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the-al-chemist · 2 years

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Artemis Hexley and the Return to the Riddles

Chapter 4: The Defence of Jacob Hexley

A/N: Jacob Hexley is put on trial. Warnings: intrigue, courtroom drama, references to death and violence, one certain witch in pink robes…

The trial of Jacob Hexley and Patricia Rakepick was to be held in the courtrooms on the very lowest level of the Ministry of Magic. When the morning of the trial arrived, Artemis and Madam Rosmerta, who had closed the Three Broomsticks for the day in order to accompany her, met Kingsley Shacklebolt next to the fountain in the atrium before making their way down to the belly of the Ministry together.

“Level Nine,” the cool voice of the lift announced, after a short descent from the atrium. “Department of Mysteries.”

“The lift doesn’t go any lower,” said Kingsley, as the doors rattled open. “We will have to walk the rest of the way.”

With Rosmerta’s arm still wrapped around her shoulders, Artemis followed Kingsley down the corridor. She had not had any reason to visit the Department of Mysteries during her two weeks of work experience, and she was struck by the difference between the corridor she was now walking down compared to those of the higher levels. This corridor was bare, without any windows or doors, save for a single jet black door at the very end of it. Something about the door made Artemis shudder, though she was not certain why. She stared at it, and as she did, it opened to reveal a young witch with thick-rimmed glasses and curly dark hair pulled back into a bun.

“After you,” said the woman, closing the door quickly and gesturing to a set of stairs on the left.

Madam Rosmerta’s arm steering Artemis down the stairs prevented her from looking at the black door or the woman who had stepped out of it, but she could hear a fourth set of footsteps behind her as they descended to Level Ten, where the courtrooms were situated.

The courtroom itself was a large, high-ceilinged room with dark stone walls illuminated by torches. Rows of benches rose up on three sides, highest on the wall opposite the door, with people occupying seats on all sides.

“Spectators to the left, witnesses to the right,” said a squat witch with a toad-like face and pastel pink robes, her high-pitched voice ringing like a shrill bell. “I’m afraid that the seats straight ahead are reserved for members of the Wizengamot and Council of Magical Law.”

She said the word ‘members’ with a slight inflection that made it clear that she believed said members to be far more important than Artemis or either of her friends. Rosmerta pursed her lips before she hugged Artemis tightly and made her way to the benches on the left, leaving Kingsley to lead her across the courtroom to the right, past the rows of benches seating the members of the Wizengamot and Council of Magical Law, who were dressed in plum-coloured robes.

The witnesses’ seats were mainly empty, aside from the two pale, drawn faces of Artemis’ fellow students Merula Snyde and Ben Copper, sitting side-by-side on the front bench; the grubby features of Mr Borgin, who owned a disreputable shop in Knockturn Alley; and a wizard on the very back row, whose face was cast in such dark shadow that Artemis couldn’t recognise his features save for a flash of his white beard.

“You okay?” she asked Ben as she sat down beside him. He shook his head silently, his lips pressed tightly together as if he was trying not to be sick. Artemis placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed it gently, before leaning across to Merula.

“Sod off, Hexley,” Merula hissed, before Artemis had the chance to say anything.

“I just-”

“I said, sod off.”

Artemis rolled her eyes and faced forward, just as the young witch from the Department of Mysteries made her way up the rows of benches to sit a few seats behind them. Artemis watched her, frowning. She didn’t recognise the witch at all. Were more trials taking place than that of her brother and Rakepick?

She turned back to Kingsley to ask him, but found herself unable to say anything as she noticed yet another woman enter the courtroom and make her way over to the spectators’ benches, dark hair half-covering her face as she walked to the very back row with her head lowered. Artemis’ mouth went dry. Even with her half of her face obscured from view, she was able to recognise her own mother.

The pink-robed witch made her way to the Wizengamot benches and sat on the front row, holding a fluffy pink quill and parchment. A single wooden chair appeared in the centre of the room and the court fell silent, before a woman’s voice - lower-pitched and far more resonant than that of the pink witch - began to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your attendance today,” said the voice, which belonged to a grey-haired witch with a square jaw and a monocle in the middle of the front row of the Wizengamot benches. Her upright posture and level, authoritative voice reminded Artemis of Professor McGonagall. “Let us begin the proceedings. Criminal trial of the twenty-fourth of August 1990, pertaining to the offences of Jacob Odysseus Hexley of Camden, London, and Patricia Rakepick of Foulburn-in-Pendle, Lancashire. Interrogater-in-chief shall be myself, Madam Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Sitting beside me and acting in the role of court scribe is Madam Dolores Jane Umbridge, Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office.” Beside Madam Bones, the pink-robed witch gave a tight-lipped smile. “Witness for the defence shall be…”

“Myself,” said a familiar voice from behind Artemis, and she turned in her seat to see that the wizard in the back row was also on his feet. Now that he was no longer sitting in the shadows, she was clearly able to recognise the features of her headmaster. “Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I won’t bore all you dear people with my many titles and accolades.”

Dumbledore gave a wry smile, and there were a few quiet chuckles from the benches around the courtroom. Madam Bones inclined her head and used her wand to cast a Patronus, that of a large silver-white owl. Across the courtroom from her, the door opened to reveal two Dementors flanking a handsome young wizard with messy dark hair and hazel eyes, his hands cuffed together at the wrist.

“You are Jacob Odysseus Hexley?” asked Madam Bones, and Jacob nodded his head. “For the benefit of the court scribe, the accused has indicated that he is indeed Jacob Hexley by the nodding of his head. Jacob Hexley, you are today accused of working for the criminal organisation that goes by the name of ‘R’ for two years between 1979 and 1990, and committing acts of crime in their name, notably multiple offenses under the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Magic, one of which resulted in the death of a wizard. You are also accused of failing to answer summons to provide evidence to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement during the winter of 1981. Today we shall hear evidence and pass judgement on you. Do you understand?”

Jacob nodded again.

“For the benefit of the court scribe, the accused has indicated by the nodding of his head that he understands the charges put against him. Professor Dumbledore, if you please.”

Dumbledore walked down the steps to stand beside Jacob, his wand raised above his head and a shield-like Patronus swirling in the air above him. He bowed his head at Madam Bones and rested his free hand on the back of Jacob’s chair.

“Professor Dumbledore, you are the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, are you not?”

Dumbledore inclined his head and smiled serenely.

“For the benefit of the court scribe, I am indicating my answer to be an affirmative with a nod of my head,” he said, and there was another quiet round of chuckles. Madam Bones’ lips twitched, but beside her, the court scribe’s toad-like face darkened. “Furthermore, I admit to being headmaster of Hogwarts throughout Mr Hexley’s formal education.”

“How would you describe the accused as a student?”

“Intelligent, curious, conscientious, proud, charming, ambitious, bold - dare I say it? - a little too bold at times,” Dumbledore smiled again. “Altogether, rather brilliant. Without wanting to sound immodest, I would say that he was not unlike myself as a student.”

“Rather brilliant,” said Madam Bones, ignoring the titters around her. “And yet, Mr Hexley did not complete his formal education, did he?”

“No, he did not.”

“Why not?”

“Mr Hexley was expelled shortly before his eighteenth birthday following a series of… unfortunate incidents.”

“Would one such incident be the death of Mr Duncan Ashe?”

“It would,” Professor Dumbledore inclined his head. “Mr Ashe and Mr Hexley were close friends during their time at Hogwarts. Mr Ashe was similarly bold and ambitious, and the two of them became embroiled in a quest during their time at Hogwarts.”

“A quest?”

“A quest to discover the infamous Cursed Vaults.”

There was a murmur that echoed around the courtroom. Madam Bones held Dumbledore’s gaze silently as the murmur subsided.

“The Cursed Vaults are said to be a legend,” she said, after the courtroom had fallen silent.

“One only need read the Daily Prophet’s articles about recent events at the school to know that this is not the case. The Cursed Vaults are real, as Mr Hexley and Mr Ashe discovered. Unfortunately, they are not the only ones to have discovered this over the years,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “The organisation that calls themselves ‘R’ has also made this discovery, far less innocently than two schoolboys.”

The court scribe cleared her throat. “Hem hem,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I’m afraid that it is the court who shall be deciding who is innocent today, Professor Dumbledore.”

“Of course, my dear Madam Umbridge. A turn of phrase, nothing more.”

“Professor Dumbledore, please tell us about the events surrounding Mr Ashe’s death,” said Madam Bones.

“Duncan Ashe was sadly killed in a tragic potioneering incident. The two boys were hoping to brew a potion that could be used to attack a creature guarding one of the Cursed Vaults. Evidence found at the scene indicated that powdered Erumpet Horn had been used, causing the potion to explode, with fatal damage to both Mr Ashe and the surrounding area. The story was corroborated by the ghost of Mr Ashe himself following the accident.”

“If this was an accident, as you say,” Madam Umbridge said, very carefully pronouncing the word ‘accident’, “how did Mr Hexley come to be expelled as the result thereof? Surely, his expulsion would indicate some degree of guilt in the matter?”

“Madam Umbridge, I must point out that you are here in the role of court scribe, not interrogator,” Madam Bones told her. “However, the question stands. Why was Mr Hexley expelled?”

“Mr Ashe’s death took place in June 1981,” said Professor Dumbledore. “At that point, Mr Hexley was told under no uncertain terms that he must discontinue his search for the Cursed Vaults. Earlier in the year he had broken his wand in search of the Vaults, and been seen consorting with several unsavoury characters. This was his final warning; were he found to have anything else to do with the Cursed Vaults, he would be expelled.”

“And he did not heed this warning?”

“He did not.”

“So, it was your opinion that Mr Hexley’s obsession with the Cursed Vaults made him a danger to his peers.”

“I have said nothing of the sort. I told Mr Hexley what the consequences would be were he to be found investigating the Vaults, and he was later found to be investigating them. As headmaster, it is my unfortunate duty to be a disciplinarian, and as an honourable individual, it is my moral duty to keep to my word,” Professor Dumbledore removed his hand from the back of Jacob’s chair. “Mr Hexley showed great promise. His interest in the Cursed Vaults was unfortunate, yet understandable. Many very honourable witches and wizards of great intellect have pursued similar quests. It does not make them criminals.”

“Perhaps not,” said Madam Bones. “Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. We shall now be hearing from a Mr Borgin, of Knockturn Alley. Mr Borgin, if you please.”

Professor Dumbledore stepped back as Mr Borgin took to the front of the court.

“Your full name and profession?”

“Tubal Borgin. I am the proprietor of Borgin and Burke’s, a shop in Knockturn Alley. I deal in collectibles and antiques.”

Beside Artemis, Kingsley made a quiet noise that sounded almost like he was clearing his throat. She turned to look at him and, seeing that his eyebrows were raised and lips pursed, had to stop herself from laughing. Borgin and Burke’s sold many things, half of which were likely to be illegal and almost none of which she would class as either collectibles or antiques.

“Mr Borgin, it is my understanding that two known members of the criminal organisation ‘R’ - namely Madam Patricia Rakepick and Mr Loken Burke - have, on several occasions, frequented your shop.”

“That’s right. Loki’s the nephew of my former business partner, and Madam Rakepick used to come in a fair bit when she wasn’t off somewhere with Gringotts,” said Mr Borgin. He frowned suddenly, and added, “I didn’t know that either of them were criminals at the time, mind you.”

“He’s lying,” whispered Artemis.

“Oh, I know,” Kingsley replied.

“You are not the one on trial today, Mr Borgin. What business did Madam Rakepick and Mr Burke have with you?”

“Sometimes they bought, er, antiques. Mainly, though, they used a cabinet.”

Madam Bartholomew raised her eyebrows. “A cabinet?”

“Yes, a vanishing cabinet. One of pair, its partner can be found somewhere at Hogwarts school. They used it to carry messages between themselves and Jacob Hexley.”

“Jacob Hexley? You are certain?”

“Very certain. I was under instructions not to read the messages, but I made a point of checking that they had sent through. I never deliberately read them, but there were a couple of times that I saw the ink shining through the parchment-”

“Another lie,” Artemis breathed.

“- and I clearly could make out his name. And, what’s more, Jacob Hexley used the vanishing cabinet himself just last year. Late November, maybe early December. Left a message in there.”

“Has anyone tried to use the cabinet since then?”

“Only myself, doing my routine maintenance work. It’s been out of order since February.”

Artemis bit her lip and looked away from Mr Borgin. She knew exactly why his cabinet was out of order; she had damaged its partner terribly earlier in the year. She had done a pretty good job of trying to destroy it, she doubted that anyone would ever use it to send messages again.

“No one has used the cabinet since Jacob Hexley sent a message in November?” said Madam Bartholomew. “Not a single person?”

“Well, there was a response. Madam Rakepick collected it, said she was under orders from Hexley to pick up the message for him.”

There was a round of murmurs through the courtroom, but Artemis barely took note of them. Her blood had run cold; she had been the one to send that letter to Jacob, detailing when and where she would be meeting him the night that she, Ben, and Merula had gone into the forest. The night that Rakepick had intercepted them. The night that she had killed Artemis’ best friend.

“Did you report this at the time?”

“Er…”

“Never mind,” Madam Bones tutted. “Why do you think Jacob Hexley sent Patricia Rakepick to collect his messages?”

“If I may interrupt,” said Dumbledore, as Borgin opened his mouth to answer Madam Bones’ question. “The only thing suggesting that Jacob Hexley asked Madam Rakepick to collect this message was her word. I would think it far more likely, given the nature of the events that transpired following this interaction” - Artemis shuddered involuntarily - “that Rakepick intercepted this message on her own volition.”

Madam Umbridge piped up: “Unless, of course, Mr Hexley and Madam Rakepick worked together to-”

“There is no evidence that Jacob Hexley had any involvement in the death of Rowan Khanna, and nor is he on trial for such involvement,” Dumbledore said finally.

“Indeed. We shall not ask further questions on this matter,” Madam Bones cast a sideways glance at the court scribe, who did not look abashed in the slightest. “Mr Borgin, please return to the benches so that we may question our next witness.” She glanced down at the parchment in front of her, and read the name, “Madam Green.”

The young woman who had followed Artemis, Kingsley and Ros down the stairs from level nine rose to her feet and walked silently to the centre of the courtroom.

“What is your name?” asked Madam Bones.

“Olivia Mnemosyne Green.”

“And your profession?”

“I’m an Unspeakable.”

“And what does that role entail?”

“Well, I’m not really allowed to say. That’s why we’re called Unspeakables,” Olivia Green said wryly, and there were a few titters from the witches and wizards watching the trial. Madam Bones’ lips twitched, but she raised her eyebrows pointedly at Olivia Green, who bowed her head before continuing. “I work in the Department of Mysteries as a Oracler.”

Madam Bones’ eyebrows raised even higher. “You’re a Seer?”

“An Oracler. I don’t make prophecies, I analyse and keep records of them,” explained Madam Green. “I’m afraid I cannot say more than that.”

“I see. Or, I should say, I understand. Madam Green, please could you tell the court about your relationship with Mr Hexley?”

“I went to school with Jacob. We were friends. Both of us were interested in prophecy analysis, you see. We read Tycho Dodonus together in our first year.”

“Very impressive. Was Mr Ashe part of your friendship group as well?”

“He was, but not until our second year. He was in Slytherin and had read about the legend of the Chamber of Secrets. He was determined to find it, and asked us to help, so we went looking together. We never found it, but whilst we were looking for that, we found out about the Cursed Vaults. We were having no luck with the Chamber of Secrets, so we thought we’d have a go at finding the Vaults instead,” Madam Green said. She paused and swallowed. “At first, we weren’t getting very far, but it was Jacob’s idea to talk to the ghosts. One of the ghosts mentioned a charms professor named Fortinbras who had tried to find the Vaults in the nineteenth century, along with a group of talented students. We found a few books she had written, and that led us in the right direction. By the end of our third year, we thought we might know where one of the Vaults was.”

“Did you find it?”

“Yes. We found it at the top of a staircase hidden by enchantments on the fifth floor of the castle. It was locked, but we were certain that it was the Cursed Vault. Over the summer, we decided to track down the other Vaults, but when we got back for our second year, Jacob decided that we shouldn’t just try to find the Vaults, we should try and break the Curses, too. I was against it, but Duncan was for it, because he wanted to become a Curse-Breaker. So we did that.”

Madam Bones frowned. “If you were against it, why do it?”

“We took a vote and it was two against one,” Olivia Green said, as if that should have been obvious. “We always voted on these things, and always went with the majority.”

“How diplomatic.”

“Of course. We were a team, so whatever we did, we did together. At least, that’s what I thought,” Madam Green breathed. “I didn’t realise at the time, but Jacob had been doing a lot of research into the Vaults himself. After we broke the first curse, he started trying to work with other people, as well. With the group Professor Fortinbras had set up all those years ago. He found that they were still a group, and that they were still active. He called them-”

“R?” Madam Bones asked, and Olivia Green nodded her head in response.

“Exactly. He said that they would help us to break the curses. I didn’t trust them, but I was outvoted again.”

“Why didn’t you trust them?”

“They were too secretive. They wouldn’t say who they were, or exactly what they were doing, or who was in charge of them. I didn’t want to work with people like that.”

Frowning, Artemis whispered to Kingsley, “But she’s an Unspeakable…”

Kingsley glanced at Artemis with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” he murmured back.

“After Jacob’s dad died,” Olivia Green continued, “he became even more secretive, and even more adamant that we should be breaking the curses. It was like he was trying to distract himself from what had happened. He spent more time alone, and more time with just him and Duncan. By the time we were in our sixth year, they had started taking orders directly from R, said they were going to join them in their search. When we found out that there was a dragon in one of the Vaults, I said that it was too much. If R knew so much, let them break their own curses. It was too dangerous. I wasn’t even of age. I wanted to stop, but-”

“You were outvoted?”

“Yes. But this time, I didn’t go along with them. I just left. They never listened to me anyway.”

“And so you managed to avoid Mr Ashe’s fate,” said Madam Bones. “Madam Green, one final question, if you please. Was Patricia Rakepick one of the members of R that Jacob Hexley contacted?”

“No.”

Artemis’ mouth dropped open, and she looked across at Kingsley, who had leaned forward in his seat, a curious look on his face. What was Madam Green talking about? Rakepick was a member of R. She had said so herself.

But Olivia Green wasn’t done.

“Not at first,” she continued. “Jacob found her separately. She was already a fairly well-known Curse-Breaker at that point, you see, so he wanted to get some advice. Probably she joined them after starting to search for the Vaults, like Jacob and Duncan did. I never had much to do with her. It was Jacob who always spoke to her.”

“Thank you, Madam Green. No further questions,” Madam Bones nodded her head at Olivia Green, who returned to the witness stands. The interrogator nodded to the court scribe, who stood up and passed her a pile of parchments. “Along with the testimony of Madam Green and Mr Borgin, I have here the transcripts of several interviews conducted in the later part of 1981. Mr Hexley was, in the summer of 1979, witnessed consorting with several persons of unsavoury reputation, including the Patricia Rakepick. He was further witnessed consorting with Madam Rakepick until the autumn of 1981, shortly before he disappeared.”

“My dear Madam Bones,” said Dumbledore, who had remained quiet throughout the testimonies of the other two witnesses, “Jacob Hexley is not on trial for talking to Patricia Rakepick, nor is talking to Patricia Rakepick a crime. Indeed, if it were, quite a few people in this courtroom might be trialled, myself included.”

“Hem hem,” said Madam Umbridge. “Jacob Hexley may not be accused of talking to Patricia Rakepick, but he is accused of working alongside her to commit criminal offences.” Several members of the court began to whisper, and Artemis’ stomach lurched uncomfortably as Umbridge continued, “According to the testimony of our last witness, he did willingly act under R’s orders, and was planning to join the organisation.”

“Ah,” Dumbledore smiled. “The operative word in that sentence is planning. We have heard no evidence to suggest that Mr Hexley joined the ranks of R, nor that he knew the extent of their criminality at the time he was considering doing so.” He glanced briefly at Jacob before adding, “Perhaps if Madam Bones - who is, after all, the chief interrogator in this case - were to question the defendant himself, he might be able to shed some light on the situation.”

“An excellent idea,” said Madam Bones, and she turned her attention fully towards Jacob. “Mr Hexley, the court has been presented with the evidence against you. Before we vote to reach our verdict, have you any words in your own defence?”

Artemis sat up straight in her seat. This was Jacob’s chance to explain himself, to make everyone see that he had been innocent all along, that he did not deserve to be sent to Azkaban. She craned her neck as she looked at him, willing that he would speak bravely in his own defence.

Still sitting in the wooden chair in the centre of the room, Jacob swallowed hard. He raised his head, looked Madam Bones in the eye, and told her:

“No.”

“No?” Madam Bones looked surprised. She wasn’t the only one; there were hushed murmurs from all corners of the courtroom. “You have nothing to say to defend yourself?”

“I do not,” said Jacob, calmly. “I am guilty of every offence laid at my feet. I willingly acted under the orders of R, wishing to become a member myself, fully aware of the illegality of this. I betrayed my friend Duncan-”

“Jacob, no!” Artemis spoke out loud without realising it.

“- Ashe to further my own ambitions,” Jacob continued on, seeming to ignore Artemis’ shout or the gasps from several onlookers. “His death wasn’t an accident. It was orchestrated by the Cabal, and my involvement proved my loyalty to them and my dedication to their cause.”

The murmurs around the courtroom grew louder still, and Artemis gripped the bench she was sitting on so hard her knuckles turned white. What was Jacob saying? This wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. She willed Jacob to stop talking, but he did not stop.

“I was obsessed with the Cursed Vaults, and thought that the Cabal was my key to them. I went missing to evade capture, I trespassed on the grounds of Hogwarts School, and I endangered more lives. I see now the error of my ways, and I know that am fully deserving of whatever punishment the Wizengamot and Council of Magical Law see fit to give me.”

As Jacob fell silent, Artemis found herself unable to speak. She stared at him, shaking her head, but he did not look at her. Instead, his eyes drifted in the opposite direction, towards the spectators’ benches, where their mother sat with her eyes closed, stock still among the whispering and fidgeting crowd.

The court took a few moments to settle. As the noise and movement began to subside, Madam Bones cleared her throat.

“In that case, we shall vote,” she said. “All those who find the defendant innocent?”

Not a single hand went up. Professor Dumbledore gave Jacob a look that Artemis couldn’t read.

“And those who find him guilty?”

Artemis’ heart beat faster and faster as, one by one, the Wizengamot and the Council of Magical Law raised their hands into the air. Madam Bones lowered her own, conjured a small hammer, and knocked it. The noise seemed to echo in Artemis’ ears.

“Jacob Odysseus Hexley, you have been found guilty of all charges,” said Madam Bones, her tone matter-of-fact. “As such, you will be sentenced to a minimum of fourteen years in Azkaban prison. Further to this, your internment will be dependent on assessment of your character and any other evidence that may come forth before this time.”

The doors of the courtroom swung open, and Artemis watched helplessly as the Dementors escorted her brother away out of sight. She blinked, hard, as if doing so might make the scene in front of her not real, but nothing happened. Jacob had been taken away, cuffed and escorted by Dementors, as if he truly were a guilty man.

#artemis hexley #hogwarts mystery #hphm fic #hphm #the hexley saga #jacob hexley #merula snyde #ben copper #kingsley shacklebolt #olivia green #amelia bones #dolores umbridge #albus percival wulfric brian dumbledore #madam rosmerta

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aomaoe · 2 years

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the SASP as it was in '21! They've come so far. I need to do a new one.

#aimeeart #nopixel #GTARP #nopixelfanart #fanart #Jackie Snow #Olivia Copper #AJ Hunter #Kael Soze #Tony Andrews #Jack Ripley #Derby West-Bromwich

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sixtenart · 2 years

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Silly doodle dumps 2021

#GTARP #GTA RP #GTA V RP #Nopixel #Nopixel fanart #Matt Rhodes #Miles Landon #Lenny Hawk #Kenny Hawk #Olivia Copper #Denzel Williams #Kyle Pred #Basem Shahin #Dreah Johnson

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sodacowboy · 5 days

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Top 5 4 Favorite Songs (as of May 2024) - tagged by @brenna

(excluding Chappell Roan bc truly she could be 99% of the list if I let her)

Espresso - Sabrina Carpenter

Too Sweet - Hozier

Blame Brett - The Beaches

Obsessed - Olivia Rodrigo

tagging: @smapyy @copper-404 @dappleganger

and just for fun here’s my top five Chappell songs right now

Red Wine Supernova

Naked in Manhattan

HOT TO GO

Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl

My Kink is Karma

#I told you I’m going through a pop girl phase and I meant it!!#I am not immune to a catchy tune

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lunaraen · 14 days

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Engi-nearing the Limit

Jesse has, in a word, goofed.

And that doesn’t sound so bad, right, not at first? She’s Jesse, she goofs, it happens.

She has goofed bad.

“Um, Olivia-”

“What the fuck is wrong with your pistons.” The not-a-question, more-of-a-declaration-of-something is directed at the inventor with the misfortune of having been recruited by Jesse for this little venture, and Jesse winces as Andrew’s voice rises to match Olivia’s.

“My pistons are fine, why the fuck are yours so loud?”

Bad idea. The last time Olivia was this mad, Aiden had sabotaged something and had to flee from a wrench flying squarely at where his forehead had been. It’s been ages, honestly, and Jesse would like to sink into the nostalgia, but Olivia’ll probably commit inter-world murder if she gets distracted now.

“Hey, hey, Andy- Olivia- can’t we talk this over?”

“We’re talking!” Having the joint fury of two capable inventors focused on her is scarier than half the monsters Jesse’s fought.

“…at a slightly quieter volume?” Or with nicer words, that works too.

Olivia sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, and Jesse feels bad for dragging her out of Redstonia for this.

“Jesse, you don’t get it. This is obscene.”

For pretty much as long as Jesse’s known Olivia, Olivia almost always prefers snark and subtlety to outright confrontation, but her work is in a league of its own and dear to her heart. Even when she figured they’d never be more than nobodies, Olivia’s always been passionate about redstone work.

“I- okay, you’re right, I don’t get it.” She’d wondered, briefly, if these two wouldn’t get along great, but she’d figured it would be over differences in design, or automation- not this. “It’s a lot quieter now, right? Isn’t that a plus?”

It is, apparently, not!

“I didn’t almost go deaf for nothing, Jesse!” Olivia smacks the lever in front of her, activating the piston she happened to have on hand (always handy for repairs) and making Andrew cover his ears. “This sound is essential to a piston! If I have to wear ear protection for a reasonable sound, so be it!”

Her fellow inventor, shaping-up-to-be-dead-rvial disagrees.

“You’re insane!”

Jesse’s attempts aren’t working, and she can’t rely on Olivia’s other oldest friend, since Axel’s in the spawner chamber throwing himself at mushroomed skeletons and -personified cyclones?- -the wind itself?- a challenge too good for griefers to pass up on, apparently.

Good battle experience, at least.

Lukas speaks up, the hero to Jesse's rescue, except he sounds only passingly interested, far more focused on the devices lined up in front of him, and suddenly this feels a lot more like adding fuel to the fire than rescuing anybody.

“I dunno, Olivia, don’t these crafters balance it out? We could get so many supplies ready; it’s the sort of thing Beacontown’s builders will go nuts over.”

“As soon as I fix how they sound.” The crafters themselves don’t seem to be much of a problem for Olivia, whose eyes had lit up an eternity-also-known-as-fifteen-minutes-ago at their suggestion, but the pistons part of the elaborate assembly line had offended her on a personal level as soon as Andy demoed the system for them.

“Suit yourself." Lukas shrugs, not even looking over. "Bye, Andrew, it was nice meeting you.”

Petra’s contribution is about as helpful, except it’s not meant to be and is also worse, and Jesse gets a sinking feeling as Petra hefts her new toy.

“Hey, you don’t need to reengineer the weapons, right?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Petra proceeds to absolutely wreck the copper side-wall of the lab, dark metal of the mace shining against the duller green. The sound rings out, strikingly unique and as impressive as anything Petra does. Visually, besides being super destructive, the contrasting colors mirror how her weapon looked shattering green, boggy bones, when she’d been fighting alongside Axel before following them to this room.

Lukas is less impressed, glancing over from the line of crafters to give her the look. (Reserved for griefers who fall on him, usually.)

“Really, Petra?”

Riding the adrenaline high of battle, maybe, or just seeing how this is heading down a dangerous path anyway, Petra shrugs, smirk on the verge of a grin as her shoulder rests against the reddish part of the wall.

“He can replace it with the red kind, it’s cooler.”

“It’ll just keep oxidizing.”

Not for Petra to worry about, based on her shrug, and Jesse’s overwhelming fondness for her friends wars with her absolute exasperation at this shitshow.

“Better keep on top of it, then.”

Andrew takes the wrecking of his wall as well as any engineer would, honestly, by focusing on how it relates to his livelihood. His dramatic finger-pointing at Olivia might be earned, because this group is a disaster, but Petra’s the one with her fingers wrapped around the mace handle, eyeing his skull and it’s just generally not helping- and Jesse’s exasperated with him too.

“So that’s your play, huh? Have your warrior smash up my workshop?”

“Not a bad idea.”

All this over how a piston sounds.

Still.

She’s known Olivia for ages, and just because it doesn’t bother Jesse enough doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be an affront to everything Olivia works with and for. Jesse wishes Harper’d had the free time to come with, instead of hunting down project parts elsewhere in the portal network, but then she considers how intense two inventors are and considers herself lucky she didn’t make it three.

Andy scoffs at the threat.

“Please, that won’t work on any of my machines-”

Olivia steps forward and, yup, there’s the wrench, steadily being smacked against her palm as a substitute for where she’d obviously like to aim it.

“Then there’s a certain griefer who can help me re-engineer their insides.”

While Axel might be too lost to chaos and the thrill of destruction for Jesse to recruit him for calming Olivia down, Jesse has absolutely no doubt Olivia could redirect him to griefing the lab, especially not when Petra’s already made the first strike and Andy’s been insulting Olivia right back.

Ah, she loves her friends.

They aren’t helping, unfortunately, and Jesse’d better brainstorm up a way to smooth things over before Andy’s head is as dented as the wall.

She’s not seeing many options.

Lukas has apparently judged this whole thing as a step below wrestling with an ocelot, in term of dangerous stunts he’s not even going to bother considering, Petra looks ready for her new mace to see some more exciting action, Axel’s Axel, and-

Well, Radar and Ivor are pretty good at bringing things to reason, through stuttered platitudes and stern scowls respectively, but they’re both too busy marveling over a vial of something ominous, inky tendrils licking at the inside of the glass and two red eyes staring back out at them.

(She also spies the new bulge in the top of Ivor’s satchel, leather pushed up by at least four new potion bottles, because of course he had to snatch those. It looks like he’s repurposed Radar’s bag for smuggling samples out, too. If this gets ugly, properly, she has a feeling Ivor will be more than happy to jump in and see firsthand what they do in close quarters.)

It shouldn’t have to come to blows, or explosives, or them getting banned from a cool world with weird pistons, but that’s what Jesse gets for not thinking this through.

This- this was a bad idea.

#My Stuff #fanfiction #mcsm #Minecraft Story Mode #crack #Absolutely not a serious ficlet #Also not long #Boy people sure do feel things about the latest Minecraft update huh

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storyofmychoices · 1 year

Note

Since Bryce loves watching Olivia wake up... 4 and 8 please! 🥰

An Early Morning

[Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley Masterlist]

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley (F!OC) Book: Open Heart Word Count: ~500 Rating/Warning: General (all the fluff), hints of teen at the end Prompt: @aprilchallenge love, @choicesflashfics Prompt 1 (in bold) Prompts #4 & 8 from this list

Synopsis: Bryce attempts to get up early to start his day.

Bryce stirred awake as the first strands of dawn's warm light peaked through the window. His lips curled into a smile as he gazed upon her, her mouth slightly open as she continued sleeping soundly. He pressed a kiss onto the crown of her head, his fingers caressing softly over her copper hair. He never tired of watching her sleep. She always looked so peaceful. He couldn't have asked for a better sight to behold first thing in the morning.

He enjoyed the tender moment, holding her in his arms as she slept, unaware he was already up. The thin line of sunlight grew wider, welcoming the promise of the new day. The world was beginning, but his world was still quiet. The only sound filling the room was her steady breathing.

"I'll be back soon," he whispered. Carefully, he slipped away, trying to sneak out of bed without waking her. Olivia had made it very clear that going to the gym was not her favorite way to start the day.

He was brushing his teeth, mentally running through his plans for the day, when a faint shuffling noise from behind pulled his attention. He turned quickly, finding Olivia standing in the doorway, her hair touseled and eyes still heavy with sleep.

"What are you doing up?"

Olivia ran her hands up and down her bare upper arms as she hugged herself. "My personal heater went away. I couldn't sleep without you next to me."

"I think you're just trying to get me back to bed for other reasons." His brow rose as he turned back to the sink.

"I would never," she scoffed, feigning indignation.

"Sure, sure." He winked at her in the mirror before rinsing his mouth out.

She bounced on the balls of her bare feet, trying to get warm. She pouted fully as she continued making her plea.

"Alright—" Bryce walked over to Olivia and wrapped his arms around her. "Let's go back to bed and get you warmed up."

The pair slipped back under their still-warm covers, snuggling close. Bryce held her in his arms, his hands moving soothingly down her spine.

"Better?"

"Much."

"I'm glad."

"Mmm, I love this." She hummed happily. Her palms ran along his chest, savoring his warmth as she curled into him. “I love your chest. I think it’s one of the best things about you.”

"I'm glad you think so." He smirked. "But if you continue keeping me from the gym, you might not like it as much."

Olivia rested her chin on his chest, looking up. "I'll always love it, no matter what. It's part of you, and the best thing about you is you. I love all of you... Besides, I can think of better ways to get exercise," she teased, nestling into him. "But, later. It's still too early for any form of exercise, no matter how enjoyable it may be."

As they settled back into bed, Bryce held her tightly, their bodies intertwined as they drifted off to sleep once again, enjoying the warmth of each other's embrace.

Thank you so so much for reading. I truly appreciate you taking your time to give this a chance. Please forgive any typos or errors. I'm trying really hard to focus more on writing and less on editing (because that's where I start self-doubting and spiraling downward). I hope it's still a soft fluffy piece and you enjoy it regardless! Thank you again. 💛💛💛

Thank you so much for the ask @txemrn ❤️❤️❤️❤️

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce lahela x oc #bryce oph #open heart #open heart 2 #playchoices #choices #choices game #olivia hadley #bryce x olivia #brylivia #lovealexhunt #open heart 3 #oph bryce #fan fiction #april2023 #request

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thisbelongsto-nohbodys · 1 year

Text

[Someone is knocking on the Plantar’s front door, Hop Pop answers and sees a tired and disheveled Lady Olivia holding a pot]

Hop-Pop: Oh heya Lady Olivia. What brings you here?

Lady Olivia: I’m here to return your casserole dish. My wife, I and our daughter enjoyed the dish. Thank you.

Hop-Pop: No problem, it was the neighborly thing to do. Glad you liked it, tho’ if I may say, you look a bit exhausted. Is everything alright?

Lady Olivia: *sigh* Yes and no. Ever since Yunnie and I brought Marceline home things have been hectic and we haven’t had a full nights sleep in weeks. I honestly don’t know how my mother did it— wait…I just remembered that I had a nanny and several tutors. That explains why mother made it look easy…

Hop-Pop: Hehe, yeah. Kids can be a handful, I remember when my son was born. Hey, it gets a bit lonely here what with Sprig and Polly off exploring that new land so if you and Yunan every want a break to rest for a bit, I’d be more than happy to babysit for a while.

Lady Olivia: Thank you Hopidiah. I’m sure Yun-Bun and I will take you up on that offer sometime soon. Farewell.

Hop-Pop: See you. Don’t be a stranger, neighbor!

[Hop Pop closes the door and doesn’t get 2 steps away before another series of knocks. He opens it and Olivia, Yunan and their adopted daughter are there. Yunan hands Marceline to Hop Pop and Olivia hands a small backpack]

Lady Olivia: Yunan and I will take you up on that babysitting offer, Hopidiah. Here’s Marceline and here’s her bag with a few toys and her books. Make sure she does her lessons and here’s a few coppers if you decide to go out to eat, she doesn’t like anything with centipedes or turnips.

Lady Olivia: Now be good for Mr Plantar please dear, we’ll be back in a couple of hours. Your mother and I love you very much Marceline.

Yunan: Careful with her Hopidiah or there will be repercussions for you. See you in a bit sweetheart, love you!

[Lady Olivia and Yunan dash toward their house as Hop Pop closes the door, still a bit stunned]

Hop-Pop: Um, okay………so……do you wanna go get some food at Stumpy’s and do your homework?

Marceline: How about we get food and you keep whatever’s left over to pretend I did my homework.

Hop-Pop: Hmmm……(internally) oh great, I gotta deal with this type of delinquency again…I miss my grandkids and adopted granddaughter……

#Amphibia #Lady Olivia #hop pop plantar #general yunan #yunan longclaw

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anthrcpophagi · 6 months

Text

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE. repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. if you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some other of your own!

NAME: maren olivia yearly

NICKNAME: mare, lil missy (by sully), marebear (by mama)

TITLE(S): n/a

AGE: 20s

NATIONALITY: american

INTERESTS: reading, photography, cannibalism

PROFESSION: nomad, bookshelver

BODY TYPE: average, on the thinner side but not quite petite

EYES: dark brown

HAIR: dark brown, curly (3a), often frizzy

SKIN: light brown with warm copper-olive undertones

FACE: light freckles, a birthmark on her right eye

POSTURE: more on the slouchy side

HEIGHT: 5'2"

VOICE: soft, gentle, higher pitched, slight lisp (example)

SIGNATURE OUTFIT: homeless chicTM, baggy clothes, grandma sweaters, anything found in a goodwill bin or at a thrift store

SIGNIFICANT OTHER: lee, before she ate him :-)

COMPANIONS: she makes acquaintances everywhere she goes, but most of them either die or Maren leaves. some of the more memorable ones are mrs. harmon, lee, sully, travis,

ANTAGONISTS: sully (paternal grandfather), janelle shields (mother), frank yearly (father)

STRENGTHS: friendly, loyal, protective, intelligent, passive, trustworthy, passionate

WEAKNESSES: self-destructive, closed-off, shy, self-deprecating, quiet, violent, stubborn, self-sacrificing

FRUITS: oranges

DRINKS: coffee, black, 2 sugars

ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES: no preference

SMOKES: no preference

DRUGS: n/a

DRIVER'S LICENSE: yes

#the truth won’t set me free ( headcanons ).#( dash games ).

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angelasscribbles · 2 years

Text

Dark Elf Chapter 2: Forced Alliances

Series: Dark Elf

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Liam x Riley

Rating: R

Warnings for this chapter: Dark themes, mature themes

Word Count: 2,090

My other stuff: Master List.

“I haven’t seen you here before.” An attractive redhead twirling a flute of champagne approached her.

Riley Brooks turned her lithe body to greet the new arrival.

“Olivia Nevrakis, Duchess of Lythikos. And you are?” She extended a hand, her green eyes suspicious, belying the friendliness in her voice.

“Riley Brooks.” The brunette took her hand, “Duchess of Mayhem.”

“What?” The redhead blinked at her.

“It’s a joke. I’m not a duchess. Not of anything here anyway.” Riley tipped her glass back and drank deeply, draining it. She plopped it onto a tray as a waiter walked by.

“Not to be rude, but if you’re not nobility and you’re not from around here, how did you get an invitation?”

“Oh, I’m here with a friend.” She replied, her left hand moving to her right arm to finger the jade bracelet just above her wrist. It was coiled around her arm in the shape of a serpent, with two dazzling rubies for eyes.

“Oh, my!” Olivia exclaimed, “That’s quite striking! Where did you get it?”

“It was a….gift,” Riley responded as her eyes tracked the movements of a russet-haired young man with cobalt blue eyes as he strode toward them.

He was just a tad above average height for a man, with a lean and well-toned body that was set off nicely by the Armani suit he was wearing.

Olivia’s eyes followed Riley’s gaze with a raised eyebrow, “Maxwell Beaumont? You could do worse.”

“Oh, I have.”

Olivia chuckled, “Nice to meet someone around here with a sense of humor.” Leaning closer, she lowered her voice, “Just a friendly word of advice though, if you’re here for Leo, you’re wasting your time. He’s mine.”

Riley cut her eyes sidewise at the other woman, “Your prince is safe. I have my own to worry about.”

She turned her eyes toward the dais where the royal family was seated. King Constantine, Queen Helena, and their two sons, Crown Prince Leo, heir to the throne, and Prince Liam, the spare.

Three of them blonde haired, blue-eyed, and fair-skinned.

Then there was Liam. He was the reason she had been summoned to Cordonia.

Maxwell reached them before Olivia could ask Riley what she meant by that. He slid an arm around her waist, “There you are my little lotus blossom! I see you’ve met Olivia.”

“Yes.” Olivia replied, “I find her delightful! Wherever did you find her?”

“She fell from heaven obviously.” He answered.

“Or crawled up from the pits of hell.” Riley quipped glancing around for another waiter. She really needed a drink.

Olivia laughed at the reference to Riley’s devil costume. She had on a body-hugging, floor-length red dress with fake horns. There was a matching red silk mask that was clutched in her right hand.

“Well, this had been fun,” Olivia said as the music started, “But I promised Leo the first dance! Ta!”

Maxwell waited for Olivia to walk away before hissing in Riley’s ear, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m doing what you summoned me here to do. Making friends!”

“You know damn good and well that’s not why you’re here! You’re here for Liam, nothing more.”

“Whatever.” She pulled her arm away from him and stalked toward the bar.

“What’ll it be?” The bartender asked her.

Tossing the mask onto the bar she slid onto a stool, “I’m sick of champagne. Don’t you have something with a little more fire in it? Whiskey, perhaps?”

“Whiskey, really?”

She turned toward the voice. Well hello, tall, broad-shouldered, and hot as hell. Silky chestnut hair fell almost to his shoulders. Gold flecked his copper-colored irises.

Her lips curved up into a smile, “What? Never seen a woman drink whiskey before?”

“Not a noblewoman, not at one of these functions.” He answered then signaled the bartender for one of his own.

“Hm. Well, I’m not a noblewoman for starters.” She threw the shot back without flinching and signaled for another one.

The bartender delivered a shot glass to each of them.

“I already like you!” Drake laughed, tipping his glass toward her.

She tipped hers toward him then they both drank.

“Keep ‘em coming!” She told the bartender, “You know what? Just leave the bottle.”

“Better pace yourself. You don’t want to have to be carried out of here by security.”

“Not gonna happen,” She told him, “I have a very high metabolism.”

“Me too.” He poured them another drink, “But I’ve never met a woman, or a man for that matter, that could go shot for shot with me!”

“Well then,” She peered at him over the rim of the shot glass, “I’d say that you’ve been keeping the wrong company.”

He threw his head back and laughed, “Obviously! But it looks like my luck is changing!”

Her eyes raked up and down his body as she tossed another shot down her throat, “Keep up the sweet talk and you might get really lucky tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” He leaned toward her with a flirty retort on his lips but froze as she leaned toward him.

They each recognized what the other was at the exact same moment.

Riley felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Well if this wasn’t a bunch of bullshit.

She pulled away from him as disappointment washed through her, “You’re his spell breaker.”

“Ah, and I guess that makes you the woman I’ve been hearing so much about. You’re here for the….ceremony.” His eyes shuttered immediately.

She threw another shot back then slammed the glass on the counter, “That’s what they tell me.”

Not like she’d had any choice in the matter.

“So are we enemies now?” She asked him.

“We’re on the same side. We’re both here to serve Liam.” But his entire demeanor had shifted.

Before she could decide how to respond, they were interrupted.

“There you are, love!” Liam called out.

Riley eyed him disdainfully as she took another shot, “I am not your love.”

He gave her a smile that would have thoroughly enchanted most women as he leaned in and said, “You’re whatever I want you to be right now, aren’t you?”

She grunted in consternation as she twisted the bracelet on her arm, “For now.”

Once her business with Maxwell was concluded, there would be nothing holding her there.

“I see you’ve met Drake.”

“That his name?” She asked with disinterest.

“That’s my name.” Drake lifted the shot glass to his mouth as his eyes moved between her and Liam, tracking their interaction with laser-like intensity.

“Mine is Riley.” She told him with a smile full of malice, “At least the shortened version that you can pronounce.”

“Come, let’s dance.” Liam extended his hand to her expectantly as he glanced briefly in the other man’s direction, “Drake.”

“Liam.” Drake nodded to him before downing another shot.

Riley slid her hand into his hating the way it made her feel. Magic swirled through her every time they touched.

Perhaps if she had met him any other way things could have been different, but she hated being at anyone’s beck and call.

Fucking Maxwell.

Liam led her out onto the floor and then swung her around, pulling her body against his.

“Are you enjoying your stay?” He asked her.

She smiled up at him but it didn’t reach her eyes, “No.”

“I’m quite sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to improve the experience? I am a full-service prince you know.”

She scoffed loudly, “That elven charm doesn’t work on me. You know that, right?”

Elves, even halfing elves, could easily glamour most humans without even trying. It was part of their magic. It was the reason there were so many stories of mortals following elves off into the forest and never returning.

Or returning after what felt like a night to them, only to find that a hundred years had passed in the human world.

Never trust any member of the fae.

They were diabolical.

No, humans never fared well in their interactions with elves. Especially the dark ones.

Good thing Riley wasn’t strictly human either.

He pulled her closer and held her tighter against his body as he lowered his mouth to her ear, “I was hoping my regular, run of the mill, human charm might be enough to win you over.”

She shivered as his breath brushed the side of her neck.

Damn it.

“Why would I be remotely interested in a man that brought me here against my will? I’m a virtual prisoner.”

“That was Maxwell’s doing, not mine.”

“Ah, but it was on your behalf that he sought my help, was it not?”

“It was.” Liam admitted as he spun her under her arm and pulled her back again, “But I was hoping we could be friends.”

“You want to be friends?” She held her arm up to him, the serpent bracelet glittered in the soft light of the ballroom, “Remove the manacle.”

Liam chuckled quietly as he ran a finger down the side of her face, “Do I look stupid to you, Riley?”

“You look like a man that might be worthy of my attentions….if they were freely given.”

“You can still do that. I’m not forcing you to have sex with me.”

She laughed as a smile of amusement spread across her face, “As if you could, my prince. I’d rip your heart out and eat it while you watched.”

She felt him harden against her.

Her eyes glittered with surprised amusement, “Like it rough, do you?”

“I like you.” He dipped his head and caught her lips with his own.

She sank her teeth into him.

“Ow!” He pulled away from her.

She smirked at him as she licked his blood from her lips, “Mmmm, delicious!”

He drew an arm across his lips, wiping the blood away as his pupils dilated, “If you think that’s going to dissuade me, you don’t know me at all.”

He jerked her closer again as he hissed, “I do like it rough.”

She tipped her head back, bringing her lips to his. One hand tangled in his hair and pulled, hard, as she ran her tongue along his bottom lip.

He lunged for her lips and she moved back, with a taunting smile, “Remove the manacle, my prince, and I’ll show you things you’ve never dreamed possible.”

A slight scent of singed hair reached his nose as heat crept out from her fingertips and spread enticingly along his scalp.

He gently tapped a finger on her bracelet and she released his hair with a yelp as an electric shock jolted through her.

“Fucker.” She muttered as her left hand went to her right arm to rub the skin just above the jade serpent.

He laughed quietly as he surveyed her discomfort. “I’m not so easily tricked. You are very tempting, but I am not foolish enough to trust a demon.”

“Half demon.” She corrected him.

On her mother’s side.

A guard approached them, “Excuse me, Your Majesty, but your father requires your presence.”

“Certainly,” Liam replied as he calmly adjusted his cufflinks, “I’ll be right there. You’re dismissed.”

The guard bowed and hurried away.

With an affected smile pasted on his face, Liam nodded to her before taking his leave, “Until next time.”

“Can’t wait!” She replied, infusing the simple comment with ample amounts of sarcasm.

As Liam turned and walked away, Riley glanced up and around the ballroom.

To her left, Leo and Olivia were cozied up at a table in the corner, he was feeding her sweets from his plate.

At the back of the ballroom stood Maxwell Beaumont, Liam’s wizard, his spellbinder. The one that had summoned her. The one responsible for the enchanted bracelet on her wrist that bound her powers and allowed the elf to control her.

Maxwell was staring at her with the same mix of emotions on his face that he always wore when he watched her. Equal parts fear and fascination. She smiled at him but there was no humor in it.

If she could get free of the manacle, she would find the most delightful ways to torture him. For eternity if possible.

To her right she found the spell breaker still at the bar, watching her with an unreadable expression. Her eyes narrowed.

Was he friend, or foe?

Could you ever really trust a shifter?

As she turned to leave the ballroom, her eyes fell on Hana Lee. Sweet, innocent, unsuspecting Hana.

The sacrifice for the spell she was there to kindle.

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