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[vegetable bake]

Well, I haven't fatally maimed Cascati yet, or dropped the bloom, or let Lemon eat it accidentally, or anything. I suppose that's score one for me.

I wonder what Casca is going to be like? I haven't seen many Feien - well, you know, comparatively, because even though Em's house is swimming with Feien I haven't had enough serendipity to see the outside ones much - and the ones I have seen are adorable and gorgeous and cute, but Fifth makes me go into an absolute panic.

(Not that Em's, um... boyfriend-thing sort of doesn't, but that's her choice and she's holding her own, and he seems nice enough to her, in a... way. Like Djerod would say, nobody would ever make her do anything she did not want to do.)

Corvus is... Corvus. He's beautiful and a bit horrible ever since he was Enhanced, but I'm getting used to it, though his old hair was just too sweet. I like Corvus. Grumpiness is a very easy thing to handle, when you get down to it, and Corvus is not so much the cantankerousness that requires old man liniment or something so much as... Corvusness. I haven't seen much of Simon, but he reminds me of someone, but I can't think of who. I've only seen a little bit of Julius from a distanct, who looks as though he ought to be the local Feien prophet. And then there's Fifth.

Oh, dear, I don't want to make it seem like I don't like Fifth, just... you know. Whatever Cascati comes out like, I'll adore him. Not that I won't adore Blinky still. I can't let Blinky get Middle Child syndrome. Could he get Middle Child syndrome? He's not even in the middle!

[pulp and marrow]

I can barely see to write. It must be four in the morning, barely enough light to spit by, and I'm doing this very very quietly because I think he's asleep and

It's a he! It's a he! I'm going to give Div sequins over EVERYTHING if she wants, and

oh

I'll start from the beginning. I can hardly say it all.

I couldn't sleep tonight, I don't know why - I tucked Casca up, just as usual, and I went down to the kitchen to get myself some warm milk and that turned into getting myself hot chocolate and hoping nobody too embarrassing saw me in my bunny slippers (Max laughs and that's cute but it gives me the heebie-jeebies if you're me because it's the same laugh but oh I'm deviating) and I got crackers and a whole dozen other things and by the time I'd come back I got the most awful shock.

The bloom had broken.

It had cracked right across the breadth, really big and gaping, and my heart just fell right into my bunny slippers. My door had been open and I think I started hysterically thinking it was Lemon, or Fifth, or if maybe Yanvir had come back, but why would a Feien crack another Feien bloom and so I really did think it was Lemon and I was just about ready to burst into tears when I came over to see. It looked awful, just like someone had punched it. I was fairly boohooing.

"Bonjour, my darling love."

I don't think I'll ever forget seeing him - him! - for the first time. (Oh, I'm so glad I didn't name him Cascata.) Or the voice. Or the anything, honestly. He was sitting on my copy of The Annotated Lolita, one leg over the other, looking at me pretty as you please; this little pale silvery Feien with an absolute riot of greyblue hair. I fell totally in love. I admit it. My little bondling, my fairy, my Cascati. He looked incredibly selfpossessed and probably had a lot dignity than I had, in my nightie, still trying to blink away tears.

And I admit it. I eeeeee!-d.

"Eeeeee - " - but then I remembered I'd wake up half the house and oh gosh I probably did anyway, I'll have to make them all bikkies in the morning. " - oh, oh Goddess, is it really you, are you - "

He just laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face, princess. It was very funny."

"I thought Lemon had got you," I babbled out in a rush. "Lemon or, or, but you're here and whole and beautiful and oh, wow, do you want anything - "

I'm sort of blushing now. I must have seemed like a complete idiot, and Cas - I think my Cas is the sort who was born old and together. He had his socks pulled up much more than mine - he introduced himself to me (he even complimented me on my choice of name! heart ) and we sat down on my bed after drying out his wings a bit near the bedside lamp and we had a Talk.

It's one of the weirdest things I've ever done. I don't know what I was expecting. Someone more needy, maybe. Not that he wasn't grateful or warm or sweet, because he was, he was lovely, but not my little wavy-haired Casca who likes adorably and pretentiously chucking in bits of romance languages into everything he says and who I half-expect to ask for a ciggie. He's very easygoing, very charming, especially for someone who was BORN a couple of hours ago.

He had his first meal, too; I gave him a little bit of my crackers and cheese and found one of Barbie's horrid pink cups and dipped it into my cooling cocoa. He ate everything very fastidiously, like a cat, and he asked me questions and let me touch him. His wings felt like lambskin, like very soft warm velvet-leather. He's perfect.

"Well," I remember him saying, "here I am. What a lark."

"I can't wait to introduce you to everyone. I can't wait to show you off to Em! And you'll meet Corvus, you'll, um, love Corvus - " I should probably tell him in the morning not to get up Corvy's nose, he'll understand. "And you'll adore Djerod. Nobody couldn't adore Djerod. Oh, this is so exciting!"

"Everything outside a shell is exciting, princess. I'm all a-flutter." He feigned fanning himself with one of his tiny hands. "I might swoon a bit."

"Oh, Casca, you're a silly darling."

"Since I'm a darling, I promise I won't be hurt by silly. You know how to break a man's heart, sweet Rose."

I remember having to ask him if he was joshing about three dozen times. He has that knack of saying horrid things in a very demure way so that you don't notice they're jokes.

Eventually I said he ought to go to bed, and he agreed, because he said he needed his beauty sleep; we got my chamomile gel eye mask (he is ice, by the way!) out the fridge and that's right close to the desk and he's sleeping on that.

Goodnight, Cas, I had said.

Buona notte, my honey, he had said back and there'd been no noise since then and this is like Christmas, not Halloween. I'll have to let Blinky look at him in the morning. I have to do oodles of things. Puchi'll want to know, too.

I don't know if we quite know what to make of each other yet. But he's perfect. I'm ecstatic.

[casca writes]

My, honeys, what an eventful day! Though I am sincerely apologetic for almost giving my sweet Rose a heart-attack, I had a delightful evening and met many friendly Feien, to whom I will describe at length as my lovely bondmate watches over my well-shaped shoulder. I am striving to get my copperplate just so, which lengthens time but improves visually, and



Thank Jesus and the little saints, she is gone to listen to the more maudlin stylings of Sting and has ripped up the pieces into manageable - but burnable - Feien-sized parchment. It's a hack job and so I feel no compunction to write prettily, either in content or in form, and since I like to think myself a clever Casca will feed them all to a candle afterwards.

I slipped away from my darling bondmate, who clings like a burr, when she went off to have tea with the Grey Mage; I have a feeling that the adolescent and high-pitched giggles that ensue whenever he is in the room will let me have a good escape-route, and they take tea lengthily and often. I would even say they were having at more than tea save for that Rose appears to be the dewiest virginal virgin in the land, chaste as a kitten, and not prone to doing anything half so visceral, but I will not get into such imprudent matters in here, dear quasi-Diary.

The Feien intrigue me. They also have an amazing ability to bore me, which was expected, but it was all interesting on a deep primal level so it will be worth the yawn. I have met five of them; Neruo and Irisa, (heat) (earth and cold) (did not know that was possible) - and I don't know half enough yet to comment, le sigh - only that both have a penchant for magic, something I find less than interesting since I have seen none yet. Both are friendly in that bread-and-butter way, Irisa slightly on her guard. He was folksy; she was sharp. Will learn more.

Div and Nero were the more interesting, they will be interesting, it will be of interest. Nero is the first adult I have seen (must ask what hair care products uses) and Div the first juvenile I would not like to see if I had a hangover. My sweet Rose took me to see them when I was in blossom; their voices sang something up in me, like brachiating, though considering my darling Div's voice that was not altogether pleasant. Nero is a self-deprecating cheerful doormat and Div power-hungry with delusions of both grandeur and royalty. In fact, she has quite a lot of delusions, enough for ten Feien - she has a tenuous grip on reality, poor little bambino, and would border on the insufferable if not for a furious temper and muscles like lemons. She is ungodly strong, and, best of all - swayed with a kiss. She is Queen of Hearts and easily led. Her game is very fun to play, and if it does not give me an aneurysm, it will be wise to choose her team. I can be charming. I am always charming. She is very funny, in her way.

Quantel is the last. She is smarter than she looks and looks more calculating than she would like, I think; her face is too beautiful, and she has the poker face of a goldfish bowl. (Transparent as hell with minimal blur, la!) It's clear as day who she will dignify and who she will not; she was nice as peach pie to Nero, but scoffed at Div (who looked ready to pull her hair out). Very chilly, very self-aware - she was testing me! Adorable! - and mentioned darkly more powerful Feien than herself (deliberate? Is she that weak, that she would openly measure herself to me? I am, after all, only a cute and enchanting juvie) who would not put up with Div's antics (they will ignore her as madwoman and when she is adult will either be killed or give everyone a shock; it is delicious to think about). She is very formal. She could be either extraordinarily cunning or minimally cunning, and both are dangerous, so you will not find Cascati shitting in her garden, so to speak.

It's very hilarious to see myself write like this. Don't overinflate your head, darling. Conspiracy theorists are deadly dull! Be light, be clever, things will go your way. Masturbate less to the sound of your own voice, love, if you can manage it.

My thoughts are in order. Now to find detestable flame.

C'est tout.

[casca writes]

The Pope will martyr me soon. They will canonize my gemstone. St. Cascati the Wittered to Death, they will say, and my precious princess will cry into her kitten-patterned hankie and give me a long eulogy and maybe a sendoff with some Celine Dion in it.

Well. I lie. It has not been that bad. It has just been boring to death - well, I lie there too, in some places it has been interesting; she has been researching with that damned book and I have been assisting her, as I am pretty and helpful, honeys, and I have been reading everything that she does not close on me and watching everything that she does not bar my eyes from. I think I am just about ready now. I know about the human world; I know how to make an old-style omelet from scratch; I am attempting to make a me-sized stack of cards; I know toss all about the Feien, and now I must learn.

I have also learnt that I enjoy the movie Maverick, but that is beside the point. (They do not make gambler hats that size for moi; so depressing.)

I think that it has been long enough. Come back, world, you pine without me, you and I need each other. What is a Feien without his Feien brethren? (Other than well-rested and free from total obnoxiousness, of course.) I have missed things, desperately.

There is not much else to report, my dear temporary Diary. Rose is exceedingly uncomely from her cold. The house is as noisy and fractious as ever and my sleep therefore often unsatisfying. I was introduced to the concept of frozen ice sweets and, I admit to my elemental everlasting shame, have fallen in love. I have been watching my soap operas but still know no word of Korean.

Life goes on.

C'est tout.

[beer, poker and cigarettes]

Silva stepped into the shop, his new staff in one hand, his chain hanging from his waist, a piece of paper rolled in the chain. He had a diagram to work on, after all. If he planned on forcing his "Aunt" to make him a training doll he would need to know where the weak spots should be marked at.

He crossed the floor and headed for the counter, planning on "Borrowing" some sort of writing device while he was at it. He still hadn't gotten his supplies.

The counter was already occupied, in one corner; a tousle-haired Feien was very carefully cutting something out, stiff paper, surrounded by dozens of equally small white rectangles; the nubs of old coloured pencils were around him as he frowned, using a small part of an old razor to very carefully pare it down to the desired shape. His grey wings were folded around his shoulders like a cloak; he didn't even look up as Silva approached, obviously totally engrossed.

For once in his life.

Ursa stretched in the corner, where she'd been taking a break before it was time to fly back home. Another day, still no sign of Yanvir. Maybe he was avoiding her. Maybe she was looking in the wrong places. No matter. It was good practice, flying all the way to the shop. Withstanding the wind and cold could only toughen her up, after all the inactivity of being dead.

She floated through the shop, and caught sight of a smaller figure on the way out. A much smaller figure, weightend down with a chain and a stick. His figure looked powerful, but he was so SMALL, to be armed to the teeth like that. Ursa resisted the urge to chuckle.

"You there, boy!" She greeted him, gruff, but not unfriendly. "I don't suppose you know Yanvir?"

She didn't really expect him to, but it couldn't hurt to ask.

Silva turned at the voice, blinking at the large female in the air. "Don't think I do..." He stopped, for the first time hesitating over the use of the word "Darlin." This feien didn't look like ANYONE'S darlin. But hell, Sunil hadn't been, either. So he smirked and finished the sentence. "Darlin."

"Yanvir..." He stopped, remembering what he had read when looking up Julius. "One of those ancients, right?"

"I don't know why you persist in looking for him, Mama Ursa," the occupied Feien remarked, calling out, one of his small rectangles shifting in the breeze created from both Ursa and Silva's movement. One of his long, slim hands reached out to snatch it up; like a favourite pet, he fussily put it back by his thigh.

"I hear Yanvir's terribly uncouth. I don't think he bathes, honey."

Ursa nodded.

"That he is, honey," Ursa crossed her arms, and looked the juvenile over. Paranoid kid. Maybe he was worried about meeting up with Corvus. Not that chains and sticks would not any good with that overgrown juvenile.

Unlike Silva, Ursa did not trip over the word 'honey'.

"As am I. Brought me back from the dead, he did. But for a necromancer no one knows a damn thing about him. Not even that Corvus."

Ursa shrugged. That was the story of her (brief) life.

She glanced over at the other juvenile boy. A choppy arm gesture was all he got in greeting.

"And if you were brought back from the dead, you'd look the one who did it too, kiddo. That's not the kind of thing you just medicate with a stiff drink," Ursa examined her claws. "Although I'm not sure what kind of Feien ressurects and runs either."

THe more she thought about it, the more it pissed her off. Bah.

Cascati looked up and looked winsome, grey eyes wide, razor stilling in his hand. There was something about Ursa which made him want to look winsome; possibly the fear of getting sat on and squashed to death, or some other end equally ignominious.

"I don't know, Mama. Maybe if it was a very stiff drink. I hear bourbon helps."

He nodded, taking in the idea of being ressurected for a second, then shrugging. "Hell, darlin, it's just like being summoned by a b*****d that can't stand feien in general. Pretty much par for the course." He took to the air, glancing over at the other feien briefly before turning to look at the ancient.

"That make you an ancient, too?"

Ursa snorted.

"Does it now?" she quirked an eyebrow. "I'll keep that in mind. Whiskey's not bad - I know THAT from experience."

Ursa laughed. It was short, and sharp, and booming.

"Although it set me singing, and believe you me, honey, that's not a place you want to go."

When the laughter faded, Ursa cracked her back. Coming in from the cold stiffened up her muscles.

"Damn straight it does, kiddo."

Her smile turned to slight consernation. "Are you talking about Corvus, then? I guess we are in the same lot. That boy's head is large enough to fill this shop."

She looked at Cascati. Then at Silva. Then back at Cascati. Raxors? Staffs? Chains? Check.

"Is that why you lot are all going around armed?" Now, it was time for Ursa's knuckles to be cracked. "I prefer the basics."

Cascati grinned, giving Silva the same slightly-wary onceover that the other juvenile had given him, and picked up another of the stiff white rectangles. "Bourbon's smoother than whiskey, Mama Ursa. You'll have to try it sometime. Of course, I can't sing either."

More little chips of white paper fell to his lap as the razor did its work. "You sound like you're stiff, Mama, is it from beating poor little Tango to pieces?"

"Chain's for hunting, staff's something I'm learning to teach a... friend," Silva said simply, figuring this wasn't worth being cryptic about. "I doubt Corvus would come here in the first place. Too... good... for the unlucky bastards he summons."

"Tango? She's too young to spar with," Ursa stretched again. "I've been plowing snow, toughening up. This old girl's gotta do something with her day. We all do. What have you got there, exactly?"

Smoother? Ursa wasn't sure if she liked the sound of that. Whiskey, yes. Beer, yes. But smooth? Smooth sounded like it was for people with liquid tongues and slim physiques, who did not know the pleasure of hitting something and feeling it crunch between their fists, or drinking until their head spun and they started singing about sunken ships and abandoned lovers. In other words, it sounded like it was for people like CASCATI. And while Ursa had no problem with the boy, she didn't hold with acting like that herself.

"I saw Corvus here," Ursa stated bluntly, turning to Silva. "For a summoner, the man didn't know a damn thing about what was going on in his shop. That or he wanted to play with me by withholding information. Either way, damn unimpressive."

Cascati gathered up a few of the rectangles in his hands; some of them already were marked, very carefully, in Casca's laboured-perfect hand. "Cards, Mama-honey. I like a flutter or two."

He set them down again, by his folded legs, and winked at her teasingly. "You know how to play poker, Mama, or for ladies like you do I have to keep it to Go Fish, vous comprenez?"

Silva twitched slightly, not liking the idea of running into Corvus, but not worried. "He's a d**k." He said simply, shrugging. But the comment about training had caught his attention. The ancient trained. Probably as much as he did.

"What kind of weights you use, Darlin?"

This was... exhilirating. Shalafi had long ago memorized the way to the shop and could fly it in his sleep. Now, he was enjoying the snow, the way the cold air slid over his skin and ruffled his feathers... and the fact that he wasn't stuck out in the sweltering heat anymore, like he had been when he got lost in the summertime. Large wings spread fully as he swooped past the window of the shopt, appearing almost like a snowball that someone had thrown. By the time he landed at the doorway, he was loathe to leave the frigid weather. However, he'd told Yeande he was coming to the shop and if he didn't at least make a token appearance, he'd be a liar.

He squirmed in through the mail slot, falling free for a moment before his wings caught himself and let him land gently on the welcome mat.

"Fer a lady like me? You gotta be kidding, kiddo," Ursa looked down at Cascati. "My human's other charge plays a mean hand of poker. Girl's got the damndest luck. But I can hold my own. You looking for a game? Doesn't seem like it'd be the same without a drink or two. "

Granted, Ursa held her luck because Neon got drunk a LOT faster than her. Still.

"Don't think I've intriduced myself. I'm going by Ursa," she told the other Juvenile. "And I keep with the basics. Pushups. Crunches. Bench-pressing. Lifting glasses. What, you work out?"

Her eyes shone with a tiny spark approval.

Training-heads. Cascati suppressed a shudder at Ursa and Silva; training was not his thing. He already had a never-fail weapon, and her name was Div.

"Not got the cards ready, Mama," he apologized. "But when we do, you're on. I couldn't beat you with my hands, but I'm a better challenge at poker. I'll play you. Avec plaisir! Maybe I can teach Tango-angel, too."

His attention was turned by the small white lump that had fallen on the welcome mat, like a particularly large and feathery snowflake. "Howdy, stranger," he called out, voice a slow drawl. "You cold?"

"Darlin, I was born working out." He replied, his tone turning smooth, a slightly devilish smirk pulling at his lips. "Weights, running, even got two brats to help with my fighting. Basics are good, though."

The lady had arms bigger then his thighs. He was impressed. "Poker, huh?" He finally turned to the other juvenile, actually curious for once.

Cold? Shalafi grinned, shaking himself off and looking towards the voice. "I think I came that way," he said softly, letting his wings fold behind his back as he padded towards where Cascati was. Up... must be on the counter. He flew up there, landing lightly and turning to determine where the voices were. "It's wonderful out there."

"It is if you're an ice-feien like us," the other juvenile murmured, wondering at the unseeing milkiness at the newcomer's eyes. He moved as if he had twenty-twenty vision, and there was the strange bite of familiarity that he'd never experienced; meeting another Feien of your element. "It is gorgeous weather, honey."

He looked at Silva for the first time, mutual interest sparked. "You play, darlin'?"

"Then it's set, kiddo! Maybe when yer older we can have a real game, with the right refreshments."

By which Ursa meant, of course, a nice cold glass of ale. Neon went for the hard liquor, but Ursa preferred a creamy thimble full of microbrewed goodness. Nothing like it after a day of hard labor.

"Fighting?" Ursa addressed Silva. "I practice that too. Maybe you oughtta come to me when you're older as well, honey."

Ah! And there was another juvenile. Where were all of the adults? Kids running wild - Ursa wasn't sure if she approved.

"You like the snow, boy?" She called out to the newcomer, in a booming voice. "Well I'l be. I've been tunneling through the snow for endurance training, and you're a skinny little thing. What's your secret?"

Grinning, Shalafi nodded towards Cascati, suddenly curious as to who this other was. He'd met Amalthea and knew that she was an ice feien too... apparently this one was as well, and he'd never even known there were more. As he was about to reply, he heard Ursa's voice behind him and turned curiously. Another new one...

"My name is Shalafi. I'm an ice feien, so it's absolutely perfect weather for me. During the summer, I stayed inside in the aicon most of the time. I don't tunnel through... well, not unless I dive in and have to dig out. But that never takes long."

"Older? Well, Darlin, I'm what... four months now. Don't know if age is what matters." He turned, his smirk getting a little evil. "I'll play. But if you call me 'Darlin' one more time we might have to find a replacement for you." He said, fingering his chain. "There's just somethin wrong about being called that by another male."

He glanced over at the other male, blinking as he realized who it was. "Well if it isn't bleach boy! What was your name again..." He stopped, trying to think.

Ursa snickered, and patted Silva on the head, genially. "And since I'm only a couple weeks, maybe you're right at that. But it does matter when yer half my size, honey. I could bend you into pretzels. I don't want to spar kids."

Ursa nodded at the Ice Feien in greeting. Ice, eh? Ursa hadn't bothered to look into her own element. She liked the daylight, and the liked the feeling of snow melting on her skin. That was all she knew. The large Feien did not have much use for magic.

"Shalafi, eh? Ursa."

She noticed that the boy's eyes weren't focusing on anything. Strange. Maybe he was addled.

"It's good to meet you, Miss Ursa," Shalafi said politely, holding out a hand towards her. Instead of holding it as though to shake her hand, however, he was holding his hand almost palm-upward, as he did for every lady he met. "You must be the one Yeande has been talking about." Once Ursa spoke again, Shalafi's eyes locked to her instantly and didn't waver again, except for vague flickerings which he couldn't control.

"I know how you feel. I've been holed up sitting on frozen bags straight out the freezer for the past months, sweetheart. Ugh. The heat. I wish it was winter all year 'round. What's your name?"

Cascati flipped his heavy head of hair with one hand, languid, turning back to razor and cards again as he affected temporary deafness with Silva. "All right, honey-love. No 'darlin''. I agree, it's so rustic. It should be dar-ling, don't you think? Prediletto. Cara mia. I will, of course, beat the holy hell out of you at poker."

He smiled again. Winsomely.

Being patted on the head? Now that was a new one. And honestly, had it been ANY other feien he would have shoved his fist through their jaw. But this one... He paused, looking at her and chewing his toothpick thoughtfully.

"I'll hold you to that, Darlin. When I get a few inches I'm going to hunt you down." He told her. Then he looked at Cascati, slowly pulling his chain off, tossing the staff onto the counter. "Honey-love, huh?" He repeated, twisting the chain around one wrist.

Ursa's hand left Silva's head, and grabbed Shalafi's wrist in a powerful clawed grip. She shook his hand thrice - heedless of the upturned palm - and then returned her hand to her side.

"You too, honey. Yeande's talking about me? Give her my thanks."

So this one lived with Yeande? Well behaved boy. She must take her juveniles in hand. Ursa approved.

Well, so much for that idea. Shalafi had to admit, that's the first time another Feien had nearly tugged him off his feet with a handshake. "I will, Miss Ursa," he said, smiling to her. "She spoke well of you. I think the reason Ankou didn't follow me around today was because he was afraid he'd run into you."

Anyone who could take THAT idiot to task deserved respect.

Shalafi turned slightly towards Casca and Silva, one ear twitching at the clink of the chain. "That didn't sound good..."

"Suit yourself, honey," Ursa told Silva, with a wry grin. "Who knows, you might even be a good workout."

Then again, he might not. All of these Feien were such TINY things. It was no wonder they were all dead.

Ursa floated into the air, slow but steady. "I'll see you kids later. Give Yeande my regards."

And with that, she left the shop. There was training to do! She couldn't spend all the precious daylight in idle chitchat with juveniles.

"Honey-love," Cascati repeated, voice sweet and light as he focused on his cards. He didn't even look up at the chain. "Dearling. Darling, my love, it's a guh sound, anything else makes you sound like you grew up in a barn. Not that I'm suggesting you grew up in a barn, sweetheart, I'm sorry. Tesoro mio, duckling. Angelito?"

And there went Ursa, who had been possibly slated as a last line of defence. Damnit.

Silva grinned, viciously, moving quickly so he was close enough to the annoying b*****d, then flicking his chain out in the move that was meant to wrap around someone so he could pull them in. He had been looking for an opportunity like this.

The chain caught; it wrapped around Cascati's slim forearm, the stiff white pieces of card scattering, before he could even react. None of them fell off the counter, thank God, he thought dimly; he looked up at Silva, arm jerking up like a rag doll's, eyes half-closed and fingers on the other hand closing down on something unseen.

"Do we have to resort to violence, my love? The Good Lord disapproves."

"What are you doing," Shalafi hissed, moving towards the pair. He couldn't SEE what Silva was doing, but he had a pretty damned good idea. "Back off..." he began, faltering slightly when he realised that he didn't know the brash young Feien's name.

"It's all right, honey," Cascati said quickly, voice a murmur with a calmness he didn't quite feel. "Don't get yourself hurt on my account, all right? We ice boys have to stick out for one another. Shush-a-shush. I can handle myself."

"This isn't violence, Darlin." He said coolly, pulling on the chain so the other male would be face to face with him. "This is just a little... lesson."

There was a purr in his voice, almost seductive, completely at odds with his actions. "You want to call me pet names, boy, you better be able to back them up."

Casca's body was jerked, completely yielding, less give than Silva had probably accounted for; he was jerked upright and directly into the other Feien, bodies flush for a moment, his own skin icy-cool against the other juvenile's.

"Aren't we gettin' intimate, angel?" he purred, accent thickening almost imperceptibly. Aggression tactics. Male rituals, all over again. "And here I thought you didn't like bein' called pet names by boys. It's all right, my love. I know you're all confused."

Shalafi backed up a step at Casca's words, eyes narrowing slightly as he let his other senses tell him exactly where the other two were. "You're right," he said softly, stepping behind Silva and reaching out. He felt his hands brush against skin, praying it WAS Silva... at least if it wasn't, the other feien wouldn't be affected by it. The moment his hands made contact, their temperature plummeted, having the equivilent of a flash-freeze against the skin and sending tiny sparkling crystals forming against the other's flesh.

Silva choked, then started laughing, letting the chain loosen so it slipped off of Casca, and lightly shoving the other male away. "You've got a point. You don't have enough curves."

Then he turned, looking at Shalafi. "I once told you I owed you one, kid. Consider this my debt repaid." Then he snorted. "But I'm going to kick your a** in the poker game, pretty boy." He said, looking at Casca again before wrapping his chain around his waist and heading for his staff. It was then that the freezing hit him, making him curse. He shook slightly, looking over at the blind feien. "Why the hell did you do that?" je asked, fighting the chill.

"Because you sit there and think that you can hurt someone just because they're smaller than you... or seem weaker," Shalafi whispered, shaking himself, but not from the cold. He'd BEEN on the receiving end before, and now that he was faced with someone else and the same situation, he realised just how it must have seemed to his friends who were trying to warn him about Calico. "We aren't weaker," he said softly, keeping his voice perfectly calm and stable. "We just THINK before we act."

"There's a bit of blanket over by the counter," Cascati said blandly - more blandly than he felt - the razor he'd hidden in his fingers dropping to the floor; he picked himself up and fastidiously brushed himself down, feeling slightly numb, moving next to Shalafi. That had been too close, too stupid. Hot-blooded. "I think it was used for wiping the wood down. Try rubbing your back with it, dearling. You might get frostbite. Can't have you die on me before the poker game."

"You damn little idiot. He's not hurt." Silva said, irritably. "He's just a little shook up. If that. And I didn't attack because he was weaker. I attacked because the b*****d's annoying." He twitched, irritated at the way he jumped to conclusions.

He nodded at Casca, heading for the rag. "Damn overly-emotional bastards..." He muttered, grabbing the rag and rubbing at the frozen spot. He glanced over as the sound of the razor hitting the ground caught his ears, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

"You might be worth putting up with, after all." Was all he said.

Snorting softly, Shalafi turned to Casca, feeling his hand brush against the other's arm before letting it come up to rest on Casca's shoulder. The touch only lasted a moment before he moved again and turned away from Silva completely. Excuse or not, the boy reminded him of Calico. Not exactly like him... this one at least had a bit of rationale behind his violence. But it was close enough to disturb Shalafi.

Cascati grinned at Silva, star-bright. "I'm not going to tease an armed feien who looks like he knows how to handle himself with no back-up, mon ami. I'll be looking forward to our game."

He ran his hands through his hair again, shaking it out, trying to get back to his normal state of Casca-being as he looked at Shalafi's back. Not only had the other feien stuck it out for him, but he was blind - or nearly so; he moved damn well, though, enough that he'd been unsure for long minutes. He reached out to give an equally fleeting touch to the other ice-feien's shoulder. "You didn't need to do that, brother. Thank you. Merci beaucoup. I owe you one."

"You don't owe me anything," he said softly, the faint smile returning. "You said yourself we had to stick together."

Silva grunted, eyeing the two males for a second. "Drop a note at Ice's when you pick a time. I'll be there." Then he looked at Shalafi, noticing the way he had turned away. Problem was? Silva didn't give a s**t. He even TRIED to work up some emotion, but couldn't.

Then he grabbed his staff, dove towards the ground to pick up his paper, and headed for the door. Maybe "Plowing snow" was worth trying, he thought, already forgetting the situation he left behind him.

"We do. I'm not the strongest, as my tongue tends to forget." He grinned, before remembering that Shalafi probably couldn't see it, all wasted; he sighed in mock-drama. "We can be soft, fragile juvies together. Though that was some bit of magic you used, brother. I've no talent for it."

His voice raised as he bid Silva goodbye, gaily, one hand waving. "I'll do that. See you there, angel. I can't wait."

The hand dropped as Silva left, out into the bitter snow outside, and he sighed. It was remarkably candid. "I wish I knew how to handle the strong ones better. They all seem to fly off the handle. No?"

"That they do," Shalafi said softly, waiting until he heard the door click closed behind himself before speaking. "I learned early on that with a bit of thought, I can keep myself from getting too badly hurt." One hand crossed over his chest lightly, the other makign the same gesture over his waist, the fingers coming to rest against the L-shaped scar on his hip.

"'Too badly' is never enough, honey-love," the other juvenile said, slowly moving to pick up his scattered makeshift cards. "You look like you've already come into contact with the claws of something. Makes me feel extra bad that you stepped in for my dust-ring cockfight. Don't do that, all right? You'll make me worry. I'll get wrinkles. One less ice-feien in the world would be a tragedy."

Shalafi just chuckled, shaking his head softly. The stark white hair pulled into a tail near the top of his head moved to fall over one shoulder as he let his wings fold tightly to his back. "Now what kind of person would I be if I just ignored someone who needed assistance? Even if it wasn't necessary."

Cascati shuffled all the cards up into a pile, as if they were the most precious of gems. "You have me there, snowflake. All right. You win. But I owe you one. The next time you get in trouble, you come to Cascati, all right? I'll help you out as much as I can. Brother to brother."

The soft snap of the cards against each other as they were shuffled brought Shalafi's ears up into a perk once more, the feien tilting his head to the side as if trying to place the sound. He'd heard it before, that much he knew. "Alright... if I can find you. I know my way to the shop, to Karma's and to Nekota's old place... but not much else, really. Oh... and to Aileron's, but he's busy with the holidays and such, so's his bonded. It takes me a few times of travelling back and forth from somwhere before I get the hang of it." He smiled then, eyes half closing as he tilted his head forward. "Thank you, Casca."

It was very difficult to fly with four more inches of yourself to think of. The height was something he would eventually get used to, but it was very awkward right now. Neruo flew into the HQ, feeling a tad self-conscious about his adult form. But that thought was dashed away when he caught sight of Shalafi and Casca, whom he met briefly.

Floating over to them, Neruo landed nearby. They were playing with cards? Smiling, he greeted Casca.

"Hello! Casca, right? It's good to see you again."

"It's easy to come to my place. I have the immense honour of living at our Summoner's, though Jesus and the little saints know that I've never seen Corvus at all. You'll have to ask someone to let you in, and then ask Max or Sally or Kancho for me. I'm generally hanging around my sweet Rose. I hardly ever get visitors, snowflake, so call on me anyway."

Cascati tapped the cards against his hip to even them out, mass of hair quivering with the action, setting them down and the razor on top of them. He liked neat. "You're... Blind, aren't you? Forgive me, honey. Excusez-moi. I don't mean to pry. You're very good at getting around. I almost didn't notice."

What was it with him and disabled feien? He was picking up a menagerie. Banana Tango, and now Shalafi. The next one would obviously have no legs, or something.

"I know my way there at least," he said, smiling softly. "I should be able to find it with no issue, however I still have a problem finding the portal again to get out. For now, however, I must go. It was good meeting you, Casca, and I hope to see you again!" He waved then, backing up a step before walking off the edge of the counter and letting his wings spread to carry him towards the door.

"Goodbye, brother," Cascati called after him. "We will see each other again. Take care in the snow, dearling - if you enjoy it too much you'll never get home!"

Silence again. He wiped his forehead and touched his shoulders and crossed himself, his nervous habit. Why was there no such thing as Feien-sized cigarettes?

Hopefully he wasn't interupting. Neruo watched as the blind Feien left. Disabled? All he knew of was Shalafi's blindess, but they had only briefly met once.

Perhaps Casca was preoccupied. He'd wait patiently. Teetering, he tried to keep his balance. Such an enormous growth spurt in such little time... The air was clearer up here.

Cascati stretched, hands behind his back, shoulders popping slightly as he turned around; he'd thought he'd heard a voice, but as it had been entirely unfamiliar - quiet - the other end of the counter, he'd discounted it to bid goodbye to Shalafi. It was a total stranger, and he delicately picked his way over to blink; there was something familiar about him, nagging at the back of his head like a pain -

"Neruo?"

He recovered amazingly quickly, tapping his chin, looking up at the newly-fledged adult with a wide smile. "My, my, darling. Something about you has changed. Let me think... Is that a new haircut?"

Neruo chuckled. Just the response he had expected. Casca was quite the charmer.

"No, but that's exactly what my Bond said this morning when I came into her room to show her. I've measured myself, and I've calculated a growth of four inches. It's very...high up here."

Kneeling in front of Casca, he tilted his head. "But enough about me. How have you been?" He finally sat down, folding his wings. It was nice to see someone again.

"I've been fine," laughed the juvenile, appreciating the cut-down in height. "My God, you grew, didn't you? How's the air up there? You look marvellous, 'Ruo. If I look half so well when I finally leave the trappings of juvie-hood, I'll be happy."

The ice-feien inspected the new adult before finally sitting down with him, wings cloaked around his pale shoulders. "How have you been taking it? I would have been bumping into everything, honey-love."

Neruo half-bowed to him, as best he could in his sitting position. "Well, thank you muchly for the compliments. I haven't bumped into anything with my legs yet, but I've hit my fair share of things with my head." For emphasis, he rubbed said spot in his curls. His head was in there...somewhere.

He leaned back. "The air is fine up there, as it is down here. I supposed it a bit nicer, figuratively speaking. I guess that if things get too heated, I could just stand up and be able to ignore it. And it's much easier to spot people now."

He just remembered something while gazing at Casca's furling locks. "I've been meaning to ask. How do you care for all that hair? Doens't it become annoying every once in a while?"

Casca flipped it over his shoulders with both his hands, making his medusa-coils fluff up. "Three words, darling. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. If I don't shampoo and condition every two days or so, I look like the Bride of Frankenstein. I know, I know, it's not exactly manly, but I'd rather explore my feminine side where my hair's concerned than start to have things stuck in it."

He took one of the wavy locks and pulled it away from his head, the deep blue bright against his pale fingers. "I suppose I could cut it off or start to tie it back. At least your hair isn't so thick, non? It must be easier to handle."

Talking about hair did make him feel a bit feminine, but it really didn't bother him. As far as he was concerned, it was a plausible subject for them. And especially them. They had to deal with folicle problems most Feien couldn't even dream of.

"Its curly, and likes to get leaves and such stuck in it," he sighed, pulling at one of the curls in question, "but it's not so bad. At least it does what it's told...most of the time. Maybe you should tie it back. But if you did, you'd lose some of your beauty, yes?"

Cascati pretended to make a face, sighing, dropping the lock immediately. "I knew it. I'm girly-looking, aren't I, 'Ruo? You're just being kind. I should put on a skirt and start calling myself Cascata. Maybe I should chop it off."

He leant back, both hands on the countertop. "Listen to us, talking about hair-care tips. The next thing you know we'll be giggling and talking about what crushes we have. Let's protect our fragile masculinity, honey-love. Do you know how to play poker?"

Neruo's eyes went wide. He shook his head apologetically. "That's not what I meant at all. I meant to say that you're known for you long, flowing locks. I suspected that perhaps others would not recognize you at first? My apologies if I offended you."

He cupped his head in his hands. He knew nothing of card games. "I've heard of poker, yes, but I know not how it functions. Are you offering to teach me?"

"Of course. I was thinking of getting a game up, once I finish my cards." Cascati rose to his feet; he picked up the little pack of rectangles, razor and pencil-nubs. "Mama Ursa and Silva have already agreed to play a few hands, dearling. Come join us. I'll teach you sometime this week, if you're not doing anything. The cards ought to be finished in a few days. Of course, I'll go easy on you, I promise."

He looked through the window and grimaced, dropping lightly off the counter with outstretched wings and calling up. "Of course, if I don't get home, my sweet Rose will go about as easy on me as a monster truck. I'll come see you sometime, 'Ruo. You'll be a card shark in no time. Au revoir, angel. And congratulations on growing up! We ought to throw you a party, honey!"

Neruo stood, waving at Casca as he flew off. What a character. He didn't understand the term 'card shark', but he figured he'd be taught in time. And he might meet 'Mama Ursa', whomever that was.

"Take care, Casca!" He was very tempted to tack-on 'honey-love', but, funny as it was, it was Casca's phrase.

Time to head on back to the house to see if he could arrange a meeting with Ava. He was dying to see her again.

[the secret pink santa]

Well, it's all finalised - Casca and I and Corvy and (would you believe it!) Kabuto (but no Fifth) will be going questing with Blinky, and I've just about got all the food and things down since I have to be extra careful since Cas will be with me. And Corvy, of course, but he can take care of himself. I just finished knitting him and Casca dear little scarves, and Cascati must ask his friends if they want some, because I can make them some too! I haven't finished the bobble hats yet for the new blooms. I hear one opened without me and no bobble hat, oh dear.

Anyway, we got out Tahki's present, and a few days ago there was this little note on the table:



Isn't that just the cutest thing ever? There was this adorable, precious little cup next to it. Casca remarked that at least he can stop drinking out of Barbie glasses, which is never nice. He seemed to like it. I'll have to thank Aquaphina with him, she sounds too sweet. Kind of in need of punctuation, but very sweet.

We've had a wonderful Christmas. Max and Djerod both gave me copious quantities of alcohol, which I suppose says something about my temperament and what they think of it, but it's awfully sweet of them to think of me. Djerod is honestly one of the nicest men I've ever met, he's

Oh, I mustn't.

Zevulon finally grew hair, but I think Em wants to give him a trim. I can't wait to leave on holiday. Blinky had pinkeye three times, he was so frustrated. Casca is happy with his little scarf and the glass that Aquaphina gave him and he hasn't finished his cards yet (I think he's happy that he has stuff; he's a very stuff sort of Feien) and he's been reading lots of medical manuals. I hope he doesn't come down with anything.

Casca will be able to take care of himself on this trip. I swear. I won't regret it. I can't regret it. If I worry I'll have an aneurysm.

[homecoming ii]

It was about an hour after Cascati made his disappearance that his bond finally walked back in; tired, dishevelled, but a good deal happier after making some vocal contact with Em. The door to the shop shut behind her; her expression soon turned to that of dismay when she saw how empty the waiting area was.

"Casca? Cas?"

He wasn't in the kitchen; she ducked her head into the lounge. He wasn't there either. A grimace crossed Rose's face, mingled irritation and worry, about what might have happened to him; it had been a long day, a long walk, and she just wanted to go home and have a nice hot bath and food that didn't come out of a can. Her eyes hurt. Her hair hurt. She dumped Blinky on the table and cupped her hand over her mouth, just in case he had unrealistically hidden himself under the sofa cushions and needed to be yelled at.

"Cascati!"

With a low click the dark wood door of the office looking into the front waiting room opened and a uniformed man with short brown hair and glasses looked out. His mouth was turned down in a frown of displeasure at the disturbance. Admiral Pavel Antipov, Director of Intelligence (lest anyone forget), had just been working on some paperwork when he heard the noise of a decidedly human-sized visitor entering the building. That alone he could have tolerated. Yelling he could not.

Normally Antipov did his routine paperwork at his office in Fleet headquarted but this particular week he had been having trouble avoiding the unwanted amorous attentions of Dr. Annabelle Castle. The young physician was recently assigned to Dr. M's medical detail and had apparently gotten a rather strong crush on Antipov which the poor girl was completely oblivious of. It felt as if every five minutes Antipov looked up there was Dr. Castle, asking him if he needed some coffee or tea or a croissant from the pastry case in the mess hall. When his attempts to evade her proved unsuccessful he decided to go somewhere she could not follow: the Regional Fleet Headquarters on Gaia. Dr. Castle's security clearance did not allow her access to the realm.

While it was not unheard of for feien to be present in the building this late at night, the idea of anyone making such a ruckus at this hour was intolerable, particularly when the routine reports needed to be done. Antipov scowled down the hallway and called out in his unmistakable Russian accent, "Do you mind?"

Rose whirled around, all big blue eyes and the start of Deeply Sorrowful Tears glimmering in them; this probably would have been enough to move the hardest of hearts except Antipov's. Luckily, she'd gotten used to grumpy men. It was called her last marriage.

"I'm so so so sorry," she said despondently. "I'm sorry, I didn't know anybody was really - was really here this late, because I'm looking for my Feien and I told him to stay here but he's not here - have you seen him?" She moved her hands. "He's about this big, a little bigger than average, and he has grey prellan, and he looks dirty, and he was probably smoking and I told him not to and it's a filthy habit - did Em come by? Or did Simon or something, and did he take him? I'm really, really sorry!" And then, noticing the uniform, a meek addendum: "Sir."

Antipov's eyes hardened as his mind ran through several instinctive calculations. He placed the face with its name, Rose, summoned up his recollection of the associated security files, and plotted out his response. All in the blink of an eye. Which gave him another seven seconds to wait for the poor Rose to finish babbling.

She was an Authorized Personnel so he treated her as such, coolly professional and ignoring her distress. "Emperial has not been here, no. I could check the logs concerning Simon. Your feien is... Cascati, correct?" The name was slightly mispronounced, as Antipov had only ever read it in written reports and his native Russian rendered it differently on the tongue.

She blinked a few times, just like the book that was lying on the table, before breaking into a nervous smile. "Yes! That's him. Cascati. Um... I'm Rose. Rose Lukas-Hein," she added, unnecessarily. It was obviously somebody associated with Em; she just wished she knew who, and that she hadn't been away for so long.

"I'm really sorry," she said again. "I'll just sit quietly and wait for a bit. He probably just popped out to... um..." Rose couldn't think what on earth he'd popped out to do. "See something," she finished, even more lamely.

Antipov sighed slightly, gazing aside at a blank wall so he process some information. While it was unnecessary to do so with a neural net link, Antipov found he still relied on residual visual feed and it was easier to "see" the feed projected against a blank canvas. "Come into my office?" He wasted no time on any pleasantries, gesturing and stepping aside.

She instinctively balked; but knowing that somebody who was with Em wouldn't kill her, eat her, or sell her into some kind of Gaian slavery program that would have her end up in an alleyway in Durem, she followed him docilely like a calf.

"Thank you," she said dolefully, and because Rose was nervous, still came up with the inane chatter despite wanting to hit herself in the forehead: "I'm still so sorry I disturbed you I'm just not used to this new arrangement at all, I left before the shop exploded and I still don't know how that happened and I wonder if Zev's grown any..."

Antipov closed the door and moved past Rose to his desk. The lighting in his office was low, enough to make a visitor uncomfortable, but it clearly did not disturb Antipov in the slightest. He sat down beneath his giant Soyuz Sovetskikh Sotsialisticheskikh Respublik flag and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together.

"You are an interesting case Comrade Rose. May I consider you a comrade?" As much as it was an honorary form of address it was also clearly a threat.

Poor Rose knotted her hands together and looked at him with Big Blue Eyes. "Yes?" she hazarded timidly. "I mean, um, ... I'm with Em. Fully. Totally. I don't have any agenda. Um, neither of us, if you know what I mean, Diana doesn't either, well, um, not that it matters anyway..."

Her voice trailed off and she swallowed a bit, wishing Cascati had just stayed put. Or that Em would come in. Or Djerod. Or Sally. Or maybe that the earth would open up and eat her. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't know your name."

"I am Director Antipov," said Antipov, unmoving. He considered Rose with a dangerously dark expression. "Your feien was in the shop earlier, I have the security footage of his departure. If you like I will send a security detail to retrieve him." Given Antipov's tone of voice, that sounded dangerous.

Rose considered this. She also considered getting Cascati back flat as a pancake. Despite momentary irritation at him not staying put, she loved him too much to make him into a pancake. "No thanks, Director," she said hastily. "I bet he'll come back on his own, he probably just went for a, ... walk. Thank you for the offer. Um. So long as he wasn't hurt or anything, that's fine, he can take care of himself."

It hurt her overprotective heart to admit that, but after six months trawling around the Mouth of Borovaris, it was pretty true.

Almost nonchalantly (but not quite), Antipov remarked, "It's no trouble. The Fleet looks after its own and our resources are widespread. We track all of the feien on Gaia, as well as their owners when possible." Unclasping his hands, Antipov leaned forward and scanned over several of the files lying on his desk. He reached out and picked up one marked 'Gaia Bond Final Evaluations' on its colored tab. "Your case has proved particularly interesting."

Rose's blood immediately ran cold. Not at any mention of the Fleet; she'd heard Em mention it enough times for it to be familiar, but at the idea that they'd evaluated how well she took care of Cascati. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. They were going to tell her she was a bad bond. They were going to put Cascati in a home because he'd taken up smoking. Her hands shook, she was so terrified.

"I tried," she said, in the tiniest voice on the planet.

"Yes, your results were most satisfactory," said Antipov, not even noticing Rose was so distressed. He flipped open the report to the approarite page; its contents were hidden from Rose by the angle at which he held the folder. "Enough for you to be recommended as a potential bond for one of our feien who is seeking residence on Gaia."

Rose's jaw dropped open; it took her a couple of moments to be able to - with difficulty - wire it back into a normal position, hands shaking now out of pure relief. Another feien? Another - but - well, she was going to be back home, and...

Most of the part of her brain, the part that loved kittens, said: a baby brother or sister for Casca! Another baby! It'll wean him off cigarettes and they can make me the biggest Mother's Day card in the world! It was #1 in Rose's Unrealistic Dreams, but it worked.

"Me? Are you sure?"

"Quite sure," said Antipov, looking Rose directly in the eye. For all his foreboding nature Antipov had a strong degree of honest sincerity in his gaze. "The suggestion has come directly from high command. If, of course, you would be interested in the position. The feien in question is named Burgundia." His fingers sought out another folder on his desk and he opened it, turning it so the file faced Rose.

The file was all text, no images, but contained some basic background information on Burgundia's history with the Fleet, her reason for being transferred, and details of her physical appearance. All the possibility of a complete person was reflected in Burgundia's file.

Rose touched the paper and scanned it. Then she scanned it again. Then she scanned it again, just to make sure, for the third time; by this scanning, she had already fallen so deeply in love with Burgundia that she wanted to take her home directly and read books from the New Age section with her. The only thing that probably would have made it complete would have been pink hair, but Rose could be flexible. When she looked back up at Antipov, her eyes were sparkling.

"When can I start?"

"After you fulfill Command's single requirement," said Antipov. He snapped the Bond Evaluation file closed. It was anticlimatic: the closing of the paper file was less than dramatic. A book would have worked better.

Antipov stood, his chair scraping across the wooden floor, and deposited the file on the table. He indicated Rose should pick up Burgundia's file and follow.

Very nearly skipping, she did so; she hugged it to her chest like it was a wounded animal, feeling faintly guilty for not being able to firstly give Cascati a talk about the new arrival and how much she still loved him and how he was First in her Heart, but she figured with unusual pragmatism that if she gave him a tub of Oil of Olay and strawberry gelato he would just be happy. Happy-hearted, Rose followed after Antipov.