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Noble Warrior

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ＳＥＸＹ ＶＡＭＰＩＲＥ ＭＯＪＯ ＳＴＲＩＫＥＳ ＡＧＡＩＮ!
ＳＡＭＰＬＥＳ ＷＩＬＬ ＧＯ ＨＥＲＥ!
ｐｌｅａｓｅ ｄｏｎ'ｔ ｐｏｓｔ



                                                  Hey there. These are my samples! Please don't post here or steal my stuff, because
                                                  that's just mean. Also, before anyone asks, yes, I do use layouts. But these are writing samples,
                                                  so I removed the layouts. If you are so hung up on graphics, post stalk me to a roleplay.

                                                  My graphics have nothing to do with the quality of my writing.

Noble Warrior

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                      “Well,” Will had said when Eli's small car rattled into that small Montana town a little over a month earlier, “You sure know how to pick the good destinations, don't you?” Even if Eli had given him the skunk eye for that comment as he pulled the car off of the main road and down towards the small two-bedroom bungalow at the end of the short dirt road, what Will had said was true.

                      This small town, one which the name never stuck – he never was good with names, particularly not the cities that he moved to and from on a fairly regular basis these days – was pretty well as small of a hole in the wall as you got. There had, at one point, been three stop lights, but two had stopped working and constantly flashed red, thus becoming four way stops, so now there was only the one stop light. All of the shops along main street were squat little brown buildings with splashes of colour painted on the side to prevent them from all blending in together. The lawns were off-green, in most cases a lot more yellow than green, and while most of the roads were paved, it looked as though they'd been paved back in the nineties, and hadn't been worked on since, for how smooth the drive was.

                      “You'll grow to like it,” Eli had said as they pulled up in front of the small bungalow, putting the car in park and turning off the engine, listening to the poor thing rattle slowly into silence. “It's not a place that a lot of people go to. Besides, all of the students from all of the towns in this area come here to the high school – it's a fairly big one, so it should be easy enough to blend in.”

                      “Mmmhmm,” Will had said as he climbed out of the passenger door, listening to the mixture of snow and grass crunch under his feet. The house wasn't all that stand out, with the same brown walls as most of the other buildings, plus porch that had been painted one of those hideous dark-green colours that you expected to see around Christmas time. The roof on the porch sagged a little to the left, which Eli said gave it a little charm. Will said that it made the porch look like it had a little too much to drink.

                      “Always hard to please,” Eli had said as he grabbed two of the bags from the back seat of the car, hauling them off to the front porch before unlocking the door and letting himself and Will into the slightly musty-smelling house. Will had simply shrugged, grabbed the remaining bags, and followed his Cepan inside.

                      And that's where they'd been living for the past thirty-seven days. And there had been no sign of danger thus far. It was a relief, really, considering how much travelling the two had been doing for the past twenty one months. They'd had a close encounter with a Mogadorian a little under two years ago, where they'd actually come face to face with them. It was only dumb luck that a group of police officers had been driving by at the time, and got involved. Regrettably, all of the officers involved had died in the ensuing fight, but it had bought the duo enough time to get a good enough head start to work on a long-running effort to lose the Mogadorians. It had been a long, uphill battle, but if the incredible silence that had settled over the town had anything to say, they had lost them.

                      Will, really, didn't have a whole lot to worry about just yet. After all, he was Number Nine, and well down the order in which the Mogadorian's had to go to kill him off. He couldn't be killed just yet – they had to plow through a few more of the Garde before they could kill him. Eli, on the other hand, was a different story. Really, the main reason they ran was to avoid capture and stop Eli from dying – because while Will wasn't able to be killed yet, Eli had no such protection. And if it came to the point where the first eight had been killed, Will was going to need Eli's help to stay alive.

                      He knew a fair bit about his Cepan, all things considered. Despite the fact that they bickered terribly – like an old married couple, their neighbours when they had lived in San Francisco had said – they got along rather well. He knew a fair bit about his past, and understood his Cepan better than he thought he would when he'd first began to comprehend what was going on with the Cepan and the Garde – after all, he'd barely been two years old when they'd fled to Earth, and hadn't been able to comprehend things fully until a few years later. And, truth be told, he hadn't really been too fond of Eli at first – thoughtTh that he was just a perpetual grouch who didn't know how to have any fun. He still though that he was a perpetual grouch who didn't know how to have any fun, but he understood why now, and respected him for that. Not, of course, that he was going to show that respect or listen too terribly well, but he did know what Eli had given up to be his Cepan, and he was grateful for that. He, for his part, wasn't sure if he'd have been able to do the same thing if he'd been put in Eli's situation.

                      Since moving to this random little small town, Will had gotten pretty used to how things worked here. You woke up at six in the morning, hopped in the shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to get the breakfast that Eli would without a doubt already have set out, generally toast and some kind of jam with some form of fruit on the side. He'd stuff his bag full of his text books and run out to the bus stop to not be late, where the bus driver knew to wait an extra minute, because Will was nothing is not reliably late. Then he'd have around forty five minutes to kill before class started, generally spent shooting hoops with a couple classmates that he dared to call “friends”, and then class would start and Hell would begin.

                      Hell, because his second class teacher, his English teacher, didn't like him too much. Said that she had an issue with his accent, whatever it was, and made a point of making him work extra hard on pronouncing his words to her satisfaction. After that, though, most of his teachers were either impartial to him or, as a rule, liked him pretty well. And the same could be said for his first class, P.E.

                      The class looked as though it was going to start normally enough, up until the point when an unfamiliar brunette girl came through the door, looking a little bit like a deer in headlights. And, just as had been the case with his first day, the P.E. teacher walked away from the rest of the students to go and find out if the new kid had the needed supplied or not. It was nice to see that there was someone else new now, so he wasn't going to be the new kid again. He'd gone to school all the time, pretty well his entire life, because Eli had said something about the importance of education, but Will wasn't entirely sure what else he'd said, because he'd pretty well just tuned him out, as per usual when Eli was nattering on about something that didn’t interest Will too terribly much. Since he went to school so often, and moved around so much, he was pretty used to being the new kid. It was going to be nice to not be the new kid, at least for as long as he and Eli remained in town.

                      Which, knowing their luck, wasn't going to be too terribly long. They'd almost reached their record for staying in one place now. Six more weeks, and they would have beaten their old record.

                      The new girl didn't seem to have her gym clothes, though, so she was stuck sitting off in the corner while the teacher came back to the other students, telling them to work on a few laps to get warmed up for class today. Apparently, she was going to make sure that they got a good, solid work out in today. One of Will's friends leaned over and whispered that he wondered if things had gotten bad with the mister again, because the teacher was always in a bad mood when things got bad at home. There were a few snickers passed around, but they were promptly too busy trying to not wheeze up a lung from all of the laps that she had them do. And that was well before she split them into girls and boys to run the “beep test”. The girls ran first, so the boys were kicked to the bleachers, where the new girl was currently situated.

                      “Aw man,” one of Will's friends said as he flopped down on the bleachers not too far from where the new girl was, signalling for his buddies to join him. “Miss G is in a seriously bad mood today.”

                      “Mmmm,”                       Will said as he claimed a seat. “It could be worse. Remember last Tuesday? She had us run the beep test after running bootcamp and laps.”

                      “True enough.”

                      “I always have a point.” Will said cheerily, leaning back as Will's friends started chattering amongst themselves. Since he was left the odd man out, as seemed to be the common case, as it kind of came with being the newest member to a group, he turned to look up at the new girl, who was seated above him a small ways on the bleachers. “Hey, new kid,” he teased, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes. “Way to kick off the new school. Where'd you come here from, any ways?” He hadn't heard the girl speak, so he had no idea as to how to even wager a guess. But, he might as well at least try to be friendly.

Noble Warrior

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                      Generally, Roshan spent his early Saturday mornings doing about the same thing: grocery shopping. Well, meat shopping. Most people could sneak in a quick shop between classes, and split it between the two room mates in each apartment. With Roshan and his room mate, it wasn't so simple. While they were able to split the bill and split the shopping (since Roshan hated shopping, but it wasn't fair to pawn all of the grocery shopping off on his poor room mate, even if they were thick as thieves), Roshan didn't find it particularly fair to send him room mate on the long trek to locate a butcher shop that actually carried Halal meat that followed Zabihah, the Islamic dietary laws.

                      He'd actually been rather shocked when he'd first moved to Seoul and found that is was actually incredibly hard to actually eat Halal. He'd expected that, since Seoul was one of the worlds largest cities, that it wouldn't be as hard as it was to find places that had Halal blessed meat. South Korea only has around 35,000 Islamic people, and with a minority population like that, there wasn't such a large demand for the stuff. So, Roshan ended up heading out every Saturday, to track down the nearest shop that actually had Halal meat – and it was quite the trek. It was worth it, though – when he was busy, he ended up going vegetarian because he couldn't get down to the store – he liked his meat, thank you very much, and it was a pain in the neck to go without it. He did not envy vegetarians – how they managed to keep their iron levels up, he had no idea.

                      He was a regular at that particular shop, so despite the rather long commute to get there (he was convinced that there had to be a shop closer, but he had yet to find it), it didn't take him long to actually get what he needed and head back towards the apartment buildings. Due to traffic and distance, he always ended up getting up rather early every Saturday morning, before most other people in the building. He always managed to make it back before ten, though – he'd gotten this food-hunting thing down to an art form. He had to, considering how hectic things got during midterms. He hated those things with an undying passion – he was a good student, but he was by no means one of those students who could just float through their classes, so his schedule got pretty tight, hectic, and stressful during that time period. Thankfully, midterms were over, and things had calmed down a lot – for now. It was only a matter of time before tests began to pile up again and things got stressful again. But, that was university for you: it wasn't intended to be a cake walk.

                      Upon arriving back at the apartment, Roshan loaded the food into the freezer. Considering that it was two young men sharing a living space, the place was pretty clean – or, at least his mother said. She'd been at loathe to see what the place would look like when she came to visit the first time, armed with a bucket full of cleaning supplies. Roshan had grown up in a very clean household, and he liked things to be clean. He didn't know how much time his room mate spent cleaning up, but he didn't really care – it gave him something to do, at any rate.

                      Once he was done putting away the groceries, he headed back to his room. Like the rest of the apartment, it was fairly neat. It was neater now than it had been during the midterms – he'd had stacks of papers, research and text books on any surface he could find, with brightly coloured sticky notes stuck all over the walls, door, and windows. He always got like that during exams and tests – even back in high school, when the course work was easier and less stressful, or so he had found. His room mate knew it, Ellie knew it, his mother and step father knew it. The only one who didn't seem to get it was his little step brother, who thought it was funny when he pulled sticky notes off of the wall and stuck them in other places. His mother was still trying to teach the kid that moving Roshan's sticky notes wasn't very nice, but the kid still thought it was hilarious. As a rule, Roshan didn't let the kid into his room during exam season. It saved everyone a boat load of trouble.

                      As soon as he had sprawled out on the bed, intending to take a little bit of a nap before somebody decided to drag him out of the house, his cell phone started ringing from in his pocket, playing a familiar tune that his mother loved – something in Swedish that he'd set to alert him when his mother was calling him. He loved his mother greatly, but she wasn't blessed with very much in the realm of patience, and she got panicky if someone she cared about didn't answer the phone. His father hadn't answered his phone right before he'd died, so she became all sorts of crazy when he didn't pick up the phone. He'd had to be very clear when his exam times were, otherwise she'd end up pacing holes into his apartment floor again – they'd been through this enough times for him to know this too well.

                      He'd tried to teach her to chill out once by purposefully ignoring her call, but that had gone rather poorly and had only served to get him a verbal hiding from his mother – with forced, somewhat flimsy back up from his step father – so he decided not to go that route again, instead opting to pick the phone up. “Hey, mom,” he said before his mother could start into her usual spree of questions, ones that she asked every time and he gave the same answers to. “Yes, I survived my midterms. No, I have not burned the building down yet. No, I don't plan on burning the house down. And yes to everything else. Any questions?” He said this while grinning, and his mother knew his voice well – it didn't take a lot for the woman to tell that her son wasn't actually being a brat, and just teasing her over her little oddities and quirks.

                      There was a silence on the other end, aside from the loud whale-noises that his half brother was making in the background, and the hushed Korean as his step father attempted to coax the kid into being quiet. After a moment, though, his mother spoke, and he could tell from the tone of her voice, even after just the first word, that she was about to slam him with every ounce of sarcasm and sass that she could muster after a night of dealing with a squalling Jae Hwa. “Oh? An answer 'yes' to all of the questions I had?”

                      “...Yes?”                       Roshan said warily, sitting up on the bed, eyes narrowed slightly.

                      “So you finally have got me a possible daughter-in-law?”

                      “I could hang up on you, you know.”                       Roshan said flatly, seriously half tempted to do so. He loved his mother – he really did – but she was relentless.

                      “Okay, okay, I'll play nice.” She laughed, but then plowed on, “What about Ellie? She's nice. And pretty. And you get along well with her. And did I mention she's pretty?”

                      “Mom. Not cool. At all.”                       Roshan groaned, rolling off the bed and getting to his feet. “Did you call me for any particular reason other than to harass me about getting you grandchildren? You do realize I'm not that old, don't you?”

                      “Of course honey, of course.”                       Roshan's mother demurred, seeming as though she would let go of the topic for the time being. “I wanted to make sure that everything was going good? I know you get really stressed about exams and stuff like that.” Even if she was definitely what you could call crazy, there was no denying that she was a good mother.

                      Grinning, Roshan shook his head. “Yeah, everything is fine. I didn't fall apart entirely this time.” He said, poking his head out of his room, seeing if his room mate was present at this moment in time. Either he was hiding out somewhere, or he was out of the apartment. He should probably get going, too. As much as lounging about seemed like a good idea, he knew he'd get bored of it quickly. “And on your end?”

                      “Ah, you know. The normal stuff. Work is crazy, but I swear Jae Hwa is the hardest part of it. He cries ten times more than you did when you were his age.”                       Another pause, and then, “You know, if you brought home a girlfriend, I would have a built in babysitter. What about that Cho girl or whatever? Her or Ellie? I do quite like Ellie.”

                      “I love you, but I'm hanging up.” And he did, even though he heard his mother protesting as he did so. Again, he loved his mother, but she was insane. At least when it came to certain things. Other times, she was the most tolerable person he knew. Unfortunately, at the moment she was being intolerable. He'd call her up again later, when she was down from her desire of having a built-in babysitter.

                      Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he grabbed the keys he'd tossed on the side table when he'd came into the room, and headed out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.

                      He didn't have any particular plans for the time being – he knew that he had to head out to the park for one, but that wasn't for a couple of hours, so he was good for the time being. He believed in arriving on time, but not a couple hours early. Maybe fifteen minutes or so, or maybe a half hour, but not a couple of hours. Besides, he wanted to actually enjoy himself at the picnic, and didn't want to be itching for the chance to go home before the fun even began.

                      He supposed that he could probably text Ellie, see if she wanted to hang out. Since he couldn't seem to get a hold of his room mate, he couldn't think of a better plan at the moment, and Ellie was always fun to hang around with. He contemplated going over to Ellie's apartment to see if he could get get a hold of her that way, but he would really rather not brave apartment 204 – the last time he'd braved it, he'd ended up with Jin Ah slamming the door in his face (literally in his face, as in, his nose was quite sore after the fact) and leaving him waiting out in the hallway for an hour while he waited for Ellie to come home from her classes. Since he didn't want to deal with Satan in a skirt, he decided to send her a text as he headed out of the apartment.

                      To: Ellie
                      From: Roshan
                      MSG: Hey! Where are you? I'm thinking of heading out for a while – apparently my room mate ran away. Want to hang out for a bit before the picnic?


                      Hitting “send”, Roshan tucked the phone back away as he started down the street. The location of Royal Seoul was fairly convenient – at least, it was more convenient that where he used to live. It wasn't as though you had to walk six miles to get anywhere that you could spend any amount of time in without getting bored. There were things to do, when you had the free time. And right now, he had more free time than he knew what to do with.

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                      The streets of Portland, Oregon were buzzing with activity at this hour, and Cassia could feel the natural energy humans emitted wrapping itself around her as she made her way through the crowded inner city area. The former Moon Faerie Queen did not approve of this, having to walk among them like this, as though she was one of the many nine-to-five workers that surrounded her. Anyone who looked at her, they would think that she was one of them, but one of the lucky ones. She looked human, but she looked incredibly beautiful. In her time around Portland, out of the Seelie Court, many many had stopped and stared, amazed by her beauty and the way she carried herself.

                      She scowled at this thought, tugging her sweater closer around her as she crossed on a cross walk, smiling at the driver who had stopped for her. A dumb look crossed his face, as though he'd taken a sedative. In a few minutes or so, he'd likely have an accident. She wasn't foolish enough to think that it was simply because of her looks, which while exquisite, were not enough to make your average man act like that. It was partially her own personal charm, though that only applied when she spoke to someone. Normally, it was because of the natural power that faeries held over the human species, especially those who possessed little to no ability to resist their allure.

                      Her heels slicked against the pavement, her gait purposeful, quick. She needed to put an end to all this stupidity; she needed to regain her place on the throne, where she rightfully belonged. She had ruled the Moon Faeries for nearly a century, and they had no right to kick her out of her rightful place. She had earned it, and just because a few of those disgusting underlings of hers thought it was a good idea to try and perform a coup d'etat against her didn't mean that she was going to run away with her tail between her legs. This was far from over, this war that her people had waged on her.

                      While many people from the faerie realms thought that she was in hiding among the humans, hiding from those who might want her dead – the faeries from the Sun kingdom and those who opposed her within her own kingdom – but that was far from what she was doing. She was biding her time – only a true fool rushed into things like that without any thought. She needed to build any army of loyal followers to take back her throne; as much as she hated to admit it, this was not something that she could do on her own. She needed to find a way to get herself an army, though. Her best chance was, unfortunately, the humans. To deal with them, though, and control a large number of them, she'd need to find a connector, and make sure that connector was on her side...

                      In the mean while, she might as well have a little bit of fun.

                      One of the human species more useful inventions was the cell phone. In the Faerie realm, there wasn't a whole lot of use for them, but in this world? They were quite handy, especially when you wanted to make a certain someone's life as miserable as humanly possible. She had stumbled across a certain human with absolutely no resistance to faerie suggestion a few days after the uprising that removed her from power, when she was out killing some time and blowing off some steam. He wasn't the kind of person she had expected to have no resistance – he had a stubborn face, and he was altogether stubborn – but that didn't seem to help him with his resistance at all. He was powerless against her, and had no choice but to do whatever she said, what with his lack of ability to say no.

                      So far, she'd be quite kind. She'd only made him hold his hand over a candle for an extended period of time, step in front of traffic, retrieve something glass from the oven with no oven mitts and cut his hand with little pieces of the glass object that she afterwards made him stand bare-foot on top of. And that was all in one day. She'd given him a break after that – not to say that she hadn't spread the word around to her friends. She had never, ever, in her entire life come across a human that was so terribly sheep-like.

                      She had also forced him to give him her number, which she had also spread around, which she was putting to use right now. She knew that he would recognize her number, and that he wouldn't pick up, but she also knew that he would eventually listen to the message, whether purposefully or not. So, when the answering machine clicked on, she smiled to herself. It was only a matter of time. “Hello, Reese darling,” she trilled, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she continued on her way, passing by a group of men in their late twenties childishly playing hacky sack as though they were still young enough to do so without getting strange looks. “Now, I know what you are thinking; 'oh dear, it's Cassia! I'd better hand up before she makes me do something stupid!' Now, now, don't do that. I want you to listen to this entire message and do exactly what is demanded of you. I won't be asking much.”

                      Checking over her should briefly, a habit she had picked up since leaving the Seelie Court, she continued. “You see, I've gotten quite bored – your human pastimes are just so mundane! - so I have a teensy little favour to ask.” Examining the nails on her free hand, she took a quick corner, climbing up some concrete stairs that lead to who-knows-where. “I haven't seen a whole lot of blood lately. You know, not since I had you cut your hand open with that glass – but I'm rambling. I was wondering if you would like to go jump off a bridge? You know, I do enjoy a good bit of screaming, and I hear we have a couple of my flesh-eating sea-dwelling cousins living in the water around here somewhere, and I'd hate for them to go hungry.”

                      Stopping for a moment, she grinned. “So, here is what I want you to do: I want you to go find the first bridge you come across, and I want you to call me and tell me where you are, so I can watch. And then I want you to jump off the bridge, into the water, and forget how to swim. I would also greatly appreciate you deleting this message – I know you will; such a good boy.” And, with that, she hung up the phone, continuing on her merry way and awaiting the inevitable phone call.

Noble Warrior

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                      There had been a few different options for hospitals that Ewan could have taken Jenna to to get her treatment, but he was certainly happy that he had ultimately decided to go with this hospital. The staff was so friendly, and they all cared for Jenna and her well-being. Sometimes he thought that some of the younger nurses got a little too friendly - something that Bethany had picked up on all too quickly - but all in all it had been a good experience. As good an experience as you could expect while your only child was fighting off a terrible, deadly disease, at any rate. There was no way for this to be a great experience, but at least the staff had done what they could to make life easier for them. They’d made sure that he and Bethany had been educated on what was going on and had done their part to make sure that Jenna was as comfortable as she could be throughout treatment and throughout her tests. He couldn’t ask for much more. The only thing he felt justified in asking for was for his daughter to be healthy again. But there was nothing that wasn’t just about wanting a child to be healthy again, and to be able to live a normal, disease-free childhood where she didn’t have to be quite so careful all the time. Where she could actually be a kid, not a soldier fighting the worst enemy imaginable.

                      He watched as Jenna and Sophia interacted with each other, and saw the pout on Jenna’s face when Sophia got up to leave. “The nice nurse’ll be back in a few minutes, sweety.” He assure Jenna, patting her hand lightly. “She’s just going to check on a few things. So wipe that frown off of your face and tell me what you want to do once we go home?”

                      Jenna paused for a moment, then a wide grin spread across her face. “I want to see auntie.”

                      “Your auntie went back home.” Ewan said, patting his daughter on the hand, though he earnestly understood her want to see his sister - he wanted to see her, too. It was so much easier when she was around, and so much less lonely when Jenna fell asleep, and he didn’t feel quite as stressed out, knowing that there was a second set of eyes on Jenna in case something went wrong. It was almost like having Bethany back, except without the awkward romantics and the constant need for attention that he just hadn’t been able to give. “We can phone her when we get home, though. Would you like to talk to her? Yeah? Yeah, we can do that. And you can talk to her for as long as you want, okay?”

                      “For as long as I want?” Jenna asked.

                      “For as long as you want.”                       Ewan confirmed.

                      “A million years? A bazillion years?” Jenna prompted.

                      “Ah, well, maybe not that long.” Ewan laughed, tucking a strand of his precious girl’s hair behind her ear as the nurse walked back into the room, armed with puzzles - and Jenna tried to jump down from the table. “Nonono, Jenna!” Ewan cried, diving forward to catch his daughter before she hit the ground - his sister had jokingly called them his daddy-ninja reflexes, because she’d never seen him move that fast before Jenna was born - “We don’t jump off of tables. We climb down gently or ask for help.”

                      Jenna just giggled. “Sorry, Daddy,” she said before heading over to Sophie, climbed on her lap, and started opening one of the puzzles.

                      While Jenna and the nurse had been putting together the puzzle, Ewan had headed down the hall to get a coffee - he was drinking a lot of it these days… it was that or alcohol, so he figured he’d picked the better option - and phoned up Bethany. Or, more accurately, had tried to. Once again, he’d gotten her message machine. He cursed under his breath after he’d hung up on that phone call. He really could use Bethany being there for Jenna right now, and Jenna really could use it, too. Sure, he got that it was hard. He got that really, really well. But he couldn’t fathom how Bethany had justified leaving like that. Jenna was her daughter, too. She shouldn’t have just up and left like that, and stopped answering phone calls.

                      After that phone call attempt, he made one more to his sister, who at least had her husband pick up the phone to confirm that she’d be home for when Jenna wanted to talked - she’d just stepped out for a few minutes, but would be back by then, particularly since they were running a few tests on Jenna.

                      Once that was done, Ewan headed in just in time to see Jenna place the last piece of the Ariel puzzle back in the puzzle. “Ariel is your mommy’s favourite princess.” Ewan said, sitting down next to Jenna. “She dyed her hair red and made me dress up like Prince Eric at one of her college parties.”

                      Jenna’s eyes went wide. “Really?” Jenna asked. “Is that why you’re so good at princess tea parties?”

                      At that very moment, the doctor came in, saving Ewan from having to answer that question. He watched as they played their little game of hide in seek, though Jenna eventually “came out of hiding” and received the popsicle, waving it in her father’s face and batting her eyelashes until her father took it and opened it for her. “There you go, Jenna.” Ewan grinned as the little girl shoved the popsicle in her mouth, her face full of joy and happiness at the taste.

                      The doctor gave them the run down again, and like always Ewan felt a pit settle into his stomach. Luckily, Jenna didn’t seem nearly as bothered by all this talk as Ewan was. She was just so used to it now, and Ewan felt sad for that. But at least she wasn’t panicking or throwing a fit - that would be even worse on her system. When Sophia told him that everything was going to be fine, he returned the smile as best he could, but he knew it was a tired smile. A very, very tired smile.

                      He stayed with Jenna through all the tests, because despite her indifference to the terms, he could see in his little girl’s eyes that she was scared. She held onto his hand every chance she got and snuggled in for hugs whenever she could. And that was what she was doing when Sophia came in and asked Ewan if his wife could join them. He felt Jenna tense against his side, and Ewan ran his fingers through Jenna’s hair. “Beth... my wife left. A few weeks ago. I haven't been able to get a hold of her since.” Ewan said, not really sure what else to say, and no matter how much he wanted to deny it he didn’t want to say it. Particularly since he knew from the tone in Sophia’s voice that something was wrong. And his worries were confirmed when both he and his daughter were informed that Jenna, once again, was going to have to battle against this disease.

                      Jenna let out a soft whimper, and Ewan kissed her forehead, letting her wrap her small, frail arms around his neck, burrowing her face in his neck. He stroked her hair softly, and refused to let himself cry. Not in front of Jenna. “When does the doctor want her to start the treatment?” Ewan asked as soon as he trusted his voice enough, though his voice was shaky. “We’ll start whenever he’s ready, and whenever Jenna is ready.” Jenna nodded a little bit, hiccoughing into her father’s neck. He had a lot of other questions that he wanted to ask, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her in front of Jenna, particularly with the mix of emotions he was feeling. Helpless, emotional, angry, sad. But mostly angry. Jenna had done nothing to deserve this. Nothing. She was an innocent child, and the treatment clearly wasn’t working on her. Not yet. And from the sounds of things, the leukaemia had spread.

                      “I want mommy.” Jenna whimpered.

                      “I know, sweety.” He whispered. “I know.”

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                      The Yves family had always been involved in the dark arts, and had always viewed mudbloods – and half bloods – as lesser beings, because that exactly what they were. French terrors, the lot of them. Despite this, they had never delved deep into it, into the war, the killing of mudbloods, or anything of the sort. They just terrorized them, teased them, and outright called them out for what they were – filthy, disgusting wastes of space.

                      This, however, had ended when Voldemort had made his big move – there was no avoiding getting involved in the war now. If you were a powerful pureblood family with incredible genetics and an aptitude for dark magic, you were called upon. And, of course, you were either with the Dark Lord, or you were with him. While the Yves family had made it clear that they were not fans of mudbloods or blood traitors, they didn't think that the mass genocide that was promised was they way to go.

                      When the Dark Lord shows up on your doorstep, though, requesting – no, demanding – your loyalties, there was really nothing that you could do other than nod your head and agree. After all, it wasn't as though they were being forced to actually take part in the killings of the mudbloods. All that hey had to do was provide shelter when needed, and to come when called. And that was exactly what they had done.

                      The letter had came a few nights before, outlining a location and demanding their immediate departure. Mme. Yves was none to pleased, as among the demands was that they had to pull their son from Hogwarts – he would be more useful on the outside. “C'est ridicule.” Mme. Yves shook her head emphatically as the Yves family went trudging up to the front door of the place. It was a dark looking place, and looked pretty impenetrable, intimidating, and foreboding. Crows clung to the iron gates, jockeying with ravens for position.

                      “Chut, maman.” Odette whispered, holding onto her mother's arm, their pales hands intertwined with one anothers. She looked more drawn than usual, Odette, clearly worried and not wanting to take part in this any more than her mother.

                      Mr. Yves held out his arm for his wife to hold on to, and looked straight ahead, dedicated and determined. Of the family, he was most willing to go along with this. He hated mudbloods with an undying passion, especially since one such girl stole the heart on his oldest son, whisking him off to her world to create a disgusting halfblood child with. Needless to say, he had been all but cut out of the family.

                      Dark blue eyes cast towards the raven's perch, Dmitri watched as the black bird hopped from peg to peg, singing it's mourning song. There was something in the air here, something that Dmitri didn't like. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and he could feel goosebumps rising up on his arms. He could tell, somehow, that many mudbloods had been murdered in this place.

                      Despite himself – being well-known at Hogwarts as a “mudblood lady-killer”, one who would pretend to love a so-called “pretty” little mudblood girl, only to rip their fantasies away and trod all over their hearts – he almost felt pity. Mudbloods were disgusting, but he would never say that he thought that they deserved to be exterminated. Just kept away from the prime breeding stock. And his brother. Particularly his brother.

                      He felt his other sister, Clara-Anne, slide her fingers through his, her hand cold and clammy. Dmitri looked over at his second oldest sister, looking oddly ruffled for a girl who prided herself on never having a hair out of place. Apparently, she didn't care enough about the Dark Lord to make herself presentable. Dmitri smiled at the thought – he couldn't say that he had cared much, either. Having been pulled out of Hogwarts during the middle of Quidditch practice. He was going to miss playing Keeper, one of the only things that had kept him sane in the school that he loved for no comprehensible reason.

                      As though she could read his mind, Clara-Anne leaned up and whispered through her brother's hair, “Ce sera fait rapidement.” Dmitri just smiled, squeezing his sister's hand as the family was escorted through the main doors by a Death Eater, all dressed in black.

                      They were lead through the heavy metal doors, which banged loudly behind them. Clara-Anne's grip tightened on his hand, and Dmitri just nodded at her as they followed the man in black down a long, dark corridor. The place was clearly a lot larger than it looked from the outside, with large wooden doors all along the hallway. Dmitri considered counting them, but they were swept along too quickly, and he didn't see the point. It wasn't as though counting had ever calmed his nerves before.

                      They came to a halt in front of a large door, and the man reached out and knocked loudly. To Dmitri, the knock was obnoxiously loud, echoing through the otherwise empty corridor. He glanced back at his family, though he could only see Clara-Anne's face. Everyone else, all he could read was the fact that their shoulders were tense, and they tensed as the door swung open, revealing a wide, well-furnished albeit dark room. Everything about the room was dark, all in shades of black, grey, and the odd spatter of dull green, mostly from the large snake coiled around the arms of a chair placed in the far corner of the room.

                      Dmitri sucked in his breath, and he could tell that the rest of his family did as well. Since the day that Voldemort had shown up on their doorstep, none of them had seen him, spoken to him, or, really, of him. Yet, there he was, sitting in his seat and smiling at them – or, as close to a smile as he could. Voldemort considered the Yves family close friends of his, confidants and allies in the battle against mudbloods and, most of all, Harry Potter.

                      Mr. Yves seemed pleased, though his wife looked as though he was going to point. Dmitri reached up his free hand and put it on his mother's shoulder. At one point Mme. Yves would have loved to aid in the murder of numerous mudbloods, but mothering had softened her greatly since her time at Hogwarts. Dmitri was sure that he wasn't the only one of the siblings that noticed this extreme difference between them, and glanced at Clara-Anne, who shook her head at him, jutting her chin towards Voldemort and then turned her face away from Dmitri.

                      Voldemort was emitting the same cold, hating aura that he had been the day that he showed up on the Yves doorstep. Somehow, in this setting, he seemed even darker, possibly because there was absolutely nothing homey about the place that they were in. Everything about this place was cold – the people, the room itself, and the snakes that kept curling and uncurling itself from the arms of the Dark Lord's chair, hissing quietly in the man's ear.

                      Despite being a Slytherin, Dmitri had never really cared for snakes. They had lifeless eyes, and the way that they could move so quickly, and the fact that they always seemed to be considered “evil”, something about all of it just made his skin crawl. He also knew that Odette was terribly afraid of snakes, and he could see her knuckles going white from clenching her fists together. He wouldn't be surprised if she had bit a hole in her tongue by now.

                      “Welcome, friends,” Voldemort said, rising slowly from his chair, spreading his arms and splaying his fingers, a grand greeting. “I am so glad that you were able to make it.” He said these words as though he were being friendly, talking to close companions. Mr. Yves stepped forwards and shook his hand, and Mme. Yves inclined her head, followed by Odette and Clara-Anne. Dmitri just watched, and couldn't help but feel greatly uncomfortable in this man's presence. This was wrong, it was all wrong. He had nothing against bothering mudbloods, but the mass extermination... that took serious coldness, on a psychotic level. While people at Hogwarts would no doubt assume that he possessed such a coldness, the thought of actually killing someone made him feel sick to his stomach.

                      His silence was not missed. As Voldemort fixed him with his cold gaze, Nagini, the snake, slithering off of the chair, sliding between the guest's feet. Intimidation. “Dmitri, it's been a while.”

                      Dmitri bit his cheek, noting that his family were all watching him, wary. “Yes,” Dmitri said, finally, accent heavy, swallowing the pronunciation. “It has.”

                      That seemed to please the Dark Lord, as he smiled quietly to himself, and Nagini slid away from Dmitri's ankles, though she did not return to her master just yet. Again, intimidation. Dmitri found it safe to assume that while Voldemort was certain of his parents support, the children still remained wild cards. “I thank you for arriving on such short notice,” Voldemort said, his eyes scanning across each member of the Yves' family's faces. “I shall be eternally grateful for your loyalty, and for your services.”

                      “Services, sir?” Mr. Yves asked, suddenly wary. As big as he spoke, he hadn't the guts to kill a mudblood. Or a blood traitor, period.

                      “Why, yes,” Voldemort said, again taking a step towards the family. “You certainly do not think I would have called you all here for no reason? Don't be foolish, Yves.” Dmitri closed his eyes, breathing quietly but quickly through his nose. This did not bode well.

                      “I fear that your home may be being watched by the Order, due to certain incidents involving your son, which is why I brought you all here...” he looked over at Dmitri, a smug yet somewhat proud look on his face. Dmitri, not enjoying this all that much, made as though the chandelier above them was highly fascinating, even if it was just like any other he had ever seen. “You should be proud of him, putting all of those filthy mudblood girls in their places. Just out of curiousity, though... did you ever suicide in driving any to suicide?”

                      Silent for a few moments, Dmitri swallowed, and then shook his head. “No. A few needed counselling, and one girl dropped from the school, but nothing so severe.” He'd never even thought about driving them to suicide – just getting under their skin and ripping their hearts out in the figurative sense.

                      “Pity,” Voldemort said, folding his hand in front of him, and then turning his attention back to the family in it's entirety. “Forgive me for falling off track, but your sons endeavour, even if unsuccessful, is something I greatly admire. It takes a great amount of self restraint to allow a mudblood so disgustingly close to you.” Waving his hand lightly, the Dark Lord continued. “I do, however, require your assistance, all of you.”

                      And he did. There was no lie in his words, as he quickly spelled out exactly what he required from each of them. Both of his sister's worked in the Ministry, needed as eyes and ears in a foreign tongue. His father, highly respected among politicians, and his mother, a pureblood from one strong, respected family married into another, who heard many things, to also keep her eyes and ears open.

                      “As for you, Dmitri,” Voldemort said, his voice shards of ice covered in honey, making Dmitri's skin itch. “I have a particularly important job for you.” Dmitri kept his face calm, not a flicker of fear in his eyes, not a twitch of a muscle in his cheek. The perfect poker face, masked emotions, though made incredibly difficult by the fact that Nagini was back to circling his feet.

                      “You see, as I am sure you have heard, mudbloods and blood traitors have been being filtered out of Hogwarts by certain persons, who until recently we could not name.” Dmitri nodded: everybody knew this, there was just no known way as to how to stop it. As far as he was aware, they hadn't the slightest idea as to who was behind the manoeuvres. He did, however, know that it had to be driving the Death Eater's clear up the wall. “We did catch one, though. Unfortunately, we have been unable to get anything out of her...”

                      Dmitri raised an eyebrow at the Dark Lord. “This, I take it, is where I come into the equation?”

                      “Perceptive,” Voldemort smiled thinly, pleased. “We have been unable to break her. I thought that, perhaps, a familiar face might loosen her secrets.”

                      “You want me to torture a girl I went to school with?” Dmitri concluded, the words thick and ugly in his mouth, though the Dark Lord didn't seem to notice.

                      “No, no,” Voldemort said, holding a thin, boney hand up, “I was thinking more so...”

                      “Persuasion.” Dmitri finished, eyes narrowed only a sliver.

                      Voldemort smiled again, this time showing his teeth. Nagini hissed, pleased. “Precisely.”

                      There was no getting out of this, so Dmitri and his family had no choice but to agree. The rest of his family was able to head home, but Dmitri was being sent off to wherever it was that they were keeping the prisoner. He hoped that he wouldn't recognize the girl as somebody that he knew well, or that he cared about to any extent. He doubted it – most of his friend were anti-mudblood – but still, he hoped, and may have even prayed a little bit as he made his way down the hallway to the stairs that descended to the “holding cell” of sorts.

                      There were a few Death Eaters at the door, obviously there as guards. They seemed quite dead set on keeping whoever it was inside in and everyone else out, judging by the fact that they snapped their wands out at him the second he stepped into view. “Nobody but miss Lestrange is allowed 'n here, boy,” one hissed, jabbing their wand at Dmitri's throat. “She's been waitin' quite a while.”

                      “I am sure that mesdemoiselles Lestrange would not mind if I saw the prisoner, considering that Voldemort himself sent me here to try to garner a bit of information from her.” Dmitri smiled coldly, pushing the wand from his neck with two fingers in a quick, easy motion. “Now step aside? Or shall I take this up with someone?”

                      The guards paused, glanced at one another warily, and then stepped away. “Miss Lestrange will have yer neck if you harm her, Yves. No amount of pureblood and status will save ya.”

                      Again, Dmitri smiled, this time more coldly than before, enough to shut the guards up entirely. “I'll take my chances.” He'd rather take his chances with Bellatrix Lestrange than with Voldemort himself. He'd do what he was sent to do, see if he could get some information out of the girl. If not, well, he'd have at least done his job. His job wasn't to get the information, per se, but to attempt to see if it could be extracted painlessly. Or, that was how he was choosing to take his orders.

                      He didn't know who he'd expected to see down there, but Erin Brooks was probably near the end of the list. So far back, in fact, that he couldn't help but laugh when he saw the girl. “Well, well, well, how the mighty have fallen.” He grinned, crossing his arms across his chest and shaking his dark hair from his eyes. “Of all of the people I thought that I would run into down here, your name never even began to cross my mind.” A surprise, to be sure. At least she wasn't anyone that he had any form of attachment to.

                      Leaning against one of the cold walls, Dmitri fixed the girl with his blue-eyed stare. He smiled slightly, though it was more a condescending smirk than anything else. It did make sense that she was here, though. She did seem the type, in hind sight. Still, had she not been there right in front of him, locked in this dungeon of sorts, he never would have believed it. He wouldn't have thought that she had the guts. Either way, he did have a job to do, all bias' aside.

                      Unfortunately for her, none of his bias' were for her.

                      “So,” Dmitri said, still leaning against the wall, looking down at the black-haired girl, who, in all honesty, was looking rather pathetic at his moment in time. “Mademoiselle Lestrange is on her way here, likely as we speak, so I honestly don't think that you have all that long to live comfortably...” he looked around the room for a moment, at it's dampness, coldness, and altogether terribleness, and amended, “...relatively comfortably. With that in mind, and the fact that if you were to help me, I could possibly help you – and, as you most likely kn ow, I can be quite persuasive – so that you won't end up six feet under by the end of the night. Six pieds sous terre.”

                      He had given her the option, the chance to possibly get out alive. All that she needed to do was tell him what he needed to know. And then they could both get out of this place. “All that you have to do is tell me who you have been helping escape – who has been helping you – and where they are staying. And then, and only then, you may have a chance to survive through the night.” And he wasn't lying. He could see no reason why any of the Death Eater's, especially Bellatrix Lestrange, known for her insanity and love of torture, would let this girl live through the night. It felt as though he was standing before someone on death row, and it was making him sick to his stomach.

                      ooc: translation:
                      "C'est ridicule" = "This is ridiculous/idiotic/stupid"
                      "Chut, maman" = "Hush, mother"
                      "Ce sera fait rapidement." = "This will be done/over soon/quickly"
                      "Six pieds sous terre" = six feet under the ground / dead
                      Also, I apologize that this is so ridiculously long... he's my oc baby
                      and he's very easy to write for... I promise I'll keep my posts shorter
                      as often as I can.

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                      Some days it had been hard to believe how long he'd been running on his own, and how he'd evaded being captured all that time. He'd been Almost nineteen when the attack had happened. They'd been living in the capitol of Estonia at the time, where it was easy to blend in and not get noticed. They'd been living there for a while, by their standards, and had thought that they had finally lost the Mogadorian's, and that they'd be good for a while, that they'd be able to rest up and recuperate without being chased around every corner.

                      Of course, they'd ended up being wrong.

                      The Mogadorians broke into their house around two in the morning, and they didn't even make a point of being sneaky about it. They broke the windows in and made enough noise that the neighbours had called the cops, as Jaime had later learned, but that didn't really matter at the time. Dennis had been up and moving very quickly – Jaime couldn't remember ever seeing him move that quickly before in his life. They did their best to fight them off, but in the end Dennis was stabbed through the chest, his head smashed into the ground, skull shattering open and spilling its contents across the floor. At that point, there wasn't a whole lot else that Jaime could do be run, and Hell did he ever run.

                      In all honesty, he wasn't even sure how he managed to get away, or how he'd managed to lose them. There were only so many alleys you could duck down and so many places to hide, and there was only so long that you could run before your legs turned to rubber and gave out on you. And he'd ran a lot farther than he'd ever ran at one time in his life, eventually tumbling into an abandoned house on the outskirts of the city before passing out for God only knew how long. And it had only been a small miracle that the Mogadorians hadn't found him during that particular black out.

                      After that incident, he'd spent another year running from the Morgadorians in Eastern Europe. No matter where he ran, they seemed to find him, and he really had wished that they hadn't managed to kill Dennis. He'd always been the one who had been good at setting up distractions, setting false trails and buying them time. He didn't have any of those skills, and didn't have any idea where to start, so he'd just ran blindly. But, then again, running blind was better than running nowhere, and better than getting caught and held until they could kill him. Not that there hadn't been a few close calls that had involved jumping off of a train car, out of a car door, or off of the edge of a boat into the freezing cold waters of a Russian lake.

                      A little under two years before, he'd gotten sick of running around Europe – it seemed like he'd ran out of places to run to – so he'd hopped on a boat to North America, not really paying attention to where his ticket was going to leave him in North America. He ended up disembarking in New Mexico, where he almost immediately had a run in with a duo of Mogadorians – just as his luck would have it. He'd hoped that he wouldn't have to run as much when he got to the States, but that didn't seem to be the case – he ended up hitchhiking across a couple of States, after a few years ending up eventually in Southern California, where he ran into another member of the Garde and his Cepan – number Seven, the one who the Mogadorian's would end up hunting after they'd killed him.

                      He wasn't sure why, but he hadn't actually expected to run into another member of the Garde, or another Cepan, in his travels. He'd expected that the likelihood of crossing paths with even one of the ten was unlikely, and as the first few were picked off that chance grew even less likely as the days passed by. But he had ran into one, and it had been a relief. Then again, he was pretty sure that anyone would be happy to see a friendly face after three years of running on your own.

                      Not long after he'd encountered those two, though, they were attacked by Mogadorians, and Seven's Cepan was quickly dispatched, and once again Jaime was on the run, but this time he had an ally – he wasn't running on his own, and he had someone to watch his back, and he'd watch his.

                      He'd wanted, initially, to use his general method of avoiding the Mogadorian's after an attack – run as far away from where the last attack was, and run fast. He'd long since grown numb to having no Cepan, though, and had almost forgotten how it felt when his Cepan had first died – and he'd been connected to his Cepan for a full three years less than Seven had, so he'd caved and not pushed to leave California. Not just yet, at any rate. He was, however, getting anxious – he didn't like staying in even remotely the same place where there had recently been a Mogadorian attack, but, again, he wasn't going to push it. He'd let the mourning process go on for a while, but if it took too long, well, he'd tell Seven to suck it up and that they had to get moving. Because, really, that was all that they could do. There was no point in sticking around if it was going to get them killed – their Cepan's would roll over in their graves if they did that.

                      After Seven's Cepan had been killed, they'd taken his truck and took off, not really having any particular direction as to where they were going or what their next plan of action was going to be. They took turns driving, and during the last switch to Seven's driving shift, Jaime had fallen asleep without even realizing it, jolting upright when Seven shook him awake a few hours after the switch, having pulled into a gas station to get something to eat and fill up the gas tank.

                      “Mmm? Stopping?” Jaime asked blearily, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. At the mention of food, Jaime nodded. “Right. Food. Good plan.” And it was, really. They couldn't go on forever without food or water, and they had to make sure that they were well kept as frequently as possible, in case of sudden Mogadorian attack. They both knew what happened when their kind were caught off guard by the Mogadorians, and they didn't want that to happen to them. They had to be in the best condition all the time, and that was difficult, given the fact that nobody was really ever in their best state when on a forced road trip that would go on for only God knew how long.

                      When Seven asked if he could take charge of filling the tank, Jaime nodded, climbing out of the car after Seven, walking around the side of the car and popping off the gas cover before setting the pump to use as Seven went inside to pick up food and drinks.

                      Seven was heading out of the gas station building by the time Jaime was done filling the tank. Screwing the lid back on, Jaime walked over to Seven as the other garde spoke, asking if he wanted to drive or if he wanted Seven to keep driving. “I can drive for now,” Jaime said, eyeing the bag of food and drinks that Seven had collected before slipping the other garde's wallet from his pocket. “You eat. I'll be back once I pay for the gas.”

                      Places like gas stations always made Jaime nervous. It might have something to do with the fact that he was in a gas station in New Mexico when he had been attacked the first time after arriving in America, but that wasn't the only thing he disliked about it. He disliked how quiet they got, and how they were public places but people didn't bother to warn you when they noticed that someone was stalking you. Not until you'd walked out of the gas station door and got jumped by the planet-destroying aliens that had chased you off of your home planet – the ones that wanted you dead.

                      Upon paying for the gas, Jaime headed back out to the car, sliding into the drivers seat and holding out his hand for the keys that Seven still had in his possession. “So,” he asked, eyeing the bag of food and pulling one of the water bottles from inside, “Where to now? Is there anywhere in particular that Geoffrey mentioned that might make a good place to move if you needed to move right away?” He'd exhausted all of the ideas that Dennis had given him a long time ago – and they wouldn't be much use in North America, any way. Most of the safe havens he'd known and already utilized were in Europe, sometimes Western Asia and North Africa, but there wasn't really a point in going overseas again. Not when you had a vast country like America to vanish into.

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                      The alarm rang loudly, blaring some kind of modern, auto-tuned music that made Alex want to rip his hair out. Or, would have made him want to rip his hair out. He was far too groggy to rip his hair out at this point. He didn't go to bed late, he was just the kind of person who was always tired when they woke up in the morning, no matter how good a sleep he'd had or how long he'd actually slept.

                      Pulling a hand through his dark hair, Alex looked up at the alarm, it's neon green numbers staring back at him, as though it was daring him to find a hammer to smash it with. “Bite me.” Alex grumbled, reaching over and slamming his hand down on the top of the alarm, and the infernal racket that had been emanating from the alarm clock ceased. Honestly, he didn't know how people lived off of that music. It was all computerized and nothing about it was even slightly authentic. Besides, after a while, all of the auto-tuned music started to sound the same.

                      In all honesty, Alex wasn't really all that happy about having to go to school that morning. He didn't really have a lot of people he could talk to at the school he went to. His family had immigrated to Canada a little over two years before, and he hadn't really made all that many friends in that time. And the friends he had made? They were mostly immigrants as well, or ESL students who had already been shipped back off to their home countries, and were therefore not exactly around any more. Or they had moved on to greener, Canadian pastures. As a result, there wasn't a whole lot of motivation to actually go to school. Aside from the fact that he actually wanted to graduate, at any rate.

                      After deciding that he had dawdled long enough, Alex tossed the sheets and quilt off, climbing out of bed and stretching out his stiff muscles. He could hear some movement downstairs in the kitchen, likely his ummi – his mother – making breakfast or something like that. Or cleaning. Or just being her overall OCD self. Alex smiled at the thought, and shook his head.

                      He loved his mother dearly, but she was one of those ladies who always looked like she had popped out of a fashion magazine. Clothes perfectly pressed, hair in perfect place. She was always dressed like a super model, and, in all honesty, she looked like a supermodel. His abbi – his father – always called her his “goddess of beauty”, because of how she looked. A Swedish beauty, with her long blonde hair and bright blue eyes and at six foot one. A stark contrast to his abbi's five foot six and a little more than slightly rotund physique. Finished off with not a single strand of hair on his head and an inability to colour coordinate. He had a good heart, though. He had to, to deal with his mother.

                      He had the common sense to shower the night before, so he was able to just toe around under his bed for a pair of jeans and grab a T-shirt from the stack on his dresser, pull it on, and pad down the stairs.

                      By the time he got down to the kitchen, his parents were already chattering away in Arabic, his mother obvious chastising her husband over some kind of mistake with the clean up the night before. “You left bits of burnt casserole on the casserole dish, Ahmed! It's disgusting!” She really believed it, too, judging by the look of utter repulsion on her face as his father fanned her with his hands, attempting to calm her down.

                      Goddess of beauty my a**. More like goddess of war.

                      “Anna, it's alright. I can fix it.” Alex's father assured her, plucking the casserole dish from his wife's death grip.

                      “No, you can't!” She snapped. “You'll leave little bits all over it again and I'll have to clean it again!” And she snatched it back again, attacking the offending bits with gusto,

                      Alex had to bite down a fit of laughter, shaking his head as he slunk quietly over to the kitchen table to watch the altercation. It might seem as though they fought a lot, but it was really just his mother's OCD clean freakishness clashing with his father's laid back, relaxed attitude. They really got along really, really well. They way they'd met had actually been quite interesting, or at least it had been the way his mother had told him when he'd asked. She always got all starry eyed at the memory, and would start babbling, and his father would have to come in and clarify what it was that she'd just said. Not only because she was rambling, but also because she'd start giggling to herself in Swedish.

                      His father told the story with a lot less giddiness, seeing as part of what made it interesting was actually kind of insulting to him. They had both agreed to go on a group date during one of his father's semesters at college in Stockholm. He had been the “bomb”, or the one that nobody wanted to go with. His mother had gotten stuck with the bomb, which turned out to be a good thing. At the end of the night, they were the only ones who'd enjoyed themselves enough to go out on a second date and eventually get married, which lead his mother to move back to Beirut, Lebanon once her husbands time in Stockholm was ended.

                      During the time when he'd been zoned out thinking about this, his parents had noticed his presence. His father just ran a hand over the top of his head (something he often did when he was relieved of his wife's henpecking) while Mrs. Khallil flounced over to her son, wrapping him in a big hug before dragging him off his stool to to fix his apparently atrocious hair.

                      Again. He loved his mother. Just not so much when she got obsessive about grooming.

                      Having drawn the line when his mother pulled out the hair spray (there was no way that he was going to let her assault his hair with that stuff – it smelled like baby vomit), he had managed to wrestle himself free from his mother's grip, claiming a stool at the island next to his father, who was happily munching away at the sausage and eggs that his wife had made. Seeing that she had lost the battle, Mrs. Khallil stuffed away her hair spray and brushes, coming back out to finish the meal with her two favourite men.

                      After the meal was over, Alex retreated back upstairs to finish getting ready for school. Once the whole family atmosphere faded away and he was left again with the fact that he had to go to school again, where he'd likely sit alone in all his classes and at lunch. Setting his jaw, Alex shook his head. He wasn't going to let that stop him. He had to make something out of this move. They'd come to Canada for a better life, and he wasn't about to just fade into the background here, too. He had the sneaking suspicion that that was something easier said than done, however. So far, he'd failed pretty miserably at being anything but an outcast. And he hadn't even done anything to do that. In the end, it came down to the colour of his skin, the accent he spoke in, and the fact that he wasn't exactly like everybody else or anything like they wanted him to be.

                      High school. Pretty damn close to Hell.

                      xxxxxxx● ● ● TIME SKIP ♚ ❜

                      The way to school was usually pretty well the same. He would try to get to the bus stop as close to the time the bus came as possible, but the bus always seemed to come late. He'd stand a little ways away from the rest of the group, hands in his pockets and pretending that the cracks on the pavement were the most interesting things in the world. He'd also pretend that he didn't notice when people looked over at him, or when they said something about him, and then laughed. They had done that more before, when he was new and when they didn't even really know anything about him. People would still look over, but they generally didn't say much. They saved that for when they were really, really bored. Or when they were just feeling bitchy.

                      Today was one of the days when things went pretty smoothly. The bus showed up within five minutes of him getting to the stop, a new record, and he was able to claim his seat directly behind the driver without any trouble. People chatted loudly on the bus, but Alex tuned them out. There wasn't a point in paying attention. Every single conversation being had had nothing to do with him. And if they did, he really didn't want to know. It was just a lot easier to continue on when you were able to play ignorant.

                      The school was just like every other public school in the area. A large, squat two-levelled building (in some classrooms, he could touch the ceiling, which didn't bode well when you were hovering somewhere around the five foot nine mark) with red brick that probably weren't even real. A decent expanse of field, and a track that circled the far section of the field. There was a paved parking lot of the teachers, and a gravel lot for the students, which was filled with cars ranging from expensive BMW's to beaters that looked like they wouldn't have been brand new in the fifties. Kids out back smoked joints, while others gathered in clusters to just block the way and talk, as though that made what they were saying that much more important. It was just annoying, and it would only get worse when they moved inside and blocked off entire halls of the school.

                      Picking his way through the hall, Alex found his way to his locker, quite relieved to find that, for once, there wasn't some duo playing tonsil hockey against his locker. The only good thing about his locker was that the lock itself worked well, and he rarely had to fight with it. The downside was that his door had been kicked in, leaving a dent, from two years or so before he was given the locker. The hallway it was in smelled terrible, being quite near to the change rooms. The final downside was that the door stuck during the winter time, but he didn't really have to worry about that just yet, thankfully, as the door swung open without a hitch.

                      “Perfect.” Alex said to himself, sliding his bag off of his shoulder, hanging it on the one hook that actually seemed to do it's job without popping off every time he put something more than two pounds on it. Kneeling down to rifle through the binders and text books he had stacked at the bottom of his locker.

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                      While most people seemed to be inclined to drag themselves out of bed at ungodly, early hours of the day, Jin Ah had no such inclination. She had stayed up later than she should have the night before, texting her friends and listening and participating in the juiciest, most recent gossip, and she had literally no desire to get up out of her comfortable bed and do... well, anything. Remaining nice and curled up in her bed all day seemed like a good idea to her at the moment. After all, she'd already finished all of her midterms and had no pressing matters to attend to today, so it wasn't as though she had to do anything. And when it came to Jin Ah, she rarely, if ever, did something that she didn't need to do. Not unless is had something to do with boys – and even then, that was hardly a commitment; that was simply her attempting to kill time and potentially get under the boy in question's girlfriend's skin.

                      Jin Ah was a shallow, spoiled, self-absorbed princess, for lack of any better term. There was no denying it, to such an extent that not even Jin Ah would deny it. Then again, if there was one thing that anyone could say about Jin Ah, it was the fact that she wasn't one to be swayed by people's opinions of her – she acted how she wanted, did what she wanted, and held herself higher than anyone else on the face of the planet no matter what people said to her. And, really, a lot of people said plenty to her. That seemed to be part of the deal when you had the kind of personality and superiority complex that Jin Ah had long since come to possess. She didn't care, though, at least not outwardly. People could say all the things about her that they wanted – no matter how many people tried to get her to change, it just wasn't going to happen. She liked how she was – beautiful, powerful, and the type of girl that so many less fortunate girls wanted to be. And just because a few pug-faced uglies were jealous and tried to tear her down a few pegs wasn't going to change that.

                      As much as she was at loathe to climb out of bed that morning, particularly at any time before noon, she did remember that there was that silly little picnic later that day that, yes, she did intend to deal with. It wasn't pressing, and she could easily skip it, but at the same time she couldn't very well waste an opportunity to flaunt her obvious superiority, now could she? Plus, she'd heard that there was a group of people who were going clubbing, and she never passed up a chance to go clubbing. More than she was lazy, she loved to party. She needed to figure out which clubs to hit up tonight, and see if she could go clubbing with someone else, perhaps. And the best place to figure that out? Well, that would definitely be the picnic.

                      Grudgingly, and regretting her decision to stay up so late the night before, Jin Ah tossed back the blankets and sheets, slowly rolling out of bed before staggering out to the bathroom, beginning her usual morning routine of taking way too long in the shower and spending way too much time on her hair, make-up, and clothing choice. The boys she had dated in the past seemed to think that it was worth the wait, even if they all ended up getting dumped fairly quickly – unfortunately, they didn't seem too fond of the fact that she wasn't too terribly keen on the idea of monogamy. At least, not unless you were super interesting, but most guys were the same. Boring. Same thing. Over and over again, resulting in her hunting them down and reeling them in just for the sport of it, but with no intention of keeping them around for any lengthy period of time.

                      Unfortunately, though, it was just the boyfriends and male companions who thought it was worth the time – she was pretty confident that she had successfully ticked off her room mate with her long morning rituals, though. They'd been stuck together because their parents worked together, and that was about as far as that relationship went. Jin Ah thought that Ellie was a homely little thing and wasn't worth Jin Ah's precious time. She'd done everything that she could think of to try and drive her room mate off (like Hell she was gonna try and find her own place; she liked it here and would much rather chase Ellie off), but nothing had worked thus far. She'd purposefully sabotaged things, switched off the breaker when she needed the light for sure, turned off the hot water when it was convenient for her and inconvenient for Ellie, and had even done some physical damage to her friend, Roshan. Nothing had worked thus far, though. Damn parental relationships. Damn them to Hell.

                      One incredibly long morning ritual later, and Jin Ah was ready to head out the door. The earlier desire to cling to her bed all day had washed away as quickly as yesterdays make up as the promises for the upcoming day became clearer and clearer. That was how she was – totally unmotivated by most things, but certain things could get her up and moving like nothing else, and going clubbing was one of the things that lit a fire under her to get her to actually do something. People in authority positions had yet to figure out a way to use that to their advantage, since Jin Ah was fairly good at foiling any attempts of anything of the like – something that she was quite proud of. She didn't like it when people managed to get one over on her, but loved it when she was able to be the one who came out on top.

                      Having finished up all that she needed to do for the morning, Jin Ah decided that it was about time to head out. The picnic was something like a potluck, where everyone had to bring something to the picnic so that nobody ended up having to bring all of the food. Unfortunately, Jin Ah had about as much cooking talent as a thimble, so she knew ahead of time that she was going to need to buy something to take to the picnic. She'd placed an order at a local bakery the day before – one of the many texts and calls she'd send out that night – and needed to pick it up later. For now, though, she was craving something sweet – and something with caffeine. As such, 5cijung seemed like a good place to go. She loved her sweets, but she knew that she had to watch what she ate, and 5cijung had some stuff that fit the bill perfectly, and it wasn't terribly far away from Royal Seoul, nor was it far from the bakery she'd placed the order at.

                      On her way towards 5cijung, she passed both Roshan, Ellie's friend (whose nose she was pretty sure she'd broken at one point, courtesy of Royal Seoul's rather solid doors), and Mimi, Cho's sister. She didn't much care for Mimi – she was a quiet, mousey little thing with all of the personality of a toothpick and, as far as she could tell, the intellectual capacity of a teaspoon. Neither of these people really interested her, though, so she continued on her way to 5cijung, where she claimed a seat and ordered a coffee and a low-calorie treat.

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                      It was amazing how easily lies flew out that that girl's mouth. While Alex found it amusing that lying seemed to come so naturally to a girl like here, even though the truth really wouldn't cause all that much harm, he also found it quite obnoxious. Oh, well. So long as that poor Sara girl didn't get in trouble for this girl blaming her lateness of her, he supposed that there was no harm done. Still, he couldn't help but roll his eyes at her. Behind her back, of course, seeing as she was already a little too preoccupied with her group of friends to notice the goings on of anybody else in the class. Self absorbed, that one was. Shaking his head, Alex turned his attention back to his notes, waiting patiently for the teacher to start the lesson for the day.

                      It took quite a while for the teacher to actually start talking, having stood in front of the class to write something on the board for a good ten minutes. Had he known that they would have that much time in the morning, he would have just spent his time working on his homework then instead. He wouldn't have felt as rushed. Running a hand through his hair, Alex shook his head. They were a lot less strict at this school than the schools that he was used to, the schools back in Lebanon, and didn't really get to the point all that quickly, either. They beat around the bush a fair bit here. And while it was nice to not be stressed out of your tree all the time, sometimes he wondered how anybody got a decent education in this manner.

                      Once the teacher finally started talking, explaining the project, Alex felt dismayed that he had to partner with somebody for this particular project. Looking around the class, he cursed all teachers and all partner projects. At least in his other classes, there was at least one or two people who actually knew his name while simultaneously not pretending to not know that he even existed. In this class, while there were a few students who knew his name, they were all clumped together, chattering amongst themselves in little groups. Groups that had made it perfectly clear with their words and body language that he wasn't welcome. Suppressing a groan, Alex turned his attention back to the front of the class, resting his chin on his wrist as he waited for the partner assignments. This was going to be a gong show, and not in a good way. Like a bazaar under nuclear fire.

                      The topic itself didn't even seem all that interesting. Actually, it wasn't really interesting at all. It was just a standard, boring topic. Like anybody really wanted to share what made their high school careers memorable – most of the time the things you remember the most about things are the bad things, and that was definitely the case with Alex. Like, for example, his greeting on the very first day of school here: being tossed in the dumpster by a group of goons, when one goon sitting on the top of the dumpster so that every time you tried to push the lid open to crawl out, your feet just sank deeper down into the garbage. And his mother wondered why he didn't bother wearing any of his good clothes to school for the first little while? They'd just get ruined.

                      It didn't take long to clue in to the fact that the teacher was pairing them up alphabetically. That didn't bode well for Alex, seeing as the two people on either side of his name when it came to roll call weren't exactly his biggest fans – one of which being little miss “I'm late but it's totally not my fault”, the one who had tripped over his feet earlier that day. Or, correction – the one who he had tripped in the hallway, just by being there, and seeing as it couldn't possibly be little miss perfects fault, it fell to him. Silently, he crossed his fingers in hopes that he'd be paired up with the other person – someone who always turned their nose up at him, but at least she had yet to be explicitly obnoxious to him. Yet. As fate would have it though, crossing his fingers only made it worse. He ended up stuck with Rose Kelly, the blonde with the bad attitude.

                      Setting his jaw, Alex shook his head, watching as other people seemed relatively pleased about their partnerships. While he wasn't happy about being partnered with Rose, he was pretty sure she was going to be just as unhappy with the pairing. They came from two totally different social groups, so this was going to be difficult to do the project together. She was the popular busy bee, he just faded back into the background and pretended to not exist. How was that supposed to mesh together? He had absolutely no idea as to what was going to happen, or how this was going to work. All he knew was that it wasn't going to be easy. And it wasn't going to be any fun, either. Also, what the Hell was a bristle board? He'd never even heard of that before.

                      As he was taking down the notes from the board, Rose waked up to him, her believed superiority almost as overwhelming as the smell of perfume from the two girls who sat behind him in his physics class. Putting his pen down for a moment, Alex folded his hands and looked up at the girl with a raised eyebrow, making it perfectly clear that he didn't care that she thought herself superior – he just found her annoying. He almost wished that he had something to do after school, just to challenge her, but he didn't, so he just let it slide. No point in dragging up a tizzy if there wasn't anything to gain from it. He was reluctant to hang around until after cheer practice, seeing as a lot of the people who were the most vocally rude to him liked to hang around and watch, too. So, he'd just have to sit around and wait, he guessed. And then wait around outside the gym for a while when cheer practice was due to be over. He'd have to ask somebody when that was, though. Great. Just what he wanted to be doing after school.

                      xxxxxxx● ● ● TIME SKIP ♚ ❜

                      The rest of the day usually would drag on and on, but since he was actually loathing the end of the day, it came up incredibly fast. No delays, no nothing. Alex glared at the clock when the bell rang, and while others sprinted out of the classroom, he took his time getting his stuff together, no knowing what he was supposed to do for the period of time between the end of class and cheer practice. He didn't want to go and watch – he found the sport rather boring, and found he got dizzy from watching them do too many spins in this way and that. He'd end up falling asleep and getting chewed out for that, so he figured that it would be best to just kill a little bit of time at the library, moving down to the gym area only a few minutes before the practice was over. He'd asked one of the very few nice girls on the cheer squad when it ended – her name was Liliana, or something, and, like him, spoke with an accent, even if hers was Hispanic – so he had pretty reliable information on where to go and how to stay out of the way. And below radar.

                      Bag slung over his shoulder, Alex leaned against the wall of the gym hallway, a fair bit away from the clusters of jocks and cheerleaders who had already gotten changed and what not. It was loud, and it was crowded. Everybody seemed to fit in there, like they belonged that, and that made Alex feel like he stood out even more than he actually did. His mother had always told him that he wouldn't stand out too much in a crowd like that – after all, she'd been a cheerleader when she had gone to high school in Sweden, so that clearly had to pass on to her son. Sadly, he had taken after his father in the way that he interacted with cheerleaders and jocks – he kept his head down and hoped that nobody would try to drop kick him halfway down the field just for laughs.

                      Shifting his weight, Alex kept his eyes peeled for Rose. He couldn't believe that he was saying this, but he hoped that she'd hurry up and find him, even if only so that he could get away from the gym and the rest of these people. Besides, the sooner the project was done, the better. Once it was done, he wouldn't have to deal with this kind of thing any more. He could just go back to blending into the background, and not have to hang out in places like this any more. Next time, he was going to make her meet up with him somewhere that he was more comfortable in – the ESL room, or something. If there was a next time, that is.

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                      Fleeing Oz wasn't as easy as one would think, especially when you had the strong desire to get back at the Wizard, and when your best friend thought you were dead and you dearly, dearly wanted to let them know you were alive. Also, when it is raining, thundering, and flashing lightening like it was at this moment, it wasn't exactly the easiest or smartest thing to do when you were travelling with a scarecrow. Once false move, and Fiyero would be lit up like the fourth of July, and that was not exactly something that Elphaba wanted to happen, and she was quite confident that Fiyero would much rather not be lit on fire.

                      Of course, of all the things that she could have turned him into on accident, it had to be a scarecrow, didn't it? While Boq's joints were prone to getting stiff with rust, at least oil could fix that. If Fiyero was lit on fire, well, there wasn't a whole lot that they could do about it other than attempt to stomp the flames out.

                      Thankfully, they had managed to find shelter. While it wasn't the most comfortable place, it was away from prying eyes, and that made things a lot easier. Had they been within the view of others, Elphaba might be a little more hesitant and restrained with her magic, not wanting to bring down the guards of Oz on them. Even if everyone thought that she was dead, she couldn't afford to have people nosing around because they were curious about the flashing lights of the spells that she was casting in an effort to revert Fiyero back to normal.

                      “No matter how handsome you still are as a scarecrow,” Elphaba said, racking her mind for any and all spells that she knew that could help here – she was regretting handing the Grimmerie over to Glinda at this moment in time - “I don't think you'd appreciate my methods of putting out fires.” In short, stomping on the fire or tossing water at it. No, she wasn't a huge fan of water, but it clearly didn't actually make her melt like people seemed to believe. How that had even come about in the first place was still well and beyond her.

                      After a few more moments of pacing the floor industriously, Elphaba spun towards Fiyero, hands out and ready to cast the spell. She wasn't going to make any promises yet – she hadn't intended to turn Fiyero into a scarecrow, and she had never reversed any spells she'd cast before. Besides, she had been rather hysterical when she had cast the spell in the first place, so she didn't remember what spell she used, what words she had spoken, or anything of that sort that could potentially help her out here. That wasn't about to stop her, though. She'd fix this mess she made it it took her a lifetime.

                      She cast the spell, and waited for the smoke to clear – how the smoke had gotten there, she hadn't a clue – and then peered over at Fiyero. On the bright side, he was no longer a scarecrow. The down side, however, was that he wasn't a human. He actually looked quite like a crock pot at this particular moment in time. “...... I think we went backwards here.... let's try to make you a living, breathing Fiyero again.”

                      So, she tried again, but she didn't seem capable of getting it quite right. First the crock pot, then the fire-breathing cockroach, and then a hairless cat. The Grimmerie would really come in handy right about now. Pulling her hands irritably through her hair, Elphaba scowled down at the cat, Fiyero, though not so much at him as much as his state of being.

                      “When I said 'let his bones never break' this is not what I had in mind! Couldn't I have just made you immortal and be done with it? No, no. I had to turn you into a bloody scarecrow and I can't even turn you back and reverse my own spell!” Tossing her hands up in the air, she was about to call it a night and attempt to find some milk or something for her lover-turned-scarecrow-now-turned-hairless-feline, when the magic finally kicked in in a manner that they both approved of. With a puff of dark, thick smoke, the hairless cat was nowhere to be found, Fiyero instead standing in the cat's place, looking incredibly human and wonderful.

                      Unbelieving, Elphaba just blinked at him. Still not believing her eyes, she marched up to Fiyero, reaching to touch his face. Soft skin, not the rough fabric of the scarecrow's “skin”. “I think it worked.” Elphaba grinned quietly, substantially calmer than she had been even moments before. “You look like Fiyero the prince again.” Instead of Fiyero the scarecrow.

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                      “And how exactly do you feel about the fact that your many attempts to gain notice from Gossip Girl, or anyone, really, have, well, gone flat like a poorly mixed cake?” The blank look on the girl across from her's face was not exactly the reaction that Claire had wanted, prompting a frown from the fiery-haired canuck. She had been hoping for some elaborate, bright and amazing response, something worth writing down, something that people would eat up. Maybe a few tears, maybe some long, tragic monologue about how it was ruining her life... but what did she get? A look that did not belong on the face of a bright, pretty-faced socialite with more money than anyone could care to count, but belonged on the face of some numb-skulled crack head who had just been hit in the face with a baseball bat. Minus the blood, of course. Mores the pity – that would have made this so much more exciting.

                      Pulling a hand through her hair, Claire tapped her pen on the pad of paper she had balanced on her lap, fixing her brown eyes on the girl before her. She was the kind of girl you expected to get noticed – the face and figure of a model, perfectly behaved hair, spotless skin and perfectly manicured nails. Yet, this girl – Molly, she thought her name was – had somehow managed to go completely unnoticed by Gossip Girl, even though she made sure that she did the most outlandish things to get noticed by her, or by anyone. Lavish drug parties, raves, indiscriminate sex, you name it. This Molly girl had tried it on for size and tossed it away when it didn't fit her fine-boned figure. In all honesty, Claire didn't know what this girl had done “wrong”, as to avoid notice from those who could give her a name. Sure the girl was well known among the OCD community, but mainly to those of New Money status or below – she was too brash and low-brow for the royalty and pure-bred old money to take notice of. But to not be noticed, period, despite all these antics by a higher power? It was a slap in the face and a disgrace to those who craved the attention of Gossip Girl, something that Claire was well versed in.

                      With a flourish of her wrist, Claire wrote down a not-so flattering commentary about the expression on the girl's face before leaning forward, eyes serious, and speaking again. “Allow me to ask you this, then. Just how far would you go to gain the attention of the higher class? And what is your goal?”

                      “I don't even recall letting you into my house.” Molly said stiffly, having finally snapped out of her stunned deer-in-headlights mode.

                      “Ah, good. She speaks,” Claire said cheerily, jotting that down before plowing on. “You did not, I admit, let me into your house. I bribed the boy who walks your dogs to let me in after him. Amazing, how much money your family has yet it isn't hard to top what you pay. Having monetary issues, are you? We can speak about that, if you wish, instead of your various social offences. I mean, I am quite certain that almost anyone would much rather talk about some slight money troubles, a trifle really, instead of that night down town in that skivvy hotel. Oh, we all know what went down there. And what about that other night with that Stevies boy, and the heroin? Quite the story right there, I would say. Would you mind -” She never got to finish her sentence, as before she even knew what was happening one of the house staff had hoisted her by the back of the shirt and flung her out the front door, swearing in a colourful accent and declaring that if she ever returned to the premises, she would meet her untimely end by vacuum cleaner. She wasn't exactly sure what that entailed, but she could definitely deduce that some people had absolutely no manners. What a way to treat a lady! “Some people have some nerve,” Claire huffed, pushing herself to her feet and dusting off her brightly-coloured jeans.

                      Despite the fact that she hadn't gotten a whole lot off of Molly, she had gathered a fair bit of information about various events off of other students, though none of it was exactly what she was looking for. She was looking for something that would hold peoples attention, that people would actually want to read. Not a lot of people liked to read newspapers, preferring places like Twitter and Tumblr, and while Claire liked those places as much as the next person to get her news, there was something charming about a newspaper, and she intended to bring it back, and to prevent it from going extinct. Of course, that would be difficult, but Claire was a persistent, pushy person – she wasn't an easy person to knock down or push aside. Annoyingly so, in some cases. But, like her idol, she wasn't one to care about what people thought of her, or what people said. She'd keep plowing on, digging to the bottom of things, nosing into people's business, and getting the nitty-gritty dirty details. After all, nobody wanted to read something that would bore them to tears. Entertainment. That was the magic word.

                      Now that she was done with her stint at Molly's, it was time to head off to find some other story, or find someone to hang out with. Preferably the first, but she could always use some company, maybe find someone else who would help out with tracking down a good story. For now, though, she needed to get out of this residential area and into an area that was more densely populated by easily accessible people. Homes were all fine and dandy, but coffee shops, clothing stores, and other such places were better – nobody would be able to kick you out for just walking in, and nobody could deny you entry. Well, there were a few places that didn't much care for letting Claire into their establishments, for obvious reasons, but they were few and far between. While she was rowdy and disruptive, she was also a good customer... after all, she often ended up buying stuff from stores that she raised a stink in. Not because she felt bad, but because she often needed a reason to stick around. Hopping into her car, Claire turned on the engine and started on her way towards the best place to get some dirt on the rich and locally famous – the mall.

                      A good half hour later, Claire pulled the car into the mall parking lot. Climbing out of her car, Claire glanced around the lot, seeing if she spotted anyone she recognized. There was nothing of interest that caught her attention right away, so, shrugging, she set off around the outside of the mall, bag slung neatly over her shoulder, pen tucked behind her ear and pad in hand. You could never be sure when a good story would pop up, she'd been told by a teacher back before her family had struck gold, and she lived by those rules. She was always ready to jot down notes, take down the story, and report it.

                      Upon coming around the side of the mall, Claire noticed Nadi coming up along the sidewalk, nose in her phone, no doubt hoping that somebody had gotten back to her to hang out, or something. And who was Claire to deprive her friend, possibly her best friend, of companionship? Besides, she didn't recognize any of the cars thus far, so she doubted that she'd run into anything interesting just yet. Changing her course, she plodded over to Nadi, hand raised in greeting. “Good morning, Nadi! Whatcha up to? Shopping trip?” She grinned, falling immediately into step with her dark haired friend.

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                      In the Karam household, there were usually two different wake-up calls. Either the alarm woke you up, or you were woken up, in alarm, when Mrs. Karam dropped something heavy or breakable, generally a pot or a plate that would make a satisfying noise, accidentally on the floor, followed by string of Swedish profanities that she still refused to explain to her children. Today, however, neither of these were the wake-up call that Kale got. Instead, in the midst of dreaming something incredibly random that he wouldn't remember when he woke up, as many dreams go, he woke up to something heavy landing on top of him. Correction, someone heavy with incredibly boney knees – Reem, his lovely sister who didn't appear to have grasped the concept that a closed door should remain a closed door, especially when someone is sleeping. “Kale, Kale! Wake up, sleepy head.” Reem grinned, her dark hair uncombed and wild as she bounced slightly on his chest, knees still digging in to him. “Time to get up!”

                      Alert after having the wind knocked out of his so suddenly, Kale glowered up at his sister, grabbing his pillow and covering his head with it. “Get off, Reem.” He lifted the pillow enough to check the time on his alarm clock, and groaned at the red numbers that were displayed. “Who died? Somebody had better have died for you to be waking me up this early on a Saturday – HEY!” Kale cried out when Reem snatched the pillow away, smacking him smartly with it before tossing it to the side and crossing her arms. The scowl on her face would have been priceless, had it not been directed at Kale. “What?” He asked again, propping himself up, knocking his sister off of his chest, causing her to roll off of him and claim a spot on the bed by his feet.

                      Settling herself on her spot, Reem focused her dark eyes on her brother, eyebrows fulled together in a scowl. “Really, Kale. You really are a terrible, terrible brother sometimes.” She looked serious, but her eyes were sparkling with amusement. Somehow, she always seemed to be in a good mood, and always seemed to be full of fun and joy. “You promised that if I got this job, you'd walk me to work at least once a week. We pinky swore!”

                      “Pinky swore?” Kale repeated, now sitting up completely as he rubbed a hand over his face. “How old are we, five?”

                      Reem crossed her arms again, this time frowning even with her eyes. If people thought that the Karam men were scary, they should steer clear entirely of the Karam women. Nobody could master the skunk eye half as well as Reem, who had learned it from her mother. There was a reason why Mr. Karam was wrapped entirely around his wife and daughter's fingers – they were intimidating and powerful women who knew exactly how to get their way. Terrifying. “You promised, and I intend to hold you to that promise. Now get some proper clothes on – I'm dragging you there whether you like it or not.” And with that, she was up and out the door, closing the door with a solid thud, and Kale knew that there was absolutely no getting out of it now.

                      “I don't even remember that promise,” Kale grumbled, tossing the blankets to the side as he rolled out of bed. Grabbing the first clothes that he could find from his closet, he tossed them on before heading out of the bedroom and pounding down the stairs to the kitchen, which was already filled with his two bustling parents. Mr. Karam was scampering around, trying to remember where he left his car keys, his wallet, and his tie, whereas Mrs. Karam was desperately attempting to not burn whatever it was that she was cooking. Kale glanced into the frying pan as he passed by, raising an eyebrow at the mess in the pan. “What's that supposed to be?” It was an honest enough question, but it earned him quite the look.

                      “This, Kaleb, is a potato pancake.” She said stiffly, poking it with the spatula. “What does it look like?”

                      Kale looked at his mother, then looked over at his father, who had stopped halfway to bringing his coffee to his mouth. His eyes were wide, and Kale knew full well that he was treading on dangerous ground. Again, the Karam women. A terrifying lot. Looking back at his mother, who was standing there expectantly, he grinned sheepishly. “Would I be asking if I had knew?” Stepping away, he quickly added, “Did I mention that they look delicious?”

                      “Ha! Shove it.”                       Mrs. Karam warned, though she was smiling as she brandished the spatula at her son. “They will taste delicious, and you won't get any. Your father will get to eat all of that deliciousness!”

                      The horrified look on Mr. Karam's face was priceless.

                      “Oh, mom!” Reem laughed as she came into the kitchen, her hair tamed and dressed in her work clothes. “Are you picking on dad again?”

                      “When is she not picking on me?” Mr. Karam asked, ducking away from his wife's scathing glare. “I mean of course not! When does she ever pick on me?” Kale stifled a snicker, unable to deny that he was amused by these goings on. If nothing else, his parents were a friendly, loving duo with a good shared sense of humour. As a result, these kinds of “altercations” weren't all that uncommon, and they rarely, if ever got heated. They were pretty well just an unscripted comedy routine between the two of them, like it was some kind of private joke that the couple had still failed to share with their children.

                      It didn't take long after Reem came in to the kitchen for everything to settle down, everyone claiming a seat at the table as they cautiously tried Mrs. Karam's newest cooking adventure. Reem always seemed to have that effect on people, the calming effect. Kale couldn't figure out what is was about her that seemed to calm people down so much, but the answer had thus far eluded him. It was probably just her personality, a trait she had clearly gotten more so from their father, who was always relaxed even when he should be stressed. Their mother, on the other hand, was constantly frazzled, even if you would never spot the woman with a hair out of place.

                      As soon as breakfast was done, Mrs. Karam went about cleaning up the kitchen, Mr. Karam went out the door to make his way to the little “Mom and Pop” styled bookstore that he ran across their area of town, while Kale perched on the back of the sofa as Reem scurried about to gather up her bag and whatever else she needed for work. “For someone who was so desperate to get me out of bed, you sure are taking your sweet time getting out the door.” Kale said, legs swinging over the edge of the sofa. He thought that he heard Reem mutter something that sounded something like a profanity, though he couldn't be sure. What he was sure of, though, was that being pelted in the side of the head with a throw pillow is often times enough to knock you clean off of the back of a sofa when you are precariously perched there, unprepared fir the assault.

                      “You don't get to complain,”                       Reem announced as she came up to Kale, who was pushing himself back up from his fall, scowling slightly. “You get to be a man and walk your beloved little sister to work, because you promised that you would and I'm going to hold you to it.”

                      “Might I remind you that I still don't remember ever even making this promise?”

                      “You don't really remember much of anything, Kale.” Reem said, waving the comment off as she grabbed her brother's hand and tugged him out the front door of their house. “You're just going to have to trust me!” Somehow, he had the feeling that he was being duped and that Reem was just being a pain in the a** again. He loved the girl dearly, but she still remained entirely too clingy. That, he reminded her on a fairly frequent basis, was the reason that she, a beautiful, exotic-looking girl, didn't have a boyfriend. She, of course, always retaliated by reminding him that he did not have a girlfriend, either, which he didn't even bother trying to touch with a ten foot pole.

                      They caught the bus at the corner of their street, and waited for a number of stops to pass and a good half hour to pass before Reem dragged him off the bus, leading him up the street towards wherever it was that she worked. “Where did you even get a job?” Kale asked, having to walk quite quickly to keep up with his sister's relentless pace. Short girl with fast little legs. Somehow, she's faster than almost anyone Kale has had the pleasure or displeasure of knowing.

                      “Clothing store.”

                      “Gee, don't be so specific. Leave a bit of mystery to me, Reem.”

                      “What's the fun in that, though?” Reem asked innocently.

                      “Sarcasm. It's a foreign language to you, isn't it?”

                      “Oh, totally.”

                      Finally, they came upon the clothing store, which Kale was surprised to see was a rather up-scale clothing store. No wonder Reem had to be all dressed up. “Good job!” Kale said, as they came to a halt outside the store front. “I never would have even tried to apply to a place like this.”

                      “That, my dear brother,” Reem said, punching Kale lightly on the shoulder. “Is why you are going to focus on school and work odd hours at Daddy's store, while I work my tail feathers off here and go to school at a normal school.”

                      “Because I don't drop applications off at high end stores?”

                      Throwing her hands up in the air, Reem shook her head. “You know exactly what I mean. Now, get going. I got what I wanted from you, now you go and have fun! I dragged you out of the house to get you out of the house, so don't go slinking back into the house! Hang out with Jaime or Nadi or something. No brother of mine is going to be a social leper!” Ah. And the truth comes out. Crafty little bugger. Kale waved his sister off with a smirk as she vanished into the store. The unfortunate thing was, though, that he knew that she'd give him Hell if he went directly home after this. So, now he had to figure out what he was going to do with the time he had to kill before he could go home without his sister giving him Hell later in the day.

                      He had to be honest, he hadn't really spent a whole lot of time in this area of town, and a lot of the places were unfamiliar to him. He figured that he killed a good twenty minutes just trying to get his bearings. In a way, that was a good thing – less time to kill on his own – but in another way, it was frustrating. You'd think that after living in this place for a couple of months, after moving after the incident with Reem, he'd be able to figure out where he was and what way to go to get to X destination. Clearly, though, his directional sense in this particular area was abysmal.
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