Conversations and Cloaks

This is a something I wrote for Salina a few years ago. Don't know why I didn't post it here, but that's easily remedied now. The characters and this particular universe belong, as always, to Salina and me.

“I got this for you Yuki,” a young man in his late teens says, rough voice gooey with affection; a crystal snowflake on a silver chain dangling from his fingers.

“Oh Kazuya,” she gasps, face pink as scarlet eyes widen, “it’s beautiful!”

“Disgusting,” an irritated voice snarls.

Several stories above the bashful boy and his blushing sweetheart, on an often inhabited private roof, a dark figure scowls down at the pair. Dressed all in black save the white scarf wrapped round his neck, the man watches, tense, as crimson irises narrow.

“What does she see in that moron?” he hisses, teeth grinding loudly as the fumbling Kazuya tries to clasp the necklace around Yuki’s neck.

“She thinks he’s sweet,” a soft voice responds.

Flinching, he whirls around to glower at the woman standing a few feet behind him. A small smile curves her lips in greeting, secretly pleased at surprising him, as she walks across the roof. Ruby eyes track her, expression unchanging, even as his heart skips a beat. He watches light from the setting sun catch her hair, fixated, as it shifts purple and black, dancing like dark flames. Her smile widens, cherry lips curving higher, as he turns away, annoyed she caught him staring.

“I know you’re her brother,” she says sitting close but not too close, feet dangling over the edge, “and you want to protect her, but you don’t need to watch when she’s with him.”

“Hn.”

“Isn’t it better that she’s dating someone who loves so much he’d die to protect her, than someone who wouldn’t?”

They watch the couple below them embrace; one face annoyed, the other fond.

“If she found someone worthy to date,” he begins, pausing to look at his companion with a meaningful expression full of skepticism, “if such a man existed, the idea that he could die protecting her would be impossible, because no one would be able to defeat him.”

Eyebrows lift in surprise as she takes in his serious expression. ‘It’s a good thing he isn’t the deciding factor in Yuki’s love life,’ she thinks, ‘poor Kazuya wouldn’t stand a chance.’

“No one would defeat him except you,” she corrects, amused, unable to hide a grin as dark crimson irises lighten in pleasure.

“Of course, that’s a given,” he agrees proudly, a small smile teasing his lips.

Breath catching, she nods, unable to speak past the sudden lump in her throat. Heart contracting, she resists the urge to grin wider, turning to watch the street a moment after he does. A smile. He gave her a real smile. Not a smirk, or the wicked twist of his mouth when he’s feeling pleasurably vindictive, not that those looks didn’t have their own appeal, but a genuine happy smile. Hoping he doesn’t hear the loud beating of her heart she sneaks a glance at him from the corner of her eye. It’s still there, a little faded, but the barest hint of a smile lingers. An ache fills her chest, delighted and distraught that she’s managed to cause such a rare sight, knowing it won’t last long.

A burst of wind sends her thoughts scattering with a violent shiver. The day had been warm and her cloak lay forgotten on her bed. Now a storm comes creeping in with the night and she misses its protection. She doesn't relish the thought of staying and freezing, but feels reluctant to leave; they're kind of having a moment. Another icy blast set her teeth chattering, just a little, deciding for her. Best to take this little victory and go before she gets sick. Sudden warmth engulfs her and she blinks, surprised, to find his cloak and scarf wrapped around her. A blush creeps up her neck, but the feel of his residual heat sinking into her skin is too much to resist.

“Are you sure you don't need it?” she asks, more concerned he'll regret the decision than need the heat.

He snorts, giving her a look bordering on insulting. She shrugs, saying, “Just checking,” before ducking her face behind the scarf until it reaches the bottom of her eyes. She breathes him in; fire, wind, and ice cream. The last bit almost makes her laugh. It feels like a stolen moment taken directly from her fantasies. Cuddled under his cloak as they talk and tease; him genuinely smiling. Well, maybe not exactly as she imagined, since there's still six inches between them, but certainly close enough.

Unnoticed, he watches her from the corner of his eye. A strange mixture of satisfaction and pride mingles in him. He knows she's only doing it for the heat, but he isn't going to complain. However unintentional she's wrapped in his clothes, wearing his scent, practically surrounded by him. He finds it immensely pleasing, though he’d never admit to it. Later, when the moon is high and they go inside, He will sleep on silk sheets, cloak around him, surrounded by her.

Loyal Love

This was a very quick write that I did at work. Characters can be found in Branded.



Alita doesn't remember much about her parents. Sounds, flashes of images, smells, a fading feeling of love. Mostly, she remembers the night they died. The terror, hatred, and self-loathing. A child's heart within her crying, “I could have saved you!” But, there are some things that remain once forgotten, unconsciously.

They're trapped on an island. The entire town. It appears deserted but their powers, everyone's powers, have turned sketchy and something can be felt lurking just out of sight. Alita and Tremayne seek refuge in the woods. A small clearing away from the chaos of too many heroes trying to be heroic. They'll return once the posturing is done and people are ready to work towards a solution. Usually, that won't happen until Hector has gone storming off and things get worse. Experience brings wisdom; for now they wait.

Alita sits, back against a tree, thinking about the situation as her hands absently move. Tremayne stands, back partially to her, watching the woods for danger. After a time he turns, the question he plans to ask dying on his lips. A small smile curves the corner of his mouth. Crouching, he runs a gentle finger over the crown of daisies she's weaving. Alita stops, fingers frozen in the tangle of flowers, seeing them for the first time.

“I didn't know you could make these,” he says softly, careful not to spook her.

“My mother taught me,” Alita says after a long moment. Twisting the stems with deft fingers she completes the crown. “Daisies have many meanings; one is loyal love.” Carefully she rests the crown on his head, fingers trailing down to cup his face. Silver and amber connect behind sunglasses. “That's what she wanted for me.”

Inspired Imagination

This was an entry I wrote for Sparkler Monthly http://sparklermonthly.tumblr.com/  for a contest they had about how people share their worlds. I didn't win, but I'm still very proud of this slice of my childhood.


It began with Sailor Moon. Two girls, eight and nine, bonded during recess as Sailor Mars and Sailor Jupiter fought against the Negaverse. Battling imaginary monsters, Salina and I would save the world day after day as our two favorite scouts. Then, with a set of seven Sailor Moon Adventure Dolls, our games expanded in bigger, better ways. No longer limited to our bodies, the scouts went on madcap adventures that sent them bungee jumping off the second floor stairs, tumbling over rocks, and desperately running along the wheel of a bicycle, trying to stay alive. The dolls made our games more exciting, but the rough escapades took a heavy toll on the toys, putting us in a bind. How to continue our daring adventures when our beloved heroes were breaking?

The answer was Barbie. Far easier to replace, we decided to transform our Barbie dolls into Sailor Scouts. Our games began again with exciting new life. No character from Sailor Moon was off limits. But, we didn’t stop there. Using Barbies opened us up to a world of characters just waiting to be discovered. Our imaginations had no limitations. We began to build a world beyond Sailor Moon, creating original characters and picking characters from our favorite shows, movies, and anime. Soon, our creation took on a life of its own.

Minor characters in one world became the heroes of their own stories, finding friends, and forging new lives for themselves in our world. Characters from completely different stories never meant to meet, crossed paths in our town becoming so entwined it’s impossible for one to exist without the other. As the years passed, our world expanded from a dollhouse with seven characters to a town of forty-seven, each with unique lives and personalities.

Now at twenty-five and twenty-six we live on different sides of the country and no longer get together every weekend to play dolls. Despite the distance and responsibilities that come with age, the town we created seventeen years ago still exists. It lives on, beyond the dolls, in illustrations, short stories, comics, radio plays, and continues to grow with us. The world two kids created from their inspired imaginations now kindles the dreams of a younger generation.

When my cousins ask for bedtime stories I tell them about the adventures of our beloved characters and their little town. It’s a place where friendships are made, hearts are broken, villains seek redemption, and the weak find strength. I tell them of heroes triumphing over evil, sometimes at a heavy cost, and the enduring power of hope. Looking into their enraptured faces, imaginations beginning to blaze, I know by sharing those stories our world got bigger and a new one was born.

Cheesy

This is a sweet little moment I wrote on a bus after visiting my friend, inspired by a comment she made. It has the same leads as "Swim" and "Dark" and the male lead in "Shore".

Loud music and laughter pour down from a third story apartment. Tempting aromas of baking deliciousness waft up from a basement kitchen. And two people sit on a patio on a small hill overlooking the street. She’s a pale beauty with a dark bob. He’s a bright-eyed youth with golden spikes. Silent observers watching the people below as the last fading rays of sunlight peek through the window eyes of buildings. A gawky teenager with a swirling twist of orange hair offers his tiny soft-smiling sweetheart a necklace, hearts in his eyes as she blushingly accepts.

“Would you look at that,” the golden boy says, blue eyes watching the couple from behind black shades.

The beauty shifts, face passive as an eyebrow quirks.

“Hector won’t like it,” she replies after a moment, crimson eyes flicking to a dark figure atop a penthouse roof across the way.

“For sure,” the boy agrees, shaking his head in wonder. “I know Kazuya normally needs a clue, but it’s kinda impressive the way he’s totally oblivious to the death glare Hector’s giving him.”

She gives a non-committal hum as they watch the teen fumble with the clasp behind his beloved.

“So, is that the way it is? You like a girl you buy her jewelry?”

“It depends on the people. They prefer teasing flirtation,” she says, pointing to a raven-haired beauty sauntering into her house with an intentional sway of her hips casting a sly smile back to her honey, his pink face matching his hair. “While they show affection with oranges.”

He follows the elegant line of her hand to a muscular man and his orange-haired mate.

“I gotcha. What about you? What do you prefer?”

Tilting her head she sees a blue eye watching her from behind the sunglasses and shrugs saying, “I’ve never been in love.”

“I’m a cheesy kind of guy myself,” he chirps, grinning wide. “All the classic things that never go out of style, like candy and flowers. I am all for candy and flowers.”

“I see.”

“Of course, my way is a little different from the norm,” he tells her, reaching into one of the pockets sewn into his red cape. “I prefer candy flowers.”

He holds out a green stemmed sugar pink blossom made entirely of hard candy, glowing when she reluctantly plucks it from his fingers.

“This is just until I figure out what you like,” he promises.

She watches as he bounces down the hill towards the apartment building across the street, twirling the candy flower in her fingers.

“I might like cheesy.”

Sidestep

This story came about from one small scene within that made me laugh and it grew from there. The male lead  can also be found in "Utterly Unexpected" and two of the supporting characters have a small scene in "A Beautiful Life."

People had been disappearing for weeks, but no one thought anything of it. For a town full of heroic people, the small population was fairly oblivious to the world outside the city limits; usually do to the constant barrage of attacks and misadventures. It wasn’t until sweet little Yuki was kidnapped and her bighearted oaf of a boyfriend returned in a craze that anyone bothered to take notice.

“We were coming out of the ice cream shop when this creepy old man with these buggy eyes and wild mad scientist hair came up to us and started hitting on Yuki! I told him to back off ‘cause she’s my girl but he didn’t even look at me,” a jabbering Kazuya explained, wildly throwing his arms around. “Just as I’m about to grab him, the little skeezoid throws this stuff on me. I was spitting it out ‘cause it got in my mouth when all these cats started showing up and attacking me! I love cats because their cute an’ fluffy an’ sound like little motors but not when dozens of them are clawing all over my face and body trying to eat me.”

A choking snort of laughter escaped the dark haired woman next to him as she pressed a hand to her mouth. Green eyes met her blue with a slight headshake of warning, looking pointedly at the short figure standing behind Kazuya with a tangible feeling of malice.

“Kazuya, by chance, did he throw catnip on you?” a slightly older man with red hair asked.

“That’s it!” the orange haired youth screeched. “All those cats were attracted to the catnip. There’s not a feline alive who hates me.”

Patience snapping the murderous figure whirled Kazuya around, grabbed the front of his shirt, and shook the taller man, snarling, “What happened to Yuki, you worthless waste of space?”

“The guy took her,” he yelped, teeth rattling in his head.

“Why didn’t you protect her?” the shorter man hissed, hands itching to rise a few inches and strangle the life out of the dimwit.

“I was trying to get the cats off without hurting them!”

“That’s enough Hector,” the redhead interjected, putting a hand on his furious friend’s shoulder. “The important thing right now is rescuing Yuki.”

“Fine,” Hector bit off, dropping Kazuya.

“Can you find her?” the green-eyed Autumn asked.

Silence as Hector closed his eyes searching for Yuki’s aura. It was a closely guarded secret, kept even from Yuki, that Hector was her brother. In order to keep an eye on his beloved little sister he’d found a way to locate her so he could watch over her from time to time.

Red eyes snapped open.

“I’ve found her,” he said already on the move, “the fool didn’t even bother to hide his location.”

A short time later Hector and the dark haired woman, Julie, slipped in a back window of a rundown house. Split into two groups for a faster search, the four people silently snuck through the building leaving an earnest and unaware Kazuya to storm the front door in a flurry of love proclamations and screams for “the bug-eyed skeezoid weirdo to come out and fight like a man!”

So far they’d found nothing but cats. Dozens of cats. In every room they entered. Bedroom after bedroom with a bed, closet, dresser and piteously mewing cats in all colors and sizes.

A terrible feeling crawling up her spine Julie asked Hector, “Do you think these are the missing people?”

“Hn,” he grunted, “I don’t care.”

“But what if Yuki’s a cat?”

Hector paused, glaring at her over his shoulder.

“Then it better be reversible,” he said ominously, “for his sake.”

“This is a waste of time,” Hector announced ten minutes later as they entered a bedroom just like the others, this one surprisingly lacking cats. The loud hollers of Kazuya had died down and there was still no sign of Yuki.

“What do you propose?” Julie asked, checking the closet for people or secret compartments.

“We find the man responsible and make him talk,” he hissed darkly, hand clenched in a fist.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Thunderous footsteps echoed down the hall as a mad yowl filled the air. Had they been discovered? Sharing a glance the two took on fighting stances, Hector crouched slightly before Julie, prepared for the worst as the door crashed open.

Suddenly Hector dodged to the right, Julie automatically tracked his movement, looking for danger. She realized, too late, as her head whipped around that their attacker was barreling towards her in a big orange blur. Wheezing in surprised pain as a cannonball weight slammed into her chest, Julie rocked back, tipping as her hands clamped around her thrashing attacker.

‘Is that fur?’ she thought just before stars exploded behind her eyes.

Hector blinked, slightly widened eyes showing surprise as his friend crumpled gracelessly to the ground after cracking her head on the dresser. Moving to the door he hesitated, looked back at the helpless girl, and scowled. All that mattered was finding Yuki, and yet…Closing the door with a snarl he stomped back to Julie, fully intending to slap her awake.

The orange attacker gave a pathetic meow, unable to get free from the unconscious girl’s grip. Reaching down Hector grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck, yanking it up with a death glare. Human or not the fuzzball cause of this unwanted delay was going up in flames. The cat purred in happiness followed by a tiny mew, as an unbelieving Hector met very familiar eyes. Dark satisfaction spread through his veins as Hector gave a low chuckle, and the orange cat trembled.

“Urgh. I’m dead,” Julie groaned, her skull throbbing. Cracking open her eyes she saw Hector standing next to the door smirking. “And in hell.”

“You only wish you were that lucky,” he goaded, wicked satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “A cat knocked you out.”

“I was knocked out by a dresser!” Julie hissed through grit teeth as another wave of pain radiated through her head. “Besides, if you hadn’t dodged it never would have hit me. Though, at your height it probably would’ve gotten you in the face.”

“If I didn’t move Kazuya would be dead,” he snarled, resting a hand on the sword at his hip. “Would you prefer him in sixty or seventy pieces?”

“Oh, blah, blah, blah. You’re super fast and I’m not,” Julie huffed carefully standing up. “Y’know I may have gotten hit by the cat but you ran from it.”

Hector’s eyes widened in surprised outrage before narrowing into furious slits, “I never ran.”

“You sure hightailed it out of the way when you saw the cat coming.”

“I sidestepped. Something any third rate amateur should have been able to do.”

“You jerk! If you hadn’t distracted me I would have been fine.”

“You should have been aware of your surroundings.”

“How was I supposed to know a cat of all things would be able to hit like a linebacker?” Julie snarled, before she paused, looking at Hector in confusion. “Wait. Did you say Kazuya?”

Irritation melted into a smug expression as Hector arched an eyebrow. “Displaying your amazing observational skills once again,” he mocked, enjoying her embarrassed annoyance.

“Because I’m sure you realized it was Kazuya the moment he came through the door,” Julie grumbled looking around. “What did you do with him?”

Crimson eyes glowed in unholy pleasure as they flicked down before locking on suspicious blue. Lowering her eyes, Julie bit back a surprised laugh. Kazuya, now a large orange cannonball of a tabby, was wedged under Hector’s boot, the ends of his singed fur still smoking. Large terrified brown eyes met hers, silently begging for rescue.

Julie considered him with half-lidded eyes, head tilting as she gave Kazuya Cat a lopsided smile.

“You gave me a concussion, so I’m not really inclined to stop Hector,” she announced with little sympathy. “All things considered, be happy he didn’t kill you.”

“The idiot did manage to do something right,” Hector said, carefully pulling aside his cloak to reveal a white, crimson eyed, kitten curled safely in his arm.

Eyes rounding in surprise, Julie stepped closer, leaning down to inspect a familiar red ribbon tied around the kitten’s neck. “Hello Yuki.”

“Now that we have what we came for, let’s finish this,” Hector suggested, eager to find the man responsible for harming his sister.

Julie nodded in agreement and they turned to leave. Freed from the pressure of Hector’s foot, Kazuya Cat’s long wheeze of gratitude turned into a sharp yowl of panic as the door burst in a shower of wood. Curled around Yuki for protection Hector jumped back, stumbled, and barely avoided a fall. Eyes widened in furious surprise locked on the howling orange tabby clinging to his foot.

“Get off me you fool,” he snarled, swinging his foot towards the wall as a shower of dust fell over him.

Standing in the doorway was by far one of the ugliest men Julie had ever had the misfortune of seeing. And she spent the majority of her time fighting creatures from the deepest darkest pits of the abyss. His bug eyes roved in different directions, independent of each other, as he chanted with a mouth full of brown rotted teeth, and the putrid stench rolling off of him suffocated the room. Lowering the arm she’d thrown in front of her face when the door exploded, Julie heard her companion growl, the sound drawing their attacker’s attention. Not wasting time she crossed the room in two steps, reared back, and sucker punched the crazed man. He fell back in a daze and she followed with a hard right cross, smiling in grim satisfaction as his jaw gave way with an ominous crack!

 Leaving the unconscious man she entered the bedroom looking for her friends. There was Kazuya Cat helping the little Yuki kitten out of the tangled pool of Hector’s cloak on the floor. But where was Hector? The cloak twitched, followed by a furious hiss.

“No way,” Julie murmured crouching down to lift the fabric. Glaring at her from underneath the cloth was a black, crimson eyed kitten with a familiar white star pattern on its fur. Biting her lip to keep back a chuckle, Julie couldn’t quiet hide her amusement as she asked, “Hector?”

A low rumbling growl emerged from deep in the kitten’s throat, his entire body vibrating with rage. Alarmed, Julie leaned back as Kitten Hector pounced, watching in wide-eyed wonder as the ferocious feline mauled the larger Kazuya Cat. Reaching over she scooped up the fretting Yuki, absentmindedly scratching behind the other girl’s ears as orange fur began to fly. Tipping her head to the side Julie scoffed, "Sidestep, huh?”

Hours later everyone was back to normal and returned to their rightful places, the creepy Catman turned over to the proper otherworld authorities.

“How did you manage to convince him to tell you how to reverse the spell?” Autumn asked her red-haired boyfriend.

“We merely had a conversation about what would be in his best interest,” he calmly replied, smiling politely at his friends as they shared a universal feeling of ominous foreboding.

As the conversation carried on Julie slipped closer to Hector, drawing his attention with a tap on the shoulder as she leaned in.

“Listen here kitty-cat,” she said softly, ignoring the dark look he gave her. “I think our problems today weren’t so much our fault, as Kazuya’s, and the only reasonable thing to do now is get revenge. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Hector replied with a malevolent smirk.

“Oh, Kazuyaaaa!” Julie sang as they moved towards the bruised teen.

“Hey guys, what’s uuuaaaagh!”

Shore

This was written as, I believe, a thirty second challenge. He's also found in "Dark" and "Swim". It's very short.

It was many years ago that his world had first been destroyed and an innocent child had taken up the call for justice. In reality what he wanted was revenge. Nine years old, a long life ahead of him, Zanther witnessed the slaughter of his entire village. Including his family. That little golden boy was drowned to death in the depths of this lake. Minutes later the same boy, who would never be the same again, returned to life in a call of lightning that split the sky. Now, on the anniversary of his death and rebirth, he stood along the shore, fumed at the waves, and cursed that siren with every beat of his heart.

Where the Heart Resides

This is a story with characters belonging to Salina for a challenge we've been doing back and forth. She'll illustrate something and I'll write a story based on it; then I write a story and she makes an illustration from something in it. This challenge was really hard for me because I wanted to write something romantic, but the male lead is someone I know very little about and always think of tragically. Not the most affectionate climate, but I managed to find a happy medium.

How long has it been since she’s been here? Weeks? Months? Not since Tyrone moved in next door. This is a dream she’s spent many happy nights in even though, technically speaking, it isn’t a dream. Once again she’s returned to that place beyond dreams that people never reach or, if they do, rarely remember. Soraya always remembers her time here. Untapped psychic potential, almost dormant in the waking world, allows her spirit to roam free at night in this Dream World while her physical body sleeps. She’s grown here, as a dreamer and a person, making friends and facing tragedy. It’s a special place dear to her heart for many reasons, perhaps one more then the others. This is the world where she met Gale.

He’s a handsome knight, reserved and stoic, from a time long past, trapped forever in Dream World. Despite initial reservations he soon became Soraya’s companion as a strong bond grew between them. They often travel Dream World together, but sometimes when she needs a break Soraya enters at a fairytale castle in a gown fit for a princess just in time for a ball. Just as she did tonight, Soraya spends hours laughing and dancing, then she tells the party dwellers goodbye and sets off from the castle to meet Gale.

She walks down a dirt path to a clearing close enough to occasionally hear the music from the castle but far enough away for privacy. Gale always meets her here. It never takes more than a few minutes of waiting before he appears out of the darkness.

“This dream, with its castle balls and fancy gowns makes me feel like a fairytale princess,” Soraya says softly to herself, “and Gale is my knight in shining armor.” A laugh. “Sort of.”

Leaning against a solitary lavender gray tree that has grown in the clearing since her last visit, Soraya pictures Gale, comparing him to the knights found in stories. He normally appears on silent steps instead of the beat of hooves. A sharp scythe rests against his back, a bone wing, instead of a sword or lance. No helmet, just a cloud of soft lavender hair trailing behind him. His clothing is simple fabric stronger than any armor and it doesn’t really shine. Eyes drifting to the path, she watches, breath baited, in anticipation. A heartbeat. Two. And then…

Nothing happens.

With a little laugh, Soraya shakes her head. Part of her expected him to materialize from the gloom, summoned by her thoughts. Though he’s usually here by now, she thinks, frowning. Minutes pass as she waits, but he doesn’t appear. Growing wary with trepidation she steps onto the path calling out for him, “Gale!”

Her voice carries throughout the land, a princess calling her knight.

He doesn’t answer.

She settles against the lavender gray tree, determined to stay all night, because he would wait for her. The thought strikes her sudden and brutal. Had Gale waited for her? She’d been gone for such a long time without any word or warning. And he wouldn’t have known she was safe. Did he spend night after night traveling Dream World looking for any traces of her only to end up back in this clearing hoping that she’d appear? Had he stayed here only to end up alone? Heart aching, Soraya closes her eyes against the burn of tears. If that’s the case and he’s mad at her, as he has every right to be she thinks sorrowfully, surely he’d still reply to her call. If nothing else, he would come to get answers for her absence. Dread settling in the pit of her stomach Soraya fears something has happened to her Gale.

“Oh Gale, please be safe.”

The tree shifts, bark scraping gently against her back as the branches bow, curling around her. Reaching out she trails a tentative hand along the closest limb, gasping when the tree gives a shuddering silvery sigh. Branches wrap around her taking on the shape of arms, twigs transform into fingers as they twist about her hand.

“Soraya,” her name is a whispering rustle of leaves, “I’ve missed you.” She feels him then, warm against her back, pressing soft kisses to her hair.

“Gale?”

Turning she finds the tree partially transformed into him. Long lavender hair reaches towards the sky as the top of the trunk groans and shifts, molding itself into his face and torso.

“Hello Soraya,” he says, bringing a willowy hand up to caress her cheek, an odd contrast of gentle touch and rough bark. “I hope you’re well.”

“I’m fine,” she assures, brow furrowed over large doe eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Of course, aren’t I always?”

A slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and, despite being part tree, he seems so normal that Soraya can’t help the tears welling in her eyes or the heavy press of guilt.

“I’m so sorry Gale.”

“Why?” He asks, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But,” she says, indicating him with a helpless flap of her hand.

“Oh,” he says after a moment, brow creased as he looks down at himself. “Oh, I see. No, this isn’t your fault Soraya.”

“But, you’re a tree.”

A chuckle as he gives her a small indulgent smile, “I’m not really a tree.”

“You aren’t?” A cool rush of relief sweeps through her body.

“No. I waited a week and when you didn’t appear I planted a piece of my spirit here to keep watch. That’s how I knew you returned.”

“Then why aren’t you here in person?” Soraya asks after a moment.

“It would take all night for me to get there and I wanted to see you. The tree is an avatar of sorts through the connection of my spirit.”

“Thank goodness,” a heartbeat. “Gale, I’m sorry for not coming and not letting you know. It should’ve occurred to me.”

"I don't blame you Soraya, it's alright. I understand that you have new friends in the Waking World to go on adventures with and Tyrone to talk to, so you don't need Dream World like you used to."

You don’t need me goes unspoken.

Wincing, Soraya tightens her grip on Gale’s hand, shaking her head.

“That’s not true! Just because I was away for a while doesn’t mean I don’t want to be here. I love Dream World,” she says, giving him a shake, “And I’ll always need you. The time I spend with Tyrone and the others is important to me, but—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Gale interrupts.

“But,” she continues, ignoring him, “that doesn’t mean my time here isn’t just as important too. Actually, I was hoping they could meet you some day.”

Bemused, Gale arches an eyebrow watching pink tinge Soraya’s cheeks as she averts her gaze.

“You even wish to introduce me to your Tyrone?” He asks carefully, scrutinizing her.

“Of course!” Soraya says brightly. “I want to introduce you to everybody. And hey! Tyrone isn’t mine, he’s my friend,” a pause as her face shifts in confusion before she looks at him warily, asking, “How do you know about Tyrone?”

Gale looks away, jaw clenching slightly as seconds slip by. If Soraya didn’t know him so well, she never would have noticed the frustrated tension running under his stoic features. Eventually, voice emotionless and steady, he says, “When you failed to appear after a lengthy time, I started looking for any trace of you in Dream World. That search led me to Tyrone.”

Watching her from the corner of his eye Soraya sees a flash of emotion in cerulean orbs before it disappears in oceanic depths. “He often dreams of you.”

If it was anyone else she would have sworn Gale was jealous. Feeling an odd sense of danger like a trap waiting to be sprung, Soraya sidesteps the issue with a helpless shrug saying, “Dreams are weird like that. I’m almost certain my friend Toguro dreams of oranges.”

She gives a sweet smile as Gale’s face scrunches in confusion. A blink and his expression smoothes, watching her from half-lidded eyes with a look that clearly says ‘I know what you’re doing and I’m allowing it. This time.’

Running a hand through her hair Gale gives a thoughtful hum, curling the coppery orange strands around his fingers.

“We’re friends aren’t we?”

“What?” Soraya says with a startled laugh. “Of course we are.”

“Then, would you be willing to grant me a request?”

“Sure.”

Mouth curling into a small humorless smile he stares at her with sad, serious eyes and she sobers. Trepidation growing Soraya reaches out, gently placing a hand on his bicep.

“Gale?”

“I had a fair amount of time to think while we were apart, and it’s clear to me that things are changing. You’ve begun to transition from a charming girl with big dreams into an enchanting woman fully capable of making her desires reality. As time passes opportunity will open before you in the Waking World. I cannot be there with you. My limitations keep me from leaving Dream World; at least as things are now.” A pause. “However, you said I may make a request.”

Pulling Soraya close to his chest Gale rests his chin atop her head, speaking soft deliberate words after a moment as he stares unseeing at the rising light on the horizon.

 “As you mature some of your dreams will be put away into a box, never to be achieved but taken out occasionally to be looked at. This is an inevitable part of aging. But please,” his voice drops to a painful rasp, “don’t put me away in that box Soraya. Don’t make me disappear like a child’s dream in summer.”

Eyes widening in shock Soraya wraps her arms around him, clutching tightly, struck by the sudden suffocating break in her heart. Did he honestly think she could forget him? Gale shudders, pressing his lips gently against her ear as he continues, calmer.

 “However, if you should one day decide you no longer desire my company, and cannot fulfill that request, then grant me a different kindness,” arms tightening around her, his mouth skims across her cheek imprinting each word along her skin, “On the day that you decide to part from me forever, press your lips to mine that I may always remember. Burn your mark upon my battered soul, so it will never forget, though you may,” a sigh as he eyes the rosy colors of dawn curling against the sky. “The night has passed, Soraya, it’s time for you to return to the Waking World.”

“No,” she whispers with a slight shake of her head, fingers curling into him, “not yet, Gale. After what you just said, I can’t leave right now.”

Gale shifts, their foreheads touching as affectionate cerulean eyes sear into soft conflicted brown. As the sun rises Soraya feels a familiar tug drawing her back to her physical body, her astral form beginning to fade away. Unwilling to leave, afraid to lose this moment, she protests, quieting at the shake of his head.

“Hush now; this is not our final parting. The future is not yet decided, Soraya. You have not forsaken me and I am not resigned to that fate. Though we are forced to part, it is only temporary,” he promises leaning closer, mouth brushing against hers in a teasing almost kiss, “When you think of falling in love, think of me and my heart will be with you; just as your heart resides in me.”

She disappears, the final image of flushed cheeks and startled doe eyes perfectly captured in Gale’s mind as he withdraws, leaving behind an empty clearing with a solitary lavender gray tree reaching towards the coppery orange skies of a brightly dawning day. 

Swim

Happy Friday the 13th! Though many people associate the combination of Friday and 13 with bad luck (or slasher films) I adore it. So I present a pleasurably cruel story for this most lovely of days with the characters from Dark both mine and Ms. Salina's

“Avery, I don’t think this is a good idea,” a man said hesitantly, quivering with fear.

“You’re not a child anymore Zanther,” the pale beauty replied, an edge to her voice at repeating this again. “You have to learn how to swim, you’re simply to big to rescue if something happens.”

“Never thought I’d miss being little,” came the sullen response.

As a child Zanther’s body was put into a type of supernatural stasis, allowing him to live a perfectly normal life but physically unable to age past nine. Due to his demonic genes he was guaranteed a long life span and, much to his displeasure, the majority of it had been spent as a child. The stasis had finally been removed a few months previously and he’d quickly filled out to the broad shouldered 6’3” frame he was meant to have.

It still caught Avery off guard when she’d look down to talk to him only to crane her neck up. His face still held a boyish charm, blue eyes sparkling with mischief and a too wide grin. His voice had deepened but, despite being higher than most men, she found herself occasionally missing the bright childish chirping. Still, Zanther was a grown man and his fear of water had to be dealt with. Eyeing the tall blond gingerly looking over the edge of the dock at the clear water below she gave a resolute nod.

“What’s so great about swimming anyway?” Zanther muttered, “It’s not like I have an urge to sail the seven seas or become a pirate. Actually, I’d love to be a pirate. Hector could be first mate, you can navigate, and Celesta could be the cook. We’ll be sky pirates. Do they make airships? Hey, Averaaaiiii!”

A loud splash filled the air as the flailing Zanther plunged head first into the water. Avery, knowing it would take a lot of dithering before he even put a foot in, decided the best way to teach him was a firm push. Literally, as the case may be. It’s better, she reflected as electricity arched through the water, not to teach a terrified lightning demon how to swim by example. As scorched fish began to float on the water a blond head broke through the surface taking in greedy gulps of air.

“You push…” Gasp! “You pushed me,” Zanther sputtered, outraged, as he tried to keep his head above the water.

“I did,” Avery agreed calmly, crossing her arms as she leaned against a post of the dock.

“Help meee,” he gurgled, arms waving desperately above the water.

Pitifully pleading sapphire eyes met cool crimson, widening in horror when she quirked an eyebrow.

“Swim or drown, I won’t save you.”

“Aberwy,” he burbled, disappearing under the frothing water as sparks of electricity danced across the waves.

Well, she thought as more fried fish sizzled on the surface, at least we won’t have to worry about dinner.

Dark

This revolves around one of Ms. Salina's characters. This particular character is often a mystery to me, but she is so dearly entwined with one of my characters I simply can't imagine one existing without the other.

It’s dark. Painfully, impossibly dark. Worse than the gloom that comes from switching off a light when there’s still the vaguest outline of your hand or closing your eyes but seeing the light against your eyelids. This is darkness that sinks under your skin, roiling and twisting your insides until there’s nothing left. The kind of murky ink she grew up in and swore never to return to. Fire and light are hers to command with a flick of the fingers, darkness is nothing. Except her powers aren’t working, the enemy smarter than they’d realized, and she’s trapped in this damned cave.

A burning white rage blooms in her chest. She wouldn’t be defeated so easily! Mouth twisted in a sneer she takes careful determined steps forward. Arms out, she gropes her way through the suffocating gloom, unable to find walls or ceiling despite the solid rock beneath her boots. The otherworldly atmosphere swallows the soft shuffling sound of her steps leaving a vacuum of silence in its wake. Memories of childhood horrors buried in the deepest recesses of her soul slither up, whispering fear through her veins with every hammering beat of her heart. She doesn’t like this.

It’s startlingly raw, the feeling of irrational unfiltered terror. A hard dangerous childhood shaped her into a strong capable woman, but beneath the veneer of cool, calm, collected is the remnants of a screaming little girl trapped in the dark. Behind the locked doors of her past the child tips her head back and howls. Pulse rising with panic, she tries to calm her harsh breathing. The floor dips and she stumbles, hands waving desperately in front of her as a knee hits the ground. Hissing in pain, she rocks back while gingerly pressing a hand against the stinging appendage. The feel of sticky fluid followed by a sharp throbbing tells her gently probing fingers there’s an injury. Just great! She’s damn well skinned her knee.

A growl of frustration is swallowed by the shadows as she focuses with all her might, willing fire to leap from her fingertips. A spark. A flash. Something! Nothing happens. Frustration mingles with the strong edge of fear she’s fighting to keep back clogging her throat with angry tears. Of all the stupid things. She’s better than this, damn it. Stronger than this. Swallowing thickly she stands on shaky legs, releasing a slow quavering breath. Closing her eyes, she breathes in and out, trying to regain her poise. Something brushes her hand and she flinches, startled, wheeling around quickly, struck by a wave of fear that something is in the cave with her.

“Avery?”

She stops, frozen in relief at the familiar sound of that bright child’s voice. How long has he been there?

“Avery, are you okay?” He asks, concern coloring his words. “I think we got separated at first when they put us in here, but I followed your scent and now I can smell blood.”

Relief flooding her system, she can’t help but smile. Even trapped in the darkness his first thought is of her.

“I’m fine, Zanther, just a skinned knee,” she assures, happy her voice stays steady despite her rickety emotions. “We should keep moving.”

His hand slips into hers, fingers entwining tightly. “So we stay together,” he mumbles, and despite the dark she knows his face is bright pink.

They walk slowly through the inky shadows, the chatty boy by her side strangely silent. She finds herself oddly missing his babbling, wishing he would say something to hold back the oppressive feel of their environment.

“Avery?” Zanther questions softly, a clear sign that he has something on his mind.

“Hmm?”

She scans the darkness, trying to find any sign of life or freedom.

“I know this must be hard for you,” he says hesitantly, “given your past. But…”

Her attention focuses on Zanther as he pauses.

“Avery, you’ll never be alone again.”

Maybe it’s the sincerity in his voice as he swears to stay with her. Perhaps it’s because she can’t see him. Avery will never be certain why, but Zanther no longer seemed like a child. His hand in hers is warm, reassuring, and oh, so solid. In the darkness he transforms into someone deeper, stronger, and older. His presence surrounds her, blocking out the suffocating oppression of the darkness, pushing back her fear, cocooning her in a promise to protect her always. Deep in her bones she knows this isn’t a child’s pinky swear, but something deeper. It’s the kind of vow a man makes to the woman he loves. Avery allows herself to enjoy the warm feeling of safety welling up in her chest. He’s been with her the entire time.

Squeezing his hand in acknowledgement she says, “Let’s go,” and they walk into the murky gloom together.

Utterly Unexpected

A short piece from the perspective of one of Ms. Salina's characters. I worry that he's a little out of character...but this is new ground for me and him. : )

It began without notice. Relaxing when he was with her, the urge to smile when she did, and the way his eyes would find and follow her every move. By the time he noticed it was already to late. Sitting on the balcony of his apartment, above everyone else, crimson irises searched the street below darting from face to face until she appeared. Exiting the underground structure that ran beneath the town lovingly dubbed “The Basement” she looked radiant against the sinister backdrop. Sharp demonic eyes softened as her face lit with laughter at something someone said. Wanting to catch every lilting note he leaned towards her, realizing, too late, that he’d upset his precarious balance on the thin metal rail.

Quicker than a blink he caught the bar, swung onto the balcony, and disappeared into his dark bedroom. Disgusted he collapsed on his bed, scowling into the silk sheets. What the hell was that? He hadn’t really been…? He wouldn’t. It was impossible. Absurd even! There was no way he’d ever allow himself to…to… A shudder as the traitorous thought of affection crossed his mind. He was a fire demon. Notorious and powerful with better things to do then let himself get distracted by a silly human woman. She appeared in his mind; dark hair shimmering, eyes teasing, lips curving into a shy smile. Oh no. He felt it; warm ache in his chest both terrible and pleasant. Snarling, he grabbed the sword from beside his bed and left the apartment. He was going to fight until he killed this godforsaken feeling.

Months later he was slowly coming to terms with the feeling. Despite his best efforts and grave displeasure the newfound affection persisted. It could be worse, he supposed surreptitiously watching her from the shadowy branches of a tree in the communal garden, she could be worse. That wouldn’t say much for his taste, of course, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the situation anyway. Still, she wasn’t bad for a human, or most demons for that matter. She was young, intelligent, and carried a lot of potential. In a confrontation she was capable, quick witted, and determined. Not the worst choice, he mused watching her go through the motions of a drill. Her weapon arced through the air as she moved gracefully to meet the attack of an invisible enemy. She practiced the same movements over and over again, muscles memorizing the motions for real battle.

Weeks ago he discovered her sneaking out in the time between late night and pre-dawn when everyone in town was actually asleep. Had it not been for the fact that he was just returning from his impromptu trip, she’d have never been discovered. Not that she was aware of his knowledge. She would slip away, and minutes later he would follow masking his aura from discovery. While she began to warm up he’d settle in the upper recesses of the trees above her line of sight, hidden by the leaves, but always able to watch her. Every move was critiqued as he observed, silently praising her strengths and noting her weaknesses, ignoring the unbidden desire to help her. It would be so easy to let words of advice pierce the air alerting her to his presence.

He could pretend to have stumbled upon her; never admitting how long he’d been watching, and offer friendly advice to keep her from getting killed. She’d be embarrassed at being caught, and curiously interested by his involvement. He’d be blunt in his statements, attitude disinterested, even put upon, as he helped to shape her into a better combatant. Would she be able to see the truth behind his derision and disregard? Would she hear the calling beat of his heart? I adore you. I need you. Be mine. He couldn’t. It was too dangerous a risk to take while these feelings were so new. Later, perhaps, when he’d managed to hide them away where she couldn’t see. But not now. He wasn’t ready for their relationship to change. The truth would draw her in or send her running, and he didn’t know which response he’d prefer.

An hour or two passed in this way, her training while he mused, and the sky began to lighten. Movements slowed as she cooled down, finishing with a stretch of aching muscles. Eyes gliding over her form he followed her fingers reaching up as she arched, standing on the balls of her feet, body taught like the string of a bow, utterly beautiful, before slowly releasing. Wordlessly humming a tune she walked back to the warm confines of her apartment, blissfully unaware of her crimson-eyed shadow. He waited until the light in her room turned on before returning home, slipping into the soothing embrace of silk sheets, his mind filled with her.

Health and Happiness

A fun little story with characters belonging to Miss. Salina
and myself.

“AAAAACHOOOOO!”

A large pile of used tissues fly through the air as the lump curled in the middle of a bed gives a loud sniffle.

“New 'obby?” A smooth voice asks in a rough cockney accent.

The lump shifts as a messy array of spiked pink hair appears from under the covers long enough for watery brown eyes to glance at the smirking man standing in the doorway, a glowing paragon of undead health.

“Mm’sick Blaise,” the lump grumbles pulling the blanket over his head.

“That why you haven’t been round lately, Hawkeye?”

Crossing the room in three steps Blaise plops on the bed next to his queasy companion. Hawkeye rolls away, mumbling incoherently, trying to pull the covers closer. His efforts wasted as the blankets catch under the other man’s weight.

“Get off,” Hawkeye orders, staring owlishly out of his comforter cocoon.

“Can’t,” Blaise says brightly, folding his arms behind his head.

A sharp tug.

“I’m cold.”

Frowning in mock sympathy the blonde shakes his head.

“How sad for you.”

“Ngh. Stop it, I’m sick,” Hawkeye growls, kicking at Blaise.

Grinning, Blaise chuckles, delighted, “My heart bleeds for you, really. Absolutely terrible.”

“Bllllaaaiiiissse,” a wailing whine of frustration.

“Yeeees?” Comes the singsong reply.

“Would you get—huaghk,” Hawkeye starts, cut off as his lungs contract in a round of bone shattering coughs.

Blaise’s grin fades at the sound of the wet hacking rattle in his friend’s chest.

“All right?” He asks after a moment, sapphire eyes dark with concern.

“Yeah,” Hawkeye wheezes.

“Good.”

Quiet as they lounge side by side, half curled towards each other, punctuated by the sound of Hawkeye’s breathing slowly calming.

“Where’s your wife?” Blaise asks softly, noticing the hollow hush in the rest of the apartment.

“She got an emergency call from people in need of a psychic.”

“And Stephanie?”

“Helping Maren.”

“You’re all alone?”

“Eh,” a shrug. “Maren made me soup.”

“That’s nice.”

Minutes pass in a comfortable lull as Blaise smokes and Hawkeye blows his nose.

“I missed you,” Blaise mutters dropping his cigarette butt in an empty teacup. “It’s not the same without you around.”

“Awww, it’s nice to know I’m appreciated,” Hawkeye says with a beaming smile.

“Yeah, well, the girls aren’t half as much fun to pick on, and they hit really bloody hard,” he replies, tone semi-petulant.

“Ah,” a roll of the eyes, “that miserable without me, huh?”

A grin as Blaise stands, stretching with a loud pop.

“What’s a bloke to do without ‘is best mate?”

“Recover,” Hawkeye replies, snickering.

“Well, you’re in luck, mate, ‘cause I’m gonna nurse you back to health.”

“Uhhh,” Hawkeye begins warily, watching Blaise come around the bed, “you don’t have to do that. I don’t want you to get sick.”

“That’s why I’m the perfect one to help you,” Blaise purrs, grinning wickedly, “I can’t get sick.”

 Evening as Maren and Stephanie enter the dark apartment after a successful exorcism and a trip to the grocery store.

“Hawkeye, we’re home,” Maren calls out walking towards their bedroom. “I got jell-o with fruit in it like you wanted.”

“Is he feeling better?” Stephanie asks minutes later, putting away groceries as Maren walks into the kitchen.

“He wasn’t in the bedroom.”

The women exchange a look as low voices are heard from the living room. They stop in the doorway, not bothering with the lights as the glow of cartoons from the TV illuminates the room. Strewn across the coffee table are used tissues, a half-eaten bowl of soup, and a bag of mini marshmallows. Sitting on the couch, feet propped up, are Blaise and Hawkeye, both sound asleep. Blaise’s arms and head rest along the back of the couch, mouth wide as he snores like a jackhammer. Hawkeye leans against Blaise, head against his shoulder, a thick trickle of drool dribbling down his chin to soak lovingly into the other man’s shirt.

Stifling giggles Maren and Stephanie leave them to rest, certain that Hawkeye is feeling better if the marshmallows wedged in Blaise’s nose are anything to go by.

Choose Me

This is an experiment of sorts with the relationship between Tack and Kit.

Far from the beaten path, deep in the woods, where few ever need tread a beautiful woman slumps against the supporting trunk of an old oak and clutches her ribs as her body begins to shake. The tremors increase, a sob fills the air, and she falls to her knees. Her head bows, golden hair hiding her face from view, and the forest seems to hold its breath.  Glowing spirits leave the trees around her offering comfort to their fallen kin. All attempts to sooth end in failure and concerned looks are exchanged. A faint rustling announces a new presence and they return to hiding as a sharp, gaunt man appears behind the trembling woman.

Concerned amber eyes stare out from behind a curtain of wavy gray hair and the man slithers to her side. Crouching, he draws her into his arms and she burrows into him, face hidden, bawling. Thin clawed fingers tip her head up to his sharp perusal, a whine of sympathy leaving his throat. Large green eyes are swollen, tears track salty streaks down her face, and she looks so pitiful.

“It’s okay, Kit. Don’t cry anymore,” he croons, wiping away her tears.

“Oh Tack; I know he doesn’t mean to do it. Demean never realizes he’s flirting, but this time is different. That woman has a past with him and she keeps flaunting it in my face. She treats me like a silly child because she has more experience with men. Did you hear the condescending things she said to me right in front of him?” Kit rambles frustrated, before deflating with a trembling sigh. “Why doesn’t he…I mean, he could just…”

“He could tell her to shut the hell up,” Tack interrupts with a snarl, “He could defend your honor like the man that idiot boy pretends to be instead of letting that whore walk all over you.”

“Tack,” she gasps, “you shouldn’t say that.”

“She’s a whore Kit,” he hisses with a malevolent grin. “Make no mistake. Her body is so worn out and used she can’t give it away. Don’t compare yourself to her; she isn’t worthy to lick the scum from your boots.”

“How can I not? She’s the first woman Demean ever loved and I…I’m nothing like her.”

“You’re better than she is, and if that idiot boy can’t see that, then you should get rid of him. I could get rid of him for you. After I finish he’ll appreciate just how superior you are. Or die trying,” Tack says, bitterness mounting in his voice. “Why do you stay with that dolt? He doesn’t deserve you. And he’s human so he’ll just die in a few years anyway. Really he’s no better than a pet. After showering him with love and care he repays you by humping the neighbor’s leg,” he says, laughing shrilly, before pinning her with hard, serious eyes. “Kit, move on to someone superior that appreciates you.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” she says, a tremor of trepidation in her voice.

With a growl Tack pulls Kit tightly against him, hand cupping her face, pressing his lips against hers in an adoring, frantic kiss. She jerks back in surprise and his arms tighten, continuing the soft, unyielding caress of his lips. Struggling not to lose control and overwhelm her, he begins to pull away. Kit whimpers in protest, tightly gripping his coat as she closes the distance between them. Tack freezes, shocked, before a loud growl erupts from his chest, resonating through her. Hands tangling in her hair he tilts her head back, deepening the kiss. Each frenzied beat of her heart thunders in his ears keeping time. Her heart gives a fluttering beat in need of air and he pulls back, trailing kisses along her face and jaw.

“Pick me, love me, I can give you everything he can and so much more. Your deepest fantasy is my pleasure. Tall, fat, short, thin, just tell me what you want. I could even look like him,” Tack rasps with each pleading press of his lips. “I won’t cheat with other women; you are the only one I want. Choose me, Kit, you’ll never regret it.”

Kit stiffens, eyes snapping open as his words kill the hazy intoxication of kisses better than any cold shower. Bringing her hands up Kit pushes Tack away, trembling under his condemning glare. Irritation spikes through him at the remorse lingering in her gaze. Damn her. He hates those cruel, sorrowful eyes.

“So that’s it then. It doesn’t matter that I understand you better than he ever could. That I appreciate you more than he ever will. I can give you everything your heart desires and I’ll never grow old and die. But that doesn’t mean anything, does it? You’re only interested in that pathetic whelp of a human who makes you cry and doesn’t even notice because he’s too busy going after another woman like a bitch in heat,” Tack sneers viciously, uncaring when she flinches from the sting of his words.

“I love you. I want you to know that. I’m so sorry,” Kit asserts in a soft, wavering voice as fresh tears spill onto her cheeks.

“No! It isn’t that easy. You know I’m right,” Tack howls, gripping her arms in a bruising vice.

“You’re right. Everything you said is true. My time with Demean is limited; maybe that’s why I’m willing to forgive him. This is the only time we have. I don’t want to lose you, Tack, but you deserve the truth. I love him and I won’t leave him,” Kit informs him softly, voice steady with resolve despite the fresh tears staining her face.

The crazed fury melts away, leaving a hollow ache. Tack cuddles her close, pressing his face to her hair. A sob escapes as Kit wraps her arms around him weeping trembling apologies into his chest. She doesn’t ask him to understand. Nor does she deny the fact that she’s in love with him. Tack trembles in Kit’s arms, unable to hate her. He blames Demean, resolve wavering against the tide of murderous intent. The warm tears soaking through his shirt into his skin keeps him in place

He’ll wait, decades if he has to, while she and the whelp human make a little life together with the house, the kids, and the family pet. After all, time is on his side. Demean will grow old, decrepit, and wrinkled, becoming an eyesore rotting in the bitter decay of human mortality while he and Kit will remain unchanged. Even now the moment belonging to that boy is ending and Tack’s eternity is just beginning.