Ghosts like Vortex, Undergrowth, and Pariah Dark are known entities to Justice League Dark. They're heavy hitters, ghosts they expected to handle, but it turns out Amity Park has it's own hero who has been taking care of super natural threats - Red Huntress.
So Zatanna heads to the Midwest to invite Red Huntress to the team, and gets a laugh to her face when she offers the position.
"I'm not who you want on your team," Red says. She gestures to two glowing figures in the nearby park. "Phantom's the one you want."
"Which one is Phantom?"
Turns out the only person the outside world knows about is Red Huntress because she can be captured by cameras. JLD has records of ecto spikes, but that's it, and they're very interested in this ghost boy who can take on Ancients.
The Justice League Dark has files on ghosts like Vortex, Undergrowth, and even Pariah Dark. They’re the heavy hitters—entities JLD expects to handle personally.
So imagine their surprise when they learn there’s already a local hero dealing with supernatural threats in Amity Park: Red Huntress.
Zatanna heads to the Midwest to officially invite Red Huntress to the team… and gets laughed at.
“I’m not who you want on your team,” Red says, gesturing toward two faintly glowing figures drifting through the nearby park. “Phantom’s the one you want.”
Zatanna blinks.
“...Which one is Phantom?”
And here’s the kicker: the only person the outside world has ever seen is Red Huntress—because she can be photographed. Phantom? Never caught on camera. Never recorded. Only readings of massive ecto-spikes and the aftermath of ancient-level battles.
JLD suddenly becomes very interested in the anonymous ghost boy who can fight Ancients—and somehow stays a myth outside of Amity Park.
Before Dokkaebi could even open her eyes enough to understand what was going on, she was being yanked out of bed by two grown men.
“Grace, get up, it’s snowing,” she heard the familiar German accent of her friend, Blitz. “We’re gonna go build a snowman.”
Grace managed to lift her head up, realizing she was being dragged across the floor to her closet. Blitz had one leg, while her other best friend, Sledge, had his hands on the other. Finally kicking her way out of their grasp, and standing up, the Korean woman wiped strands of hair away from her face.
“Don’t you two have anything better to do than go build snowmen like children?” She grumbled under her breath.
“Not exactly. We’ve got the day off,” The Scotsman spoke up this time. “Come on, Miss Grinch. You better not ruin his fun.” Sledge gestured to Blitz
Any slight glance of hesitation earned a pout from the men. I’m friends with literal idiots, Grace thought to herself.
“Get out, both of you. I’ll get dressed, we’ll build a snowman, and then you two better let me go back to sleep, or I’ll make sure Thatcher kicks both of your asses.”
After Dokkaebi had thrown on her only winter coat and glasses, she finally opened the door to once again be greeted by the 2 man-children she called her best friends. Blitz seemed a lot more excited about this than Sledge has. It appears that Seamus was dragged into this as well.
When they got outside, Dokkaebi immediately felt like her nose was going to fall off. Holy hell, it was freezing. Somehow, neither Blitz nor Sledge appeared to have a problem with the cold as they both trudged into the feet of snow, already getting to work on their snowman. How they could handle the freezing temperatures outside, Grace had no idea. But, finally, she pulled herself together and trudged out into the snow to help the men with their work.
It took much longer than any of them had expected. Hours of continuously pushing around snow to form whatever sort of body you could call the abomination lying before them. The only part slightly resembling a face was the carrot nose that Sledge apparently had stolen from the SAS’s kitchen earlier that morning.
“I mean, it’s the thought that counts, I guess?” Blitz shrugged a little, forcing an awkward smile. A moment of silence, and the trio broke out into laughter. Yeah, it really WAS the thought that counts.
“You guys are really idiots, but you’re my idiots,” Dokkaebi pulled Blitz and Sledge into a nice hug, all three of them admiring their “masterpiece.”
The moment was broken by Sledge’s small quip.
“Let’s just hope Thatcher doesn’t realize there’s a carrot missing from the fridge.”
This is a collection of every fanfic I’ve posted. It is formatted from newest at the top to oldest at the bottom. They’re linked to AO3. Feel free to leave kudos and comments! Have fun reading! :)
Build a Problem: After “Putting Others First,” Patton and Virgil finally allow themselves to be vulnerable around each other to work out why they’ve been distant.
I Kissed Someone (It Wasn’t You): (Human AU) Roman just broke up with Patton, and it's absolutely horrible. It's just about to consume him when Remus gives him an idea to get his mind off of things. It goes about as well as you would imagine.
Having a Seat at the Table: After Putting Others First, no one wants to tell Virgil what happened, so he confronts Jan- Deceit about what occurred.
Completion: Virgil's first Christmas with the other sides, but does he really know what Christmas is?
Hear Me Out: Virgil believes that the others think his anxiety is stupid. Basically, he's afraid of lightning and the others belittle him for it??
I Don’t Want to be You Anymore: Roman isn't feeling okay. His own body is to blame. He's so ugly and he can't take it anymore.
The Wolf and the Mermaid:
Solas is a forensic financial investigator, and Lavellan is a mermaid performer with a mysterious past. Fluff, Smut, Angst, and lots of Drama. Solas POV.
Chapters 1 & 2. Chapters 3&4. Fic on AO3.
Chapter 5: Dinner at Varric’s
Leliana 6:43
I have time later tonight if you want to arrange a meet?
Solas 6:44
Dinner should be concluded before ten.
Leliana 6:47
Then we’ll say 10:30? Sounds like a plan.
Try to have a good time! (◠‿◠✿)
Solas 6:50
I really wish you would not do that.
Leliana 6:51
>‿‿◕
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. She’d been doing this, every time they texted, an adult woman. What had he done to deserve this? He wondered if perhaps he had done something terrible in a previous life and was paying for it now, genocide perhaps? It wasn’t the sort of thing he believed in, but it seemed the only plausible explanation. In his current mood, going to Varric’s was the last thing he wanted to do.
Varric was an author whose family connections bordered on notorious. He insisted on giving everyone nicknames, with or without their consent. Solas had, of course, been of the latter group. Recently, Varric and Cassandra had bought a loft and moved in together, which made no sense to him because they were constantly fighting. Honestly, he wasn’t sure that they even liked each other. When they got into one of their not so little arguments, it made being in their company incredibly uncomfortable. He questioned his own sanity as he drove. Why was everyone he knew so keen on forcing him into things he didn’t want to do, and why did he let them?
The elevator ride felt like limbo, him standing there with his bottle of wine, waiting to enter the gates of hell. He really hoped this would be one of their good days, or that at least they’d have the decency to rein themselves in for company. It was not a realistic hope, but he was clinging to it for dear life, hesitating momentarily before giving the door a gentle rap.
“Be right there!” He heard Varric call distantly, the lock clicking and door opening shortly after.
“Hellooo, Chuckles!” Varric greeted, standing aside to let him through. “We had a pot going for whether or not you’d show up. Looks like I just won fifty silver.”
Solas looked at him, unamused, which just made him laugh. “Everyone’s already here, except for Blondie, so I guess we can eat! He’s always late anyway.”
Solas said nothing, following him into the dining room. Three people were sitting at the table, Cassandra, at one end, and two people with their backs to him. One, a woman, he recognized as Josephine, and the man, her new paramour. As he rounded the corner, he recognized him as Ellana's handler from the garden party. It was like she was haunting him, the next worse thing to her being here herself! He trained his features and took a seat.
“Solas,” Cassandra greeted him plainly, offering a nod.
“Oh hello Solas, it’s so nice to see you,” Josephine mused happily, “let me introduce you to Blackwall.” She inclined her head in the burly man’s direction.
“I recognize you from the party, you were sharing words with a friend of mine,” his voice a little bristly.
Solas just looked at him, reproachfully.
“Oh of course, I had forgotten you were there,” Josephine interjected, attempting placation.
“You remember, Josie, Solas is looking into The Group’s problems.”
“Yes, of course. Tell me, how is the search going so far?”
“It’s a complicated case, but I’m currently investigated a promising lead that I hope will pan out.”
“You have a suspect?!” Cassandra burst out, obviously upset. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“Merely a lead Cassandra, there is nothing concrete. It would be irresponsible to inform you of anything without some kind of evidence.”
“You are right, of course,” she heaved a sigh, “I just want to see this business concluded as soon as possible."
“What are we talking about?” Varric asked, coming into the dining room hauling a tray piled with serving dishes. At least he’d be eating better than at that unfortunate lunch with Dorian.
“Unfortunately nothing,” sighed Cassandra hopelessly, “I worry that I should be doing more, but what can I do? I am not clairvoyant.”
Varric set down the tray in the center of the table and walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Cass, Solas is the best damned financial investigator in Orlais, and as soon as he finds the thread he needs, he’ll unravel the whole mess.” She smiled at him, looking a little sad, and they kissed softly. It was actually sweet - they must be having a very good day.
About ten minutes into dinner, there was a knock on the door, Anders he assumed.
“Let yourself in,” Varric called, the sound of the door being opened followed a minute later. “We’re in here, Blondie, you’re not as late as you usually are.”
“I picked up a stray on my way here, I hope you don’t mind.”
“You are not bringing any animals into my house, not after that mess with Leliana and that blasted nug. Animals are for eating, Anders. Unless you plan to put it in the oven…”
“Oh hush, Varric,” Cassandra chided.
“I’m not cleaning it up if it goes on the floor.”
And there was that hint of the ever-present bickering.
“Don’t worry,” a soft voice offered, “I’m litter trained.”
“Flipper, is that you?” Varric called.
“What, you thought I’d let her skip out on us?” asked Anders.
“Hey, I will not be tag-teamed tonight. You’re supposed to be proud, not admonishing.”
Why did that voice sound familiar?
Anders finally made it into the dining room, trailed by a woman in a wheelchair. Her hair… her skin... It was… This was impossible! It was Ellana… Had she injured herself?
“If you came around more often, we wouldn’t have to make up for lost time,” Varric teased.
Suddenly Solas was standing up, how had that happened? Everyone was looking at him, including her, shock spreading across her face.
“You alright Chuckles?” He said nothing.
“Hello, Solas.”
“Hello.”
“Fancy meeting you here.”
“Yes.”
“Well he’s certainly feeling talkative tonight,” Anders jeered.
“I guess I won’t need to introduce you after all,” Varric quipped, raising an eyebrow. “Go on and park her next to me, Flipper.
“Best seat in the house,” she teased, winking.
Without the contacts, her eyes were bright, shining, and exquisite. It took him a moment before regaining the ability to speak, and by that point, everyone had given up and opted to ignore him. He had noticed Anders and Blackwall exchanging a significant look when Anders went to sit down, and then the way he repeated his name after Josephine introduced them. There was something there, but he was far too distracted to piece it together. The only thing his mind was capable of, was thinking about her.
“Are you injured?” he asked, concerned.
She opened her mouth and closed it again, turning her head to the side and looking rueful. “No, I’m not injured.”
“Don’t worry Chuckles,” Varric interrupted, “Flipper here’s not injured, she’s just a cripple.”
“Varric!” Cassandra hissed.
“What?” he replied.
This was going to escalate.
“Don’t be so rude!”
“I’m not being rude, she is! That’s like saying it’s rude for someone to call me short or you angry.”
Was that last part truly necessary?
“Don’t worry Cass," Elanna laughed, "It doesn't bother me at all.”
“I am not angry!” Cassandra was near shouting now.
“Could’ve fooled me!” he yelled back.
“I didn’t mean right now, Varric! Don’t try to twist my words.”
“You just yelled that you aren’t angry. How am I twisting anything?”
Everyone was officially uncomfortable, but now the fighting was barely even registering in his brain. She was here , she knew his friends, the world was an incredibly small place, and she was actually here. Why did she hide her eyes with those contacts? He could not imagine ever tiring of the sight.
“I think perhaps we should leave,” Josephine suggested quietly, surreptitiously rising out of her chair, Blackwall following close behind.
“You know what I mean, but you’re acting like I said something else!” Cassandra hollered.
“I’m coming with you,” Anders responded in a loud whisper. “See you later, Ell.”
“Bye,” she replied, softly.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He had thought Varric a better liar than that.
“Thanks for having us Cass, Varric, have a good night!” Josie called on her way out the door.
“Why must you always do this?” Cassandra’s voice getting a little quieter, here.
“What am I doing?”
Solas shook his head. They were ridiculous.
“That, right there! I need to get some air.”
“Wait, you can’t leave, you live here!”
Cassandra was heading for the door with Varric tailing her. They were a matched pair, and it was a terrible thing.
“Do you want to talk?” she asked.
“Yes.”
They went in the living room, and she positioned herself across from him when he sat on the couch. She was so beautiful.
“I’m not certain I like your shoes,” he said. She laughed, bringing her foot up closer for him to see.
“Then I withdraw my praising of your taste.”
The aforementioned footwear was lavender with a large black bow.
“Are those… lambs?”
She laughed. “Yes. Don’t judge me! I like silly shoes, sometimes.”
“And what about other times?” Did he just say that? Her eyes went wide, eyebrows raising. “ Ir abelas , sorry, I did not mean that.”
“Hmmmm,” she murmured, “ Samelava palasha braan .”
He swallowed, the room feeling very hot all the sudden. Her lips looked so inviting… No, he needed to be respectful, think about something else…
“You speak elven?”
“It goes with being Dalish. We’re taught it as children.”
She sounded a little proud, that was disappointing on a number of levels.
“Oh, you are Dalish.” His echoed, voice a bit resigned.
“Do you have a problem with the Dalish?”
“They are superstitious children clinging to myths and legends they know nothing about.” Why was it impossible for him to bite his tongue? It was the truth, but he did not wish to wound her with his tongue…
“Maybe that’s true, but what right have you to judge my people unless you’ve lived their lives or shared their experiences?”
“You are right, of course, ir abelas . I spoke out of turn.” He inclined his head, thankful she had let it go so quickly, A it could have easily ruined their conversation.
“Can I ask?” he gestured toward her.
“There’s not really much to say. I have a neurological condition that prevents me from walking, though I can still use my legs to swim.”
"I see he said," not quite certain how to respond.
“Don't say you're sorry, I'm not.”
“Should I presume that means you hear it often?”
“No sooner does someone see the chair than they’re trying to give me the Maker’s blessing.”
“I imagine that would be quite condescending.”
“Oh it is , and it’s infuriating. People can’t imagine that I could possibly love my life, chair and all. Besides, it’s what inspired me to become a mermaid.”
“How did that happen?” He found her fascinating and would gladly have listened to her talk all night.
“It’s kind of a long story. Suffice to say that it's always been my dream, but it didn't seem realistic or feasible before.”
“Why?”
“I... was a different person before, and I worried about different things. When my body forced me to change, I had to reevaluate my life."
“And you became a mermaid.”
"Exactly," she laughed, smiling beautifully. "How do you do that?"
“Do what?”
“When I talk to you, I find myself saying more than I would to someone else.”
“I will consider myself lucky then.” A first time for everything, he thought.
She rested her cheek against her shoulder, looking up at him through long lashes, and he felt irresistibly compelled. Moving forward to the edge of his seat, he pushed a few errant strands behind her ear, fingers gently brushing across her face. She tilted her head then, to push against his hand; so he obliged, cradling her face and caressing her cheek with his thumb. She reached up, taking hold of his wrist, and pressed a kiss into his palm.
His eyes shot open wide, the contact was electric; his pulse thundering violently against his ribcage. She looked at him, eyes unsure, her mouth parted slightly but making no move to speak. They stayed like that a moment, until she suddenly pulled him in for a kiss. Their faces had been close, but the position was awkward; caught by the surprise he reflexively stiffened.
“Shit, ah, I’m sorry,” she bleated, pulling back and turning her head away.
He slid off the couch then, knees on the floor in front of her, and slid his arms behind her back. He pressed his mouth to hers and began pulling her into his lap when her chair suddenly tipped forward, realization of his mistake dawning as her body crashed into his, their foreheads banging together with a loud thud. He let out a pained hiss.
“ Fenhedis,” he cursed, under his breath. “I’m sorry.”
She reached for his shoulders, trying to find purchase, and then began to push up. “Uuuunnghhh!” he groaned, her knee colliding with his groin as he moved to push her away from the sensitive area.
“Sorry!” she bleated, quickly sliding off his lap and onto the floor.
They both just stayed there for a while; he hadn’t even shifted out of the uncomfortable position he’d fallen into. The awkward tension in the air became unbearably thick as the silence dragged on. Ma delavir shan felasil, he thought, kicking himself internally.
“I think,” she muttered suddenly, “that maybe I should go.” He offered nothing in response, because he had no idea what to say. Teldirthalelan, he thought, seriously considering smacking himself in the face.
When she moved to pull herself into her chair, he didn’t look up – didn’t even move. He was stunned, numb, unable to get his bearings, and he was just letting her leave. Next time he felt like the world was punishing him, he would know why. He deserved it.
Chapter 6: A Meeting with the Arcanist
“Nothing… absolutely nothing!” Her palms smacked against the table. “But, I have not given up yet.”
“Proceed cautiously, Leliana, these people are dangerous.”
“So am I,” she glowered, hands balled into fists, “I can try asking Vivienne, but I doubt she’ll have any answers that I don’t.”
His muscles tensed. “I would prefer not to involve Madame de Fer unless absolutely necessary.”
“Hmmm, I wonder…” she looked up and to the side, considering something. “There is a hacker I’ve been hearing about recently, the Arcanist . They are very political, and I think a grand conspiracy would be right up their alley.”
“That sounds like a terrible idea.”
“I don’t disagree, but we have limited options.”
His jaw clenched again, mouth pulling down at the corners.
“I am aware.” Had it really come down to this? He normally enjoyed his work, but this was a miserable predicament. It seemed everything about tonight was doomed to failure.
“Here,” she said, scribbling something on a piece of paper and sliding it over to him, “this is the contact information I was able to find for the Arcanist , and Vivienne is always an option otherwise.”
He took the piece of paper, put it in his pocket, and began to rise.
“I’m here for you, you know.”
“Yes, thank you for the information.”
“The pain in your eyes Solas; If you want to talk ab – “
“That is unnecessary,” he said, cutting her off.
She sighed, looking wistful, and he turned to leave. He had what he’d come here for; there was nothing left to discuss.
-----
When he got to his apartment, Cole was just leaving.
“I got the phone you wanted.”
“Thank you, Cole.”
“You are sad, but won’t say why.”
“Leave it alone Cole, please.”
“I want to help.”
“You cannot.”
“You don’t know unless you try.”
“Goodnight Cole.”
“You should call her; that would make it better.” He sighed, shaking his head. He had no way of contacting her even if it was a horrible idea.
“Varric and Anders will know.”
Yes, but he would never ask them.
“For booking inquiries, please fill out the email form below.”
“What did you say Cole?” His eyes widened, looking up into what he could see of the boy’s face through a sheet of blonde hair.
“On the website,” he said, pulling out his phone to show him, eyes bright with hope.
“Goodnight Cole.”
“Goodnight,” he offered resignedly, ducking out the door.
He weighed the choices in his head and at length decided that anything had to be better than working with Madame de Fer.
I am a financial investigator known in some circles as the Wolf. I tell you this because I believe it will aid you in deciding how best to respond.
A client of mine is being stolen from by a mysterious group in Tevinter whose name I prefer to leave unsaid for now. Tracking down information about this group has proved exceedingly difficult and a colleague of mine suggested that you might be able to offer assistance.
Any aid you could provide would be greatly appreciated, and you would of course be compensated for your time.
-Solas
-----
With that business handled, and while he was already sitting at the computer, he decided to pull up Ellana’s website. He was a fool for not thinking of it himself earlier. The information link was right there, at the top of the screen, but he hesitated and clicked on the gallery icon instead. It was torture to look upon her, knowing the scent of her hair and the taste of her lips, but it was made all the worse by the knowledge that he would likely never be that close to her again.
She was so beautiful it made him ache; reminding him of the now finished fresco he’d painted, that taunted him from where it lay against the wall, hidden in a stack of less interesting works. A fool, he was a fool.
He stood up with purpose and made for the kitchen, desperately in need of a very large cup of tea. It was entirely unsurprising that it did nothing to help the situation, and he quickly found himself back at his desk, clicking over to the contact screen. Pinching the space between his brows, he let out a sharp breath through his nose and began.
Ellana, I am unsure if this will reach you or be seen instead by an assistant. There is nothing I can say to make up for my behavior, but I would like for you to know that I am sorry.
-----
He lied in bed that night for hours awake, and when sleep finally claimed him it was restless, short, and plagued by unhappy dreams. Upon waking, he remembered only that a tentacled beast had dragged him beneath the surface of dark and violent waters; his efforts to the contrary an overwhelming failure. It was a less than pleasant beginning to the day.
He stretched his aching limbs, shoulders hunched forward as he sauntered into the pantry. When had he run out of tea? A tin normally lasted him much longer than this and he could not very well consume alcohol so early in the day. He’d have to go to the store, or perhaps Cole would be willing… no, it was better that he left the house if only for the desperate hope that it might momentarily distract his unsettled mind.
Standing in the tea section of the nearest suitable market, his phone chirruped out an email notification. With a hand hovering over the usual selection - a loose blend of elfroot and spindleweed, his mind stalled between waiting until he was home and checking it immediately. No sooner had he resolved to wait than he was reaching in his pocket and sliding the screen to unlock it. He heaved out a sigh, a mixture of relief and disappointment, at seeing a response from the Arcanist .
I think we work can something out. Give me a number to reach you and I’ll text details for a meet.
-----
He wasn’t quite certain what to make of that, but he typed in the number for the burner and sent it off. Dealing with a potentially unhinged computer hacker was not something that pleased him in the slightest, but duty demanded he explore any potential source of information. Hopefully it would it not prove to be another waste of time.
He received the text during his walk back, opting to check it once he was inside the door. The address they’d sent seemed familiar but he couldn’t remember why. Seven this evening, they instructed; he supposed he was obligated to show. Nothing else to do after all, and no response from Ellana in the interim - a perilous thought that continuously wormed its way into his mind. He watched a documentary on druffalo while waiting for the hours to pass, and drank copious amounts of tea.
It was a short walk to get there, familiar because it was… fenhedis. It was the same place he’d gone with Dorian that boasted inedible culinary faire and a detestably rude waitstaff. A monumental sigh passed his lips before he shook his head and opened the door.
“Mr. Wolf!” called a cheerful voice; he scanned the room for its owner, an uncomfortably enthusiastic looking dwarven woman seated in the corner. Hesitantly he made his way towards her.
“The Arcanist, I presume.” He greeted with a small bow of his head, sitting in the chair across from her.
“You presume correctly! And should I guess that the Tevinter group you referred to has a name that begins with a V and ends in an I?”
He wondered if her smile might at some point get so wide that it split her face in half.
“Venatori, yes.” His face a placid mask.
“How exciting!” her smile getting actually bigger somehow, “I’ve heard so little besides rumors and finding any kind of tangible thread is just amazing! Makes you want to blow something up, you know?”
“I cannot say that I do.” He hoped she was not serious.
“Really? You should try it sometime!’ Her face was alight with excitement.
“Shall we get to business?” He interjected, not in the mood for this.
“Oh, yeah…” brows lowered dejectedly, and he felt the tiniest pang but he had not the time or inclination to indulge her.
“Oy, Baldy!” called the same brash waitress he had unfortunately not forgotten from his last time here. “Wot did you do ta upset my Widdles?!” She made a beeline towards him, a fierce scowl on her face.
“It’s okay honey, I’m fine,” the Arcanist assured her.
“I’m watchin’ ya eggman,” she threatened, glowering at him from above. He could do nothing but rub one of his temples, a headache dangerously close to forming behind his eyes.
“It’s okay Sera, I promise,” Widdles offered, reassuringly. He thought he might be sick.
“Could we perhaps return to the matter at hand? My time is not unlimited.”
“Right, course, got lots’a important Elven Glory dealies to get sorted.” She scoffed and turned away, presumably going back to the work she was currently being paid to neglect.
“So, the Venatori,” the dwarf smiled with renewed zeal. “What information do you have for me?”
“Very little, I’m afraid. All I have is a single name, Gereon Alexius. He is also a board member of The Pentaghast Group and I suspect him of funneling large sums of money to Tevinter in order to fund these Venatori .”
He passed her a slip of paper with all the information he’d been able to gather on Alexius, and hoped that it would be enough to find another thread.
“I’ll get started on this right away,” she replied with a nod and a gentle smile. He stood, inclined his head, and turned to leave. When he caught sight of the blonde waitress, he exited with increased haste, eager to not be accosted further.
With purpose he walked, though he did not yet return home. It was dark and cool, but the chilly air was soothing to his overwrought mind, freeing him from lingering anxieties. He was determined and needed only to remain so. One way or another, things would progress in regards to the Venatori, and anything else was unimportant.
He was quite comfortable on his own and a romantic dalliance would only complicate his life in unpleasant ways. That’s what he told himself at least, actively pushing down a flash of memory – Ellana’s smile, her bare eyes, her parted lips… the feel of them against his own; the taste of her tongue and feel of her skin.
“ Fenhedis ,” he announced to the air, quickly heading back in the direction of home. It was not such a good night for a relaxing walk after all. He began to wonder if it would ever be again.
He got home and went to bed, sleep claiming his weary body quickly. He dreamed of a great, black wolf with six gleaming, red eyes. It followed after a lithe deer with curling antlers, not seeking to harm it, but unable to halt its chase.
The wolf glided over roots along the edge of a river, moonlight reflecting off the water in shimmering ripples as he darted after his prey. There was something there, in the eyes of the wolf, something he almost thought might be sorrow. At length, it caught up with its quarry, pouncing and laying claim to its neck with a snap of powerful jaws.
The golden deer lay still on the bank, eyes going dark and blood pooling beneath it. The wolf turned its head to the sky and unleashed a mighty howl, a sound of unmistakable anguish. When it looked back, the deer had turned into a woman – skin shining in the moonlight, long hair caked with dirt and blood. He didn’t recognize her, but her hollow eyes felt painfully familiar. The wolf knelt beside her, nudging her ribs with its snout, and sniffing tentatively. Could it not see that she was dead?
Taking hold of her wrist in its jaw, she was pulled across the ground, the wolf dragging her to the bank, and then pushing her into the river with a shove of its nose. Once she was submerged beneath the still water, it turned its head again to the sky and let out an even more agonized howl than before. Solas’ heart clenched in his chest as he watched the wolf walk slowly into the waiting water and let it claim its traitorous hide.
He woke up in a shiver, cell phone declaring it to be 3:17am. He groaned, but then perked up when he noticed the email notification.
It was short, but it was something and that was more than he dared even hope for. He offered a small reply, merely a confirmation, and found it extremely difficult to fall back asleep. This time at least, it was not altogether a negative.
The House of Mysteries is well warded, but not well enough apparently because in the middle of a shower, John's suddenly not alone in the bathroom.
There's a lot of screaming, from both parties, but the demon at least is also embarrassed and flies out the door. John finishes his hair and dries off quickly, noting the air doesn't smell like sulfur. Nor does he sniff that sharp pine scent he attributes to denizens of the high plane.
Not a demon. Not an angel.
Something else.
John composes himself as great as he can dressed in a boxer and towel and opens the bathroom door.
Softly glowing, the being hovers feet off the ground. His hips dissolve into a snake like tail studded with stars the twists and turns in opposition to the very still fur cape he wears. Above his white hair is a halo of rocks and dust that resembles Saturn's rings, but there's a white flame in the middle, easily confused for whisps of moving hair.
A Realms ghost. Between the power scale needed to slip past the wards and a headgear of flame and what might be a ring of ice, this is probably King Phantom.
John wishes he'd walked out with two towels - one to cover his boxers in addition to draping one in a way to hide his nipples.
Too late now. John clears his throat. "King Phantom, what a surprise."
Phantom, who'd been staring at the wall in a frown, turns toward John. Any embarrassment he might have felt about scaring John in the shower is gone. "Hellraiser. I come proposing a deal."
"Yeah?"
"You're destined for Hell, but I'll personally see to it that your soul never goes to that Realm if you solve a mystery for me."
John licks his lips. He'd learned how to weave a contract to save his soul, but this is a stronger guarantee of his safety. He's seen Hell. He'd do anything to avoid it.
"What's the mystery?"
"Why a single resident of this universe hasn't become a ghost in three centuries."
When Danny slips into Drake manor, he expects it to be empty. He knows his second cousins travel a lot, and they'd recently sent Jack a photo of an find that might be ghost related. The house should be empty.
He hadn't realized Jack's cousins had a son Danny's age. He also hadn't expected to stumble upon his body.
All Danny wanted is a place to lie low. His parents think he's dead, and that's for the best, but as he's not (fully) dead he's got to figure out how to survive. But here's Timothy Jackson Drake's fully dead body and unclaimed life.
They share a middle initial. They share features, blood. And Danny's used to negligent parents leading to teen death, this won't be new.
He buries the cousin he's never met in the English garden, and promises to live a life Tim would enjoy.
