A.N.: I wrote the part two nobody asked for lmao. It's from Kankri's POV, and I think I had a minor case of serious brain damage while writing it.
I can't believe I have to say this now: I do NOT use AI, and you do NOT have my permission to use my writing to train AI. Fuck off.
Metal clinks against ceramic as Kankri stirs the cream into the coffee, staring idly at it spinning, round and round it goes much like the spiraling of his thoughts. He awoke this morning to quite a sight, one which still leaves heat in his cheeks. As her temporary (self-appointed) moirail, it was Kankri's duty to offer her comfort, the kind which humans like Aria typically find reassuring, and that was all he had intended to do. They had been close once. The knowledge of how to comfort humans--to comfort her--was still filed away in his mind, so all it needed was a little dusting off. That was all he meant to do, to comfort her with a hug instead of a pap; Kankri would hold her until she calmed down enough to converse with him the troubling thoughts coursing through her think-pan (provided she was comfortable discussing such topics or discussing said topics with him).
The state he found her in was ... troubling. Kankri had already had a long day, one with a few failed interviews and a few blows to his ego, and all he wanted was a warm meal and a book. He nudged the door closed with his heel, then leaned on it, shutting his eyes. Kankri's ears twitched at the faint sound of muffled sniffling emanating from his left--the kitchen. His third roommate had already left for the evening, which left Aria as the only one left. Rounding the corner, he saw a sight which proved his suspicious, and he had almost wished he was wrong.
Aria swiped tears from her eyes, puffy and red, with the palms of her hands. She avoided eye contact more than usual, opting instead to fixate her gaze on the plate of a half-eaten slice of cherry pie.
"You're home early. I thought you were going out for drinks?" Aria's voice wavers, despite her efforts to keep it steady.
Kankri clears his throat, "I am s9rry for startling y9u, Aria. I 6elieve y9u have mistaken me f9r 9ur 9ther r99mmate, th9ugh y9u are c9rrect a69ut 9ur mutual r99mmate's wherea69uts. If I may--"
"It's fine." She interrupts, voice clipped but shaky.
"Y9u are aware 9f my triggers, 6ut seeing as y9u are clearly upset, I will let this slide. Alth9ugh, next time, 6e sure t9 6e m9re mindful 9f y9ur t9ne 6ecause y9u d9 n9t kn9w h9w triggering it might 6e f9r s9me9ne---"
In the midst of his long-winded answer, Kankri steps through the doorway, dropping off his lunch box on the counter, then taking the seat adjacent to her in one smooth motion.
His answers continues, "---N9w, 6ef9re I get t99 carried away with my nightly r9utine, I must ask—and please tell me if I am 9verstepping, 6ut last I knew y9u had 9ne—have y9u sp9ken with y9ur m9irail recently?"
Kankri spotted fresh tears welling in her eyes.
She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, repeated that a couple more times, then fell silent, save for her muffled sniffles. Kankri blinked at her. He felt inclined to say something, do something, anything but stare at her dumbly.
"It w9uld appear that my questi9n triggered y9u, and f9r that I am very s9rry f9r asking such a sensitive questi9n," Kankri spoke softly, old habits kicking in without his knowledge, his hand hovered over her wrist, fighting the urge to pull her hands away from her face.
Kankri recoiled and let his arm fall awkwardly against his side. Instead, he stood, taking her plate with him as he crossed the kitchen in a few strides to dump the half-eaten dessert into the trash. He loaded the plate into the dishwasher.
"What are you...?" Aria's question trailed off.
He had closed his eyes again the moment he started rambling, a persistent habit of his. Kankri opened one eye to check that Aria was listening (not that he needed to), and upon seeing her turned toward him, he took that as his prompt to continue, closing his eye.
"(Tags include: m9irails, talk 9f quadrants) I d9 n9t wish t9 assume the status 9f y9ur m9iraillegiance, 6ut seeing as y9u are here, al9ne, and y9ur m9irail is yet again n9where t9 6e seen, I w9uld like t9 make a temp9rary pr9p9sal.
Until your m9irail returns fr9m wherever she has run 9ff t9 this time," Kankri clears his throat, inwardly scolding himself for the petty remark he allowed to slip through his numerous filters, "I pr9p9se a temp9rary m9iraillegiance. If y9u w9uld n9t 6e 9pp9sed t9 such an ... unc9nventional s9luti9n."
Silence. Then, her answer, scarcely above a whisper:
"Sorry, I nodded, then realized you couldn't see it. Yes, that's fine."
Kankri caught Aria's eyes flick away the moment he opened his, and instead, she focused her gaze on the clock just past his arm--thirty minutes past ten. Like clockwork, she always went to bed at this time.
"Shall I meet y9u in y9ur respite6l--I mean, in y9ur 6edr99m?"
She answered him with another nod and left to start her nightly routine. Kankri watched her disappear upstairs. She had fallen silent, a sign which Kankri dreaded. If he could only fix whatever was stressing her, then she may be willing to have a feelings jam. He followed her a short while later, only when he was certain she was dressed in her pajamas (that was another difference between humans and trolls Kankri found odd).
That was all Kankri intended to do, to comfort her with a hug instead of a pap. But, Aria, sound asleep though she was, had quite the grip--firm, yet gentle. Even while unconscious, she was still somehow conscious of his triggers, her grip firm enough to self-soothe, yet loose enough for him to wriggle free if he so chose.
Sighing, Kankri relaxes slowly into her arms, her breath permeates through the fibers of his sweater, tickling the exposed skin beneath. He barely suppresses a shudder. He will try not to wake her as she has always been, per his knowledge, a light sleeper. The woman in question nestles closer, burying her nose deeper into Kankri's sweater and breathing a content sight. He tenses immediately. She snores faintly against his collarbone. A chuckle rumbles in his chest. He does recall hearing her deny it repeatedly, swearing one moment that she does not snore, and the next moment, she admits to disliking her snoring habit. It is the faintest sound, one which almost resembles the gentle purring of a meow-beast. Before Kankri realizes how heavy his eyelids have become, and before he can untangle himself from her embrace to slip out the bedroom door, he falls asleep.
-
A muffled voice, a nudge, and then Kankri's eyes flutter open. He sees the pale green fabric of her tank top, her collarbone, and then her flushed cheeks.
"I just woke up too--Could you ... um, move please?"
It dawns on Kankri the position they are in, and how it must be perceived. He feels his own face heat up as red as hers and scrambles off of her.
"9h, I am s9 s9rry! How incredi6ly rude 9f me t9 lay 9n y9u like this, especially when c9nsidering y9ur aversi9n to physical c9ntact! I ap9l9gize if I triggered y9u. I had intended t9 leave the m9ment y9u fell asleep during 9ur feelings jam—and might I add h9w grateful I am that y9u all9wed me, as y9ur temp9rary m9irail, t9 6e there f9r y9u when y9u were in such a desp9ndent state—6ut I did n9t realize I fell asleep t99."
Kankri watches her shimmy awkwardly to the opposite end of the bed.
"It's fine!" Although, her face says otherwise. "I just need the bathroom!"
Kankri stands frozen at the edge of the bed, even after she practically runs out of the room.
"I will make us s9me 6reakfast," And yet, Kankri doesn't move.
Only when he heard the bathroom door click shut did he finally leave the room too, heading downstairs toward the kitchen. Us, he said us. What was he thinking? What might she be thinking after hearing him say that? No, there was nothing more to it, nothing more than the action taken by a moirail, even if this was only temporary. Kankri could do this again; after all, he been that for her once, several years before...
Kankri taps the spoon against the rim of Aria's favorite mug and set it down on the napkin beside the coffee pot. Her think-pan's self-imposed rules prevented her from comfortably leaving silverware on the counter regardless of however clean it was, and Kankri, though he did not fully understand the quirks of her mind, obliged.
The coffee swirled round and round, much like his spiraling thoughts. Kankri made a promise. He had packed his things, and rather than settling with an awkward 'goodbye,' he simply told Aria he would likely see her around town. He would keep his distance, and up until recently, he had. They rarely spoke. She was accepted into one college, and he, now that the game was over, would try this mundane life, applying to college too. Three years of busy university life passed in a blur. And then, dorms fell through, and Kankri needed a place to stay. Their roommate--who was coincidentally enough a mutual friend--had offered the third bedroom in his apartment.
Imagine his surprise when he arrived on the doorstep and greeted by Aria.
Kankri had upheld his promise until last night when he--when he held her in his arms for the first time in three years. It burns him to even admit to himself that a part of him missed it. Three years. She would have moved on by now, and by the looks of it, she had. Kankri would simply have to be her temporary moirail.
He hears Aria start downstairs, so he places her mug in her usual seat by the window.
"Half a sp99nful 9f sugar and a splash 9f cream," Kankri answered her puzzled expression, then added, "I will have 6reakfast finished here sh9rtly."
Kankri x Aria (Human!OC); cross-posted from Quotev
Song recommendation: Let you break my heart again by Laufey
I can't believe I even have to say this: I do NOT use AI, and you do NOT have my permission to use my writing to train AI. Fuck off.
A.N.: Be cringe, be free. I'm only taking this half-seriously. I've had this story rattling around my head since I first fell into the Homestuck pit trap over a decade ago.
With that being said, I'm doing what all Quotevians did: chucking canon out the window, taking just the characters, and putting them into situations. I may have also had a small stronk trying to copy Kankri's typing quirk.
Kankri's slow breaths trail over the nape of her neck. Had he meant to fall asleep? Aria can only wonder, staring over his shoulder at her bedroom wall. He probably hadn't meant to, and she would, without a shadow of a doubt, receive a lecture for this when he wakes. He wouldn't fault her for this accident; no, she had fallen asleep before him, believing he would carefully untangle his arms from her and drape the comforter over her sleeping form. As her temporary moirail, this out-of-character action is behavior Aria expected from Kankri, and yet, to her surprise, he sleeps here in her arms, his nose tucked into the crook of her neck.
Instead, the lecture would be more like a long-winded, profuse apology for crossing boundaries. He has always respected Aria's strong dislike of physical contact just as she respected his. What neither knew, at least not then, was the fact that Aria only disliked the unwanted and unexpected type of physical contact. That was one of many things they had disagreed upon back then.
Kankri stirks, tightening his grip ever so slightly before settling, though his embrace is still firmer than before. The steady pressure would have calmed Aria's racing heart if it hadn't reminded her of how he once held her. Some years ago, he had broken his vow of celibacy for Aria, a choice which still astonished her. It took several messy conversations for Aria to persuade Kankri for a rare hug. Still, she remembers combing her fingers through his hair, being sure to avoid his horns. Had his hair grown softer?
She tenses. Aria's mind snaps to the present. When had---? Her fingers freeze in mid-curl around a few stray locks. If Kankri wakes now, and if Aria doesn't die of embarrassment on the spot, then his rambling would surely turn into a lecture about her respecting his boundaries. Shit. Gently, careful as not to wake him, Aria untangles her fingers from his hair. The pair had fallen asleep on their sides last night, so one of Aria's arms was pinned beneath him while the other hovers awkwardly in the air.
This--She shouldn't be doing this. She can't hold him anymore, not like this, not like the way she used to. They split a few years ago, and Kankri (from what she heard) took back his vow of celibacy. There would be no more "us." Aria squirms, trying to free her pinned arm without jostling him too much. Thankfully, Kankri has always been a bit of a heavy sleeper, so Aria shouldn't have to worry about waking him. She twists, bracing her free arm on the mattress below her, yet the motions leads Kankri to chase her warmth. His dead weight pushes her further into the mattress.
Aria feels her face burn hot, both her arms sprawled outward, as far from touching him as she can manage--not that it matters much now that Kankri lays half on top of her in a sweetheart's cradle. She stares at her bedroom ceiling, wide-eyed, the heat of her blush spreading from sheeks to ears like a wildfire. Meanwhile, Kankri, blissfully unaware, snoozes on her chest, his breath rolling across her collarbone. Shit! She can't--He shouldn't wake up to see them practically cuddling like this. She wouldn't be able to listen to his lecture with a straight face, too busy burning a hole in the floor with her stare and hoping it would swallow her whole.
She gulps. Here goes nothing. She braces both elbows against the mattress and lifts herself up with the intent to shimmy out from underneath him. Aria would carefully untangle Kankri's arms from her torso, and she would slip free. She planned to duck into the bathroom until she could calm her racing heart. Instead, the moment Aria props herself up on her elbows, Kankri growls. She freezes (now, if the fluttering in her stomach could stop, that would be fantastic). Did she wake him somehow? Slowly, she looks downward, scanning his face for any signs of consciousness; no, his eyes are still closed and his breathing slow, though his grip is tight. Sighing, Aria admits defeat and lays back down. There are only two options left, and she is a terrible liar.
"Kankri--" Aria clears her throat and repeats his name, louder this time. "--Kankri, I need you to get up."
The troll in question barely moves, save for the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
Aria flicks her eyes to the ceiling, praying to anything that might be listening just to end this sweet torture with minimal embarrassment.
She tries agan, nudging him gently, "Kankri, wake up please."
Kankri stirks, and Aria, seeing his eyes flutter open, seizes the opportunity to explain before he gets the wrong impression:
"I just woke up too--" A bold-faced lie, one her blushing face exposes quickly. "--Could you...um, move please?"
"9h--I'm s9 s9rry!" Kankri scrambles off of her. The rambling apology begins.
"How incredi6ly rude of me t9 lay 9n you like this, especially when c9nsidering y9ur aversi9n to physical c9ntact! I ap9l9gize if I triggered y9u. I had intended t9 leave the m9ment y9u fell asleep during 9ur feelings jam—and might I add h9w grateful I am that y9u all9wed me, as y9ur temp9rary m9irail, t9 6e there f9r y9u when y9u were in such a desp9ndent state—6ut I did n9t realize I fell asleep t99."
Kankri pauses to catch his breath.
"It's alright! I just need the bathroom!" Aria interjects and scoots to the opposite side of the bed.
The floor is cold. She doesn't care. He says something she doesn't hear because she is already halfway out the bedroom door. One, two, three quick steps down the hall and Aria is already hiding in the bathroom. Who knew her short legs could move so fast? And to think, Kankri, despite being rather short for a troll, overpowers and outweighs her easily, pushing her into the mattress from dead weight alone--Stop. Aria leans against the bathroom door, shielding her blushing face from the eyes of her judgmental reflection.
What is she thinking? She was once certain she had fallen out of love with him, that she had healed and moved on from the heartbreak--three years have passed after all--and yet, she can't get her mind off the embrace, his breath against her neck, his soft hair--Stop. She needs to think this through (whatever "this" is).
Deep down, Aria knows, she would let him break her heart again.
PSA: GO INTO YOUR SETTINGS NOW TO PREVENT TUMBLR USING YOUR INFO TO TRAIN AI.
Tumblr has an opt-out for third-party sharing that allows them to share your blog's information to AI models. This toggle is assuming your CONSENT by DEFAULT. Go into Settings > Blog > Visibility to turn this toggle off.
The reblog chain is one of the things that makes Tumblr unlike anywhere else. All the notes on reblogs are attributed to the original post, no matter which branch people actually liked or reblogged. We want to keep encouraging conversations, and give contributors the recognition they deserve.
Soon, you'll be able to like, reblog, or reply to any part of a reblog chain, and that note will go to that reblog's author. Each reblog will have its own counts, instead of one aggregated number from every version of the post. And yes, you’ll be able to like multiple posts in one chain.
If a reblog doesn't add anything, the love flows up to the last person in the chain who did. Your post doesn't lose notes just because people spread it quietly.
Past notes will stay on the original post — we're only changing what happens from here on out. Retroactively re-attributing all of them would be... a lot.
This is just the beginning. More changes are coming as we keep building this out – stay tuned!
We rolled out a significant change to how notes work on reblogs, and the reaction has been strong. We're not going to pretend otherwise.
First things first: We're reversing the change. Your feedback in comments, emails, and especially reblogs, made clear that the rollout created problems we need to address before moving forward. We also should have communicated this differently from the start, and we didn't.
We still believe there's a better version of how reblogs can work. One that gives every voice in a chain the credit it deserves. But we want to get there with you.
In the coming days we'll share more on how we plan to do that, including ways to work directly with some of you on this and future changes before they ship.
as a denizen of this busted ass website for half my life now i do know how staff works and i’m going to lay out what they think will happen as someone who has witnessed this exact thing play out
People get very mad for a few days and then roll over and accept the change to the enclosure. This is what they are betting on. They have had meetings about this.
Getting around it: set an alarm. Get mad not just now, but in a few days, a week, two weeks. They are expecting people to sigh and get over this very odd edit to the site in a few days. Keep flooding them for more than just tonight. Be mad for the week, for the month. Leave a message every day.
PLEASE PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT ON THE POST THROUGH THIS LINK!! it links directly to @changes reblog of the original post so hopefully they'll hear us out!!
if you need a template feel free to copy/paste this or any other alternative circulating on tumblr!
Please stop the new notes rollout. It's gonna kill fandoms. Original creators and artists will stop posting if we don't get the credit we deserve and instead goes to rebloggers. There is a reason why we are here and not on Twitter. We are already struggling to reach people and this is just gonna make it worse. Fandoms are already starving for engagement and this rollout will drown smaller accounts. I urge you to reconsider.
also please still submit feedback through their online support form! the more ways we can bother them, the better.
Tumblr is rolling out a new reblog/notes system that completely disregards creators. In their new system, they're taking a twitter-style approach where reblogs will have their own notes that DO NOT contribute to the original post's notes.
Because of this, creators will no longer be able to see an accurate display of likes/reblogs/etc. This is completely altering the way feedback and responses to works are going to be received on this website.
If you come across a fan work that you enjoy, please take the extra step to go to OPs original post, and leave your comment/like/reblog there. Or go one step further and send an ask to OP directly to tell them what you liked!
I really hope Tumblr staff reverses course and reverts to the original reblog system for the sake of the large base of creators who use this site to share their works, but until then, please be considerate and make sure the creators here see/feel the love.
I need help finding this fanfic and/or the blog because I've been looking for hours and can't find it. I should have saved the link somewhere, but I didn't because at the time, there were only 20 or so fics in that tag so I didn't think it would be so easily buried.
I'm starting to wonder if the blog deactivated.
Any who, it's in the OFF (Mortis Ghost) fandom, the blog had what I think was a cartoon turtle profile picture, and this particular fic was Zacharie x Player. In the fic, the player wore a mask to hide her heterochromia, but one day, she was caught without it by Zacharie. He complimented her eyes, and I think he was even flirting a little. It's a list of headcanons that I think also includes the Batter, but I don't remember for certain.
Of course I can't remember the blog name either, but they definitely wrote several OFF fics. I've tried ever combination of the tag I could possibly think of till 1am, and again for an hour this morning, but I'm not having much luck. Please help my find this fic 😭
EDIT: I'm also guessing this fic was written before game's rework, so definitely well before 2025. Best guess: 2019 or older
I need help finding this fanfic and/or the blog because I've been looking for hours and can't find it. I should have saved the link somewhere, but I didn't because at the time, there were only 20 or so fics in that tag so I didn't think it would be so easily buried.
I'm starting to wonder if the blog deactivated.
Any who, it's in the OFF (Mortis Ghost) fandom, the blog had what I think was a cartoon turtle profile picture, and this particular fic was Zacharie x Player. In the fic, the player wore a mask to hide her heterochromia, but one day, she was caught without it by Zacharie. He complimented her eyes, and I think he was even flirting a little. It's a list of headcanons that I think also includes the Batter, but I don't remember for certain.
Of course I can't remember the blog name either, but they definitely wrote several OFF fics. I've tried ever combination of the tag I could possibly think of till 1am, and again for an hour this morning, but I'm not having much luck. Please help my find this fic 😭
EDIT: I'm also guessing this fic was written before game's rework, so definitely well before 2025. Best guess: 2019 or older
A.N.: Behold! A scene from an incomplete AU I slapped together in early high school after I watched Maleficent and saw one clip of Penny Dreadful. I didn't proofread shit, I wrote it in one go, and I don't think I will be continuing this, but here ya go! Enjoy 2k words of this thinly veiled canon x OC fic.
Vivienne pauses, squeezing rain from her long hair, a futile effort with this downpour, “May I help you?”
The footsteps halt, or rather, she feels the vibrations through the dock halt barely a moment after those words left her mouth. Staring ahead at the star-less sky, she waits for some muttered excuse, for some stuttering questions to tumble out of the stranger’s mouth, for anything—but silence. Do they think if they remain still that she will simply gaslight herself into believing she had heard nothing? She sucks in a sharp breath, readying her tongue with the most venomous words she can muster in hopes it would be enough to deter another unwanted guest and regain her moment of rare peace.
“Oh for the sake of the stars, would you just—Oh…” The words shrivel on her tongue.
A man stands a few feet away. A familiar fear shoots through her back, and faintly, even from this distance, she feels her distant wings thrashing. Even through the rain and through the pitch black, she watches him flinch. He averts his gaze, burying his face deeper into the upturned collar of his coat. Black hair obscures his face.
“I’m sorry. I did not mean to startle you Miss…” He trails off, amber eyes flicking toward the harbor behind him. “I thought I heard someone crying and—”
“—I’m quite alright. Thank you,” the words left her mouth far more clipped than she had initially intended. Now, she winces.
She sends an internal thanks to the stars for this rain, or else she would not have the excuse for her earlier tears. This year has not been a kind one. None of these recent years have been.
“Well, yes, I can see that you are,” The stranger doesn’t finish. Or, perhaps he had, and he had no idea what to say to fill the silence which followed.
He wasn’t going to leave, was he? Sighing, she turns halfway around, watching the star-less sky with one eye.
“I was hoping I would see the stars tonight instead.”
“Oh…yes, this rain is unpleasant,” he ends his sentence in a higher pitched lilt, as if he was asking a question.
“Unpleasant?”
She pulls her gaze away, pointing it instead at the mysterious stranger. A scar, like a lightning bolt, scrawls across the cheekbone and temple of his pale face—too pale, even for this frigid weather. It was no trick of the light, either, because his eyes really were the color of amber. Interesting.
“Quite. You must be cold. Would you like me to fetch you a carriage?”
How sweet! Unnecessary, but sweet! She felt a twitch at the corner of her lips. In truth, this weather is relatively warm for her, pleasantly warm. It must be cold for him, and yet, while his chest rises and falls, his breath doesn’t condense in the air.
“It is sweet of you to offer, but no, thank you,” turning fully to him now, her curiosity now overpowering her earlier fear, she presses forward, “How rude of me! I should have introduced myself. You may call me Vivienne.”
“…Caliban.”
Caliban? Where had she heard that name before? A book, maybe, one she read ages ago, or maybe it was a name she heard in passing. Either way, it was not his real name—that much, she knew innately. Smart man.
“A pleasure to meet you.”
“I should be saying that. You are…” Caliban trails off.
Vivenne waits for the expected string words she has heard from human men before and fights the urge to roll her eyes.
“…radiant.”
That’s a new one. She blinks at him, wide-eyed, and before she can stop herself, she laughs. She laughs not because he’s flinched again, not because she suspects he means it, but because of the irony.
“Please, stay! I’m sorry for laughing! I swear on the stars above, it was not—It was sweet, actually, even if it was a little ironic. Here I am, in the pitch black, soaked to the bone like a stray cat caught in the rain, crying pathetically, and you say I’m radiant?”
“So you were crying.”
This time, she averts her eyes, opting to stare at the wooden boards as if they made up the most fascinating dock she has ever seen. Softly, she answers, “yes.”
“Why?”
Again, before she can stop herself, she tilts her head to the side and immediately kicks herself for displaying such an obvious indication of her nature. He has successfully caught her off guard, and he is entirely unaware of it. By the subtle narrowing of his eyes, perhaps she has not escaped his awareness.
She knits her hands together in front of her, turning to watch the sky again. “These past few years have been long and needlessly cruel to me. I came from a place beyond the sea, searching relentlessly for something new to see, but instead of a new discovery, I found a place without humanity.”
After a moment, he mumbles, “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” She fixes her eyes on him.
He doesn’t flinch this time. Instead, he approaches her, the boards protesting the entire time. “I fear this rain will not let up. If you do not mind, I would like to walk back to your home,” then, as if rushing to correct a perceived error, he adds, “or your inn, if you are traveling.”
“Please, do not trouble yourself. You are kind, but I would like to stay just a moment longer.”
How to get out of this.
“I insist. There are a number of … unsavory men here London, and I do not wish to see you hurt.”
She flashes a close-lipped smile. Oh, the irony.
“I will be alright. I have a friend who I am staying with.”
If only she could summon him without Caliban noticing. Before he could argue further, she interjects, “I would like to get to know you better some other time, and preferably in better weather than this. Could I meet you somewhere tomorrow? At a library perhaps?”
Caliban stares at her, unblinking for some time. Right, the women here are not so forward. She is familiar with that game of the pursued and pursuer, but tonight (or never again), she is not interested in pursuing—man or woman.
“Do you like theatre?” He asks after the awkward silence.
Yes, she does, but not the kinds of plays he is likely used to seeing. “Yes, I enjoy it.”
“There is a show tomorrow night at the Grand Guignol Theatre. Would you like to go?”
Where in the nine realms is that? “That sounds nice! I will meet you at the Grand Guignol tomorrow night.”
She steps toward the end of the dock, gathering her skirts, and sits on the edge. Using her body to shield her hand, she paints a green sigil in the air to summon her friend. Until he arrives, she waits, listening to the steady pitter-patter of rain against sea and damp wood. She hears him shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He is certainly persistent.
“I think I will stay here a moment longer.”
A blue sigil flashes in front of her—thankfully out of Caliban’s sight—marking five minutes until her friend arrives.
“Have you lived here long? In London, I mean.” She stares up at him, craning her neck to do so.
“You could say so,” He doesn’t meet her eyes very often, especially not now.
She senses a story behind the answer, one that might be related to the scar across his face. Could it be from lightning? Those scars scrawl across the skin the same way, but these, these are different. They look more like they came from stitches. Maybe a horse had kicked him in the head. She sniffs at the unlikely explanation. As curious as she is, it’s not her business to ask.
Caliban clears his throat, and she looks away upon realizing she’s been staring. A crow caws in the distance.
Before she could apologize, he says, “Surely you would like for more pleasant company than myself,” and borrowing a term from a friend, he continues, “my visage…makes conversations difficult.”
“Hush with that nonsense! I should be the one apologizing! It was rude of me to stare—my curiosity be damned.”
If she gets any more riled up, then “damned” will be the least “unladylike” word that will ever leave her mouth.
“It’s alright. I’m used to being stared at.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Surely they stare at you in awe—”
“—’Awe’ is not the word I would use to describe their sneers,” she grimaces, her face reflecting her inner disgust at the leering eyes she envisions.
“Sneer at you?” Caliban settles on the edge of the dock beside her, giving her a respectful distance (or fearful, she isn’t quite sure).
“You sound doubtful. Yes, I am well aware of the—to borrow your earlier word—‘unsavory’ men here, and they do like to gawk at me.”
She continues, “why do they stare at you? If you don’t mind my asking.”
She can guess why, something to do with the scar on his face, and his turning away all but proves it.
“You do not have to answer; I should not have pried.”
“Earlier, you said you were curious. I saw no malice in your eyes. Why? Are you not afraid of me?”
“What reason do I have to be afraid of you?”
He stares at her with an intensity that wasn’t there before, “I saw you tense when I first approached.”
The argument dies on her tongue, and she stares at her hands in her lap. The water dances beneath her shoes, crashing gently into the wood dock. A nearby crow is causing such a racket to be heard over the rain. What has gotten into him?
Quietly, after a shaky breath, she answers, “it is not you I…” she trails off, struggling to find the right way of phrasing this to an acquaintance, “what I mean to say is—”
“—You do not have to spare my feelings. Most are afraid of me.”
Eyes snapping toward her, she meets his intense gaze directly. “Hush with that nonsense! You said ‘most’ which would imply that not all clearly feel that way—I being one of them, so please, do not put words into my mouth!”
She takes a few calming breaths. The ladies here do not get ‘riled up,’ and if she is to stay here for the indeterminate future, then she must learn their ways or else risk exposing herself. A new set of steps approaches her on the dock, sending little shockwaves through the wood. It’s a familiar gait, one with more energy in each step than what is necessary, like he is either dancing or walking briskly—the latter, most likely. Caliban picks up on the sound a moment after. Interesting.
“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you, and here you are, drenched from the rain like a stray cat!”
She gathers her skirts in one hand and accepts Caliban’s frigid hand in the other, helping herself to her feet. “It’s nice to see you too, Frederick.”
His brow twitches, and his eyes flick between her and Caliban, and he nods subtly in understanding. It will not be long before the rain soaks through his clothes, and then she will never hear the end of his fussing. She releases Caliban’s hand and loops her arm around Frederick’s arm.
“Allow me to introduce my acquaintance: Frederick meet Caliban; Caliban, meet my friend Frederick, the friend I am staying with.”
“It is nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Stars, this is awkward as hell. The two are staring at each other, and ‘Frederick’ looks like he is about to open his mouth and say something stupid just to fill the silence.
“It is getting late, and we should all be getting home,” she lets herself be guided away by her friend, but before she gets too far, she calls over her shoulder, “I will see you tomorrow night!”
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