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 Posted: Tue Feb 21, 2017 4:32 pm
 With Finality
Azucar.
Every fiber of Cesc’s being breathed the name as he dashed forward, his knuckles white around the handle of his spear. For the first time, his heart began to beat quicker, his blood awakening. He’d found him. He’d found him.
The hunter displayed no emotion. As Cesc approached, he threaded another arrow into his bow and let it fly, only to see it cleaved away just as easily as the first. He dropped the bow and drew his knife, ready to fight. His posture was just as easy, just as prepared, as the first time.
Below them, the herd’s golden eyes shown in the darkness, in every crevice and hidden safe house. Uphill from them, a slender but imposing figure stepped out, his eyes delighted.
The Lightbreaker was going to do it again, Adonis thought. He had changed nothing. And now he was going to die a second death.
And it was very much the same, to the hunter, even to Cesc. It was the same combatants, the same tall trees, the same cold wind, the same lack of emotion on one side, unbalanced by the wealth of care on the other.
But, Cesc. Cesc was not the same.
As he landed, his wings curled forward and lost their shape, winding around him, enveloping him. The feathers melted away and the remaining, resultant light from them lay flat against the contours of his body, covering his limbs and his torso. They changed—from wings into a glittering armor of hardened light. Flecks of golden rays were littered from his jaw to his ribbon.
He was, he looked, a knight.
The hunter, too, was not the same. He was slimmer than before. And his eyes, his eyes were not the yellow-green of buds in springtime, but an inky and impenetrable black. Those black eyes widened marginally at the display, but it was a moment’s curiosity—in another second, he returned to his fight posture, brandishing his knife. Armor or not, it was still light, and his knife could extinguish that easily enough.
They fought.
The hunter lunged forward first, his boots grating against the branch, the knife slicing through the air. Cesc swung to the side in a dodge and kicked the butt of his spear forward, hitting the hunter in the gut. The man staggered backward and went forward again, this time aiming to cut the spear.
The knife splintered against the spear’s handle like flint on stone, sparks flying into both their eyes. The hunter stumbled in surprise and let out a cry that pricked Cesc’s ears and tore through him more than the knife would have--his voice, his voice, was still his own.
With a noise of frustration, the hunter regained his balance and darting back forward, punching Cesc in the side with his free hand.
“Azucar,” Cesc groaned, snatching the hunter’s wrist with an iron grip. He tried to find the outline of irises in the black nothing. He tried to find recognition in that soulless gaze. His heart twisted behind his ribs, as though wanting to see it all the more would make it happen. “Azucar, can you hear me?”
The hunter stabbed the knife forward and Cesc jumped back to avoid it, keeping his hold on Azucar’s wrist. He tried again, swinging for Cesc’s stomach, and the Raevan leapt back again. Azucar tried to wrestle his wrist free, but the stag did not, could not, would not let go.
“Azucar!” Cesc tried again doggedly, his voice rough. “Come on! Come on. Please. Please. Say something. Say anything.”
From beyond, Adonis’s ears flicked forward. His smile was ghastly. It was all better than he’d imagined.
The hunter lunged forward another time and Cesc grabbed his other wrist before the knife could pierce into him. Azucar struggled against him, and Rhedefre could hear his breath against that terrible red-streaked mask. The man’s grip, his blows, were not as strong as they had been before. His movements were less precise. Azucar—he had to be tired. He’d been in this state for months.
He’d been exiled, too.
“Is that it?” Cesc whispered into the cold. His eyes reddened. He paused there, watching the hunter try to pull away from him, but his grip was white-knuckled and unmoving against Azucar’s wrists. He tried to find something in what he could see of the man’s face that he remembered, something of his friend that might be left.
He remembered Hart’s words. That Azucar had spent a long time in the dark. That his only desire, his only motive for life, would be to end Cesc’s.
The hunter continued to struggle, trying to yank his hands free, trying desperately with a fading strength to fulfill a mission that had long been terrorizing his brain. Cesc’s face was quiet. His armor slowly unwound from him, the wings retaking shape, the feathers loosening their grip on his arms and chest and stomach.
No, Cesc was not the same. He’d suffered, both alone and with a tormentor, who’d kept her heel on his back and her fingers in his brain. He knew the struggle through oblivion. And more, more, he’d been forced to think with every part of himself what it meant to love: to love as Hart had loved, to love as Vivi and Shepard had loved him. What love meant. What it gave. What it took.
And he’d been smart. He said a quiet goodbye. He hadn’t given his guardians any false hope.
Hart held her breath, watching, concealed in the trees below.
“Azucar,” Cesc breathed, his eyes locked on that inky black void where yellow-green once lived. “I love you.”
And he did it.
Cesc let go of Azucar’s right hand.
He did not move, did not flinch, as the hunter’s knife plunged into his chest.
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Posted: Wed Feb 22, 2017 1:11 pm
Rush
Vivi was rushing.
Driving across the bay had been torment, running red lights, speeding, praying no early-morning police would dare to try to stop her. She stopped her car haphazardly in the preserver’s southern parking lot and barely remembered to turn off her car, to put it into gear, before she darted from it. She waded into the snow that gathered off the trail and then began to run in it, her legs kicking up white all around her, her blood thundering in her ears. The air was cold, too cold, freezing her lungs, burning her throat, but she ignored it.
She ran into the forest with abandon. She ran in the snow as she once had in the rain.
She did not stop. He was beckoning her, Rhedefre—she could feel him, sense him, close by. She could see trails in the snow, a trail left by a dragging ribbon and something else, a walking stick—the crutch, that was right, the crutch he was carrying. He’d left her that, left her the ability to find him.
Why now? Her brain screamed for answers. Vivi wanted to explode. Her hands shook, her knees knocked, her fingers were useless. Her emotions overlapped like waves onto the sand, fury and relief, terror and anguish. She wanted to cry, but not as much as she wanted to scream. She needed to see him, now more than ever. She followed that trail like a hound after a fox.
Then a sight stopped her dead in her tracks.
Antlers.
Her breath came in hard and cold and frantic as she saw them. What the hell was it? Was it a graveyard? Some kind of warning to her? Her eyes scanned the monument with mounting terror. So many antlers, and they were strung—strung up on those branches, like trophies, like some kind of massive and twisted crown.
A golden, glowing pair drew her eyes, and she felt bile rising in her throat. Rhedefre.
“No!” she let out a strangled yell and darted forward, jumping up, grabbing, grasping in the air. Fury blinded her. His antlers—a trophy? Someone else’s prize? She would be damned. She would be damned! She screamed in frustration against the indignity, grabbing onto them and pulling them down. Several others fell with it, tangled up in some kind of slim vine or thread that kept them all together. They toppled down around her, hanging over her shoulders as she tore as many as she could from his. Her movements only coiling them around her further, swinging them around her neck and arms, until her shaking hands cradled Rhedefre’s antlers.
Precious boy. Poor, sweet boy.
Vivi’s stomach twisted in anger and sick. Her fingers shook as she smoothed its lines. The antlers were broken at the base, so awkwardly, so gruesomely. What had they done to him? Tears clouded her vision and fell, tracing her cheeks.
No—he was alive. She’d seen him. He was alive, and he was here. That was no spirit.
She went forward, stomping against the snow, rejecting the cold. The antlers weighed her, but she pulled them with her, like Jacob Marley’s chains, like she was dragging all of Hell along with her. She was a Fury. She would have Rhedefre and her revenge.
Vivi came into the clearing. Her eyes drew upward.
She saw Rhedefre at the same moment the knife fell.
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2017 7:14 am
For Love
There was screaming.
Cesc could hear it—more than one voice. He could hear screaming, a deafening sound in his ears, even over the explosion of pain below his clavicle. He grit his teeth against it and against the feeling of approaching darkness. He rejected it with every ounce of himself, and he held onto Azucar’s other wrist with every bit of strength he’d had before.
With his other hand, he grabbed the mask. His hand stretched across the hunter’s face, his fingers gripping the ceramic with all his fading strength. His wings shuddered back around him, fighting the darkness.
The hunter tried to pull away, but Cesc held fast onto him. His light was fast pulling away from him, hovering over his skin—but he did not let it evaporate into nothing. With a roar, he coerced his wings back into their shape. And he stabbed those wings forward at Azucar.
Cesc saw the lightning force light back into himself. He saw it drive away darkness.
He was going to do it again now. With Hart’s blood again coursing into him, loosening his own light from within him, he was going to force it into Azucar. He was going to drag Azucar back into the light, if
it
was
the
last thing he did.
Adonis lifted a hoof from where he stood. Panic was starting to creep into his veins.
The boy hadn’t crumpled. Why hadn’t he fallen? What was he doing?
There was a rush of pink light around the hunter and the Raevan. He could see Cesc’s hair slowly turning black, the color bleeding from the roots of his hair to the tips. He could see his eyes slowly giving over to nothingness, ink slowly seeping into the gold of his irises. Adonis held onto the hope that it was the last of him.
But just as equally, he could see the pink of the Raean’s wings stabbing into his hunter.
And Cesc could see it too. His vision was blurring. But he could see the dawn rise in Azucar’s eyes. He could see darkness leaving from behind the mask. The return of Azucar’s white sclera, his yellow-green eyes, and the look of horror that slowly crept into them. He could feel the lag on Azucar’s grip on the knife, and then his shaking release of it. He could feel the way he reached for Cesc, tried to brace him. The bubbling sound of his voice returning after long absence to his throat.
The mask broke.
Cesc’s grip loosened. The pieces fell. He was conscious for long enough to see recognition and anxiety in Azucar’s eyes as he fell, for the second time, from the branch and onto the forest floor.
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2017 5:41 pm
Lightbringers
Vivi’s scream was an unholy sound.
It bounced off trees and shuddered leaves and woke animals. She ran like a demon as Rhedefre fell, the antlers around her digging gashes in the snow behind her.
Hart was silent, her back against a tree trunk, tears streaming fast, one after another, down her face. She stood like a statue, like a person in a dream, and watched it unfold.
Cesc lay motionless and senseless in the snow. Azucar rolled onto his back, gasping, his eyes closed. His brain was foggy and his mind was exhausted, a starving, broken man released shakily into freedom.
Cesc, he thought frantically, but his voice was far away and small. His eyes closed heavily as oblivion pulled him back down.
“Azucar!” Vivi cried, her voice thick with disbelief. She bent over Rhedefre, her hands over his wound, pressing hard down into it. His blood was black—ink black, purely darkness. Even diluted, even against her fingers, it did not redden. His rune, his insides—all was black. Ink flowed from the corner of his mouth.
“Rhedefre—“ she sobbed angrily, her fingers white against the sea of darkness. His blood was cold, even as it flowed from him.
There was a soft step behind her.
Vivi tilted her head up and saw the large, looming figure of the stag. Her mouth half-opened, and she let out a furious screech, half-rising. But she sat back down, unable to leave Rhedefre, tethered to him.
Bucephalus did not look at her. He looked down at Rhedefre, at his black hair, his half-open black eyes.
“You—“ Vivi accused, her voice high-pitched, grating. “You!”
“No,” said the stag. He eyed the Raevan’s body, lowering his head. He nosed Cesc’s face, pressing the flesh gently. “Not me.”
He looked at her, his eyes mournful. “I have never seen such a thing. Such a transfer.”
“Shut up,” cried Vivi, pressing down onto the wound. “I—I want nothing of your words. I warned you! I warned you…”
“I should have listened,” admitted Bucephalus quietly. His head remained bent. Around them, the heads of his herd began to appear—the grief-stricken does, the frightened fawns, the youthful, uncertain bucks. Bucephalus’ antlers began to glow in the low light.
The dawn began to rise, and light collected in every branch of his rack. It glowed in the darkness, but the glow did not extend as light usually did, to everything around it. It glowed, and it glowed into Rhedefre.
It was light lighting a match in the darkness of midnight. The darkness did not shudder as the snow fell and the dawn rose.
But Bucephalus kept his head bent, steady, in the silence.
A doe stepped into the clearing. Uncertain, frightened, she bent her own head. Behind her, two bucks approached and bowed.
Vivi half-turned as the snow behind her rustled.
Three more bucks went into the clearing, their velvet antlers bright with light.
She turned toward Rhedefre, her lips parted, her tears beginning to dry. She sat there, her hands on his chest, the cape of antlers dragging in the snow behind her, as light began to rise.
The wind blew black curls across his forehead. The blood from his wound began to slow. He murmured, and she felt hope rise within her.
“What are you doing, Bucephalus?”
Adonis’ quiet, angry voice pierced into the silence. Vivi snapped her head toward the source of the sound, her face determined. The stag was still far uphill, his hoof striking the ground with impatience.
“He came back and died again,” said the stag. “And somehow this impresses you? He allies himself with our enemy—and somehow this impresses all of you?”
“There are no enemies here but those you have made,” said Bucephalus quietly. His head remained bowed to the earth, a servant of light. His herd did not stir. More released themselves from the shadows, coming forward. “I know who the lightbreaker is, Adonis. I know who has stolen the light of our fallen to empower himself—and it is not this boy. His day is not yet done.”
“Be silent,” snapped the stag. “Raise your head.”
Bucephalus said nothing. Ever so slightly, Rhedefre’s skin began to brighten.
“Raise your head!” ordered Adonis. “Traitor! Traitors—all of you!”
Slowly, shaking, Vivi rose. The antlers around her neck were all dripping with blackness, with the blood that poured from Rhedefre. She gripped two of the many that were around her, brandishing them, as she stood in front of her charge and Bucephalus.
“I warned you,” she hissed. “I warned you that you would die if you harmed him.”
Adonis barked out a laugh. “Do you think I am afraid of a human woman?”
Vivi’s eyes were cold. Her grip tightened, and her hands steadied. “Yes,” she breathed. “I think you are.”
The stag reared, his eyes aflame. “Do you think, Bucephalus, this will help you? I need no hunter to kill you. The light, the sun, it loves me. It is my glory it acts for.”
He lowered his head, brandishing his antlers. “I will tear through you first, woman,” Adonis goaded. “And I will gore him until there is nothing left of him. I will leave his eyes to be picked out by crows. I will grind his antlers to dust.”
Vivi lifted the broken antlers in her hands, the blackness dripping down her forearm.
“Try,” she whispered.
Behind her, something strange was happening.
Bucephalus’s eyes were trained at the Raevan boy, at his half-opened eyes. He waited for the light to return to them, for his irises to roll back forward, for reason to re-enter him. He waited for pink to overcome the blackness in his hair once more.
But it didn’t.
The darkness began to fade. Cesc’s eyes snapped open, senseless and sightless, and the black leeched away from it as though milk had been poured over it. There was no iris. The black stream dried from his lips, but white light replaced it. White slowly seeped into the black of his hair, like snow over ash.
His skin, too, was lit from the inside. The wound on his chest brightened, as though the sun had risen within him and escaped through the break in his skin. White-flame wings poured from his back against the snow. His ribbon, too, seared white-hot.
It lengthened. It broadened. It split into two.
Cesc gasped, a desperate and stabbing sound. The hollow of his throat turned toward the heavens and his back arched. His lips split, and another shuddering cry escaped him. It turned Vivi’s ear, but not her eyes, which stayed forward on Adonis. He began to gallop toward them, head down.
The deer in Bucephalus’ herd began lifting their heads.
Rhedefre, the Lightbreaker, turned onto his side. His form was difficult to see, blurred with an all-consuming light. He pressed a hand against the ground and he rose, for the first time, onto his feet.
Vivi, was the first coherent thought that stumbled through his brain. Vivi.
Vivi braced herself. Her teeth were gritted. She could not be distracted by the light behind her, by the sound of Rhedefre’s voice. She had to either protect him or avenge him now, and she would find out later which one it was. Tears blurred her vision as her grip tightened on the antlers in her palms.
There was a soft feeling of pressure on her shoulder.
The strings of antlers were being drawn off of her. Before her, she saw Adonis miss a step, his eyes wide, his mouth open. He let out a broken, bleating yell.
She turned.
Behind her, she saw Rhedefre—or someone like him, almost like him, tall and full-bodied, his shoulders broad, his hair a golden, lit white. He had no eyes but light, and his form was obscured by so much light that extended, extended from his form to Bucephalus’ and all his herd’s still-bowed antlers.
In the space between them, she could see the lit shape, like an inverted shadow, of another form, half-overlapped with Rhedefre’s. It was the shape of a massive and imposing stag.
“Let me do this,” said the being quietly, and his voice was Cesc’s.
In his hands, the antlers began to shine. They fused together, their points stretching toward the sunlight, into a weapon reminiscent of a stag’s rack.
Adonis streaked forward, still yelling, his breath streaming from his nostrils like steam. Whether the boy was alive or wasn’t, whether he had Bucephalus’ light or didn’t, what did it matter? He had the light of stags—five years of stags and doe and fawns that he’d taken. What did it matter? He was the beloved of the light. He, Adonis! He’d been blessed with strength and power. He would take this boy’s light as he’d taken others’.
He bent his head and dove forward, closing the distance between them, ready to feel his antlers tearing through flesh and bone.
Rhedefre, too, stepped forward, leaning into the impact, his sightless eyes narrowing into slits. He held the weapon before him, ready to collide.
A crash reverberated through the forest, shaking fresh snow from the leaves of the snow around them! They slammed into each other. Sparks spun from Cesc’s weapon like embers off dry tinder, and he felt himself stagger backward with the impact. His feet dragged against the ground, and he steadied himself, pushing forward. The antlers of the dead and the antlers of their murderer were locked, and Cesc held on as tightly as he could.
From just beyond the clearing, Hart watched. She sank into the snow, her eyes not on Rhedefre, not on Adonis, but on the form emanating behind Cesc. She traced the line of that well-known body. Its head was bent, its neck and head overlayed on Rhedefre’s arms. The shape of the antlers on that silhouetted spirit were exactly replicated on the weapon in its reincarnation’s hands.
She lifted a hand to her mouth.
Rhedefre’s feet struggled for purchase and pushed forward, and his every movement was mirrored by his visible, vibrant soul. Adonis tried to wring his neck forward, tried to throw the Raevan off balance, but Cesc and his soul did not move. They held. They held fast.
“You—“ Adonis croaked.
“No,” said Rhedefre, his voice even and angry. “Enough.”
He twisted the weapon. His soul twisted its head.
Adonis’ hooves scraped against the ground. His head tilted at an unnatural angle and the torque pulled its body with it. Twisted, bent, his antlers still locked with Rhedefre’s weapon, he fell heavily on his side in the snow.
Cesc’s hand went out, his fingers splayed, and then, in a quick motion, he curled them into a fist. There was a snapping, crackling sound as light began to break from Adonis’ flank, the molten gold of his eyes beginning to sap.
Adonis roared. He stared at Cesc in terror, his breath coming in fast.
“No—“ he cried. “You don’t have the knife!” He shrieked, desperate.
“I don’t need it,” hissed Rhedefre, and there was no mercy in his eyes. He pulled the light from Adonis like it was the thread on an unraveling sweater, the forest all around them lit as though garlands had been strung along it. Adonis’ coat was beginning to fade into brown. The Valsaros was breaking the light within him.
“You know what you’ve done,” Cesc seethed. The dawn was beginning to break on the horizon, the skies turning from midnight blue to pink. Light was beginning to wash over him, to touch his face. “You know what you’re paying for.”
“Bucephalus!” Adonis tried, desperately. His voice was losing its refinement, roughening. He struggled against the approaching unconsciousness. “You think this will be the end of it? He’ll take my light and yours. He will be a tyrant! You have not bought freedom when he kills me.” His strength weakened, a flame extinguished by a breath.
Cesc snorted, the sound rough. Vivi, Hart, Bucephalus—they turned their gazes to him.
“I’m not going to kill you. Light will never obey you again. And I want you to live long,” Cesc recited to Adonis. “And enjoy your exile.”
He unraveled his weapon from Adonis’ antlers and then, in a single and decisive motion, shattered it over his knee.
Immediately, light began to pour from it—and Adonis’ light that lingered through the air broke with it. The antlers, the eyes, the coats of the herd all around them began to brighten as it did so, light zooming from its displaced state in the forest back into their bodies.
Bucephalus leapt upward with the surge of power. Adonis’ power, all of it, every bit that he had stolen from the dead, redistributed around them.
The Lightbreaker had broken it, and he’d returned it.
Even the light in Rhedefre broke away from him, his eyes blinking out the remnants of it. His soul began to fade back into his body.
“Sertorius!” screamed Hart, and they both, as one, turned their head toward her.
For a moment, as she looked into the pure white of those eyes, she swore, she swore, she could see true recognition.
There was no room for anything else.
Pink light caressed Rhedefre’s face, settled in his hair. He blinked, and found his sight again. His skin dimmed. The bright white around his clothing dispersed into the calm light of day, revealing a golden suit, a pink cravat.
But the legs—the legs didn’t fade.
Cesc staggered on them, his borrowed power now gone, unsure of how to balance. There was too much, too much stimulus, too much input for him to be anything but shocked, numb. He scanned the ground—Adonis’ unconscious form, Azucar’s. The herd all around them, holding their breath.
“T-take him—“ he managed, stumbling. He cast around for something to give him purchase, his legs weakening. “He paid for what he did to me. To Azucar. I don’t know if he paid for what he did to you. Take him wherever you want. He’s—he’s yours now. I’m not your judge.”
Cesc’s knees buckled and he lurched—but Vivi slipped under his arm, gripping him tightly across his broad chest, pulling him upright.
“I have you,” she gasped. “I have you, Rhedefre.”
He slumped against her, exhaustion clouding his eyes. He felt naked suddenly, so much power lost and gained and lost again, raw and strange. But it was over.
It was over.
There was something in his hand, something where the antlers had been. He uncurled his fingers and looked down—a bent, half-naked pinion feather. He began to laugh, tired and giddy and delirious, letting the sound rumble through his frame. His eyelids were heavy. His limbs were lead.
Relief washed over him as he began to sink.
It was over.
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Posted: Sun Feb 26, 2017 1:33 pm
 Something to Show You
Shepard tells Claire and Lorin that there's something they should see, up in the bakery residence. *
Shepard didn't quite close the bedroom door. He and Vivi still peeked in, throughout the rest of the day.
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Posted: Sun Feb 26, 2017 1:34 pm
Forgotten Connections: Redux
Cesc stirred from his sleep.
He was still tired. His brain murmured and complained and asked for more sleep—more of this silent, peaceful, drink-deep-able sleep that he’d gotten none of in many long weeks. But another part of him was being shaken awake, tugged.
His eyes opened into darkness. For a moment, his breath hitched and he sat slowly, trying to remember where he was. The stolen apartment in that city by the desert? No—his own home. His own bed.
He was home.
He was home, he told his pounding heart.
He pressed the heel of his hands to his aching eyes. His ********, legs, that was right—bent. Rhedefre had never felt heavier, more solid, or more… complete. It was strange. Beyond strange. But still, even in this quiet, he knew he did not have the time to linger on it.
Cesc didn’t know how long he’d slept. He fell in the forest and then there was just darkness in his memory. He could recall Vivi hoisting him. What had become of him?
Azucar.
The thought nearly made Cesc leap from the bed. Azucar—had Vivi helped him?
“Are you worried about the hunter?”
Hart’s voice made him start in the darkness. Cesc turned his head sharply to see her in the corner of his room, seated on his desk chair. She was eyeing him, silent, unblinking, unmoving.
“Yes,” he replied. He was, by now, used to her encroaching on his privacy.
“Do not,” said Hart, shaking her head. She looked down at her hands, folded on her lap. “Your woman made sure that he was safe. He is in hospital now. He will be well.”
Cesc slowly rested back on his pillows, his shoulders relaxing. “Good.”
“You…” Hart continued. “You care deeply for him.”
“I do.”
She rose, took two steps to his bed, and sat on the foot of it. “More than anything?”
“More than most,” Cesc affirmed. He tilted his head up in the darkness.
“More than me?”
Cesc’s expression did not change. “If he was alive, Hart, I was always going to try to save him. Did you really think I’d have left him like that?”
“From the beginning, was it your motive?” she countered.
With a sigh, Cesc shrugged his shoulders. “From when you told me he’d been manipulated.”
“And before that? What was your motive? To do as I instructed?” She shook her head. In the glowing moonlight, he could see the brightness of her eyes.
“You know,” she said, her voice thick, “I do not know you as I once did. I saw you, you know, in that forest. Your body, your soul. You are all one. I swear—I swear you looked at me and that you knew me. But I thought, I truly thought, that you would kill Adonis for me. But when I think it, truly, in my heart of hearts, I knew: Sertorius, he did not murder, not for vengeance, not for me, not for anyone. He had no heart for slaughter. Only for justice.”
Cesc stayed quiet. His eyes drifted to her hands, waiting for her touch. But they stayed, still folded, still pooled in her lap.
“You looked at me when I called for Sertorius.”
“Because I know you,” said Cesc softly, “and because I know what you’ve called me for weeks now.”
Hart shook her head and closed her eyes.
“That can’t be… it cannot be. Perhaps you are young yet,” she sighed. “Perhaps I do not understand reincarnation as I hoped. I do not know. I do not know…”
“Hart. I may not be Sertorius as you remember him, but I would not abandon you. I will speak with Bucephalus,” murmured Cesc. “You will have protection. I swear it.”
Hart looked at him, her expression unreadable, tears the only light in her face. Without them, she may as well have been carved of wood.
“But you can’t,” whispered Cesc, leaning forward, “keep torturing yourself or me. You can’t just spy on me forever. You have to admit, Hart. If there was a way to force those memories—if there was a way to force me to love you, you’d have done it by now.”
“You are young yet,” Hart said. It sounded like a concession, in the way that her voice broke.
“I may be young for a long time yet,” he said wryly, his hands resting atop his thighs.
She closed her eyes, her lashes clumped with wet. She shook her head.
“I don’t know if I thanked you,” said Cesc suddenly. He pushed against the mattress and pulled himself forward in a motion reminiscent of his hobbling crutches, and gathered one of her limp hands. “I have hated you sometimes, Hart, but I would have died without you. And I’m sorry that I don’t remember you from when my soul was his to give you. Believe me when I say that I am sorry.”
Hart’s fingers curled against Cesc’s.
“I—“ she started, swallowing. “I don’t know you, do I?”
Her voice hushed into a whisper, small and broken. “I give you what you crave. I may leave you, yes, but only until I know—until I know for certain if he is asleep within you or gone to me until my dying day. But I promise you, Lightbreaker. I will never be lost to you if you stir from your ignorance of me. And I will try to make my tongue know your name.”
She hesitated. Her lips parted and closed and then opened once more. Her fingers tightened around his. But she did not say it. It was still too far.
But it was enough for now, and enough for Cesc.
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Posted: Mon Feb 27, 2017 8:27 pm
Back to Life
When he awoke again, the dawn had already risen. There was still a tiredness that seeped through him, all the way down to his bones, but Cesc had never been good at lounging in bed after he woke. How long had he been asleep, anyhow? Too long—that was the only amount he could parse.
He blinked heavily and sat up. Hart was gone. Guy Smiley had retreated under his bed, to make his den for his daytime rest. Grump had gone in search of breakfast, probably. Cesc slumped back against his pillows with a whoosh of air and put both hands atop his eyes, frowning. He should have heard the sounds of the bakery opening, shouldn’t he have? If he searched his memory, he knew what those sounds were—but they were not there.
They couldn’t be closed, could they?
A sudden fear leapt into Cesc’s heart. What—what had happened to the bakery in his absence? Who had held everything together? The morning bake, openings and closings, that one Christmas bridezilla who’d wanted the world in her damn seven-tiered cake? Someone had had to have done all those things, and all Cesc knew for certain was that it wasn’t him.
Nothing had been him for the past… however long. How long had he even been gone?
He turned. His phone was sitting on his nightstand, dead, as it had been for that same ‘however long.’ There would be messages there. Emails. Connections that had gone on with the days. The thought of all his friends slowly crept into his brain, like water seeping. Zurine. Iorek. Lorin—everyone. s**t.
What had he missed?
What day was it? February, maybe? Had he missed Zurine’s birthday? Who else’s?
He shook his head. There would be time for that—time for all of that, soon. He’d have to get back to work, to see what needed to be done, to see who he’d hurt and how much. And—and the hospital. He needed to go to the hospital, to see Azucar, to explain. ********. <********.
There would be a lot of explaining, wouldn’t there?
Cesc threw his legs over the side of his bed and rose, immediately smashing his thigh into his nightstand and cursing, falling back down onto the bed. He clasped the pained area with one hand, cursing again.
Legs. s**t! That was right, too. He’d forgotten—he wasn’t floating anymore. No ribbon. No—wow. No rune, either. He must’ve fed at least a little from dawn, but that didn’t seem to be enough anymore. He needed something else.
More carefully this time, Cesc rose again.
Feet.
His feet were on the ground.
It felt… solid. Connected. Good.
Cesc took a slightly staggered step forward, bracing himself on the wall. It wasn’t bad, actually—not as bad as scooting around on crutches, at least, and he felt like he’d get the hang of it, soon. One hand still on the wall, he took another step, then another, toward the door. He stared down at his feet, trying to keep himself from kicking or stubbing his toes. (Why are you doing that, Rhede? he asked himself. You don’t look at your damn hands to make sure you don’t break anything.)
Cesc forced himself to look back up.
Not bad, he thought, traversing from his bedroom to the bathroom door with increasing confidence in his steps. Not bad…
He was still wearing now-rumpled suit-pants. He could see where the rest of the suit’s pieces had been shed as Vivi’d helped him up the stairs and to his room yesterday; half-conscious and deeply exhausted, he’d just crashed the moment she’d let him.
He didn’t have any other pants…
Irrationally, Cesc was annoyed by that revelation. Why hadn’t they kept some pants around? Just in case? Not that it would have been practical. Or that they’d have any way of knowing his measurements. But still. Somehow, this felt like an indignity.
Well. He’d have to wait to shower, he guessed. He didn’t exactly stash spare boxers for this critical moment, either.
Cesc splashed water on his face. Brushed his teeth.
It was so blissfully normal.
All except for the lack of noises in the bakery and the gnawing hunger. And the phone he still hadn’t turned on. And the fact he needed, desperately, to go see what was going on with Azucar at the hospital. And the lower half of his body.
Whelp.
Cesc gently changed the bandages on his chest. The wound was strangely practically healed—a byproduct of the circumstances of his growth, he assumed. He prodded the area carefully, feeling for any strange warmth or pain, and then gave up. He thought about trying to see the wound on his back, but decided against the annoyance. It must’ve healed poorly. He could wait until a doctor saw it instead.
He pulled on a new t-shirt, one that, he admitted privately, looked fairly strange with golden slacks—but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and this was what he had.
Annoyance washed over him.
No.
No, ******** it.
It was his first real day as a fully-functioning Valsaros. And he was going to steal a pair of goddamn sweatpants from Shep.
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Posted: Tue Feb 28, 2017 3:23 pm
Back in the Saddle
Iorek comes to work to discover things aren't as bad as they were yesterday. *
[ongoing]
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Posted: Tue Feb 28, 2017 3:29 pm
Port of Call
“You know,” Cesc said quietly, lowering himself into the chair beside Azucar’s bed, “the last time I grew, my first port of call was also the hospital.”
Azucar turned his head toward him. He smiled languidly.
“You do not, by chance, have anymore to grow, do you? I’d like off the ride, if I may,” he said, his voice hoarse.
They neither of them made a very pretty picture. Cesc, absurdly dressed in grey sweatpants, a hoodie and excellent-quality brown wingtip shoes, looked like he’d stolen the shoes from a stock-broker; Azucar, freshly showered but still in a hospital gown, looked green and thin and malnourished.
Cesc smiled a thin smile. “You sure you don’t like the publicity? I came in while Channel Five was going out. Hero Cop Found, I’m guessing.”
Azucar shook his head. “I am not generally a fan of the cameras. Less so on this diet, my friend.”
Rhedefre leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He swallowed as the good humor evaporated from his features, leaving him hollow and worried and worn. His shoulders slouched. His voice was thin. “Azu… I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“I stabbed you twice,” Azucar returned in an exhausted murmur. His eyes were full. “I killed you, twice.”
“You didn’t even kill me once,” said Cesc, trying a smile. “You’re a real lousy murderer.”
“I tried. That was all I wanted,” said the detective. He rested back, his voice full of exhaustion and guilt. “The darkness—you couldn’t believe it. It was like I was… in a box, in my own mind, far away from anything. No matter what I tried, it kept seeping in. I saw my body like the movies, like I was watching something in that box to keep me entertained while I was paralyzed.”
He shuddered. He put a hand on his brow. “I woke and I swear, I didn’t even remember how to think.”
Cesc listened and the words seemed to strip weight from his face as Azucar spoke: his eyes darkened and there were hollows in his cheeks. He scooted forward, closer to the bed, and put one hand on the bedrail.
“It was my fault,” he said, the words jumbled, like a confession. “He did it to you to torture me. It was my own fault, Azucar. He—he—“
“I know what he did to you,” cut in Azucar. “I was there. I helped him, if you do not remember.”
Cesc flushed. “That wasn’t—“
“—I’m too tired to debate who is more at fault,” moaned the detective. “We both got each other pretty good, shall we leave it at that? I’ve eaten mostly foraged food for two months. The most impressive thing in this whole mess is that I didn’t give myself giardia. And I stabbed a friend twice in that span. It has been, if I can say, a shitty year so far.”
With a snort, Cesc raked his fingers through his hair. “Azucar…”
“I stabbed you. Your affection for me made me do it. I’d like to concentrate on eating and going back to work now,” said Azucar.
He paused, lifting an eyebrow at Rhedefre. “…I was asleep. Did you kill him?”
Cesc hesitated. For the first time, he questioned the decision. “No.”
“Did you let him go?”
“I took away his connection to light. Any of his power. And I let the stags decide the rest of his judgment,” said Rhedefre slowly, looking down at his hands.
“Good.”
Rhedefre looked up.
Azucar shrugged. “I’m proud of you. Not an easy call to make. I have had suspects I’ve wanted to kill. They deserved it. But that’s not justice, is it?”
“Revenge,” sighed the stag. “I wanted that, too.”
“Sometimes they can mix,” allowed Azucar. He looked hopefully at Cesc. “…what would help me, though? A croissant, I think. And a cup of your very excellent coffee. Your guardians told me they’ve had Perp looked after, and Neele almost had me buried in a symbolic funeral, so I think I’ve nearly gotten everything I need.”
Laughing, Cesc leaned back in his chair. He looked at Azucar, at his slimmer shoulders and his untouched smile, with his brows furrowed and his smile thin. His chest felt tight.
“How do you do it?” he asked. “You can’t shrug this off this easy. I made you a hostage.”
“You dragged yourself back from exile to tell me you loved me and let me stab you in the chest,” amended Azucar solemnly. “Only true friends let friends stab each other.”
Cesc let out a helpless laugh.
“I’m a police officer,” said Azucar. “I investigate murderers. It’s not the easiest job. Not the safest.” He shook his head. “I always knew there was a possibility for something horrible to happen. I admit the narrowness of my thinking. I had not considered it’d come from a herd of deer.”
“Well, we all make mistakes,” said Cesc, the humor in his voice worn. He paused, wetting his lips, drying his palms against his thighs. “I—I do hear you. But I just want you to know. I’m so sorry. I really am. I have to tell you.”
“I know,” said Azucar, lowering his tone. His smile was soft and genuine. “I am also tremendously sorry, my friend. But the best revenge is living well, I hear—so I will go to my department-mandated therapy, and I will get out of here, and I will go back to my very enjoyable life. But perhaps I will eat venison with a little more gusto in the future.”
Cesc closed his eyes and snorted. “I don’t hold that against you.”
“I didn’t think you would,” said Azucar. He scooted down in his bed, reclining back, and fished out his television remote. “But you can take back your very kind declaration of love, if you desire.”
“Nah,” said Cesc, shaking his head. He oriented his chair toward the television, settling in. “I do love you. ”
“I love you too, Cesc,” said the detective with a shake of his head. He flicked on the television and rested back. “We’ll get through this, you and I. With the help of daytime television, anything is possible.”
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Posted: Sat Apr 22, 2017 9:55 pm
Alternate Dimension
On his way out from the hospital, Cesc comes across a strange scene he didn't expect to ever see again. *
[ongoing]
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Posted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 4:10 pm
Apology Tour
Cesc apologizes to Lorin and Claire at long last.
*
[ongoing]
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Posted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 4:11 pm
Feel It Still
Cesc finds out something uncomfortable about Mordekai while helping him and Aina out.
*
[ongoing]
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Posted: Thu Oct 25, 2018 1:20 pm
Well, Then
Cesc and Xiu see each other for the first time in a while
*
Xiu could not believe it. He had received a call. And from Cesc no less! That meant that the Stag was finally back. Not much had been disclosed during the phone conversation but a time and place had been given and as Xiu glanced at the clock on the wall, he had just about enough time to hop on the three o’clock bus to Gambino and meet Cesc at Cafe Florentine. Xiu had been there once with Lazarus. They had shared a Dutch baby then. The coffee had been pretty good too. In terms of cakes though, Vermillion was still the undisputed champion. But what Cafe Florentine offered in was privacy, with partitioned booths * set along the length of one wall, it was where people could talk in private. And there was a lot to talk about. At least, there was a lot that Xiu wished to know about Cesc’s disappearance. What had happened? It was really unlike Cesc to cause worry. Boarding the bus, Xiu swiped his travel card across the scanner and chose a window seat. It won’t be long now before he met his friend once again. * http://www.starwoodhotels.com/pub/media/3094/fpt3094re.138185_md.jpg----- Cesc ended the call with a low, slow exhale. He sat on the edge of his bed, turning his phone over in his hands. It was the second stop in what he privately referred to as his “apology tour,” his personally reaching out to friends that had worried for him and explaining, as best he could, where he’d gone and what had happened. Not that a lot of that was really happening. Vivi and Shepard had taken care of most of the ‘all clear’ calls to people, but Rhedefre himself had been reticent thus far. Days passed and he was still exhausted, still tense, still unable to pay back his sleep debt and the gnawing feeling in the back of his head that he was still on some kind of clock. People worried. Time passed. He’d wanted his old life back, and he was still trying to piece what he wanted back together. At least Xiu sounded pleased to hear from him. Geezus. Xiu. Cesc reached for a pair of black street sneakers, still new and in their box, and bent to put them on. What had Xiu been up to, since… geezus, since the last time Cesc had seen him, in this very apartment, getting showered up after a night of hunting ghouls. Had he found some kind of balance since then? Or had he continued until something helped him back on his path? Cesc didn’t know. He’d been out of the loop since that last meeting. He took a folded hoodie from his closet and pulled it on. He looked at himself in the mirror--jeans, sneakers--and managed a half a smile. They’d both kind of been out of the loop, huh. “Heading out to meet Xiu!” he called to Shep as he trundled down the stairs, letting himself out the bakery side door. Cafe Florentine was walking distance away on the strip--he might even get there before Xiu’s bus did. ----- The bus rattled and coughed its way up the gentle slope of the hill. Xiu sat in his seat impatiently. Thankfully though, the next stop would take him no more than a brisk walk across the street to meet his long time friend. A brisk walk… Almost without realizing it, Xiu glanced at his feet and wiggled them. So… A smile appeared across the Raevan’s lips. Who would have thought? Hah, he was still trying to get to grips with it himself. After all that worry and anxiety and...stuff. Yeah...stuff. Nope, today was not a day to dwell upon it. He was going to meet Cesc and possibly (perhaps?) help his friend if he could and only if Cesc wanted it. Once again Xiu wiggled his feet. Clad in a respectable pair of sneakers (courtesy of Lulu), Xiu reached for the phone in his jeans’ pocket (also courtesy of Lulu’s critical eye) and checked for messages. There were currently none. Arriving soon. Xiu hit the send button and got up just as the bus pulled into its stop. Stepping off, the white Raevan adjusted his shirt, a long sleeved navy blue layered over a white split neck shirt (also courtesy of LuLu’s pick) and proceeded to the cafe at a brisk walk. The wind was rather strong today and Xiu was glad that he had his hair tied back to keep it in place. Now where was Cesc? Blue eyes immediately scanned the vicinity for a shock of pink and orange, Cesc’s distinguishing hair and ribbon. What he found instead was… Could it be?! “Cesc?!” exclaimed Xiu despite himself. --- Hearing his name called, Cesc looked up from where he stood, peering down at his phone mid-text to Xiu to let the other know he’d arrived. When he heard Xiu’s voice, he opened his mouth, ready to greet him in return. Cesc froze. Well. They’d both frozen. To an outsider, it must have looked patently ridiculous. Cesc stared, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, in a perfectly-paused moment. For that moment, movement, breath, understanding--they were all impossible. Legs? Wait. He’d grown, right? No--Cesc’s logic stopped sputtering and squashed down a ridiculous forming thought. Cesc could feel in his own, solid body that obviously he had grown, and obviously Xiu’s own growth wouldn’t magically have canceled that out. And equally obviously, there was no way his own growth would have impacted Xiu’s in any way. Holy s**t! Cesc’s expression of shock gave way to a laughing smile, and he went forward, clapping his friend on the shoulder a few times. “Xiu, what the hell! You didn’t want to tell me?! Well--yeah, okay, pot calling the kettle black a bit--look at you! Holy crap, look at you!” It was a big inelegant, but his delight was evident in the lightness of his smile and the rush of his words, which laughter soon ate up. --- “And look at you!” said Xiu as he was heartily clapped on the back. “You have grown tall Cesc!” And that was no understatement. Paired with an impressive set of antlers, Cesc seemed to tower over most. “I’m glad,” said Xiu with a chuckle. “LuLu was just asking if I knew any other Valsaros and only Lazarus came to mind. I am glad that you are in that list now,” Realization suddenly dawned. Was Cesc’s disappearance tied to his growth? Xiu hoped that nothing awful happened but from what little he gleaned from Lazarus and the rest, it would appear that Cesc had been through a fair bit. What with ominous stories of white stags and missing people. But they were attracting stares as it were. There would be time to discuss this in the privacy of the cafe. Motioning to the establishment in question, Xiu grinned. “Shall we adjourn to Cafe Florentine? This is a good start to a meeting indeed,” --- “That’s unbelievable,” Cesc said, laughing, his shoulders starting to shake. The sight was so, so improbable. It was so improbable that Cesc could not stop himself from laughing at it, even as they went into the cafe, and even as they sat, he was still smiling wide and strangling down his mirth. The cafe itself was warmly-decorated and intimate, with booths that gave patrons an extra feeling of privacy. A slim ponytailed waitress nodded at them and waved them into one, sliding small book-like menus at them as they sat down. She eyed them both with a look of interest, but smiled a professional smile as she walked away. From the hostess stand, however, she peered at them again over a show of reorganizing napkins. “Xiu, I can’t get over it,” Cesc announced, as soon as they were alone, although he ticked his eyes to the waitress and gave her a quick smile. She reddened, surprised to be caught looking, and Cesc returned his attentions to Xiu. “How long? I’ve got to know. Last I saw you, you… well, you definitely didn’t look as good as you do now.” --- Having settled themselves in the comfortable enclosure of the booth and provided with the cafe’s menu, Xiu glanced over at his raevan friend and laughed. “The circumstances of our last meeting was indeed… under less favourable conditions,” replied Xiu with good humour. “But fortunately, that’s settled now; for the better, hopefully. Lorenzo had been a great help with returning the spiritual balance of Gaia and his Raevan Vesna played no small role in it as well,” “Oh man, even now that seems unbelievable,” Grinning, Xiu narrated the events succeeding his meeting with Cesc;- from summoning the Slavic god of death to trading Vesna’s 3DS for a loan on Russian spirits. Following that escapade came the slightly painful events of being “disowned” by his guardian and his eventual month long slumber. “And Dr. Kyou broke my sleep to call me on a favour. Apparently I owed him cheese cakes,” said Xiu with a laugh. “So here I am,” “But where were you?” asked Xiu, his voice taking on a concerned tone. “When I awoke, Lazarus...he told me that you were missing,” --- Cesc listened with rapt attention as Xiu spoke, more than once exclaiming and bursting into laughter as he went through the ordeal with Vesna. It seemed hardly believable what he’d gone through, and Cesc could only imagine both Vesna’s and Lorenzo’s faces when the trade had actually gone through. He paused only when the waitress came back for their orders, which they gave, and then Xiu’s story took a different turn--one a touch more somber, quieter, than his tale until that point. So he’d slept, Cesc thought with some envy, and awoken fully-formed. “That’s some luck,” said the stag Raevan with a tilted smile, nodding his thanks as the waitress returned to place their drinks in front of them. “I didn’t really have that luck.” He paused, turning the question over in his head. Where was he? If he was honest, he didn’t really know. Cesc frowned as he took in a slow inhale and looked down at his tea and stirred it with a spoon. He placed the spoon gently in its saucer, as though absorbed with the motions. “I was…” he started, his eyes still lowered. Cesc shrugged, looking back up at Xiu. There was a sort of finality to the way he spoke. “Far away. Injured. And it took me a long time to get back. I didn’t have a way of letting anyone know.” He half-smiled. That he was still tired from his ordeal was obvious. “...but I’m home now, I guess, so that’s something. With legs and all.” --- Xiu listened with concern at his friend’s tale. The piyao suspected that there was a lot more to that than Cesc was letting on but the stag seemed reluctant to talk about. And Xiu respected his friend’s wishes. The important thing was that Cesc was safe. No point in making Cesc relive a nightmare if its sole purpose was merely to satisfy his own selfish curiosity. Stirring his tea absently for a moment, Xiu then gave his friend a glance. “Yeah, it is. That makes three of us now,” said the Valsaros, referring to the development of legs before an idea occurred to him. “And you know what legs are apparently good for? Stretching! We could do with some of that. A change of pace, somewhere to rest, relax and recuperate…,” Now that the idea had taken on a vivid imagery in his mind, Xiu’s voice became animated. “How about it? Just the three of us? It could be like...kids celebrating their 18th birthday or something,” --- “That’s right,” said Cesc with a laugh, leaning back and shaking off his somberness. “I can’t believe it.” As Xiu continued, however, a look of interest began to grow across Cesc’s face. He took a drink and smiled behind his mug as he thought of Xiu’s metaphor: he would pay money, he thought, to see Xiu be like a kid celebrating their 18th birthday. “The three of us?” repeated Cesc. “That wouldn’t make you guys feel uncomfortable, for me to come with you on holiday? I don’t want to be a third wheel…” --- “You won’t be,” said Xiu with a dismissive shake of his head. “It will be a group of friends hanging out and having a good time. Away from guardians and responsibilities. Let someone else make our beds and cook our meals. I...don’t think romance would feature in it too much. Uh…,” A mental image of Lazarus stealing a kiss down an empty corridor crossed his mind but it was quickly stamped down. No, this holiday would be for having fun as a group. “It would be like that jenga session we had. Just longer,” said Xiu with a grin as he took out his phone and began thumbing through the search engine for “great holiday destinations”. “So, are you in? Lazarus does not know but I could tell him later,” --- Cesc looked at Xiu with his eyes narrowed for a long moment, trying to ascertain whether his friend was just being polite or if his invitation was an earnest one. Satisfied at last, he reclined again and set his mug down onto its saucer. “I’m definitely in for hanging out and having a good time,” said Cesc with a half-smile. “Maybe somewhere calming, where we could have good food and some quiet? No, uh… boats, if that’s good with you. Or too much sand.” --- Xiu nodded. “Got it. Not the seaside then. I myself am partial to clean air and I recall Lazarus saying he wants to try his hand at photography…,” Several moments of scrolling went by before Xiu turned his phone towards Cesc with a grin. “How about the highlands then? It’s calming, the air is bracing and the food provided would probably be locally sourced. We could do campfires or picnic-hikes?” On the phone was listed several images of picturesque hills and lush evergreen forests. The picture of healthy living. And amongst the various inns, cabins and log-houses up for offer was a ryokan-styled guesthouse. With a small caption saying that they featured a natural hotspring bathhouse on their premises. --- The highlands… Cesc took a moment to let the thought marinate. Would that be different enough from the preserve, different enough to keep him from ruminating on the ‘recent unpleasantness,’ as Granny would call it? A highlands landscape was not the same as the preserve, even from the pictures Cesc could see on Xiu’s phone--they were not quite equal, though just as green and lovely, and the preserve certainly didn’t have a hot spring attached, nor any sort of cabin with any type of luxury. “Wait, what’s that one?” Cesc said as he craned his neck to see the images better. “That one that looks like a, uh, what’s-it-called, the Japanese inn thing. That view is incredible. Way out of our price range?” --- “This one?” asked Xiu as he tapped on the image for more details. Several seconds of loading went by before more images of the inn in question appeared along with its details and rates. “Actually, the price is pretty decent. A three-to-a-room for $200 a night. Breakfast included. Stay more than two nights and one Ryokan-style dinner will be provided as well. Vegetarian option is available,” “The reviews are a bit...weird though,” said Xiu with a small frown as he turned the screen to Cesc once more. “ The word ‘haunted’ pops out often,” --- “Wait, what’s the place called?” asked Cesc, pulling his own phone out and setting it on the table. He typed in the inn’s name as soon as it was given, and began scrolling through the pictures first. It was idyllic--simply but beautifully furnished, impeccably clean, with lots of attention to detail. That it was old was easily apparent--it seemed to have been within the same family’s hands for generations, and every review until eight months ago seemed to have been glowing. Particular praise was heaped on for the home-cooked meals and the cleanliness of the inn, as well as of the spa and hot springs. Cesc made a quiet hum as he swiped through the reviews. “You’re right… people started to think it was haunted sometime last year. Moans and clangs waking people up at night, people hearing strange stuff…” He frowned at one particular review. “...a tapping at the window for hours but nobody in view? What the…” He propped his head on one hand as he swiped back to the inn’s image gallery. “But… look at that breakfast spread… the rice and miso…” --- “It all looks so good,” agreed Xiu as he browsed through the inn’s image folder. “And at $200 a night, I think the main question is… would ghosts actually be a deterrent for us?” A subtle shift in Xiu’s demeanor indicated that the Valsaros did not think so and that if spooks were to make themselves known, they’d soon wish that they hadn’t. Glancing up at Cesc, Xiu noticed that the other shared similar sentiments. “I’d say we take the offer, a three nights stay at the inn. If Lazarus has a driving license, we could rent a car or something. It’s a five hour drive to get there,” “Do you have a particular schedule to follow? If not, let me run this by Lazarus and see if I can make a reservation,” said Xiu with a smile. --- “I mean, we do have some part-timers who filled in for me when I was gone,” said Cesc with a roll of his shoulders. “I don’t think Shep and Vivi would be thrilled, but I also think that they’d be ok with me taking a vacation after…” He waved a hand non-committally rather than continue, looking back down at his phone at the several other vegetarian spreads the inn seemed to offer. “Look, I don’t care if the place is crawling with ghosts. I can’t see ‘em, you’ve got a sword they’re all gonna be scared of, and I can’t see anything from the otherworld or underworld trying for a piece of Laz.” Cesc looked back up at Xiu and half-smiled. “Besides, I’m not really feeling scared of anything tapping on my window at night. I’m not a light sleeper for the few hours I do like to get. And I’m always up before dawn anyway, so if the ghost needs company…” He straightened, nodding firmly. “I’m in if Laz doesn’t mind. Besides, I don’t mind going on a night hike or two to give you guys the time for a date.” Cesc’s smile became boyish and brilliant. --- Xiu nodded sympathetically when Cesc made allusions to his ordeal. Perhaps with time, the rough-edged memory would smoothed itself out. “I don’t see ghosts making a go at Lazarus either,” said Xiu with a laugh. “Neither do I see him getting spooked,” At the mention of Cesc taking a hike to provide some alone time for the both of them, the Valsaros blushed but covered it by making a show of enjoying his tea. Having a romantic night with Lazarus in a quiet inn away from civilization sounded pretty...tempting. Perhaps it was best to see how the situation played out before outright denying the possibilities. Grinning sheepishly, Xiu then bookmarked the page for future references. “Fantastic. I will call you then.”
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Posted: Thu Oct 25, 2018 1:24 pm
Valsaros Getaway
Cesc, Xiu and Lazarus go for a vacation.
*
[ongoing]
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Posted: Thu Oct 25, 2018 1:24 pm
Drag Show
Cesc and Lulu see a drag show.
*
[ongoing]
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