stardust

still waiting for you every night with ticker tape, ticker tape

[summerbegs]

Chey had made a career out of questionable choices. Dyeing her hair nearly black after a breakup, accidentally starting a bar fight... She’d never claimed to have good instincts - just fast ones. But this? This might’ve been the most questionable choice yet. It didn’t feel real until the Hill Country opened up in front of them, sun-washed and familiar, and Matt was right there beside her like this had always been the plan.

How the hell had she actually talked him into this?

Her gaze fixed on the house as it came into view - her family’s favorite rental, every truck and SUV parked like a warning sign in the driveway. This was usually the part where Chey thrived. Pressure, unpredictability, a little chaos. It’s what made her so good at her job. But this wasn’t a set. There were no second takes here, no clean exits if it all went sideways.

This was real life, and for once, her nerves didn't sit quietly in the background. No, they clawed their way forward, loud and relentless.

“Huh?” she blinked, turning to him a beat too late, realizing he’d asked her something she hadn’t even registered. Her brain had been too busy running worst-case scenarios on a loop. Then her eyes met his. Something in her chest loosened - just a little. She exhaled, nodding faintly as it clicked. “I think so.”

She held his gaze a second longer than necessary, studying him now like she hadn’t fully let herself before. The sharp line of his jaw, the stupidly perfect hairline, eyes that were honestly kind of unfair...

God, her family was never going to believe this.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, like she was sizing him up for a problem she hadn’t accounted for. “Can you try to look…” she tilted her head, squinting at him, “…less pretty?”

[humidnights]

As Chey spoke, he had glanced out the windshield towards the rental home and saw a woman with blonde hair and laugh lines on the porch - the resemblance made it undeniable that this was Carrie, who he’d now heard plenty of stories about. It had begun to dawn on him just how little of Chey he had known, up until today. She had been just his cousin’s best friend, the girl who got under his skin with always a witty comment or a way to turn his day upside down. Just seeing her mom made him realize how much about her he was going to unearth in a short amount of time, and it wasn’t an idea he was entirely averse to.

He opened his mouth to speak and then processed what Chey had said, and turned to look at her with a confused scowl. “What?” He narrowed his eyes at her and closed his mouth for a moment, then opened again. He had a hard time determining if she was trying to be funny and sincere, and got the weird sense that it was a bit of both. At a loss for words, he just shook his head and could only grumble, “It’s a bit late to try buttering me up, Johnson.”

As he started to get out of the car, he tilted his head towards her mom on the porch, now making her way over towards them. “Incoming, by the way.”

[humidnights]

northern attitude | matt & chey

As Matt parked the vehicle outside of the rental in Concan, there was a part of him that was, quite frankly, shocked that he had allowed himself to be put into this situation. But, another part of him grumbled at the fact that it also wasn’t surprising at all - since when had he become soft-hearted, wanting to help out the girl he had once seen as his sworn enemy in an elevator many years ago?

The drive through hill country was filled with Chey catching Matt up on all the things about her life he should probably know, from where she grew up to all the members of her family. For the most part, he just listened intently with the occasional follow up question here and there. He was an only child and his immediate family was small, and the closest to a sibling he had ever had was Tegan, who lived miles away when they were young. Hearing stories of the way Chey grew up was incredibly far removed from his own experiences in his youth - so he listened, partially from necessity of the information, but also from curiosity.

Silence washed over them as they pulled up to the rental home and as he put the car into park, there was a slight sense of regret that struck him for a moment. It wasn’t until this moment that he really contemplated the fact that he was going to have to socialize, a lot - and it was far from his intent to embarrass Chey, so he really was here to make a good impression and not just beeline for his room to hide away.

With a deep sigh, he rubbed his palms against the sides of his jeans and looked over at Chey. As their eyes met in the silence of the car, the dread slowly started to dissipate; he was strangely comforted by the fact that Chey was here, and that he wasn't going into this alone.

He raised an eyebrow at her and tilted his head towards the house. “You ready?”

[summerbegs]

if we were vampires | devin & nadine

The bar still smelled like spilled beer and adrenaline. Devin leaned against the cool brick wall in the narrow storage hallway, chest rising and falling as the muffled sound of police radios crackled through the thick wooden door. One eye had swollen shut and his knuckles had throbbed - not broken, but sore enough to remind him how close he’d come to crossing a line he couldn’t afford to cross again. Nearly breaking a guy’s nose wasn’t exactly the low-profile life choice he’d been aiming for. His patience had run too thin that evening when a drunk bastard disrespected Nadine while at work. Devin threw the first punch without much thought.

He half expected the police to push through the door and drag his sorry ass out of there, but listening closely he could hear Nadine convince them that there was no trouble and she was in fact the only one working that night. The drunk man must've been sorely mistaken, she told them with conviction.

Something warm and dangerous flickered in his chest, equal parts gratitude and trouble. He waited until the cops’ footsteps faded and the door swung shut before pushing himself off the wall. A second later, he stepped back into the bar, posture relaxed but eyes locked on her.

“You lied to the cops for me?” he said, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth as he tilted his head. “Pretty sexy, if you ask me."

[humidnights]

Running into a drunk asshole in her line of work was an incredibly frequent occurrence that Nadine had learned to brush off and ignore. However, some proved themselves to be just obnoxious enough to cause a flicker of irritation - and, on this particular night, there was a man that had made a few loud offhanded comments, which wasn’t incredibly unordinary. But something about the vitriol in his words really started to get under her skin as the night had progressed, and one particularly derogatory comment was made when Devin had entered the room; moments later, there were swollen knuckles and broken noses.

Once the authorities had left, she started making a makeshift ice pack for him as he came out from the back. She looked up at him, she felt two things at once: a somewhat guilty feeling, fueled by the sense that there was something she should have done differently so Devin didn’t find himself with a black eye forming and the authorities at his door. Another part of her - a big part - was overcome by the warmth that bloomed in her chest with the way he fiercely protected her.

A smile touched her lips as she shook her head at his comment. Lying to the authorities seemed minor relative to the other events of the evening. “Yeah, alright, hotshot. It’s the least I could do for someone willing to take a punch for me.”

Nadine peered up at him, and she found herself overcome with a sudden urge to brush her lips against the bruises forming on his hands and his face. She blinked and quickly turned her attention to the ice pack as she let the thought fade away, tracing her fingers with a feather-light touch across his cheekbone before starting to gently press the ice pack around the edges of his swollen eye. She took in a deep breath before letting her eyes flicker back to his. “Thank you, by the way. I’m sorry you got hurt.”

[humidnights]

prologue: the tides

Brenoris is drowning.

The words came out as a sob from a young woman from Linserin, describing the way that the storms hadn’t stopped in months, and the way the tide rose higher and higher with each day. Coastal homes and buildings that have housed families for generations are now deep beneath the watery depths, and sudden tidal waves whisked people away, never to be seen again. The girl took in a shaky breath, fingers brushing away the tears that ran down her cheeks. “My mother stood in this very spot many times to tell King Brennan that this shows clear signs of a witch’s hand. Now that the tides have taken her, I feel it’s my duty to make it known to you. Nothing about what is happening to Brenoris is natural - rains like this never existed in decades past. This rain, and these tides, will soon devour the land whole. Only a witch can curse a land so thoroughly, with such vehemence. Please - I urge you to see to this. Before the sea takes more away.”

Vamir looked at the girl thoughtfully, the pitter-patter of rain against the glass the only sound to mask her quiet cries. Persistent rains are all he had ever known - and they had gotten more and more persistent was time went on. Bright and sunny days weren’t incredibly common when he was young, but they felt like a rarity now. When was the last time I saw the sun? he wondered.

“You’re not the first person to bring this forward. I think many people can all corroborate your concerns, myself included, that the rains and the tides continue to get worse. I hadn’t considered the possibility of this being a witch’s curse.” The fact that this was brought forward to his uncle in the past surprised him. What didn’t surprise him was the possibility that Brennan had brushed it off; it seemed that many things were ignored by him, and this was one of many. The edge of the royal circlet bit into the crown of his head, the weight of it bearing down on him. He looked at the girl again, his voice kind but resolute. “Thank you for making the journey here. I will look into this immediately and see to it that a resolution is found.”

He felt Aris go deadly still next to him as he spoke. The King’s counsel had made it very clear that in these meetings, he shouldn’t make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep to the citizens that came in. Kallan and Theron remained silent during the exchange, as is expected of the King’s guard and secondary counsel, but the claims of a witch being involved made them visibly tense as well. As soon as the doors shut behind the girl, Aris’ voice cut through the quiet room. “Your Majesty, I would not advise making this issue a priority. The tides have been a decades’ long concern with no leads.”

“Did my uncle look into the concerns of a witch’s curse?” Vamir turned to face Aris, their steel grey eyes meeting his. For the past couple decades that he had known them, they maintained their bone white hair kept cut close to the scalp - as is typical of their people within Schi’s Divine Order. Aris was counsel to the previous king, and Vamir inherited them after his uncle’s passing. The knowledge they maintained, both of Brenoris’ workings and the worldly affairs as a whole, made them invaluable. However, despite the mutual respect they’d developed for one another over the past two years, there were times where Vamir’s stubbornness in what was right and Aris’ stubbornness in what was logical caused a friction between them. From the look on their face, he could tell it was going to be another one of those days.

“No, he did not. That would require finding and convening with one.”

Vamir stared at Aris. “…I think this would warrant at least an attempt at finding a witch to get some answers.”

“King Brennan didn’t believe it did,” Aris said cooly, as always. “He worked on combating the issue with moving unhoused individuals further inland, increasing structural integrity - ”

“Those aren’t solutions, they’re temporary mends. How could he hear this multiple times and not even look into it once?”

“Vamir,” Theron cut in. “I don’t mean to discredit the girl when I say this, but it doesn’t seem like her mother’s claims were founded on any real evidence. This could quickly become a goose chase that leads us nowhere.”

“If the claims lead us nowhere, then it leads us nowhere.” Vamir closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, fighting to keep his voice level. “I’m…apprehensive about the idea of dismissing this. Quite frankly, I think anyone that gives a shit about what’s going on and what’s plaguing our people would go on infinite goose chases to fix this.”

His brother rolled his eyes, as he often did when he felt Vamir was being self-righteous. “Okay, sure, let’s say we looked into this - even if we managed to track down and question a witch that was willing to talk to us, I highly doubt they would want to help our cause.”

“Brenoris has to be home to a witch somewhere,” Vamir insisted, his voice taking on a firm tone that made it clear that his opinion was unmovable. “Even if they’re as self serving as you say, it would be worth the effort to at least speak to them. If Brenoris is their home, maybe they’d want to save it. The girl was right - this land is drowning. The sea will take away more homes and more towns, and it’s only a matter of time before the floods and lack of sun leads to significant crop failure. It would be foolish not to look into every possibility.”

The three of them didn’t disagree - but none of them jumped to accept his request to find a witch either. Aris and Theron made their opinions clear on witches as a whole, that it would be a waste of time. Kallan remained silent, but when they locked eyes, Vamir knew what was on his mind. Kallan, more than likely, agreed with everything Vamir said - but, his brother had an apprehension towards witches which had nothing to do with the rumors or common fears surrounding them. Like calls to like, so the saying goes. Avoiding magic in its many forms was a habit Kallan had developed throughout the course of his life, in an effort to quiet the lightning in his veins. To place himself into a situation where he could interact with high levels of magic felt like tempting fate, and going against everything he had done to contain his own magic. But, despite it all, Vamir knew that if he asked Kallan to find a witch, he would go against his instincts and do it in an effort to do the right thing; and it was for that reason that he couldn’t ask it of him.

He sighed, standing from his seat. “Alright. We’ll discuss this more later, with the other noble houses.”

The room sighed with relief that the subject was dropped, especially with the knowledge that the other houses would likely push back as well. As king, he could make any of his requests a command and everyone would be compelled to see to it - but, he had never imposed that power, and likely never would. It made his requests easier to push out of the forefront. So, he let them believe the placating lie that the other nobles would see to the end of this request of his.

The relief they felt was likely brief, when in the morning they would find a note left in his chambers: Seeing to the issue of the tides. Theron and Kallan shall lead in my stead until I return.

[humidnights]

Golverne was known as the town of ascent. Tucked away in a valley further inland, the town began at the base of the mountain and was built upward, shops and homes following the gentle slope of the northern hills as if trying to get closer to the sky above. In years past, the buildings at the lowest elevation crested a lake at the center of the valley, where the burg was known to thrive in cultivating freshwater fish and wild rice. Now, as Vamir entered the valley after a three days’ ride to the west of Boragh, he found that the lake of Golverne began to devour the buildings with its water levels crawling upwards along the northern hills. Buildings he remembered at the lowest point of the valley had disappeared entirely, lost under watery depths.

Since leaving Boragh, he had come across small villages here and there, making inquiries to try to find new information about curses and magic, or the sense that a witch was near. He had no such success, only people who scowled at the mention of witches, and some worn books that held more or less things that he had already known. The one comfort of his travels that he held on to was the preservation of his anonymity the further he got from the capital. Since inheriting the throne, he had been adamant about avoiding drawings and paintings of his likeness to disseminate in papers and be put on display. So far, he had only one royal painting done, and sorry imitations of his likeness ever made its way out of the castle. It was lucky that he was able to be no one in the midst of all of this, and he began to realize just how much he cherished it.

The darkening cloudy skies indicated that it was late afternoon as he pushed further into town, deciding to stop in to a bookshop before finding an inn. Though sparse in his travels, writings on the history of witchcraft and magic were proving themselves to be informative in a subject he knew very little about. If anything, they were strengthening his belief that the girl’s mother had been right - the signs of a witch’s curse were feeling more and more evident with each drop of rain he brushed off his brow.

As he walked into the warmth of one of the shops in the center of town, he ran his hand through his damp hair, looking around to find rows of bookshelves, more extensive than any of the small villages he had run into so far. The only other person in the shop was a woman that worked there - her hair reminded him of marigolds that his mother would grow outside his childhood home. He smiled at her, dancing around the topic of what he was looking for in a way that he found would prompt minimal adverse reaction. “Hello - do you sell books about magic? Not spell books, but more like…history tomes, I suppose. About magic and witchcraft in the eastern continent.”

[humidnights]

prologue: the tides

Brenoris is drowning.

The words came out as a sob from a young woman from Linserin, describing the way that the storms hadn’t stopped in months, and the way the tide rose higher and higher with each day. Coastal homes and buildings that have housed families for generations are now deep beneath the watery depths, and sudden tidal waves whisked people away, never to be seen again. The girl took in a shaky breath, fingers brushing away the tears that ran down her cheeks. “My mother stood in this very spot many times to tell King Brennan that this shows clear signs of a witch’s hand. Now that the tides have taken her, I feel it’s my duty to make it known to you. Nothing about what is happening to Brenoris is natural - rains like this never existed in decades past. This rain, and these tides, will soon devour the land whole. Only a witch can curse a land so thoroughly, with such vehemence. Please - I urge you to see to this. Before the sea takes more away.”

Vamir looked at the girl thoughtfully, the pitter-patter of rain against the glass the only sound to mask her quiet cries. Persistent rains are all he had ever known - and they had gotten more and more persistent was time went on. Bright and sunny days weren’t incredibly common when he was young, but they felt like a rarity now. When was the last time I saw the sun? he wondered.

“You’re not the first person to bring this forward. I think many people can all corroborate your concerns, myself included, that the rains and the tides continue to get worse. I hadn’t considered the possibility of this being a witch’s curse.” The fact that this was brought forward to his uncle in the past surprised him. What didn’t surprise him was the possibility that Brennan had brushed it off; it seemed that many things were ignored by him, and this was one of many. The edge of the royal circlet bit into the crown of his head, the weight of it bearing down on him. He looked at the girl again, his voice kind but resolute. “Thank you for making the journey here. I will look into this immediately and see to it that a resolution is found.”

He felt Aris go deadly still next to him as he spoke. The King’s counsel had made it very clear that in these meetings, he shouldn’t make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep to the citizens that came in. Kallan and Theron remained silent during the exchange, as is expected of the King’s guard and secondary counsel, but the claims of a witch being involved made them visibly tense as well. As soon as the doors shut behind the girl, Aris’ voice cut through the quiet room. “Your Majesty, I would not advise making this issue a priority. The tides have been a decades’ long concern with no leads.”

“Did my uncle look into the concerns of a witch’s curse?” Vamir turned to face Aris, their steel grey eyes meeting his. For the past couple decades that he had known them, they maintained their bone white hair kept cut close to the scalp - as is typical of their people within Schi’s Divine Order. Aris was counsel to the previous king, and Vamir inherited them after his uncle’s passing. The knowledge they maintained, both of Brenoris’ workings and the worldly affairs as a whole, made them invaluable. However, despite the mutual respect they’d developed for one another over the past two years, there were times where Vamir’s stubbornness in what was right and Aris’ stubbornness in what was logical caused a friction between them. From the look on their face, he could tell it was going to be another one of those days.

“No, he did not. That would require finding and convening with one.”

Vamir stared at Aris. “…I think this would warrant at least an attempt at finding a witch to get some answers.”

“King Brennan didn’t believe it did,” Aris said cooly, as always. “He worked on combating the issue with moving unhoused individuals further inland, increasing structural integrity - ”

“Those aren’t solutions, they’re temporary mends. How could he hear this multiple times and not even look into it once?”

“Vamir,” Theron cut in. “I don’t mean to discredit the girl when I say this, but it doesn’t seem like her mother’s claims were founded on any real evidence. This could quickly become a goose chase that leads us nowhere.”

“If the claims lead us nowhere, then it leads us nowhere.” Vamir closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, fighting to keep his voice level. “I’m…apprehensive about the idea of dismissing this. Quite frankly, I think anyone that gives a shit about what’s going on and what’s plaguing our people would go on infinite goose chases to fix this.”

His brother rolled his eyes, as he often did when he felt Vamir was being self-righteous. “Okay, sure, let’s say we looked into this - even if we managed to track down and question a witch that was willing to talk to us, I highly doubt they would want to help our cause.”

“Brenoris has to be home to a witch somewhere,” Vamir insisted, his voice taking on a firm tone that made it clear that his opinion was unmovable. “Even if they’re as self serving as you say, it would be worth the effort to at least speak to them. If Brenoris is their home, maybe they’d want to save it. The girl was right - this land is drowning. The sea will take away more homes and more towns, and it’s only a matter of time before the floods and lack of sun leads to significant crop failure. It would be foolish not to look into every possibility.”

The three of them didn’t disagree - but none of them jumped to accept his request to find a witch either. Aris and Theron made their opinions clear on witches as a whole, that it would be a waste of time. Kallan remained silent, but when they locked eyes, Vamir knew what was on his mind. Kallan, more than likely, agreed with everything Vamir said - but, his brother had an apprehension towards witches which had nothing to do with the rumors or common fears surrounding them. Like calls to like, so the saying goes. Avoiding magic in its many forms was a habit Kallan had developed throughout the course of his life, in an effort to quiet the lightning in his veins. To place himself into a situation where he could interact with high levels of magic felt like tempting fate, and going against everything he had done to contain his own magic. But, despite it all, Vamir knew that if he asked Kallan to find a witch, he would go against his instincts and do it in an effort to do the right thing; and it was for that reason that he couldn’t ask it of him.

He sighed, standing from his seat. “Alright. We’ll discuss this more later, with the other noble houses.”

The room sighed with relief that the subject was dropped, especially with the knowledge that the other houses would likely push back as well. As king, he could make any of his requests a command and everyone would be compelled to see to it - but, he had never imposed that power, and likely never would. It made his requests easier to push out of the forefront. So, he let them believe the placating lie that the other nobles would see to the end of this request of his.

The relief they felt was likely brief, when in the morning they would find a note left in his chambers: Seeing to the issue of the tides. Theron and Kallan shall lead in my stead until I return.

[summerbegs]

Varth had made an unfortunate series of mistakes. Though, truth be told, he found no mistake in the actions he took - and that made him a fool. He had always acted on pure instinct, consequences be damned. And gods knew there were always consequences.

When Kestrel, lord of Usthar and a royal pain in the ass, hired Varth to retrieve an important item, Varth hadn't expected the job to be very difficult. Yet, the harder it was to find this mysterious scroll, the more insistent Kestrel had become, the more he began to wonder: was this scroll worth more than whatever fee Kestrel would pay for his services? He was willing to make that gamble, even if it added Kestrel and his men to his ever growing list of enemies.

He had spent too much of his time hunting down the scroll to simply hand it over. Though he knew it had to be something of substance, he felt relatively underwhelmed when he studied it. It was a map, this much he knew. Or at least, he assumed. It contained markings he had never seen nor understood. For all he knew, it was just some sentimental nonsense Kestrel wanted back.

He was dedicated, or perhaps desperate, to find out what exactly this scroll was and why a lord was willing to spend a pretty penny on getting it. When Varth stepped foot in Alorion, it was the closest he felt to being home. He had made countless deals there with many walks of life - thieves, pirates, traders, and more. It was his source of good coin, but even better information.

When the body of another collided into him, he stumbled a bit and glanced at the woman who mumbled a quick apology. Varth reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could walk away, that painfully annoying smirk of his finding his lips as he made eye contact with her. "Are you now?" Careful fingers reached into her sleeve and felt the scroll she attempted to steal. Exactly as he hoped. "You don't seem too sorry to me."

It had been part of his plan, even if it was a half-assed one. Alorion crawled with thieves who'd sell anything for a quick coin, but it also contained some rather knowledgeable people. With the scroll so blatantly on display in his back pocket, he had hoped someone would try to take it from him. He had hoped someone knew what it was. "It's not very polite to take from strangers. Have you no manners?" Varth retrieved the scroll and held it up in display.

[humidnights]

Mira was rarely ever caught in her acts of theft, and as soon as she felt his fingers wrap around her wrist, she reprimanded herself - because of course this wasn’t going to be as easy as she had hoped. She had followed this trail for weeks, and to expect a quick pickpocket to solve all her problems was, admittedly, naïve.

Her breath caught as she watched him brazenly wave the scroll in the middle of the busy tavern, as if the item in his hand wasn’t a rarity that she’d heard people openly admit that they would murder for. Looking up at him and taking in his features, his trickster smile and his warm eyes, she could sense it: he doesn’t know what he’s holding.

She took a deep breath as she gave him a quick once over, gauging him. Breaking free from his grasp was out of the question - brute strength was most certainly not her strong suit, which was why she tried to avoid being caught like this at all. One thing she knew for certain was that she was not leaving this tavern without that map; so, it seemed, she would have to claw her way out of this.

“No, I am sorry,” she reiterated, the threat saccharine in her gentle tone. Before he could react, she used her free hand to grab the small dagger at her waist, pressing it to his neck. Given the sordid nature of the tavern and the area as a whole, she didn't expect a particularly negative reaction from bystanders - this proved to be true as the barkeep didn’t even look up from the glass he was cleaning, and a guy sitting nearby at the bar only gave them a glance in the midst of the altercation, muttered an annoyed curse under his breath before he moved a seat or two down.

The threat of slicing his throat was all bark and no bite - she didn't like to kill, but she wasn’t afraid to let the blade press into his neck, a single drop of blood running down the column of his throat. She just needed to get the scroll and get out quickly, before other treasure hunters caught sight of the map in his hand. Her voice remained soft but firm as she tensed the arm in his grasp, her chin tilted up as her brown eyes locked on his. “Let me go and drop the scroll.”

[humidnights]

mira + varth

When Mira heard the whispers of a map of the Uncharted Lands, she tried her best to ignore it. Rumors like that would float around every few years, and in every iteration they ended up being untrue and a waste of time. She had learned to stop finding hope in those supposed maps of the unknown, and she no reason to believe that these new rumors would be any different. However, this time around seemed to stir something within her, and she struggled to keep her ear out of it and simply continue with her own life of hiding in the shadows. Perhaps because it was the first time rumors of a map started to crop up after a year of loneliness and solitude, when in the past it was always her mentor who would put a misplaced hope into one of these maps finally being the one. In his many years of life, the possibility of uncovering that unmapped part of the world would lead him to seeking out every possibility, even taking the crew on elongated journeys to get a hold of any clues and information. So as she tried to let it go and remind herself of all the times it wasn’t true, she couldn’t help the nagging thought that Elias would have wanted to know. He would have made it sure it wasn’t real. It was for that reason that, in some small shop somewhere off the coast, she hesitated before leaning over towards the shopkeeper and asking, “Sorry, did you say something about a map of the Uncharted Lands?”

What she had hoped would be a short detour ended up becoming a mystery that unraveled slowly - she had to trace back the source rumors through multiple people across different lands, before eventually starting to find the people that had supposedly possessed it and sold it off to one another for an ungodly amount of money. The further along she went, the more expensive the information became - she was far from the first person to ask a lot of people these questions, and as they got weary of telling the different travelers that came to them, she started to pass off coin to squeeze out information that they hadn’t told the travelers that came before. They all confirmed the same thing - that the map came in the form of a scroll, with a distinct dark brown scroll rod that had a wax seal on the end with a dragon design. The last individual she spoke to had cursed up a storm about a dark-haired man that had stolen it from him, and that the guy had last mentioned that he would be docking in Ashe Lenore.

Getting a spot on different ships, pirate or otherwise, was not too difficult. Pirates in particular don’t exactly ask for much from you - she would mention that she was a practicing navigator, and most of them would take her in for as long as she wanted with no questions asked. She joined up with a small crew that was sailing to Ashe Lenore, and quickly abandoned them upon docking to traverse the city of Alorion. It was a lot of ground to cover, and she wanted to try to find the dark-haired man before he skipped town or sold the map off to someone else.

Alorion proved to be exactly like what the rumors said it to be; it wasn’t exactly the definition of high society. Despite being Ashe Lenore’s capital, a majority of the town was disorganized marketplaces and seedy back deals. It was an easy way to sell off the map with hardly a trace, which made her start to worry that maybe finding this thing was impossible after all.

As the day faded to evening, she had glanced through the window of a tavern in passing, and she saw a scroll sticking out of a back pocket. Holding her breath, she froze and looked again - the man, with wavy dark hair leaning against the counter, and a scroll rolled up in a dark wooden rod, with a stamped red wax seal on the end. Though the angle wasn’t in her favor, she could see within the wax seal a curved tail of a dragon peeking through.

She walked in the tavern and slowly began to approach the man, who held one of the most vied for pieces of treasure on his person, clear as day. Mira was a very good thief, and despite its very bold placement on him, she had to admit that it would be difficult to get off of him. She couldn’t just pull such a bulky thing from his pocket without him noticing. Instead, as she walked by she very clearly bumped into him, feigning an accident. Without looking up at him she quickly mumbled, “Oh, sorry,” as slipped the scroll up her sleeve and out of his pocket.

[summerbegs]

Her lips thinned in a fine line as she stared at him, holding her head high with what little self-respect she had left. She clutched the towel a little tighter feeling all too… well, naked, in front of him. She supposed she was grateful he didn't bust out laughing or slammed the door in her face (the latter was what she had really expected). It was clear by the look on his face that he was likely already dreading being around her and it was day one.

"Let me in," she grumbled, not particularly feeling like standing in the hallway any longer than necessary. Letting out a huff of defeat knowing he truly needed her to explain, she spoke fast above a whisper. "I just got out of the shower and the room service I ordered was left at the door. I stepped out to grab it and the door closed behind me. I need to borrow your phone to call the front desk. Okay there, now you know the story, now will you let me in or shall I stand naked in this hall all night?"

Without letting him answer, she invited herself in and and moved past him. The blonde made a beeline to the phone on his bedside table and called down to the lobby to explain her situation. When they explained they were tied up at the desk and that’d it be better if someone could retrieve the key or wait, her eyes hesitantly glanced at Matt. She hung the phone up slowly with a sigh and thinned her lips once again. Now she needed another favor. Lord, help her. She smiled slowly, the kind of smile was painfully forced and trying to be suddenly polite. “So… do you have some clothes I can borrow? Or would you like to go down to the front desk for me?” She didn’t even give the option to wait. That was the last thing she needed - her in nothing but a towel waiting in his hotel room. Tegan would have a fucking field day if she saw.

[humidnights]

Matt listened to her very unfortunate story and was prepared be (relatively) sympathetic and let her in - but, before he could get a word out, she breezed right past him.

He let out a sigh, unsurprised by her behavior, but not exactly bothered by it either. Things between them always ended up this way, it seemed - the two of them tied up in each others’ business, someway, somehow. This was, surprisingly enough, more of the usual when it came to Matt and Chey’s relationship. He had learned to stop being bothered by it a long time ago.

As she spoke on the phone, he walked past her to rummage through his suitcase which he had barely even unpacked, grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of joggers that she could probably adjust enough to fit. Before she was done asking him for his help, he had walked over and held out the clothes he had picked out of her.

He glanced out the window as if he suddenly found something interesting to look at outside, keeping his eyes off of her while she stood in his hotel room, practically naked. Sure, they didn’t particularly get along, but he wanted to respect as much of her space and privacy that was possible in this situation. “Here.” He almost left it at that, knowing that anything further he had to say would probably do nothing but draw her ire…but he simply couldn’t. “…And I’m assuming it goes without saying that next time you order room service, you should put clothes on before going outside of your room, or at least take your key with you? Like a normal person?”

[summerbegs]

It brought him no pleasure catching Hanna up on all the pieces she had missed about his brother. It had been a difficult time for his family, though in the same vein, he was starting to recognize Luke for the first time in years. His true self was there hidden behind the anger, frustration, and remorse that wrecked him currently. Will saw the brother he had always painfully loved, which was truly the real inspiration of why he ended up at Hanna's doorstep.

Luke didn't deserve second chances. He didn't deserve a lick of kindness from possibly the kindest woman on this earth. Will knew this, but also knew that there was hope… There was hope that maybe Luke could become a man worth forgiving.

Her quick willingness to help had Will feel a twinge of guilt. The man knew if he shared his brother's sob story that the woman would feel inclined to do something - it was in her blood. He knew he wouldn't try to convince her to do anything, but also knew she'd need no convincing. That was the lingering lawyer in him playing dirty with the facts, and for that he felt guilty. But he was doing this for Luke, even if it was wrong to accept any help from someone who was so scorned by him.

"You don't need to do anything," he started and shook his head lightly. It was the truth. She didn't need to. There was no obligation whatsoever. "He's just in a bad place right now. Not like before… with the drinking and the pills. This is different… I think for the first time in years he's having to really sit with himself and it's killing him."

Will took in a breath and did his best to speak delicately. "You are not tied to him. You owe him nothing. But I just wanted to say that I think seeing you may do the man some good. He might not deserve that, but he needs it." With the shrug of his shoulders, he sighed and knew he was doing what any good big brother would do. Dragging Hanna back into their lives was not an easy thing for him to do, but he would for Luke. "The choice is completely yours. I felt like you at least would have wanted to know."

[humidnights]

But of course I need to do something, a voice inside her whispered. I don’t owe him anything, but I also owe him everything. Hanna smiled up at Will and nodded, trying not to show the way that her heart sunk into her stomach at each of his words about his condition - not just physical, but mental. “If visiting will help, then of course I’ll go.”

So, Hanna found herself walking back into that large, beautiful house in Connecticut that she hadn’t seen in years - not since that Thanksgiving, what felt like a lifetime ago. After another horrendously awkward encounter with Stevie (which included Hanna being meek, Stevie being curt, and the air between them being incredibly silent in between), Hanna was left standing outside of Luke’s half opened door, alone, shaking like a leaf. Stevie had mentioned that he knew a guest was coming, but Hanna had been too nervous to ask if he knew that she was the one that was here. A part of her wondered if Will got it all wrong, and maybe he didn’t want to see her.

Oh, come on, she thought to herself, trying to coax herself through the door. It’s just Luke.

But it was never ‘just Luke.’ This was the man that she had once believed would be the love of her life. She had spent months, years, fighting to unlearn that belief. And up until now, she thought that she had - but now, she realized maybe she didn’t know how she felt at all.

With a quiet rap of her knuckles on the door, she stepped into the room, picking at the skin around her nails as she looked around, her eyes finally landing on him. Whatever jumbled up feelings she had walking in started doing flips through her mind as her eyes caught his. Memories she hadn’t touched in ages ran quickly through her - his lips on her brow, the sound of his laugh.

But the memories were fleeting as she looked at him and immediately felt the weight that was hanging over him. In his eyes she could sense everything Will had told her about - and it made her breath catch. He was in one piece, and seemingly recovering well from the accident; but the sorrow was clear, even under his bristly exterior.

They stared at each other for a moment in silence, taking each other in after the amount of time spent apart. Hanna stood a little straighter and gave him a small smile - one that came to her naturally without a second thought. In the end, in spite of the circumstances and everything between them, she was happy to see him. “Hi, Luke.”

[summerbegs]

matt + chey

Jacob had finally worn her down. At least, that’s what everyone joked about. Chey knew that maybe, just maybe, there was that part of Tegan that always wanted this - a beautiful life, a family, an adoring husband. It was always the antithesis of her carefree and fickle attitude, but now that the wedding was finally upon them… it felt right just as much as it felt so strange. Chey couldn’t have been happier for her - and if it wasn’t for that exact happiness, she might have killed her. 

Even though the wedding was small, it felt intentional that Tegan paired her cousin to walk Chey down the aisle. It definitely felt intentional whenever she discovered her suite was right next to his, as well. The only two from the wedding party on that entire floor. So, yes, Chey wanted to kill Tegan for her futile attempt at playing matchmaker yet again. At this point, she was becoming convinced Tegan was just endlessly entertained by how much Matt and Chey couldn’t seem to get along. For the sake of the wedding and her own sanity, she didn’t complain. She might’ve thrown Tegan a death glare at the reveal, but she didn’t complain. 

But now she was regretting that whole being a good sport thing. Standing outside her locked hotel room, Chey stood there bare naked with only a towel clutched to her body. She had stepped away for just a moment to grab the room service that was left outside the door before it came swinging shut behind her. Keyless and clotheless, she was cursing up a storm under her panicked breath. It was too mortifying to go to the lobby with nothing but a towel, so she was left with only one regrettable option - knock on her oh so delightful neighbor’s hotel door. That exact neighbor she was doing her best to ignore this entire wedding trip.

“It’s me, open up,” she spoke at the door after knocking on it frantically. “For the love of god, open the door!”

[humidnights]

Tegan settling down was a foreign concept that Matt wasn’t sure he’d see come to life - he’d heard her brush off the idea of marriage and kids about a million times since she was a teenager. But seeing her with Jacob and Amelia just felt incredibly right for her, and it made his heart swell with pride and joy for her. So much so that he flew to Washington for the wedding, and only rolled his eyes a little bit when he learned that he was walking down the aisle with Chey. And only grumbled a little bit when he learned Chey was his next door neighbor, and the only person on the same floor as him at the hotel. The one saving grace to all of this is that Tegan had invited very few members of their family, and they were all on different floors from him - thank god. Being on the same floor as Chey Johnson paled in comparison to the nightmare that could have been.

At least, that was his thought going into it. He hadn’t been in the state for twenty four hours yet, and he heard her voice outside his door. At first, he didn’t move from his spot, and considered pretending that he hadn’t heard her. Then the door pounding started picking up. Then the yelling.

With a deep, irritated sigh, he got up and made his way over to his hotel door, flinging it open.

“What do you -” His exclamation came to a halt as soon as he realized Chey was standing in front of his door in only a towel. He closed his eyes, his tone going from angry to resigned. “Explain.”

[summerbegs]

This wasn't okay. He knew that deep down. He had no right to disturb her life after everything. Will knew all the gory details of how she and Luke ended. He knew better than anyone that she deserved something more - she deserved a life where Edwards men didn't ruin her. He shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled sheepishly at her. It was easy for him to feel the unease tension in the air and he knew his presence likely had her believing the worst.

"I'm sorry to drop in like this," he told her sincerely. "I was in the neighborhood." Not exactly a lie - he was in the neighborhood... he just happened to be there for her.

He stepped inside her home and resisted the urge from pulling her into a bear hug. His tall frame towered over her in the doorway and he gave her another smile. Deciding to put her out of her misery, he lingered there and gave a small nod. "He's okay." Alive, yes. Okay? The jury was still out. That's why he was here.

"You have a minute to talk? I promise I won't stay long. I just wanted to... I don't know. Catch up."

[humidnights]

He’s okay. With those words, a great weight was lifted off her chest as the two of them made their way into her apartment. At first, they really were just catching up on the past few years - a spark notes version what Will was up to, and of the way Hanna hopped around the classical music scene, alternating between teaching and playing. It gave her a false sense of security, that maybe there wasn’t any bad news to receive - but, eventually, the crux of why Will was really here made itself known.

Hanna could feel the way she went stock-still as Will explained the accident - what had happened to Sully, to Luke’s health and his leg. She could feel the way she started to manually breathe as immediate sorrow washed through her, thinking of how devastating all of this must have been for Luke. Entwined with the sorrow was a sense of guilt - she had chosen to break things off, knowing how deep he was in his addiction. It had taken her years to be able to sleep at night, without the panic attacks that would come with the worry that something horrible had happened to him, somewhere. She tried to eliminate the guilt that rose up in the back of her throat, now - even though she was listening to all her worries come to fruition.

After Will explained, and he answered her questions (Any word from Sully’s family? How is the recovery going? Will he be able to walk again?), she realized her attempt to hold her tears back was quickly failing. She blinked quickly and brushed a tear off her eyelashes. “God, sorry.”

Hanna could hear her sister’s voice in her head now, telling her that this was the part where she told Will thanks for letting her know, and best of luck with Luke’s recovery. And she could also sense her sister’s inevitable eye roll as Hanna responded with the only thing that came to her mind. “Okay. What can I do to help?”

[humidnights]

will + ella

Seeing him was like hearing the sounds of laughter mixed with waves crashing against the coast of Martha’s Vineyard, no matter how many years has passed. Ella had told him that before, she was sure - as she fell asleep against him in their bed, once upon a time. It felt like that when she used to see him every day, through thick and thin; and it felt exactly the same now, when she rarely saw him at all.

Their check-ins had become a bit less frequent the past couple years, not for any particular reason outside of circumstance. But when she saw the wedding invitation come through for an old mutual friend from Yale, she couldn’t help but text him to see if he was going - and she wasn’t surprised at all to learn that he was.

There was a large part of her that was reluctant to go, having to brave seeing old friends and classmates she hadn’t seen for at least a decade, not having a plus one to help be a social buffer, and all of the attendees knowing about Ella and Will. But, the bride was one of the few Yale connections Ella still held close to her heart - so, she was brave, and she went.

After braving the drive to upstate New York, and managing to find a dress that fit the wedding’s maroon color scheme, Ella now found herself wandering and socializing at the wedding reception area. The wedding was at an outdoor venue, and as the weather was starting to cool, the space was surrounded by trees in varying shades of red, orange and yellow. She drifted through the same repeating conversations in the midst of cocktail hour, trying her best not to look specifically for a particularly tall and familiar individual, until finally she saw him. She hadn’t realized the breath she had been holding, expecting to see him out of the corner of her eye hand-in-hand with someone else. The relief, selfish as it was, was immediate once she saw he was standing on his own.

Seeing him was like the sound of laughter and waves hitting the shore, and the feeling of home - but it also came with a slight sting; a wave of bittersweetness. With a quick excuse out of her current conversation, she made her way over to him. As she came up from behind him, she saw an orange leaf had landed perfectly on his shoulder. With a slight reach, she plucked it off his blazer, and as their eyes met she smiled up at him. For a beat, they just stared at each other before words came back to her. “Hi.”

[summerbegs]

hanna + luke (ft. will)

It took some digging, but for someone like Will Edwards, it wasn’t an impossible task in the slightest. He managed to find Hanna’s address, even though it had been years since she had anything to do with his family. It felt like a hail mary, the last resort to helping his brother, but he knew it would work. He just wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do. It certainly wasn’t for her - pulling her back into the web of their family’s issues was the last thing anyone needed. But at the end of the day, he was Luke’s older brother and it felt like his duty to make sure he had some peace in his life. 

He hadn’t planned on what he was going to say, which was unlike him. Will was the man with all the answers, who could charm the pants off a courthouse with a speech so eloquent they forgot what the charges were even about. But he was tired and still unsure that this was a good idea. He supposed he’d speak from the heart - she’d prefer that than some scripted speech, anyway. 

Whenever her front door opened, he stood there like a deer in headlights. It dawned on him then that he hadn’t considered what her life was like now. Maybe she was married, maybe she wouldn’t even remember him, maybe she was someone new entirely. The latter felt unlikely, as she was one of the most authentic people he had ever met. So, the man stood there with a sheepish smile and greeted her nonchalantly. “Hey, stranger.”

[humidnights]

Hanna opened her front door, and many things occurred to her at once.

The first was that she didn’t realize how long it had really been since she had seen Luke and his family. She’d thought about Luke often since she had last seen him - more often than she liked to really admit - and she had acknowledged the days, then weeks, months, and years as they passed by with a very Luke-sized hole in her life. Even now, as that hole started to patch up, the stitches and the gaps they failed to fill continued to live within her periphery, no matter how hard she tried not to see it.

Seeing Will now suddenly made the years feel more real than they were, and it made her heart ache. Though subtle, he looked a little different, a little older. She wondered how different she looked to him now, or if he felt like nothing about her had changed.

The other realization was that seeing Will triggered an immediate fear that something horrible had happened, and that worry was quickly eclipsing the joy she felt in seeing someone that was warmly familiar. She realized she was blankly staring at him for a brief moment before words came back to her.

“Will - hi!” Her voice showed both her shock and joy of seeing him, but was a bit higher pitched in a way that was clearly anxiety ridden. The smile on her face was instinctual once she had recognized him, but was now starting to feel like it was plastered onto her face. “I didn’t expect to see you, it’s been so long!”

She stood still for a moment before opening her door wider. “Please come in - how are you?”

[humidnights]

hey get better at tumblr, freak

:(

[summerbegs]

It wasn’t his first brush with coming off as a complete asshole when he was actually trying not to be one. Still, it didn’t make that awkward twinge within him any better. It made matters worse that she seemed genuinely kind and he was the reason for likely ruining a perfectly good night when they first met. It also wasn’t lost on him that the two were hitting it off until he opened his stupid mouth. 

All in all, it was far from his finest moment and now here they were again. Stuck in the damn wilderness together, of all places. 

Nodding his head to her words, he took them in and then did his best to deflect the situation to something lighter. “Yeah, sorry, I have this condition where I turn perfectly good moments into awful ones. I’m thinking about getting cards made. Y’know, so I can hand one to someone in advance so they’re properly warned.” Apologies were never his strong suit. Making light of it was. 

Putting his free hand out for her to playfully shake, he decided to recite what this card would read off. “Connor Rose. Turning lemonade into lemons since 1988.” A half smile appeared on his lips and he flicked some ash away. Which, smoking in this highly flammable area was likely just another bad impression. “Anyway, you’re here of all places. Must mean you’re not all that bad.” He was joking. Well, half-joking.

[humidnights]

Suddenly, Hanna found herself feeling grateful to have run into him and to have had this conversation. She had thought about their last interaction a bit more than she would like to admit. Even though one would assume the thing she remembered most about him was their conversation, what had stood out to her most was actually the music. During that last gig - an uncommon combination of classical and non-classical instruments - she didn't remember much, but she did remember the drumming. She had thought he was incredible.

Which was unfortunate, considering...the rest. It was sad, leaving things off on such an awkward note. But, things between her and the drummer - Connor - were amending very quickly, and she was grateful for it. She could tell that his apology, though masked under lighthearted comments, was sincere.

She took his hand to shake, smiling up at him. "Hanna West. More or less doing the same thing since 1991."

His joke made her smile, and although it was a joke, she also could tell it was an opening to show that she really wasn't all that bad. "Right. I've been a music instructor for a while, through different mediums. I guess I just...wanted to expand. Teach in a different way, in a different place. All that to say, I'm kind of new to the camp instructor thing. But I really love music, and I really love teaching it. So it'll be fun, I think." She left it at that, suppressing her urge to overshare to this man she, essentially, had just met. Spilling all the details about how she quit her day job of teaching at a middle school was something she should just reserve for a call to her sister. She nodded towards him. "Have you worked in a lot of camps like this?"

[summerbegs]

Everything that often came out of that man's mouth was coded in dramatics and hopeless romantics. If he had really considered the probability that random girl would show up years later, he'd give up on this whole thing. But maybe that's half the fun for Cohen. He knew it wasn't real, wasn't likely, and that's what made it easy.

Real love was when it got hard.

"I feel bad for Noel," he feigned sympathy, "It must be so hard to have two roommates with amazing taste and perfect opinions." And then, without even saying anything more, he stuck his knuckles out for her to touch.

Not able to help himself, he stole the deviled egg in her hand and popped it into his mouth. An immediate grimace found his face. "God, why is clammy? How long have those been sitting out?" As if it was her fault that he chose to steal her snack.

Reluctantly swallowing it, he sighed and looked around at the party. "Look, Halloween is fun. Or at least it used to be. Now I feel like it's just another night that comes and goes. Are we really gonna remember three years from now about that night we ate clammy eggs at our roommate's party while no one understood our 80's themed costumes?" Though it was meant to be a rhetorical question, he pondered it for a moment. "Well, maybe we will because I'm pretty sure that has food poisoning written all over it... Still. I just wish this night was a little more exciting."

[humidnights]

Without needing to look, she bumped her fist against his. It really was nice to have a roommate that understood the same pop culture references she did; and she didn't realize how weird it was to live with someone who didn't, until she met Noel. And how it felt to be forced to attend his parties, which were hosted in her home, filled with people that didn't know what a Ghostbuster was. She shook her head. "We'll educate him someday, when we have the time to show him every important piece of media from the past several decades. It can't be too hard."

Cohen's comments about the quality of the eggs made them suddenly taste like...well, maybe he was right and they had been sitting out too long. Despite cooking for a living, sometimes she just ate whatever was in front of her without thinking much of it.

She grimaced through her last bite of her egg before looking down at the plate full of them, shivering to herself and putting the plate to the side. As Cohen ranted, her mind wandered to the fact that she really did love Halloween, and normally it didn't feel like...this. Eating clammy eggs at a crappy party. Halloween meant themed bars, or going to places decked out in costume for the hell of it.

After a momentary pause, Liv slowly turned to him and replied like she discovered the cure for cancer. "Dude, let's just...leave."

[summerbegs]

hanna + connor

When others heard the man was taking a vacation, they didn’t know what was more surprising - that he was willing to travel anywhere or that his vacation wasn’t really vacation. It was a glorified second job tied with the pretty bow of promised free meals and lodging. But it was something he was passionate about, and that counted for something. 

Though he felt more like a guilty child at that camp rather than the music instructor by the looks of his hidden contraband in tube socks, he did his best to be discreet with his stash of cigarettes. He stood on the side of his small cabin next to all the other instructor and councilor cabins to have a smoke before properly, and begrudgingly, introducing himself to them. He was mid drag into a cigarette like a teen smoking underneath the bleachers when he suddenly saw her. 

A rush of emotions coursed through him - intrigued, confused, and then recognition met by regret. He knew her. Not only did he know her, but he was positively certain he grilled her into oblivion by accident when they met. There was always a downside to being too opinionated… 

“Hey,” he called out to her with a small grimace on his face. He moved his cigarette to the side so smoke didn't go her way. “You again. I promise I’m not here to shit on your profession this time…” 

[humidnights]

Admittedly, Hanna had noticed very quickly that the percussionist she had met a couple months ago was instructing at the same camp she was - within minutes of her arrival, actually.

And, admittedly, she had also ducked and ran away - expeditiously.

In the midst of her career shift and her quest to do the kind of work that made her love music in the first place, Hanna had signed up for this music instructor role at the last minute. It felt like a good way to take some time away, to think, to do something fun for the first time in a while. She had expected to see some more familiar faces from the local music community, but surprisingly found herself not recognizing any of the staff. Almost.

To his credit, she knew it was kind of her fault that they started off on the wrong foot. If she'd mentioned she was a violist earlier in their last (and only) conversation, he wouldn't have dug himself into such a deep hole about his opinion on her life's work. And, running into each other at a place where they were unexpectedly going to work together wouldn't have been awkward.

As the different instructors started to socialize around the cabins, it didn't take too long for him to recognize her and flag her down. Despite the instincts to run away again, she smiled sheepishly and made her way over to his little corner.

"Hey," she echoed him with a small smile. As she came to a stop in front of him, she shrugged, pretending to barely remember their previous encounter. "Oh, yeah, that - don't even worry about it. I didn't take it personally anyways."

She let the unconvincing lie sit for about one second before pursed her lips and shook her head. "Okay, well, that's not true. But, I've had plenty of time to process the criticism. So no worries - really."