CASES DRABBLE BLOG

i write things and this is the place to read them. currently working on a large gi joe / gi jane story also the place for my drabbles about old rp characters that i miss dearly none of the gifs are mine.

[iwritedrabblesnottragedies]

Two. Queen Anne.

The men of the Queen Anne’s Revenge were restless and eager to touch dry land. The Captain had kept them out at sea much longer than expected. The stores were dwindling, moral was low, and every last man ached for a good fuck. Which was always a problem when there was only a single woman on board. One woman that the Captain had given strict orders not to touch, else you lose your dick. When challenged on this, about why a man’s pride and not his hands, the Captain replied cooly. “You can't work without your hands.”

The girl in question, Maeve Hambley, might’ve been amused at the Captain’s remark had her situation been different. Had she boarded the Anne of her own free will. But instead she had responded to the Captain’s words with indifference, and she had continued to do so with every word that left his cursed lips. She did not grant him a smile, nor a grimace, she held her lips in a straight line, determined not to break. 

From her cabin, the one place of refuge she had within her floating prison, Maeve could sense the restlessness of the crew above. If Blackbeard did not bring them to shore soon there was potential for a mutiny. Maeve’s distaste for the Captain did not outweigh her common sense. While the man was her captor, he was also her sole protector on this wooden cage of wild dogs. Without him she would be left defenceless. She’d be safer throwing herself into the open ocean than remaining on board with these animals. But as long as the Captain breathed she was safe   He kept her safe because he held the biggest figurative stick: fear. She knew it was the reason no one challenged the man. They’d all seen him kill a man with his bare hands, with no remorse, with no hesitation. It was what bonded Maeve to him too, why escape wasn’t an option. 

“Land ho!” 

The call from above had Maeve shooting up from her resting place in bed, back cracking as it straightened so suddenly. The call was followed by excited shouts and stomps of the men above. Hooting and hollering about their first order of business once they were docked. From the sounds of triumph above, Maeve knew exactly what land was ahead of them. She could hear bits and pieces of the rowdy conversation above, plans to have a few pints at the Dodger or to visit a lady or two at  Olsen’s. The familiar names let Maeve know after nine long months on the sea she was finally home.

Maeve had been born in England but raised in Bridgetown. She’d been four years old when her parents had boarded Varner’s ship destined for the Caribbean. She remembered little of England but she knew Bridgetown well, even if her time there had been limited since she’d come aboard the Queen Anne three years ago. She ached for dry land beneath her feat and for the freedom to move about town as she pleased. Her invisible shackles would remain but for a few days time she would not be at the Captain’s beck and call as she was now.

“Witch!” the call came from outside her cabin. The Captain was the only man who dared enter without permission, every other bilge rat worried that she might accuse them of some sort of unsavoury act that would have the swift kiss of a blade upon their flesh. Maeve was not a fool, she knew they did not give her courtesy out of respect, she knew it came out of that same internal drive that kept the Captain their captain. Fear. They feared what the captain might do to them if she reported them. But more than that, they feared her. They lived under the belief that she was some sort of sorceress, for why else would the Captain keep a woman on board? 

The truth was, Maeve’s sorcery and magic was simply science and alchemy, plus an uncanny ability to navigate rough seas. It was much simpler for the Captain to claim her as a witch for the men didn’t question her position as much. Her medicines became potions, her knowledge of the sea became divine interventions from a spiritual power. And her name became a title she loathed deeply. 

“For the millionth time, the witch has a name!” Maeve barked at the men beyond the door. While she had only heard one voice she knew too well that the vermin on this ship did not travel alone, not when they came to beckon her. They believed in pairs they could resist her charms and curses, that they were protected from her magic. It was all foolishness but Maeve knew her power came in playing along with the game. Without this false belief and the Captain’s rage behind her, she might’ve been an easy target for some of the creatures who lingered about. She heard the words they muttered as she walked by, the glances they dared to give her, the way they devoured the sight of her body as if it was simply another pound of meat for the taking. It made her sicker than the rough seas. She’d come to wear layers upon layers of clothing, cloaks and cloths that only added to the sorceress’ mirage. But it was all in an attempt to hide her body from them, to keep their eyes off her skin.

“Sorry, Mistress Witch.” the rat beyond the door snickered “The Captain requires you in his cabin.”

“Yeah, because he’s the only one allowed to put his cock in her.” There was the second voice that Maeve had been expecting, the companion of the first. She could not help but roll her eyes at the men as she moved about her cabin, throwing the scarlet cloak she donned overtop of the black corseted dress she wore. She pulled the hood up over her tangled mess of dirty brown hair and then emerged from her room, causing the men to jump back away from her. She said nothing to either of them but her dark brown eyes flitted over to them with a harsh stare. The one man grappled for the crucifix around his neck, as if a trinket might save him. 

Pathetic. Maeve thought. After three years on board this ship there was only a handful of men she thought better of, men who could hold a decent conversation and look her in the eyes. She still didn’t trust a single one of them but she’d learnt to live amongst them. She had no other choice, she was the payment of her father’s debt and any attempt to leave her figurative bindings would only ensure his death.

Maeve moved through the second level of the ship, her crimson cloak dragging behind her as she climbed to the top deck. Her resurgence from her quarters always brought a hush amongst the men, even amongst the jolly shouts for the land on the horizon. Maeve took a moment to revel in the sight of her home, ignoring the lingering stares of the men onboard. She would see her father again and walk the streets as if she were a free woman. 

“Miss Hambley. The Captain doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” the gruff voice belonged to one of the few men who insisted on calling her ‘Miss’. He still used her name more than the rest of the men, and perhaps it was because he was used to offensive titles just as she was. They called him the ‘Arab’ for obvious reasons. His skin, his attire, his accent. But Maeve had never dared uttered that word, knowing well that it was simply their version of ‘witch’ for the man. He was one of the few good ones. One of the only men to regard her with any decency. Because of that, she heeded his warning. She left her dreams of dry land for the moment they docked and headed off to the Captain’s Cabin. 

[iwritedrabblesnottragedies]

Jacobi Stollar - Queen Anne’s Revenge David Tellmore - The Cutlass Grant Maclean - The Atlantis Martin Lyle - The Cutlass Thaddeus Bane - The Atlantis Samir Abaza - Queen Anne’s Revenge Eli Scott - Queen Anne’s Revenge Franklin Glanville - The Atlantis Harvey Allen - The Cutlass

[iwritedrabblesnottragedies]

One. Bridgetown. 

“Mr. Davy?” it was the sound of a young man’s voice that woke Lord Peter Davy from his slumber. He’d fallen asleep quite ungracefully against a stack of books on his desk, the spine of one leaving a slight indent in his forehead as he lifted his head from its resting place. “Lord Davy?” the voice called out again with more formality, coming from beyond the door of Peter’s study. The voice was accompanied by knocking this time, ushering in the sense of urgency felt by the caller on the other side. But Peter did not move quickly, nor did he instantly usher in the young man standing outside dutifully with a call of his voice. He picked his head up from the desk and ran his fingers through thick black hair. It had become unruly over the past year, his efforts to remain perfectly clean cut as the Lord of this town falling wayside to the duties much more important than aesthetics. His clothes were now poorly worn, crooked neckties done up over suits that had not been properly tailored. But this was life in the new colonies. 

Lord it was not the life he was promised.

Peter had been twenty two years old when he left the shores of England for a new life. His elder brother was set to inherit the Earldom from his father so he had to find longevity elsewhere. While the family name granted him good station and plenty of wealth, it did not give him his own mark on history. The colonies had presented him with an opportunity not available to him in England. With no bride by his side or children in his arms he had no obligations to the rainy island he never thought he’d miss. He boarded a ship for the West Indies, expecting to meet his father’s friend, a had helped settle Bridgetown, who apparently needed assistance and hopefully a successor. But when Peter arrived several months after his departure from England he found that old friend, James Varner, hung on the very fort walls he had commissioned over two decades before. News of this treasonous act had not yet reached the King but Peter learned the reason before he could foolishly send word.

Varner had tried to put a stop to the pirate trade in port and they’d made an example of him.

So Peter, the only man of standing at the time in his new Godforsaken home had went from assistance to successor in all of one day. He took up Varner’s place and wrote a letter to King and country, claiming Varner had passed of a heart condition. No one challenge him. Except for perhaps himself. Peter knew now that he’d sold his soul to Bridgetown the very day he arrived. Nine years later and he knew he would never get it back.

“Lord Davy! Are you there!? It’s a matter of great importance!” The caller’s voice rang out again, stirring Peter fully from his slumber and from the memories of his younger self. He rose from the desk and walked to the door, taking the time to tidy himself as he walked the few paces of the room. “What is it, Martins?” Peter asked the moment he’d wrenched the large piece of oak open. 

“There’s ships on the horizon.”

There were often ships on the horizon of Bridgetown. It was slowly but surely becoming one of the major ports in the West Indes. Port Royal remained the jewel in England’s Caribbean Crown but Peter’s work had turned Varner’s miserable estate in Barbados into a nearly proper English city. Nearly. There was still the issue of the West side and ships that sailed unchallenged into the harbour to fill those streets with men who were no better than rats. But Peter turned his head the other way, ignoring the West as much as he could, hoping to not meet the same fate as Varner.

Peter had to assume that the young man’s announcement of ships on the horizon meant that a fleet was coming in. As it so happened, Peter had been expecting a fleet for quite some time. In fact, they were late. But Peter was patient, knowing well that the ships that would be soon docked in their harbour might bring the solution to the West. After nine long years they were finally sending him some backup. 

“The Octavia?” Peter asked with anticipation. The Octavia was the flagship of the fleet that had been promised. Four ships from His Majesty to rival the tyrants in their waters. The fleet, partnered with the canons along the harbour walls would prove to be quite a match. It was more than Peter could have ever managed with the single ship he had in his garrison. The HMS Jubilee was hardly a ship for war and it was poorly manned and falling apart. But The Octavia was rumoured to be the fastest ship coming out of Britain.

“I’m afraid not sir.” the young man’s dutiful response dragged Peter out of his fantasies once more. “Black flags on blue skies.”

It was a saying Peter had come up with himself. His younger self had found it quite humorous. Then again, his younger self had thought he was on the same level as the men who sailed under those black flags, above them even. He’d learned better over the years. Now his saying was a warning of what was to come, the trouble on the horizon.

“How many ships?” Peter demanded, wide eyed and worried.

“Three, sir.”

"God help us.” Peter sighed “Teach is back.”

[iwritedrabblesnottragedies]

Captain Philip Blake - The Atlantis Maeve Hambley - Queen Anne’s Revenge Jane Cassidy - The Cutlass Miss Claire Adams - England Captain William “Bill” Cassidy - The Cutlass John Blake - The Atlantis Elizabeth “Eliza” Traverse - Bridgetown, Barbados Edward “Blackbeard” Teach - Queen Anne’s Revenge Abel Pierce - The Atlantis James Howard - HMS Octavia David Howard - HMS Octavia Andrew Howard - HMS Octavia Commander Simon Parker - HMS Octavia Captain Roger Dunn - HMS Octavia Mrs. Temperance Dunn - England Lord Charles Ridgemont - England Lord Peter Davy - Bridgetown, Barbados Lord Nicholas Burnham - England

Mid 15th Century, the newly settled Bridgetown of Barbados is a frequent port of call for Blackbeard and his fleet of ships. The early British settlers have set up a trade system for Blackbeard in exchange for protection against his pillaging. But the King has issued new orders to bring Blackbeard and his consorts to heal, sending some of his trusted men to regain control in Barbados. 

[iwritedrabblesnottragedies]

[iwritedrabblesnottragedies]

Flying would have been faster. Both the traditional up in an airplane kind of flying and the not so normal magic version which involved levitation spells. Except levitation spells had become mostly frowned upon in the Western World with the proliferation of commercial flights since one’s likelihood of being spotted by a pilot, or worse, eaten up by a jet engine had increased indefinitely. In fact, all four of the girls had given up levitation spells at such high altitudes for good when they heard tell of a witch who wasn’t paying attention while flying and ended up like a bug on the windshield of a 747. That story had spread pretty damn fast, and more and more witches gave up personal levitation and dealt with longer travel times. Besides, traditional airplanes were safer and much more comfortable.

But traditional airplanes also didn’t tend to allow for whole apartments of luggage without exorbitant fees, and the one time they’d used a separate moving van their stuff had got sent to the wrong place. Normally, if they’d been moving across an ocean they would’ve just sold everything, they could’ve bought new when they got to their destination. Except, New York wasn’t across an ocean so the four girls decided to brave the nearly 48 hour drive from the West End of Canada to the Northeast of the United States. They had all their things settled in the back of an oversized red pickup truck and a small trailer that they’d rented for the journey.

Astrid had the first shift driving and she was driving like a mad woman.

“Would you slow down!?” Maeve complained from the backseat, feeling a bit queasy.

“We’re gonna hit traffic eventually, I’m making good time.”

“That won’t matter if you get us killed!”

Maeve should’ve known better, her protests only led to Astrid speeding up even more, weaving in and out of the lanes of traffic as if she was trying to braid the truck through the other cars like a thick section of hair. Maeve’s hands shot to the side of the passenger’s seat that Freya was sitting in, trying to hold onto something.

“Just close your eyes and go to sleep, Mae.” Freya suggested.

“As if I could rest during this. It’s like being inside a Tornado.”

“And you know what that feels like, do you?” Astrid smirked before jolting over into the next lane.

“Dammit!” Beatrice cursed as the sudden movement threw her hand and the pencil in it across the sketchbook she had balanced on her knees. A stray line now crossed over the sketch she was making of their home…well, their old home now. She had drawings of every place they’d ever lived in: the girl’s home in Chicago with the strict landlady; the red clay house in Cairo that was just a ten minute walk from the market; the penthouse in Mumbai that had had the most beautiful view of the city; every place they’d ever called a home had been captured on paper.

With a wave of her hand Beatrice erased the entire sketch, the page returning to a pristine white condition without a single smudge mark or eraser line. Perhaps it would be better to wait until they stopped for a bit to draw. She just didn’t want to miss a single detail of the beautiful house because she wanted to remember it, and their time in Victoria forever.

By the time they hit Washington State the box of crackers and the random fruits Freya had thrown into the van were not cutting it any more and they had to stop for food. They found a diner just outside of Ellensburg, one that promised greasy burgers and salty fries. Maybe not the healthiest of meals but it would be enough to fill them up and let them get back on the road for another couple hours.

Besides, who could resist a hand-spun milkshake?

“These places always make me miss the fifties.” Astrid said after they ordered, kicking up her feet on the spare chair at the end of their table while she took another sip of her strawberry milkshake.

Beatrice frowned “Oh yeah, who wouldn’t miss McCarthyism and the Jim Crow laws.” not to mention a dozen other things that had certainly not made the fifties into the golden age that some people seemed to paint it as.

“Well, ya know what I meant.”

Beatrice knew exactly what Astrid meant. Astrid missed everything that had been romanticized in the 50s: hand-spun milkshakes, pastel coloured cardigans, boys who opened doors and pulled your chair out at dinner. But for Beatrice, the pretty pastel aesthetic of the fifties was darkened by the hatred of those with her skin tone. And it was diners like these that reminded her of the persecution she had faced just for existing, even years after those so-called golden days of the fifties had ended.

July 1, 1961

Selma, Alabama

Beatrice had argued up and down that moving to the American South after a beautiful five years in Paris, France would only lead to disappointment and trouble. She could feel conflict brewing the moment they unpacked themselves into the little red brick house on 3rd avenue in Selma, Alabama. She felt the eyes of neighbours lingering on her back as if they might burn a hole right through it if they stared long enough. None of the other girls seemed to notice, they just kept moving boxes out of the truck, accepting assistance from two strapping young men who had offered to help them.

Them but not her.

In fact, Beatrice nearly cringed when the taller boy picked up one of her boxes. He wore a grin on his lips like a war hero wears a medal: with pride and honour. He was handsome but Beatrice wasn’t foolish enough to take mind. They weren’t in Paris anymore; she had no illusions about wooing handsome young men with her pretty smile or the swing of her hips. She merely watched hopelessly as the young man looked down upon the marked up cardboard box and then quickly lifted his eyes back to the other three girls, not even giving Beatrice so much of a glance “So which one of ya’s is Bea?”

“That would be me, actually.” Beatrice said stepping forward and quickly taking the box from his hands before he could toss it aside like yesterday’s paper. His recoil was quicker than any shotgun Bea had ever seen, and she was actually surprised that he didn’t fall back on his ass with the way he stumbled back a step. It was like he’d seen a ghost or something.

“Oh uhm, alright.” the great neanderthal muttered, immediately turning his attention to Freya who was hoisting the last of her boxes up the drive. “Let me get that for ya, miss.” the man said with a tip of his head, his manners suddenly reappearing in the presence of a girl with a lighter complexion.

“Actually, we’re good, boys. I think you’ve done enough.” Freya, just like Maeve and Astrid, had been blind to the trouble at first but it had been impossible for her to tune out the overwhelming anger and shame that Beatrice was feeling. The other girl’s emotions opened her eyes to the situation and made her realize what was going on. The boys had been sweet as sugar to her but if they were going to treat her friend sourly she’d have nothing to do with them.

“We’ve got lots of settling in to do, thanks for your help.” Freya added diplomatically, deciding that starting up too much trouble on their first day in town would be a bad idea.

It would be far from the last time trouble brewed up for them in Selma anyway.

That night when it was time for dinner the girls decided to head downtown. They hadn’t had the time for grocery shopping so a quick bite to eat in a local restaurant seemed like a perfect idea. In cotton tops and flared skirts, the four young new comers entered the first diner that caught their eyes but it wasn’t until they were all inside that they noticed the big black and white sign with block letters spelling out ‘White Only’.

“I don’t think we shoul—” Beatrice began.

“Don’t be foolish. They ain’t gonna say anything to four girls, Bea. Now c’mon.” Astrid said, ignorant to how serious that sign was. She strode into the restaurant with her heavy steps, her shoes clicking on the floor, and her skirt swishing about in every direction. Freya was next to follow, holding her head high and ignoring each turned head that was watching them.

It was Maeve who hesitated with Beatrice. Although the former aristocrat knew nothing herself about being segregated from any diner countertop, dance hall, or anything else, she was quite aware of the consequences that could come when people did not abide by the rules of society. She’d seen it before in her own household when a servant had stepped out of line.

But Beatrice wasn’t a servant.

After a moment, Bea was surprised to find Maeve linking arms with her and leading her the rest of the way into the diner. Their couldn’t have been more of a contrast between them; not only Maeve’s light skin compared to Beatrice’s dark complexion, but also the way Maeve’s posture was perfectly straight and her head was held up in a manner that suggested she was quite proud to be arriving here with Beatrice as her friend. And that was because she was. Beatrice on the other hand felt her posture slump, her shoulders fell slightly and she could not look anywhere but the floor. She heard every word whispered about her, keen ears not missing a single foul syllable.

The others thought that if they walked in here like they owned the place they would get away with this but Beatrice knew better. Those boys back at the house would not be the only ones in town who didn’t approve of her being here. Surely there would be questions about why four young girls had just moved into town with no men in sight but the bigger question would be why one of them was black.

At first not a soul moved in the restaurant, the girls sat at a table waiting for menus but they never came. Eventually a waitress walked up to them, a nasty scowl on her older lips, the red lipstick she was wearing aging her even more than the winkles around her eyes did. But even if she had been a beautiful woman, she would not have been pretty, not with that nasty look on her face. It was as if her lips and her nose had decided to try being contortionists, bending in ways that they really shouldn’t.

“Could we get some menus, please?” Freya asked, forcing the same politeness she had put on with the young men back at the house.

“You most certainly may not.” the woman replied harshly, every word heavily accented and harder than marble. “Can’t ya’ll read?”

“Mae here is probably more well-read than this whole city.” Astrid said from the back of the table, lazily lounging in the wooden chair.

“Well I guess she doesn’t see so well then.”

“Actually, I see just fine.” Maeve responded cooly, briefly making eye contact with the woman over her spectacles.

“Girls…” Beatrice frowned, becoming more and more uncomfortable with every second. She knew they should have never come in here. She stared down at the table, trying to remain calm, trying not to challenge the woman herself. She knew if she said the wrong thing she could get into a lot of trouble. Besides, the other girls were doing a mighty fine job picking the wrong fight themselves.

“We’ll serve the three of you but she’ll need to get out.” the waitress added firmly.

“Why’s that?” Astrid provoked.

“You know why.”

“She’s a paying customer just like the rest of us.”

“She’s a ni—” the word caught in the woman’s throat, not because she was afraid to say it, no, that foul word was quite common place in Selma, but instead her tongue quite literally twisted unnaturally in her mouth, making it impossible to speak. Some mumbled sounds left her mouth as she struggled against the tension but she could not form a single word thanks to the hastily angry hex that Astrid sent her way.

“Astrid!” Beatrice scolded, appalled that her friend would be so reckless, even if it was to defend her. They weren't supposed to use their powers in public like this, not with so many people watching.

“Something a matter Bertie?” One of the customers at the diner had gotten up out of his seat at the counter. The man was squarely built, the width of his shoulders making him wider than two of the girls put together. He looked to be more fat than muscle but his height was still intimidating and the frown on his face made it clear that he was not here to joke around. “These girls botherin’ you?”

But Bertie couldn’t speak, she just clawed at her mouth which was not sealed shut by the power of Astrid’s concentrated spell. The woman’s ugly red lipstick smeared over the wrinkles around her lips, her forehead crinkling as her eyes widened in fear.

Even without Bertie’s reply, the square man cemented himself in the position in front of the table. “It’s time you girls leave.” he said, pointing to the door. “You’re not welcome here.”

Maeve folded her hands, one over the other on the table top, remaining calm and collected as she looked up at the burly man. “We’ve just come for something to eat, we’re not here causing any trouble.”

“Well ya did the moment you brought that spook in here.”

That was the breaking point.

“Excuse me!?” Astrid jumped out of her chair, sending the damn thing flying back into the table and chairs behind her. She was a good foot shorter than the man, her heeled shoes barely giving her an extra two inches but she stood strongly, her body becoming stiff and powerful. She was ready for a fight, and although she looked like an easy target she would be just the opposite. But only if she used magic, and that could not happen.

“Astrid don’t.” Beatrice said more firmly.

Astrid barely registered her friend’s request, she continued to glare at the bigger man, lips opening once more as if she were to let out a battle cry but Beatrice beat her to it. “Stop!” whereas before Beatrice’s voice had been that of a mouse, a lioness’ roar came from her chest, her voice stilling every last mumble of chatter in the restaurant. The entire room froze, an elderly man at the counter left with his mouth hanging slightly a jar, a little blonde girl with her family mid scream as her tantrum was suddenly cut off, and everyone else held completely still in time except for Beatrice and her three friends.

“Bea? Was that you?” Maeve’s eyes were wide and frightened. Such a large display of magic in a room full of mortals was frowned upon by almost every coven in existence. The only situation where such visible power would be deemed appropriate was in a life or death situation.

And to Beatrice this was just that.    

“Can we please just leave?” Bea’s voice shook, strained from the attention she had to keep on her spell in order to keep the room frozen still. Astrid opened her mouth to protest but Beatrice quickly cut her off. “Without another word.” she made it very clear that she wasn’t in the mood for a fight. They could get some food somewhere else, anywhere else.

For a moment the girls were as still as the other people in the restaurant but all it took was a few solemn nods and the busy diner regained movement, as if nothing had ever happened. The elderly man closed his mouth, the blonde girl let out a whiney scream, and the other patrons resumed eating, all while eavesdropping on the bit of trouble in the back corner where all four girls had slowly risen from their seats. Not one of them muttered a word. No excuses, no apologies. They just left. And not one of them would set foot in that diner ever again.  

“Which one of you ordered the salad?” the waitress asked as she came to their table balancing four plates: three burgers and one oversized garden salad.

“That would be me, thank you.” Maeve said, taking the plate from the waitress.

“You know Mae, you’re gonna have to try a burger sometime in the next century.”

“You convinced me to try chicken wings, that was more than enough.” she wouldn’t deny that they had been tasty but Maeve hated eating anything with her hands. She’d rather go back and faced the damned contraptions of chop sticks again then try to lift a greasy burger that was only going to fall apart the moment she picked it up. The salad had been the only thing on the menu that seemed reasonable enough to eat with a fork, thankfully there were pretty big pieces of grilled chicken on top of it so she wasn’t about to go hungry.

They spent most of an hour in the diner before it was time to get back on the road again. It was Freya’s turn to drive, and while she was a little less reckless than her twin sister, she still drove fast enough to keep Maeve on edge. Beatrice suggested reading, knowing that it was one thing that always seemed to calm the English girl down. It took Maeve a while to throw herself into her book and ignore the speed that they were zipping along the freeway at but eventually the blonde had tied her hair up and was absolutely immersed in Tolstoy.

Astrid turned up the radio and kicked her feet up onto the dash, worn leather boots pressing up against the windshield a bit as she tapped along to the music. She wasn’t one for sitting still and sort of wished that they hadn’t had to rotate drivers because at least driving gave her something to do. It was going to be a long two days, probably two and a half by the time they added in all their stops for food and gas. Though, it definitely wasn’t the longest trip they had ever taken. Their first big move together had been on a passenger’s ship from England, that journey hadn’t been their farthest move but it was definitely their longest. But at least on a large passenger ship there had been things to do and people to meet. The truck only offered Astrid the company of her three friends, and while she had never been closer to a single other soul on the planet, she still did tire of them sometimes, especially since Maeve refused to read her book in her head.

A slow summer’s sunset took over the ever distant skyline as they pulled the truck into a highway stop outside of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. It was just a quick stop to stretch their legs and to fill up the truck’s tank, which was costing a fortune on its own. But they had plenty of miles and hours to go, and the last thing they needed was to run out of gas. The girls could manage a lot of things but making natural resources appear out of thin air wasn’t within the realm of possibilities.

Astrid checked on Frederick, who was laying restlessly in the carrier case they’d set in the middle of the backseat. He was in the same mood as her, which was common for the two of them. The tabby cat came from a line of other felines that had followed Astrid about; his great-great-great grandfather had been Astrid’s first pet as a teenager, a stray that she’d taken in during the war. Her father had scolded her for bringing in yet another mouth to feed but Astrid refused to let the stray wander off, not that she had had any choice.

Astrid’s mother had been the first to recognize the bond between the growing girl and the old cat. Not all witches found themselves connected to a familiar spirit but those who tended to be incredibly connected to nature, like Astrid, often stumbled upon creatures who took on many of their qualities and very much became a piece of their soul. But a cat’s lifespan tended to be no more than fifteen years, and for a girl destined to live forever that was a blink of an eye so Astrid had made sure that her first cat, Amos, lived on through a continued bloodline. She’d managed to forge a connection with at least one cat of every litter, sometimes more.

“Should’ve shipped you off in first class, Fred.” Astrid said as she let the cat out of the carrier and onto the paved ground of the truck stop. “Five minutes.” she called out as the cat bounded off towards some grass in the distance. She had no doubt that he would return to her, he always did. Astrid wished she could run off as well, even just for a moment. The drive had left her feeling trapped inside her own skin, something she hated more than anything. She hoped New York City wouldn’t do the same.

“They’re robbing us blind with the price of cola, I swear.” Beatrice complained as she returned to the truck with a bag of drinks and snacks from the convenient store. Nearly three dollars for a bottle of pop. She missed the five cent bottles. Then again, five cents had been worth a lot more back then. Still, the old glass bottles had been nicer to drink out of than the plastic ones, even if they hadn’t been nearly as convenient.

“Nothing like paying a premium on carbonated water and syrup.” Freya chuckled.

“Does that mean you don’t want one?”

“Toss it here.”

Their stop at the gas station was quick. Frederick returned in just under five minutes and unhappily settled back in the blue and white carrier that Astrid then lifted into the back seat of the truck before climbing in herself. Maeve got in the driver’s seat, anxious for a reprieve from the hurried driving of the Dietrich twins. She was likely to lose them a bit of the time they’d gained by Freya and Astrid’s constant zipping in and out of different lanes of traffic, but at least she wouldn’t get them run off the road.

Maeve had been the last of the four girls to learn how to drive. In fact, it was Freya who had taught her how, which had been quite disastrous at the time but eventually she got the hang of it. She had been as apprehensive about driving as she had been about fast food but she had taken to the former much quicker than the latter. She still sometimes wished that they had a chauffeur, just as she often dreamt of the other luxuries she had enjoyed in her childhood. She longed for dinners at a long polished table lined with crisp whites and fresh bouquets, for neatly kept gardens that were perfect for sunny afternoon strolls, or for fine dresses tailored to every line and curve, laced up by maids with gentle hands and a fine attention to detail.

But the world changed much faster than Maeve would’ve liked and she’d traded those elegant dinners for much simpler dinners around a small square table, and the walks in the private gardens for strolls in a public park. The one thing she hadn’t budged much on was her wardrobe. While she’d done her best at keeping up with the fashions of the time and not making herself stick out like a sore thumb, Maeve had been ever diligent to buy clothes that fit perfectly in every way. If something was sagging or ripped she would take it in to get fixed. She always looked so put together, as if every outfit was for a specific occasion. She owned a single pair of pants, which she rarely wore, and she’d never been caught dead in jeans, leggings, or those damned jeggings things Astrid had started raving about.

With the four girls and the tabby cat back in the truck they left the gas station behind in the distance, heading due east into the heart of Montana. They killed time with conversation, fighting over the radio, and a few moments of silence that were quickly filled with one of the Dietrich twins coming up with something else they wanted to say. It was quite remarkable that after all these years they had yet to run out of things to talk about. There was always something new going on, some topic that needed dissecting. Some things fizzled out quietly, once bright sparklers coming to a quick and dull end, but for the most part the topics of conversation led to friendly disagreements, which sometimes turned into heated debate.

Hours after the sun had set, the conversation had died down a little bit as the Dietrich twins both curled up and took the first shift sleeping. Maeve had moved to the passenger seat, giving Beatrice her turn at the wheel. “I think you’ll like New York.” Bea said, both hands placed lightly on the wheel and her back straightened against the driver’s seat.

“I was hoping we’d finally be going back to England.” Maeve sighed.

“I know.” Beatrice didn’t have to read Maeve’s mind to know that she was longing to return home. Their original decision to leave England in 1946 had partially been because of Maeve but that did not stop her from missing her homeland. There were days when it seemed that she might’ve been content just freezing the world in one state so that progress and change would not have to happen. Beatrice understood that feeling. They’d been alive for nearly ninety years and yet it seemed to have gone by so fast. It often felt like the moment they settled in one place it was time to move on to another. This life made it difficult to keep close friends, and it made it even harder to find love. Beatrice could see why some witches chose to give up their immortality in order to age and stay with loved ones.

But Beatrice had yet to meet a man worth giving up forever for, and she wondered if she ever would. Her father had apparently not been worth it to her mother, though Beatrice wouldn’t have known because she’d never met the man. She assumed he was long gone by now, a cold corpse buried somewhere in California. It made her sad to think about sometimes but it wasn’t the type of sadness that comes in ocean waves that threaten to drown. Instead, the sadness was fleeting, like a cool night breeze that sent shivers down your spine but was quickly forgotten.  

The darkest hours of the night were filled with Maeve and Beatrice’s quiet conversation floating over the score of Astrid and Frederick’s low snoring and Freya’s sleepy sighs. The number of cars alongside them on the highway began to dwindle as they saw the earliest hours of the morning, reducing the heavy glare from oncoming headlights, and leaving the girls and their truck driving through mostly empty countryside.

When the sun did finally start to rise, Maeve found herself struggling to keep awake and as she tuned into Beatrice’s vision she realized that the other young woman was barely keeping her eyes open. “Pull over.” Maeve suggested before covering her mouth with one of her hands, stifling a yawn.

Beatrice didn’t even argue, it was morning and she’d been driving for much longer than she’d intended to at first but she’d pushed through since the twins seemed to be sleeping so soundly. Bea didn’t like to be a bother but she now felt as if sandbags were weighing down her eyelids, urging her to close them and get some rest.

Astrid took over again, this time grumpily because like most people she wasn’t her best self when she was woken up at the crack of dawn. Still, she slide back into the driver’s seat and her sister joined her up front while the other two girls got a chance to sleep. The two twins drove until lunch time, their stomachs’ needs overtaking their desire to get to New York as soon as possible.

It was another long day of driving with as few stops as they could manage. From Montana to North Dakota and then into Minnesota. Soon enough it was getting dark again and Maeve was back at the wheel, except this time her hands were still on her copy of Anna Karenina. The car was driving itself, something Maeve was only getting away with because it was so late and there weren’t many other people driving along the interstate with them. Any small glance would’ve just made it look like she was holding onto the bottom of the steering wheel instead of the top, when in reality it was her magic holding the wheel steady.

The next morning brought on nearly the same experience, except Beatrice’s driving shift had started a little later because they’d rotated more often during the day so this time she continued to drive along their route a little later into the morning. The sun had risen but Maeve and Freya were still asleep in the backseat, Astrid having taken over navigation late in the night.

“Hey, look!” the brunette remarked suddenly, whipping around in her seat to shake her sister and Maeve awake. “Look!” she said again, pointing out the front window. Maeve and Freya sleepily sat up, leaning towards each other to peer through the space between the two front seats. That was when they saw what Astrid was looking at: a perfect Manhattan skyline. It took your breath away, like love at first sight. Moving to a new place was always one part terrifying and two parts exciting, and this view might’ve just added another dash of excitement for each of them. People came from all around the world see this view and they were going to live amongst the grey skyscrapers and paved streets. It was a whole new adventure, five years to discover all they could about the big apple. It was going to be great!

“Start spreadin’ the news…” Astrid sang lowly, a grin on her face. Not a moment later the cab of the truck rumbled with the sound of four young women belting Sinatra’s New York, New York. They’d made it.

[iwritedrabblesnottragedies]

It took a mere three weeks to get everything prepared for the move to New York. They had one more day in Victoria and then they’d be getting a move on with the new passports that Astrid had done up for them. She’d taken care of everything, wiping all records of who they were in Victoria so they could start their lives in New York with the information they’d picked out to structure their lives. Generally, they all stuck with certain life stories that they’d crafted for themselves, little altered versions of their real childhoods, and only adjusted things when the present day changed the context of their fabricated pasts. It had been tricky as first but after decades of this practice the girls had all become quite used to creating seamless stories that allowed them to move about unquestioned.

It always amazed Maeve how quickly and efficiently they could pack up their lives and move. Sure, magic helped but only for the physical components. Packing took them no more than a few hours since they could easily zip items across the apartment into impossibly small boxes enchanted to hold plenty without weighing too much.

But packing up their belongings was one thing, leaving the lives they had created over the past five years was something else. Maeve remembered how her father would make a fuss when she left Derby for London for a few weeks at a time, and how her mother would insist on a lavish family meal before her departure. It seemed such short visits back then had involved more preparation and farewells than their goodbye forevers ever did. It was for this reason that over the years Maeve had become less generous with her friendship, for the less people she had to say goodbye to the easier it was.  

Beatrice was quite the opposite of her dear English friend. She had been on the move from the age of twelve when her mother uprooted them and began on her worldly adventures. She’d spent those first twelve years in Los Angeles where her mother had been a film star, one of the few African-American beauties to be considered a leading lady back then. But while fame has started out as a virtue it had quickly turned turned into a vice for the immortal witch with stagnant young features. Lorraine Williams would forever look like she was in her late twenties and that meant being in the public eye for too long just simply wasn’t an option. The tabloids had long ago begun to question her unchanging features, the vultures pecking at her at every turn, wanting to know what her secret was. It had become so exhausting that Lorraine had had to escape their attacks: she faked her own death and left the country with her young daughter in tow.

Lorraine never looked back to Hollywood, and much like the four girls themselves, Beatrice and her mother rarely stayed in one place for very long. So Beatrice had made friends on nearly every continent long before she started this business of moving by a dart’s throw with the three others. It had been much harder when she was younger but as she grew into a fine young lady with sweet charm and unchallenged charisma she seemed to have friends flocking to her the moment she landed somewhere new. With all of this, she knew the heartbreak of leaving friends behind too well and yet she dared to face it again and again, for friendships, even ones so brief, were absolutely imperative to filling her life with the positive energy that she practically exuded on a regular basis.

“New York City?” all of Bea’s friends had been surprised by the sudden news but it was her boss that showed the shock on her face the most. The young woman’s plump bottom lip dropped, mouth forming a small ‘o’ as her eyes searched Beatrice’s face for answers. Jay had hired Bea at her boutique barely a month after the girls had started their lives in Victoria. The high-end clothing store had practically been a second home to Beatrice and she was sad to leave it. The job had definitely been one of the best she had had in her many years, and Miss Jayla Botes was not just a boss but a friend. Beatrice had helped her turn her previously struggling boutique into quite the cash cow.

“I know it’s short notice, and I’m so sorry about that!” Beatrice apologized, her slender hands squeezing Jayla’s shoulders, an apologetic look on her fine face, brown eyes sparkling with a bit of sorrow. It truly broke her heart to part with such lovely people but Beatrice was happy to have known Jayla, just as she had been happy to know Roger Slight in New Orleans, and Dinesh Kapoor in Mumbai, and all the other wonderful friends that she had to let go of.

“You’ll come back and visit.” Jay said, more of an order than a request. “You’ll need new clothes all the time if you’re going to survive in New York.”

“And nothing there could compare to here.” Beatrice cut in, her words making both her and the other woman well up with tears. “You’re going to ruin our make-up if you keep this up.” she added with a sad laugh.

Ruined make-up was clearly the least of their worries: Jay was losing an excellent employee and a dear friend in a way that she could not prepare for. There was no doubt that she’d likely try to eat her way through the grief of this loss, for that was how she liked to deal with anything troublesome. On days when she wasn’t breathing life into her store with her big personality and the swing of her plump hips, she was often baking for her own delight. Except tonight’s baking wouldn’t be so enchanting because of the circumstances; still delicious, but not quite as enjoyable.

Jayla was just one of many loose ends that Beatrice had had to tie up since their deciding night. Once the decision had been made there had been no way to draw out their stay much longer. It never took them more than a month to get everything ready for the move, and by now they had a lot of practice moving. It was also much easier than it once had been since almost everything could be set up and prepared online, whereas before it had taken days to just travel to their new home, and then longer still to find somewhere to live. These days they rarely left their old home without already having a place arranged for their arrival.

This time they had a little brownstone in Brooklyn just awaiting their arrival, something different from the upstairs apartment of the old Victorian style house they’d enjoyed for the past four years. They’d talked about finding a loft in Manhattan but the prices had been too outlandish even for a group of girls that included a Hollywood heiress and a British aristocrat. They had more money than most girls at twenty one, but then again they merely looked twenty one. Still, a new life required new jobs to keep them busy and to help pay for the little things that magic could not take care of. New occupations was precisely the topic of discussion Beatrice walked in on when she returned home from Jay’s shop to find her friends already getting a start on dinner.  

Maeve and Freya were both moving around the Kitchen, Freya chopping up vegetables for a fresh pasta sauce while Maeve tended to everything on the stove. Freya had chopped off much of her medium brown hair months ago so she moved around the kitchen with her bob getting slightly wavy from the heat of a busy kitchen, while Maeve had tied her hair up in a sleek ponytail, keeping it out of her face and out of the food.

“I mulled through job ads this morning, I feel like everyone and their mother expects five years experience and like a letter from the mayor saying your a good worker.” Astrid complained from the dining room, where she had begun setting the table, summoning the plates and cutlery from the cupboards in the kitchen in order to arrange them on the table. “And since when do you need a degree to be a barista? I swear to God this one little coffee shop listed ‘knowledge of fine literature’ as an asset. How does that even work?”

“It makes you more authentically hipster.” Beatrice chimed into the conversation she was waltzing in on after neatly tucking her leather boots away on the shoe rack at the door. “I brought buns since I noticed we were out of bread.” she added, plopping the bag of fresh dinner rolls down on the counter that separated the kitchen and their dining space. “Mae could probably get in at that coffee shop, you’ve read all the classics eight times now haven’t you?”

“Mae get a working class job, I’d like to see that.” Freya cut in before the blonde could answer Beatrice’s teasing question.

“Actually, I’m thinking of volunteering a—” Maeve began but was quickly cut off by Astrid.

“You? You’re gonna work for free!? Miss ‘I don’t want to work at all’.” Astrid teased, pulling at the string of the apron Maeve was wearing so that it would drop to the floor.

It had taken quite a few years to talk Maeve into taking up any sort of profession. She had grown up in an estate where one’s job as a young lady was to sit and converse, to become well-read, and nearly worldly without ever seeing the world. Maeve still turned up her nose at some professions, especially those requiring an excess of manual labour. Generally she found herself in some sort of academic setting, she’d already obtained three bachelors degrees but she couldn’t claim to have a single one since no one would believe a girl who looked only twenty one could have graduated with honours from George Washington in 1995.  “—at the New York Historical Society.” Maeve continued what she had been saying with a firm look directed at both of the twins, clearly not amused by their jokes. She gathered up her apron from the floor and tied it back around her waist tightly.  

“You’re gonna boil over the pasta, Lady Levenson.” Freya shot her way, noticing the pot on the stove beside Maeve was starting to boil up a bit. It was a reaction from the other girl’s emotions, which was why they often steered away from using magic in the kitchen. Freya had burnt an entire Christmas turkey one time because she had got so worked up.

Maeve shook out her frustration and turned her attention back to the stove, nearly jumping out of her skin when Beatrice walked up behind her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I think the Historical Society is a great idea.” Bea said softly, trying to help Maeve calm down a little bit.

“Yeah, you could be one of their exhibits! People could have firsthand experience interacting with a real live aristocrat!” Astrid screeched gleefully, watching as the boiling water bubbled up again almost instantly. Astrid shared a look with her sister, both girls grinning wildly as they heard the sizzle of water hitting the stove top. If there was one thing the twins liked to do it was rile their friends up a bit, and sometimes Maeve made herself an easy target.

“What about you, Frey?” Beatrice turned her attention to the younger yet taller of the two twins, desperate to give Maeve a break so they wouldn’t have to order takeout again. It would be nice to actually enjoy a home cooked meal, especially since it would be the last one they had here. “From camp counsellor to…?”

“I don’t really know yet.” Freya shrugged “I mean, it’s New York, I feel like the possibilities are endless. I think I’d like to explore a bit before I settle on anything.” she’d fallen into the counselling job in Victoria pretty quickly, her natural ability as a leader making the job quite easy and suitable, but now Freya was thirsty for a challenge. She’d been a nurse, a secretary, even a prison guard, but she had yet to find something that really stuck with her. “And let me guess, something on Madison Avenue for you?” Bea was sort of predictable, anywhere where she could be surrounded by beautiful clothing suited her just fine, and thankfully most places didn’t require a degree or an extensive knowledge of fine literature, you just had to have good taste and excellent customer service capabilities.

“Maybe. Or another private boutique, though I’m not sure I’m ready to replace Jay’s”

“How did that go?” Maeve asked, picking up on the hint of sadness in her friends voice.

“She gives the best hugs, though I’m not sure it made me feel any better. I’m going to miss her.” Beatrice frowned “I just wish there was a way—”

“There isn’t.” Freya said harshly. She wasn’t trying to be cruel, she just knew how dangerous it was to let Bea get too attached to a dream in her head that would never come true. They couldn’t risk staying anywhere for too long, people would start to notice and they’d question what was going on, and telling people the truth would only paint a bigger target on their backs. They’d gone through this time and time again.

“You’ve been to New York before, right?” Freya asked, trying to move forward with the conversation instead of lingering in such a depressing space, she could feel Bea’s sorrow, quite literally. Freya had always had a good sense of what the others were feeling, she drowned it out normally because it was exhausting having her emotions torn in different directions, but on occasion she let herself feel what one of them was feeling for a while in order to understand what they were going through. Just as she had previously sensed Astrid’s excitement to move on from Victoria, she cold now feel Beatrice’s apprehension.

“Yeah, when I was young. My mother and I often spent a couple months at a time in the city just to get out of L.A. for a while.” that had been before they’d taken to travelling the world and hiding their true identities. It had always seemed that it L.A. they were noticed everywhere they went, there were fans asking for autographs and press people hounding her mother with questions. It had always been different in New York, they’d practically blended in, and for once it’d make Beatrice feel almost normal. She remembered wishing they could’ve stayed there forever, sort of like she wished they could stay put now. Well, at least she would get five more years in the city she’d fallen in love with as a child.

“Does your brother still live in New York?” Maeve asked the twins, finally calm enough once more to rejoin the conversation.

Freya nodded but it was Astrid who answered. “Yes, his kids live their too. Freddie and Andrew. They’re all grown up now of course.” Freddie and Andrew were the two nephews that Astrid and Freya would never get to meet because while their brother knew all about their powers, his family did not. He’d told his late wife a lie and said the girls had died a long time ago, before they’d ever met. It was better that way, the less people who knew their secret, the less likely they were to be found out. “I’m sure Luk will be happy to have us.”

“He can tell everyone we’re his great nieces or something.” Freya suggested.

“I’m sure he’ll love that.”

The twins were lucky enough to have each other, both immortal but their only brother had had to live with mortality for magic had only ever been passed on to females. There was always a chance that a girl born to a witch could be born without magic but it had never been seen where a son was born with powers. That meant as a brother to two witches, Lukas had had to live out his mortal life, aging and maturing while his sisters remained the same. It had been decades since they’d actually been able to pass as siblings so they always had to come up with some story as to how they knew the seemingly much older man.

“He’d probably be happy to show us around, I’m sure things have changed a bit since you’ve last been there.” Astrid winked at Beatrice. It would’ve been the early 1930s the last time Beatrice had stepped foot in New York so saying that things might’ve change a bit was certainly an understatement.

The New York banter carried on long after the girls finished cooking and then eating dinner. The dishes cleaned themselves and then flew into their moving boxes once they were dry, thanks to a quick charm that Freya did up once they were finished eating. Bea decided to head to bed early, exhausted from the long day of goodbyes she had just had while the other girls remained out in the living room for a while. Maeve curled up in the arm chair with one of the books she hadn’t packed away.

Meanwhile, Freya and Astrid took to playing checkers across the room from each other, the pieces moving about on their own with a flick of each girl’s wrist. It was something they did often, no matter how childish it seemed, because it reminded them of home. Their mother had used the simple game as a way of teaching them about their powers and while it had long ago become easy and mindless for them, it was a good for discipline and it passed the time, something that was important for girls bound to live forever.

The sounds of a city night came through Beatrice’s bedroom window. She’d tried to get right to sleep but the overwhelming thoughts of the day kept her up. She could hear the other girls, not just through the bedroom door but in her head as well. Just as Freya had the ability to feel what the others were feeling, Beatrice had always been able to listen to what they were hearing, no matter where they were. Maeve’s quiet reading out loud often lulled her to sleep when she tuned into it but tonight it brought her no refuse.

The dark-skinned beauty sat up in her bed, looking around in the dark to the dullness of her packed room. Tomorrow this would all be gone, and she’d likely never see this place again. It was that thought that brought tears to her eyes once more. She pictured the smiling face of Miss Jay, dark and plump, so welcoming and kind. She thought of the young man at the farmer’s market who called her by her last name, and always said goodbye with a wink. She remembered afternoons sitting around the parliament buildings, and evenings walking home from the movies. That was all to be left to memory now.

[iwritedrabblesnottragedies]

It was nothing consequential to the rest of the world, just four girls pinning up an beat-up paper map of the world with coloured thumbtacks that would leave tiny marks in the walls. That was nothing compared to the marks they’d left in the apartment over the past ten years; painted over scorch marks from illy measured potions, plaster filled claw marks from formidable creatures that had not made good pets, and of course the general wear and tear of four not so ordinary young women living together under one roof. The pins that held the map up were just four more things that would quite quietly say we were here.

There had been many names for their kind over the past century, and the centuries before that. Witches, conjurers, magicians, sorceresses, and all their translations, but those titles had never mattered much. Just the same as it did not matter if one called their work spells or charms, curses or hexes, the terms all meant the same thing: they had been born with power, extraordinary power that extended beyond the rules of mortal man. Their immortality was only the beginning of it, a birth right that had been passed onto every girl born to their kind. Everything else came after that: blossoming power, wondrous abilities, and a lifestyle so different from those around them. It could be hard sometimes, especially when moving meant leaving loved ones and saying goodbye forever. But it could also be wonderful.

Hung proudly on the  tattered old map had seen a moment like this every half decade for the past seventy years. Since 1946, the map had been chosen as the most diplomatic and fair way of choosing their next living destination. Even if they did not wish to leave, the map was a reminder that they must, for the fading and tearing paper grew older with each passing year, even though the girls did not. It happened to be their immortality that kept them moving about, after all their youthful glow started to become suspicious to everyone around them after several years. They might’ve been able to push it a bit longer than five years but it had been decided that it was a better idea to play it safe. Besides, they had forever to explore the world so they took advantage of that.

“No aiming this time, Levenson.” the tallest of the four girls, Freya said as she handed her shorter and much more fair haired companion a dart from the simply oak box in her hands. Her words clearly implied that the last time they’d taken to this ritual Maeve Levenson had sunk her dart in quite purposefully and that was quite contrary to the point of this whole exercise. It was meant to be random so that they might end up somewhere out of the ordinary. Only big cities of course, they’d made the mistake once of settling in small town Alabama in the sixties, and that whole fiasco had had them in quite a bit of trouble, particularly because of Beatrice’s dark complexion.

“You have absolutely no proof that I actually aimed, it might’ve just been a spot of good luck.” Maeve’s proper English accent flowed freely over the well formed lie that left her lips. Of course she had aimed, the perfect placement of their dart had left them with a central point of Victoria, British Columbia, a city so shaped by the English settlers of old that it had reminded her kindly of the stately life she had once lived in Derbyshire, England.

“Maeve throws first this year anyway, she can’t do anything mischievous anyway.” Beatrice said, waltzing out of the kitchen with a bottle of wine in one hand, four beautiful old wine glasses floating just behind her head, filled to the brim with the freshly opened red. Surely she wouldn’t have been able to carry them all in one go so this seemed like the preferred alternative.

“That should have been decanted.” Maeve remarked.

“Oh come off it Queen Elizabeth, it’s a twenty fifteen not a nineteen fifteen.” Freya’s fraternal twin sister Astrid, said as she plucked one of the wine glasses out of the air. Even if the wine had been much older, and much more expensive it likely wouldn’t have made a difference to Astrid; the twins had grown up in rural Germany, without the same luxuries that a British aristocrat like Maeve had. Wine was wine, it was meant to be enjoyed, preferably as a celebratory drink, and moving to a new place was something Astrid always liked to celebrate. She was not a fan of being stagnant, if anything she thought five years in one place was too long, and might’ve been content to leave in less than three. But they’d agreed on five a long time ago, and it was one of those things that had stuck.

It had become obvious many decades ago that they were such beautifully unique creatures, different in more ways than they had ever been similar. The world they’d been born into had been vastly different, and even for the twins who had grown up in the same German-Jewish household, their personalities had departed greatly from the realm of similarity. But despite their differences, their contrasting preferences, and the lingering peeves and habits of the childhoods they’d long ago left behind, the four un-aging young women were connected, and they had been from the moment they had all been born.

September 2, 1925, it had been a raining evening in England, not that that surprised anyone, threatening clouds had set in, determined to drown everyone in the countryside. Meanwhile, it had been much darker but not so wet in the small community of Halbe in Western Germany, the community quieting up as families settled in for dinner. Finally, in sunny California, Los Angeles bustled with Hollywood glamour and the last of the summer heat. Despite the vast differences of the day in each distant land, it would be the day the four girls would share for exactly an hour apart from the last they entered the world, screaming and very much alive. At the time, this shared birthday meant nothing to anyone, in fact it wouldn’t be for many years until they started getting even the smallest hints of their destined connection.  

They were not the first of their kind to be born in such a way, but such a cluster of magical births had been rare even before the infamous witch trials of the past. It rarely happened more than once in a century, and it was never consistent. Still, their kind had long ago come up with a word for what they were: the vita. Their connection forged from birth, albeit race, class, or distance, and it was a bond rumoured to be unbreakable, so strong that it was absolutely inevitable that they would all converge at some point, and find it terribly difficult to part from that moment on. A vita’s loyalty to each other was often found to surpass the loyalty they had to the coven they were born into, especially since it was unlikely that the group would come from the same one. The twins had been the exception to that.

“Should we get on with it then?” the older of the German twins, Astrid, spoke strongly, eager to find out where they would be going next.

“I don’t see what the rush is.” Beatrice spoke somewhat timidly. It wasn’t as if she loved Victoria any more than any city they’d been in before but unlike Astrid she wished they could find roots somewhere for a bit longer. She hated leaving, even if it was what she was used to. “We could enjoy a glass or two first.”

“Enjoy too much and none of us will be able to hit the map.” Freya smirked “Lets do this, and then we can celebrate our next adventure.” she said with a little smile, putting a hand on Bea’s shoulder, trying to encourage her. Bea had tried to talk them out of moving before but she’d quickly lost that battle, not only because Astrid had been eager to move as planned, but because most Freya and Maeve had presented a list of reasons why they couldn’t stay. They couldn’t risk being found out, they’d all heard stories about those who had been found out and it almost always seemed to end up in imprisonment and experimentation. They just could not risk it. “Go on, Maeve.”

Maeve set her dart down on the coffee table for a moment, skillfully drawing her crisp blonde hair up into a high ponytail, delaying them bit for no real good reason, but not for long enough that anyone was about to complain. She picked the dart back up and closed her eyes, just so the others would not accuse her of aiming. With one inhale she tossed the dart towards the map, eyes snapping open as she heard the sound of the point sinking into the wall. She pushed her glasses up on her nose a little bit and squinted slightly to see where her toss had landed: nearly in the middle of the atlantic ocean.

“Well that almost certainly takes out most of Asia and Australia.” Freya noted, studying the map a bit before she drew out her own dart and stepped forward. They always went in the same order, the difference was just who started, which rotated every year. By now it was just habit, none of them even had to think about it. Just as Freya didn’t bother thinking about where her dart might land when she threw it. “Texas.” the German put on a highly convincing southern accent. “Looks like we’re not headin’ back to Europe any time soon.” she added, clapping Maeve on the shoulder, knowing it was a bit of a disappointment.

“Don’t be so sure, I could sink in Russia and make it nearly impossible for us to pick a centre.” Astrid was next and she hesitated even less than her sister. She didn’t sink into Russia though, far from it actually. Instead she hit the most Southernly tip of Greenland. “We might end up in the Ocean.” It had happened before, a few times actually, but after the first time it became less puzzling what to do: they just had to throw again.

“Too bad we weren’t born mermaids.” Bea said, a bit of a smile finally coming onto her lips as she slowly accepted the reality that this had to be done. She set down the half full wine bottle and quickly wished the remaining glasses behind her head into spots near the other girls before she turned to the dart box. Freya held it out to her, letting her claim the last black dart that would determine where home would be next. Bea’s throw was hesitant but well-thrown, as the dart sunk into the wall just like the others, landing in the middle of Manitoba. Four sets of eyes, actually five if you count Astrid’s tabby cat Frederick, set upon the map. There were several larger cities in the northeast of the United States, where the centre of their four points seemed to be, but it only took them a moment to realize where they were going next. It was Freya who decided to voice what they were all thinking.

"New York City, here we come.”

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Henry King - operations Alani Kekoa - ranger  Robert Sullivan - military Roberta Danvers - researcher Kalvin Lux - translator   Bailey York - transport pilot Dayton Howe - jaeger mechanic Layla Jordon - jaeger mechanic Connor Leroy - LOCCENT operator 

[iwritedrabblesnottragedies]

Prelude

It was supposed to be over. The breach was closed. There was no more bridge. No more Kaiju. That’s what they said. They being the Pan Pacific Defence Corps. The last in commission Jaeger lost to the breach, the nuc that was meant to end it all. And it did for a while. Soon enough the likes of Raleigh Becket, Mako Mori, and those who went before them turned to heroes of legend, figures that children pretended to be as they found Kaiju battles in knee deep ponds or in the neighbourhood before the lights came on. Sometimes they were Raleigh and Mako fighting a category V, other times they were Stacker Pentecost single-handedly fighting Onibaba in Japan. And then they grew up and stopped playing Jaegers versus Kaiju altogether.  

But it wasn’t over.

Less then a century after the breech had been closed, and the world started to rebuild an earthquake registered out in the middle of the ocean, the repercussions sending towering waves to the west coast. But the wave was the least of their problems. While the tsunamis ravaged the west, putting the entire coastline into a state of emergency, a greater evil stirred beneath the pacific. At 19:00 a category II clambered towards the shores of the Native reserve in La Push, attacking undefended land and leaving devastation in its path. Immediately the national guard was called, the army rolling tanks through the state of Washington, their only chance of defence against the unexpected creature. Then, not an hour later another Kaiju surfaced, this one heading for Vancouver Island. No one was prepared.

It was supposed to be over.

Yeah, far from it.

Not just one breech but two. The world stirred into a panic, talks of restarting construction on the wall, the need for more defences, the need for the P.P.D.C.. But there were other stirs as well, shouts of anger and rebellion, voices that felt betrayed, that felt like the Jaeger program should’ve never been disbanded. That the world should have been prepared for this ‘what if’ scenario. But peace had fogged their minds and Kaiju had long ago become things of children’s nightmares, not the stuff of reality. How was anyone to know this would happen? It had been almost a century since the last attack. Not a single Jaeger remained, every last damn robot decommissioned long ago, parts shipped off to different countries to be displayed in museums that would honour the fallen and remind the world of a time when it was nearly destroyed. And even if there had been a working Jaeger, there wasn’t a single ranger team left to pilot it.  

The idea of the wall was scrapped, governments deciding that the likelihood of success was too small for the amount of manpower the project would take. Too many lives would be wasted on a defence that wouldn’t work. Instead people were urged to move inland, away from the shoreline. But this didn’t settle well with people, it meant leaving their homes and their livelihoods, it meant leaving everything behind because of an impending thread. The public demanded the return of the Jaeger program, rallies gathered Washington, Ottawa, Sydney… the crowds grew, the frightened shouts filling with rage and betrayal. There was no choice, it was time to reopen the Shatterdomes.

Hong Kong was the first. The old Shatterdome was mostly in working order since it had been turned into a museum to honour the fallen soldiers from the First Kaiju War. That’s what they started calling it when the double event hit the west coast because everyone assumed this would be the second. Apparently numbering things made it easier to comprehend. Or something like that. Maybe it was just for the sake of consistency in the history books; first there was World War One and World War Two, now it seemed like the First Kaiju War would have a sequel of its own.

After Hong Kong came Los Angeles, then Sydney. One by one the Shatterdomes popped up again, assembling teams to begin construction on the new Jaegers, building them bigger and mightier than ever before. New ranger prospects began to train, LOCCENT starting taking interns out of the best technical schools across the country. They would be ready. They’d end this before it even began. They waited, every sensor on the planet expecting the next attack. But it didn’t come. Not in a few days, weeks, nor even if a few months. Over a year passed since the first attack but there was not a peep. For some time it seemed as if the great beasts had played a practical joke on the world, or as if the attacks on Vancouver and La Push had been some sort of hallucination.

Then Leviathan came, a level four of monstrous proportions. Every revived Shatterdome sprung into action the moment the sensors went off, the new Jaegers filled with rookie rangers who were thirsty for their first fight. The clock ticked, painfully slow, and then the world waited to see when the creature would rear its ugly head, and what direction it would head in. For a while it stayed planted in the middle of the pacific, making the world wait with baited breath until the create moved, heading straight for San Fransisco, just like the first had. That zone belonged to Los Angeles, the Americans were a go.

“Rangers in position, Columbus Blue ready for the drop.”

Aubrey Montgomery sat up straight, her back pressing against the black leather of the wheeled chair that gave her free movement across the several panels in the control centre. Her fingers flexed just inches over the buttons that would initiate the process. She’d done this over and over again hundreds of times over the past year but this wasn’t a training procedure or a drill, this was the real thing. She’d thought it was bad when General Calhoun had hovered over her during the drills but it was nothing compared to the way the hulking man loomed over her now that the time had finally come.

“Monty, who the hell did you have to screw to get yourself at that control panel today?”

“Watch your mouth Kennedy.” the general growled into the comm as one of the ranger’s voices came over the loudspeaker for the entire control crew to hear.

“Sorry general.” the ranger apologized, a chuckle suggesting that he was more sorry that he had been caught rather than being sorry for his words. “Love ya babe.”

Aubrey shook her head. “Who? Me or the general?” she knew that Jacks Kennedy had been talking to her and not the general with that last quip but if he got to tease then so did she. Besides, he’d sort of been teasing her since the first day he had got to the Shatterdome for ranging training, aka the day she had run right into him and fell flat on her ass. Aubrey hadn’t been able to get rid of him ever since.

“Can we get this thing started or what?” the voice that growled was Jacks drift partner, Landon Wilkes, who was as equally entertained by Jacks’ joking around as the general was. This wasn’t like all the other times when they were just suiting up to get a feel for the Jaeger and how it moved, this was the real thing. Columbus Blue, along with the two other Jaegers who would be playing defence had never seen combat before tonight and now their trial by fire was with a level four that was slowly making its way to the city.

“Initiating drop sequence.” Aubrey announced into the mic, trying to be a little more professional. One glance to the screen that showed their incoming target helped with that, springing her into action to get this Jaeger out and ready while the team around her did the same for the other two. “Three, two, one.”

The drop. Aubrey had asked Jacks a dozen times what it felt like, imagining that the rush of fear and exhilaration would be something impossible to replicate. Jacks never had the right words to describe it, no metaphors or descriptions that could quench Aubrey’s thirst for knowing. Instead she was just left wondering, thinking about it every time she flicked the switch to send the Jaeger’s robotic head plunging hundreds of feet down the shaft that led to its much larger body.

“Coupling confirmed.” Aubrey stated, looking back over her shoulder, nearly jumping out of her skin when she found that General Calhoun was standing right there. “Engage pilot protocol.” he said almost immediately, causing Aubrey to turn back to the control panel swiftly, getting back to the task at hand. They needed to get these guys out there quick and clean or else San Fransisco would be rebuilding the Golden Gate Bridge for the second time in the past century.

The neural handshake was another experience that Jacks had never been able to properly explain to Aubrey but she’d heard about it from someone else. Her grandfather had been one of the American Rangers of the first Los Angeles Shatterdome, copilot of Whiskey Romeo. He’d been much better at telling stories than Jacks was and young Aubrey had been eager to hear every word. Harold Montgomery was the reason she’d become interested in Jaeger technology in the first place, she’d been interested in the ranger program but when Calhoun had plucked her out of M.I.T. he insisted that her spot was with LOCCENT.

“Neural handshake complete. It’s all you boys, go kick some Kaiju ass!” Aubrey said, a little too excited for her own good “I mean…uh…get to work.” the blonde bit down on her lip, refusing to turn around because she could feel the general’s eyes on her. She really needed to learn when to shut her mouth sometimes.

So this was it. The world watched as Leviathan burst out of the pacific, a gangly looking thing with a snout like a crocodile but a wide spiked body. The monster seemed to slither along the top of the salty water, impossibly floating despite it’s large size, much like those monstrous cruise ships that appear to be defying all rules of physics by still buoyantly cutting through water. The Jaeger’s didn’t have the same luxury, the transportation choppers moved out the American team of three and dropped them in the ocean, metal legs sinking into the water, feet hitting the ocean floor below.

Columbus Blue, flanked by the two other Jaegers, Lincoln Delta and Franklin November, spread search lights across the vast darkness as they stood guard a few miles out from the shoreline. “You sure this thing is out here Montgomery?” Landon asked into the comm, methodically scanning from left to right and then right to left. There was no sign of this thing. This better not be some sort of joke, April Fools has passed well over a month ago.  

“Scanners say it’s right in front of you.” Aubrey said, checking her screens over again.

“Well maybe there’s something wrong with your scanners.”

“Or maybe there’s something wrong with your eyesight.” Aubrey might’ve been intimidated by the general but Landon was practically an older brother to her. They went back and forth like this all the time. Except normally they were just running drills, practicing for when there was actually a Kaiju in the water, which there was, right now. They just couldn’t see it.

“Would you two stop bickering, it’s confusing, part of me is pissed off, part of me is turned on.” Jacks grinned, feeling the grimace from his drift partner and knowing well enough that Aubrey was rolling her eyes at him. She wasn’t the only one.

“Kennedy.” the major growled “Find the target.”

Another sweep of lights from all three Jaegers but there was nothing. Columbus Blue and the two men inside of the machine pushed forward, wondering if they were just a little too close to shore. “Wils, look at the water.” Jacks said, noticing that the waves had started to rush a little bit more, cresting before they got anywhere close to the shoreline. There wasn’t that much of a wind, it had to be something else. But Jacks was a little late in noticing because before Landon could react there was a sudden surge and the feeling of a large jaw clamping around the Jaeger’s left leg. Both men cried out in one angry shout, immediately kicking swiftly to get the creature off of them.

“Get him off!” but the more they hit the more Leviathan bit down. Delta and November were quick to intervene, flanking the beast, reaching down to grab it by the limbs and pull it off but the creature thrashed, thick claws digging into the chest piece of Delta and throwing November back a hundred yards. Columbus slashed as the creature’s back, pushing through the ocean waves to try and make some violent contact that would be enough to make it let go.

This was nothing like training.

The creature bit down harder, thrashing its monstrous head to the side and tossing Columbus as if it was just a children’s toy. The other Jaegers had regained their position, bounding forward to stop the beast from moving towards the city but a quick lash of it’s tail sent them flying back.

“Hey asshole, where do you think you’re going?” having regained their position, despite the damage to the Jaeger’s left leg, Columbus reached out with one mighty fist and grabbed a hold of the spiked tail. This seemed to get the creature’s attention and it immediately snapped back, attention taken away from the city for a moment. “You had to start throwing insults around.” Landon shook his head before bracing for impact. The creature bounded forward in a way that seemed impossible, its back legs finding the floor of the ocean and springing off of it until its massive body collided with the blue machine. Leviathan’s wide jaw snapped, trying to get ahold of another part of Columbus, trying to find something it could tear to pieces but Jacks and Landon reacted quickly, getting their hands over the monster’s snout.

“Hey babe, is this how they do things in the bayou?” Jacks couldn’t help himself, the Cali boy loved teasing his girl about her southern roots. Well, and just about anything. It was amazing how calm he remained in the midst of battle, a deadly beast trying to bite into him. But that was just Jacks, he never blinked, he just went headfirst into things and figured it out as he went along. That was why it was good he had Landon who was more rational and slow to approach, while Jacks was making jokes Landon realized that holding the creature’s mouth shut was leaving them quite vulnerable. The thought entered his head and invaded Jacks’ but not quick enough, before they could make their next move the beast wrapped its front limbs around them, claws digging into the back of Columbus, ripping painful shouts from both men. Their hands left the creature’s snapping jaw, attempting to push it off of them but it dug in deeper, pulling the robot closer, jagged hide scratching along the metal surface of the Jaeger.

They had one defence left.

“There’s no guarantee we’ll put it down.” Landon said, responding vocally to the thought he sensed in his partner’s mind.

“It’s our only chance.”

“What is?” Aubrey didn’t have the same connection to Jacks’ mind that Landon did but she could still hear him and the way his voice hitched. She’d heard the painful cry outs and the way the men’s breathing had become heavier and more uneven. She’d watched as the beast had latched onto them, she couldn’t take her eyes off the screen.

“Hey Louisiana, wondered if you were still there.” he only ever called her that when something was wrong. It was always his first attempt at making her feel better but in this moment it didn’t feel right. “Gator wrestling is a lot harder than your uncle let on.” jokes were the next part. He always tried to get that smile back on her face but this time her lips didn’t move.

“Boys, Delta is down, hold on November is coming.” the general leaned forward, taking control of the mic. Aubrey was at a loss for words, she might’ve not been in Jacks’ head but she knew him and she knew Columbus Blue well enough to know what he had in his mind. There was one real defence left on that Jaeger and using it might kill the Kaiju but it would almost certainly kill the rangers as well.

“We don’t have time.”

“Yes you do.” Aubrey said quite stubbornly, fingers flying across the control panel, pulling up everything she could about Columbus’ systems. There had to be another way to get them out of there before the monster dug its claws into them any deeper. Any deeper and they were going to see spinal damage, on both the Jaeger and the pilots.

“Louisiana-“

“Don’t call me that!” normally she loved the nickname, it made her think of home and everything she’d left behind when she’d left for M.I.T.. It reminded her of her parents, and of her grandfather, the stories he’d told her about the First Kaiju War. But right now the nickname didn’t provide the same comfort as it normally did, right now it was nothing more than a precursor of the tragedy to come.

“I love you.”

The decision was made between the men in their minds, not a word said between them as they moved to pull the Kaiju closer, effectively causing the creature to dig it’s claws into them even more. With the last bit of strength they had they engaged the missile system that sat inside Columbus’ bulky chest before Jacks let out on last shout of victory.

“Fire all!”

[iwritedrabblesnottragedies]

Finn MacDaniel - jaeger mechanic  Landon Wilkes - ranger (former) Aubrey Montgomery - jaeger tech, former LOCCENT Freya Dietrich - ranger prospect Andrew Calhoun - general (in command) Astrid Dietrich - ranger prospect Edward Church - LOCCENT Jacks Kennedy - ranger (former) Grant Bishop - ranger

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[iwritedrabblesnottragedies]

The Outsiders - 1. The Harborfront Inn

On Long Island’s North Fork, the small village of Greenport had become home to some of the biggest luxury vacation homes and resorts on the east coast. The diamond among the rubies and emeralds of North Fork was the Harborfront Inn, vacation resort and summer home to some of the wealthiest individuals in the state of New York. It was unlike anything any greaser from Oklahoma had ever laid their eyes upon. Towering white structures were topped with burnt red roofs that appeared orange in the summer sun. Every room had a balcony and every tower had a suite fit for a king. Even the employee cabins mimicked the grande resort with miniature towers and burnt red roofs, however there were not suites and certainly no kings amongst the young men and women who resided there, only waitresses and bus boys, porters and activity counsellors. They were hidden away in the miniature mimics of the larger resort, kept separated from those who fancied themselves as the lords and ladies of the age. In comparison to the guests, the staff were nothing more than lowly peasants. They were a long way from Tulsa, Oklahoma but nothing had really changed.

It had been Steve’s uncle who had managed to get the lot of them a job up in Long Island; he send nine of them (the seven boys and two of the girls) up to the Harborfront to make some cash for the summer. It paid a lot better than that job at the gas station Soda was still working at and although Ponyboy had gotten into college he needed some summer cash to pay for next year’s tuition. Even Darry had decided to join his brothers, knowing that jobs at resorts would be few and far between for them so this was probably his only chance to do anything other than construction for the rest of his life.

The first week at the Harborfront had been filled with hour upon hour of classes on etiquette and how to treat the guests. Evelyn Matthews, the middle child in Two-Bit’s family usually spent these classes napping in the back corner, only to be hissed at by her younger sister Bonnie who was trying her best to learn the rules of the society she had never been apart of. For Bonnie, this trip was about saving enough money so that she could finally go to college. She was only twenty one and she was already sick of waiting tables back in Tulsa. If Ponyboy could change his story, so could she.

That first week flew by, filled with uniform fittings, etiquette classes and extensive job training that needed to be completed before the guests filed in. The manager expressed that it needed to look as if they practically lived and breathed the very essence of the resort. They were simply an extension of the accommodations provided for the valued guests of the Harborfront. They were taught how to act like ghosts, to be in a room without having a presence there. It was quite a miraculous feat to try and accomplish in seven days when you were dealing with a group of twenty somethings who had spent their whole lives making a racket. 

Dally didn’t like the idea behind this job, the thought of serving Socs for the summer was already grinding him and not a single Soc had shown up yet. His temper had become apparent to the managers throughout the classes which was why he ended up stuck in the back of the kitchen with the rest of the employees who couldn’t be trusted to keep their cool around their upperclass patrons. Dally wasn’t the only one.

Evelyn Matthews had always considered herself on the boys, a rough and tough greaser to the core. If at least one of her close friends had been staying in Tulsa she might have done so herself but when eve Johnny Cade signed up for this paid servantry, Evie had decided to be dragged along as well. It was after getting caught sleeping for a third time in etiquette class that the resort director decided that Evie would be best suited for a backstage job; which is how she ended up in the kitchen with Dally. 

The rest of the group was split up, most of the boys being trusted to act as waiters or bellhops. Bonnie was picked out as a keen student and a quick learner so she managed to get a job working with the activities director. She was joined by Sodapop, who had managed to charm every manager and higher up that he had come into contact with by pretending like he was one of their kind. It was a little sickening to see Soda acting like a Soc but it got him the job he wanted, working in activities where he wouldn’t have to wait tables or carry baggage. 

Two-Bitt swore up and down that the resort must have some sort of weather machine that made it beautiful just in time for the guests’ arrival. It had rained for three days straight while they had been training and yet somehow the clouds parted and the sun brought back the summer heat the moment the town cars and convertibles began to pull up into the resort’s drive. Two heavy Cadillac convertibles were the first to pull into the drive, one red and one black, each of them carrying New York royalty. The crowned prince and princess came in the form of twins: Vivian and Victor Buchanan. Mr. Buchanan owned a stock company and Time magazine had named him the third wealthiest man in the world last year, making the twins practically capitalist royalty. The black Cadillac wasn’t lacking wealth or fame either; Edward and Daphne Harding were the children of a ex-Hollywood Starlet and her theme park tycoon husband. More importantly, Edward Harding was Vivian’s longterm beau from the city and the two of them were set on being the next King and Queen of the Hampton’s. 

“You’re up kid.” Darry said, giving Steve a push to go and help with the bags. Other porters and bellboys immediately rushed towards the cars, grabbing the doors and offering hands to the guests inside. Vivian waited in the backseat, letting her boyfriend be the one to escort her out of the car so that she could waltz into the Harbourfront with him on her arm. Some might have looked at it the other way around, that Vivian was the prize to be shown off by the young Mr. Harding but that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“Be careful with those.” Vivian said to Steve, shocking him a little bit by actually looking at him when she spoke. Her eyes were brown but in the sun they glimmered like gold, mirroring the bangles and hoops that she had decked herself with. “They’re very important to me.”

“Yes Miss.”

“Vivian.”

“Of course Miss.” Steve didn’t miss a beat, having had the Harborfront rules drilled into him for the past week. Dally would have just called her Viv, but that was exactly why Dally was stuck in the kitchen. 

The cars continued to pile in and the lads were sent rushing around, wheeling carts of bags across the expansive resort and ensuring that not a single bag, purse, or item went missing on their travels. It was almost dinner time when the last car pulled up in the drive. Everyone was supposed to have come well  before dinner for socializing and time to get fixed up before the meal but as Darrel Curtis would soon find out, Lucy Eldridge only worked on her own schedule.

Darry had been the only porter left outside, informed that there was still one guest that had not checked in yet. The resort manager was not about to let any of these Socs carry their own bags so someone got the short end of the stick and had to wait outside. As the oldest Darry had been a standout for who could be mature enough to wait out on the front porch alone. When the car did arrive there were five minutes until dinner and a solo blonde was hidden underneath the white hard top on a robin egg blue T-Bird. The car gave the smallest roar as she brought it into the drive, Darry quickly descending from the steps to get the door for her. She was quicker. Slim legs emerged from the open door before Darry could even get to the handle. They’d never let her into the dining hall in the pair of high waisted shorts she was sporting, though Darry wondered if the manager would have even let her through the front door.

“I’m not late am I?” the blonde chirped.

“Right on time.” Darrel charmed, deciding it was better to lie in this situation than to tell a guest that they were unpunctual. If any of the boys from home had been late they would have been sent home but at the Harborfront it was all about the guests which meant arrival time for this young woman was exactly when she wanted to get here. 

“Would you mind doing me a favor? Just watch to make sure no one is looking, I’m going to change real quick.” without a single word from the greaser, the blonde hopped into the backseat of her car, immediately pulling a dress over her clothes and shedding the shorts and top she wore from underneath. Darry turned his back to the car, blocking the back passenger window with his figure, not daring to even try to look at the young woman he was covering for.

Things were in the clear until Bonnie walked up. Soda and Bonnie had set up everything for the welcoming bonfire that would take place a few hours after dinner when the guests had switched out of their evening dresses and into flowing skirts and short sleeved button ups. Soda couldn’t get over how many outfits these people had, how they had to change for every meal and how their lounge clothes looked fancier than his Sunday best. Once finished with the bonfire preparation Soda had taken off to the mess hall to have dinner with the boys who weren’t stuck waiting on the Socs. Bonnie on the other hand had decided to get a better look at the resort before it became swarmed with guests.      

“Darry what are you still doing out here?” Bonnie asked as she stumbled upon the oldest Curtis brother in his precarious position. 

“Working.” Darry said quickly.

“Look’s like you’re standing around.”

It was in that moment that Lucy Eldridge emerged from the car, her shorts discarded in the backseat and a sundress placed over her body. Back home, Bonnie was known for being the biggest gossip in the group. She tended to take the smallest of details and write entire novels with them in her head. Darry could tell that she was already scribing pages about this incident and he knew it likely was going to be a story he didn’t want to hear.

“Thank you.” Lucy sent over to Darry. “I’m Lucy by the way, I’m in suite eight. There’s two bags in the trunk and the car can just go anywhere in the lot. If you’re going to take it for a joy ride just make sure the tank isn’t on empty.” she said as she tossed Darry the keys and quickly began to ascend up the front steps of the resort.   

“And here I thought you were the sensible one.” Bonnie smirked at Darry as they both watched Lucy walk away. The girl disappeared into the resort, still late for dinner arrivals despite having changed in the car. They’d likely hear all about it from the resort gossips later and Bonnie would be sure to join them. It was going to be a whole new adventure for Bonnie and the rest of the greasers. 

One thing was for sure, they weren’t in Tulsa anymore. 

[iwritedrabblesnottragedies]

Chapter 47 - A Sluggish Start

Ryan awoke in the place he most wanted to be in, but not under the right circumstances. They were still in the hotel in Myrtle Beach, Keith was not anywhere in sight, and the only other person making any noise in the room was the blonde laying beside him. 

Cas had spilled every last detail of the crazy drama that had been going on in the past week or so, unable to hold it all inside herself, knowing that she would burst if she did. Cas was a frequent confidant of all three of the girls, known to be the counsellor of the group and one of the better listeners. This meant that she saw the stories from multiple sides and had to sort through all of the views to get the full picture. It was overwhelming which was why Cas had always needed her own secret keeper.

That was who Ryan had always been.

The sunlight peaked through the hotel window, a sign of a new day and a new start but Ryan felt as if he was being dragged backwards into the past, not working through the present. His eyes looked down on the sleeping beauty beside him, her tangled blonde hair messed up from a night of tossing and turning. It was the picture of everything Ryan wanted but it wasn’t what it looked like. Out of exhaustion, Cas had pulled one of her infamous rounds of falling asleep while talking and Ryan had decided to just let her be. 

Ryan’s perfect world was shifted by the movement of the waking beauty, knowing that she would wake up feeling out of place. Cas rose slowly, rolling onto her stomach and pressing her face into the pillow. 

“You okay love?”

The blonde bolted upright at Ryan’s voice, having forgotten where she had fallen asleep. In fact, Cas didn’t even remember falling asleep at all. It was a common occurrence. Her dreams had taken her so quickly and deeply that she had been lost in them. Last night’s nightmares were thankfully lost on her, the victims of short term memory. 

“Ryan?”

“You passed out here last night. It’s still early.”

“Always is.” Cas yawned, knowing that no matter how late she stayed up she would always end up rising early in the morning. It was her curse. “I should get up.” 

“Probably.” Ryan said, reaching over to tuck a messy portion of her hair over her shoulder so he could actually see her face. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You seemed a little overwhelmed last night.”

“I just worry about everyone.” 

“You can’t take care of them all the time.” 

It was kind that she tried but Cas really needed to learn the lesson that heartbreak wasn’t always avoidable. She tried so hard to tell herself it was, that if you were careful enough you could avoid pain. She claimed to have learnt from her mistakes and Ryan knew that he was one of them. 

She had never been one of his. 

“I just want us all to be happy.” 

Such a vague goal was bound to get her hurt and Ryan knew he couldn’t shield her from it. She was pretty damn optimistic for a pessimist. Her cynical nature usually only applied to her own circumstances and she therefore expected the best for everyone else.

“It’ll work itself out. Try not to worry yourself too much, you’ll make yourself sick.”

“You sound like my mother.” 

“It’s that high pitched Tyrone accent isn’t it?” Ryan teased.  

Cas’ laugh ripped through the air as she rolled to lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling with a million thoughts in her head. Ryan wished he could read her mind but he knew he’d probably get lost in it. She was always thinking, always overworking that brain of hers until she burnt out. 

“So do you have any plans for after tour?” Ryan asked, turning to what he thought would be a lighter conversation. 

“In the two months that we get off? I don’t know.” Cas shook her head. 

“Do you think you’ll come home to Tyrone?”

“For Chritmas, that’s probably it.”

“Oh.”

He was disappointed and maybe he shouldn’t have vocalized it. Ryan would be spending the two months off tour in his home in the Moy for the most part. His little two bedroom home in the Moy wasn’t huge but it was a little big for just him and his pets. His mother often made comments about how he had a home that was ready for a family but no family to put into it. Comments like that dug into Ryan but he tried to pretend it didn’t bother him. 

“I’d love to go back to Paris, I’ll just have to see about money.” Cas thought aloud, drawing Ryan’s thoughts away from the Moy and back to her. “I miss globe trotting.”

“We’re across the ocean from home.” he shook his head at her, wondering how far would be far enough for her. She always seemed to be on the run.

“I know...it’s just not the same.” Ryan watched as Cas dove right back into her thoughts once more, consumed by images of exotic places that he had never even dreamed of. She had tasted too much of the world to be okay with something bland. “Alright, I’m going to get up. I’ve missed breakfast with George twice this week, he’s probably getting lonely.” Cas said as she sat up. 

Ryan watched as she walked around the bed, stopping before she headed towards the door. Her footsteps brought her back over to him. He sat up, cocking his head to the side as he looked up at her. She leane down and placed a kiss on his cheek, a sign of hope that shouldn’t have been given. “Thanks again.”

Ryan’s smile was small but still present. “Anytime.” 

Cas returned to her room to find that not a single soul was there. Normally they’d all still be sleeping but Cas assumed they must have dispersed because of a certain blonde visitor that had come in with the younger Scottish sister. Cas hoped that Jess hadn’t had the misfortune of stumbling in on the two lovers the way that she had. She knew that would only bring Jess back down into her misery. 

Cas showered quickly, braiding her hair while it was still wet before she pulled out an outfit for the day. She had the chance to just relax and be part of the crowd at tonight’s show so she decided to dress up. Hopefully some of the other girls would get to join her, maybe they could even convince Kee to take the night off. Someone else could call the show.

As if that would happen.

Cas’s heels clicked their way down to breakfast to find George sitting at a round table but he wasn’t alone as she had expected. The reasoning for the empty hotel room was made clear as Cas spotted Maggi and Keith sitting across from George.

“My spot has been taken!” Cas exclaimed, joining the group of 

“Early bird gets the worm, or in this case the George.” Maggi stuck her tongue out at Cas, proud that she had actually managed to get up before everyone aside from George.

“What are you doing up so early?”

“Nothing.” Maggi quipped maybe a little too quickly. Cas decided to not question it but Maggi’s mind went to work at creating excuses in case she did have to explain herself. She knew that Cas had seen her and Keith together but Maggi didn’t want to admit that early rising had happened in hopes to keep their relationship safe from everyone else. Maggi just hoped Cas had kept her mouth shut about it all. 

Hands came down upon Cas’ bare shoulders as Emmet joined the group. “Good morning.” he grinned, leaning down to steal a kiss from his girlfriend. 

“Get a room.” Maggi groaned.

“Oh my God, Danny DeVito! I love your work!” Emmet jumped.

“What?” Keith stared at Emmet as if he was lost.

“Mean Girls.” the two girls at the table chimed in.

“There are so many movies you could reference and you pick that one.” Maggi shook her head. 

“Hey, it is a cinematic masterpiece.” Emmet pointed at her, clearly not amused by the shots at his ‘favorite’ movie. The tenor slipped in beside Cas, stealing a sip from her tea as he allowed his arm to rest lazily on the back of her chair. “How’d you sleep?”

“Shouldn’t you know?” Maggi intruded from across the table.

“Should I?” Emmet looked over, confused.

“Was she not with you?”

Suddenly, Emmet put the pieces together that Cas had not spent the night in her own room. Curious, considering she hadn’t spent it with him either. He cast a look over to her immediately, looking for answers without formally asking for any.

“Ryan and I passed out talking last night.” Cas explained.

Of course she was with Ryan.

Emmet kept a straight face, jealousy was not an emotion that he took lightly and therefore he wished it away before it could bother him. Ryan was her best friend, that was the only reminder Emmet needed to be perfectly okay with Cas spending the night there. “Bout what?”

“Just everything.” Cas shrugged

“Everything?” Maggi intruded once more from across the table, getting the feeling that Cas’ discovery last night hadn’t gone unshared.  

“Everything.” Cas nodded.

 Maggi was saved by another intrusion of their breakfast. Her anxiety would have liked to attack her at that very moment but her sense of championship and her pride in winning overtook all other emotions when she watched Carson and Keeragh appear at the breakfast buffet. “Oh look who it is!”

“Why are you so loud.” Keeragh groaned in response to her sister’s shouting. 

“Get your caffeine into you quick sister, the champion wants to make her victory speech.”

“I’m going to wring your neck.”

Carson looked from Maggi to Keeragh, clearly out of the loop with what was happening. “What is she on about?” he asked as she and Kee took a seat at the breakfast table.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I was in your corner man.” Maggi pounded her fist on the table gently, overly amused that she had won the little bet with Keeragh. Not only was she happy that she had won but it was nice to see her sister taking a chance on someone who could become something more than a silly little chess piece. 

“I am so confused.” Carson frowned. 

“Shh, just coffee.” Keeragh encouraged, patting his back. 

The group said very little for the span of the next ten minutes. Even coffee and breakfast didn’t seem to liven anyone up. Cas looked around, realizing that the chatter was suspiciously low, even for eight am in the morning. “It’s getting to that sluggish point in tour.”

“No!” Maggi protested loudly. “Don’t say that.”

“We need to do something to kick it up.” Keeragh suggested

“Show tonight.” Emmet reminded them.

“Okay, what about tomorrow?”  Maggi asked, now worried that they were all going to become boring for the last two weeks of tour. That couldn’t happen, things needed to be fun and lively, especially because if people had nothing better to do they would start to meddle around in things and meddling would only get Maggi and Keith in trouble. 

“Morning.” the next grumble came from Jess as she and Alex stumbled out to breakfast in pajamas, having decided that they would shower and change after they were fed. 

“Ever hear of a hair brush troll doll?” Maggi smirked.

“Hey!” Jess reacted. 

“Were you guys sleeping or having a wrestling match?”

Maggi’s last little bit of teasing had George rising from the table. “Alright, there goes breakfast.”

“George!” Cas called out in protest. 

“Don’t be late tomorrow.” he pointed at her, making her feel slightly guilty for having missed so many breakfasts already. They were some of her favourite points during the tour and she really needed to cherish them more.

“Warning noted.” 

George wandered off to head back to his room, he was a bit distant lately but the group had chalked it up to him being away from his family for almost two months now. Normally Sarah and Carrie would come visit on the tour but Sarah had just entered grade nine and she couldn’t afford to miss that much school yet. Two more weeks and George would be home, it would be enough to restore him to his chipper self. Until then, the group needed to make things a bit more fun.  

“Okay, back to doing something exciting.” Cas focused them.

“We’re headed to Charleston tomorrow.” Keeragh noted.

Cas pulled up a tourism site for Charlston on her phone and began to read off what was on the screen. “Historic downtown, shopping, restaurants, ghosts and graveyard tours, mu-”

“Hold up.” Maggi cut in “Ghosts and graveyards.”

Maggi’s choice was not at all surprising and of course it was met with quick resistance.

“Maggi, most of us don’t even believe in ghosts.” Keeragh reminded her sister.

“That’s because you’re all stupid.”

“Or just not delusional.”

Maggi’s appreciation of the supernatural was not echoed by most of the group. The rest of them believed in a range of options in the paranormal but no one was quite as intrigued as Maggi was. Still, that didn’t mean a spooky walk couldn’t be entertaining. 

“We’re going.” Maggi said quite firmly.

“It could be fun.” Emmet shrugged.

“Or really scary.” Jess countered. 

“Just throw Alex to the spirits and you’ll get away.” Maggi suggested

“Hey!” Alex jumped in, not wanting to be a sacrifice for any angry spirits “I was gonna say I’d protect her.”

“Yeah.” Maggi nodded “By being ghost bait.” 

“So is this what we’re doing?” Keeragh asked, liking to know the plan.

“Yes.”