired his weapon. A single bullet hit Jade, sending her to the ground.

“Jade, no!” Devon dropped to his knees beside his struggling wife, who was gasping for air as she laid bleeding on the ground. Crimson had begun to soak the back of her jacket and her skin was beginning to lose its color. “No, babe, no. You gotta hang on, okay?”

But she wasn’t. She wasn’t hanging on. She was beginning to lose her grip on life. As Devon felt her wrist for a pulse, he could feel it becoming weaker and weaker. In a panic, he pulled his hoodie off and pressed it to her back, trying to keep as calm as he could. But as she began to fade away, it became harder to stay calm.

The man in black had bolted out the door, but Devon’s focus was entirely on trying to keep Jade alive. “Love, I need you to stay with me. Please.” He cried as he pressed his jacket against her wound. His jeans and his long-sleeved white shirt were becoming soaked with blood: Jade’s blood.  When he saw that her eyes were almost completely closed, he frantically shook his head and placed his hand over her cheek. “Jade, open your eyes. Open your eyes, please!”

He could have sworn that he heard someone say that an ambulance was on its way. But what good would that ambulance do now? Because just as the person spoke, Devon felt Jade take her final breath, and he cried as he held her close, the bloodied jacket falling from his hand. Sure enough, he didn’t feel a single heartbeat in her chest. She was gone. He knew she was.

“No…God, please no…” He sobbed, pressing his face against her shoulder. And so his real nightmare began.

“Devon?”

The minute he heard his aunt’s voice behind him, he was quick to wipe his tears away. He could allow anyone to see him cry anymore. Jade had always talked about how strong he was, dealing with his dad leaving and helping his mum to raise his sister. So he had to be strong, right? He had to live up to what Jade saw in him. In his mind, that meant that he needed to stop crying and get on with life.

“Your mum called and said that she was worried about you. Apparently you’ve been out here for a while.” Marley said as she kneeled behind him, her hand on his shoulder. His uncle had already gone back to Boca Raton with his cousins, except for Alex, who had returned to college at NYU. But Marley chose to stay in Nashville for a while longer, at least a few more days. Devon supposed that she was worried about her sister caring for a newly motherless grandchild and a traumatized son.

“Yeah,” He cleared his throat as he started to stand up. “I lost track of time, but I was about to head home.”

“Devon,” Marley said as she moved her hand to his back. “You look exhausted. Have you been sleeping at all?”

He could tell the truth.

Or he could do the easier thing: lie.

“Yeah,” He finally said. “I’ve been sleeping pretty good. I’ll talk to ya tomorrow, yeah?”

Without another word, he took off back down the trail and past the stables until he reached his car, forcing back more tears. 

He was fine.

Or at least he could make everyone believe that he was.

#{self para; devon}