...
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There has always been something… otherworldly, about fire. Not just the instance of it, but the very existence itself. At least that is the way Oda chose to interpret the element of his house. Not just him, but also his brother, Inma. It was due to the teachings of their mother that their fixation on flames manifested the way it did; a belief sparked from the visualization of life. An element which can both live and die. Each ember a piece of its existence, each movement and sound a fraction of its language. Eva had always been the type to make such lofty interpretations, and not even the element was safe.
"Valence?" Oda questioned him.
"The Hellhound."
There's something to be said about the feelings which erupt from love. The feeling of a cool breeze passing over you skin. The sensation of moonlight illuminating you in the dark. Perhaps that was why this memory stood out to her the most. The rooftop of the place she called home, surrounded by trees swaying gracefully in the wind, almost like a melancholy dance. She didn't remember this specific moment just because it was something she loved, but because it was and is something she absolutely adores. She could clearly see herself, sitting calmy on the rooftop in her black shorts and black shirt. Both her arms and legs were covered in scars and signs of past stitching, some stiches still fresh. Knees pulled close to her chest and arms wrapped around them as if attempting to keep herself together... yet her head was raised, eyes peering towards the sky. She felt as if she could sit there for hours, staring at the stars which almost made themselves out to be a beautiful painting, but it was far more beautiful than a painting. She recalled her life before all of this, in the halls of her original home with her mother and father; she recalled the closed windows and the limited time outdoors. The studying and the curfews. The stale, bright lights of the halls and the city outside. Then she compared it to this, and and her lips parted ever so slightly. breathing it all in... Then she recalled the Program.
The wind picked up for a single moment. Her pearl blonde hair which had been pooled around her, messy and frayed at the ends, billowing in the breeze. Even her eyelashes and eyebrows were the same shade. She looked pale, was pale, but within it there were traces of the warm peach in her complexion, but she was malnourished and tired. Exhausted. Her eyes, like to cerulean gems, sparkled with traces of red. Like distant dwarf suns in a pool of deep ocean. Around those eyes rested dark circles, but they still remained looking upward. She was mesmerized by the contrast of this canvas in comparison to the sterile white hallways she had become used to. The bright lights of small rooms and disinfected labs. The insides of test tubes, the colors which filled them, the haziness. Her arms squeezed her legs as if to check and see if she were actually outside and not within a dream, still trapped within those walls in a place she did not know. Or perhaps she could no longer say she didn't know it. Against her wishes, it had become an experience she'd never forget. That was why she did not want to descend from where she was, nor did she desire to return to the comfort of a bed or even the ground itself... After years of the same, she had become free... and with that freedom, she just wanted to float away. To spread her arms and fall into the sky. The world, the realms, they are all filled with liars; so she felt it would be best to simply not experience them at all.
"There you are." The voice did not draw her eyes. It barely grabbed her attention, but now she knew it was there. "It is cold outside... Will you not lie in bed?"
"I don't..." She began to speak, but the words drifted away. Was there ever a need to talk?
"Are you not hungry? I can prepare something for you to eat." The voice seemingly came from the night around her. She could barely pinpoint its origin, but did it matter?
"I'm okay..."
The silence which followed the short conversation was almost dreadful. But she preferred to be alone... right? This was how she wanted it to be. When people decided to be near her they always chose to lie. They always chose to abuse their words, and when they didn't they only brought pain and suffering. So it was always better to just be alone. A cold night, the moon and its stars, what could be more comforting than that? Why sleep when she could stare at this for hours? Or that was what she believed. Then, she felt the sensation of soft cloth falling around her. A blanket resting over her shoulders and wrapping around her. Then, at her side, someone sat down in a manner which seemed so... timid. Timid, yet in the body of an adult. On their knees, feet below their rear, hands resting on their lap as their head also looked up at the sky. She wore a black robe, and her black hair was held in a ponytail. Perfectly cut bangs just above her eyes which looked so cautious, but were as black as the vastness of space. Pale like a doll, with the moonlight almost giving her a glow. She didn't even seem real. But it was when the woman looked at her she realized she had been staring.
"I know things will prove to be," she stopped herself. Looking back up at the sky again and sighing. She watched as seconds passed, and with them the black flushed from her eyes. Blue, lapis lazuli, now looking up at the sky before turning back to her. Calm, collected. "I can only do so much, but I know it will take some effort. You're young, I'm sure you don't get what I'm saying at all. I know this is all going to be hard. Adjusting. But you can take all the time you need... You know who I am. don't you?"
She knew the answer to the question. She knew this woman, although only so much. A strict specialist, a figure lacking both emotion and mercy. Yet she was so different now than the times she had ever been in contact with her before. That's why she felt she knew her, but also didn't know her at all. "Miss K..."
"Yes, but I want things to be different." Different? How could things be different? Or rather... why? So she asked.
"Why?"
"Because... even I have a heart. Even when I want to ignore it..."
The uncanny nature of this conversation. She spoke with simple words and basic concepts, as if wanting to make sure she understood every words he wanted to get across, but that wasn't necessary. She knew it wasn't necessary. So why was she doing it? She wanted to tell herself that this woman was lying. Say 'she just wants to manipulate me, like everyone else' and move on. But that was the downside of being born the claimant she is. She can tell when someone is lying, so long as she wants to, and o how desperately she wanted to... but that was why she knew better than anyone else, and even now... this woman had never once lied to her a day in her life. Not within the Program, and not in this very moment.
"You weren't meant to be left behind. The ones who stayed made that choice, and the ones who were unfortunately left behind could not be reached in time. But you were different. I could not allow you to stay the way you were. But I'm also very selfish." She said as she returned her gaze up to the sky.
"Selfish? Why?" She did not know why she was talking to her like this... but she wanted to know more of her truths. In a way, it was comforting.
"Because I'm also just doing this for myself... I'm a terrible mother, everyone knows it. I've been the very thing I hated in my own mother. Strict, unyielding, lacking mercy and lacking empathy even more so... but I just can't keep doing it. I convinced myself it was how I needed to be to survive, and also how my kids would need to be, but I ended up failing them..." she paused as her eyes lowered to her own hands. "If Eva were here I could have asked her for advice, or she would have given it regardless."
"Who is... Eva?" she asked. This question caused the woman to smile.
"She was my best friend. The first friend I had ever made, and someone I loved dearly and deeply... She can't be replaced, but she died a long time ago." She couldn't even hide how sad the very thought made her feel, but she continued to smile and speak either way. "Times like this I think 'what would she want me to do'? But we were so different. Yet unlike me, she was always so happy... but, when I looked at you in that room, I felt like I could hear her voice for a single moment... 'Go get her'... and I had to act. But I still won't accomplish anything like this... I'm timid. Shy. I'm not the best at talking or socializing, and it's hard for me to show how I feel. So I have to be direct."
The sensation was both warm and confusing. Confusing in the sense that she had never once seen this woman show affection towards anyone at all, but warm in general due to the way her warms wrapped around her and pulled her close. She could hear her heart thrumming in her chest, the softness of every single breath, almost as if she were instinctively trying to keep herself calm and lacking, but was also actively fighting against those instincts. She squeezed. Almost enough to make it difficult to move or feel comfortable. but it was within that squeeze she felt safest. With her head resting on this woman's chest and her hands resting on her hack and head. She felt wanted, she felt secure, she felt as if the world itself could not reach her and it was in that very same moment her heart relented. Her mind and body relaxed, a soft sigh as she leaned into the embraced and let her eyes finally relaxed. She could feel a growing pain in her stomach, but she did not care. Where she was right now was all that mattered. Right there under the stars... in this warmth.
"I don't wanna go inside..." She whispered to her as the woman chuckled.
"Then we can stay out here. Just you and me."
"You'll stay too?" She asked as if expecting another answer, but she knew she hadn't lied.
"Yes, I'll be right here the entire night. From this point forward you will be in my care. I'll watch over you and help you grow, but that choice is still yours to make. If you'd rather someone else I can make those arrangements..." She once again spoke true, but deep down she had felt this urge. a hope that she would continue. A hope that she would say more... "But, I would be happier knowing you would rather stay here with me. I'll learn to be a proper mother while you grow to be a proper daughter. How does that sound?"
The beeping of her alarm made her eyes slowly open. She squinted upon her sight being met with the bright light of the sun beaming through the window, but looked at the phone to see it wasn't actually an alarm. Her phone was ringing. She groaned, lifting her arm towards the device before tapping the screen several times in hopes that she would eventually answer the call. Some attempts later, and with a chime to indicated the phone had been answered and placed on speaker, she tucked her face back into the pillow and returned to sleep. It only took a few seconds before the voice on the other line had realized what was going on.
"Are you always going to answer the phone like this?" A male voice questioned her.
"It's too earllllyyyy... can't you call in the evening?" She responded from within the pillow.
"What are you talking about? It's two in the afternoon!" He snapped back. "We have shit to do today, so don't blow me off this time. I don't care what anyone says. If you don't show up this time I'm not giving you work anymore."
"Ugh! Fine," she responded while finally lifting her head from the pillow. Cerulean eyes squinting at the device as she snatched it up and held it closer to her face. "You're such a dork. This work better not suck. I'm not afraid to kick your ass computer boy."
"You're welcome to try, after you get here!"
The call ended abruptly and she tossed the phone down on the pillow at her side before laying her face down on her pillow again and screaming into the softness. She raised her head once more, strands of bright hair scattered everywhere before she moved them to the sides and finally lifted herself from the bed and began walking her way across the room. Short black shorts and a black tank top, a choice of clothes which were incredibly too tight for someone of her particularly voluptuous build. Entirely model-like and yet she walked with a certain rhythmic bounce with every step. First down the hall to the bathroom where she brushed her teeth and showered, then back to her room where she threw on an outfit fitting for someone who expected attention. A black leather miniskirt, a white shirt with the top three buttons undone, black stockings and a pair of black gloves. All the scars were covered, excluding the ones on her chest and cleavage, but they stopped just shy of her neck. With that she picked up her phone and a sleek metal wallet before rushing out into the halls and down to the stairs. It was then, when she reached the bottom, that she spotted the two people she lived with. A male with a darker skin tone sitting at the table in nothing but a pair of sweat pants, scarfing down a platter of meat, and the same woman from her dream sitting next to him as if expecting something from the male she'd never get...
They were none other than Harvel and Kikana.
"Mommy! Daddy!" She called out as she skipped over to the two of them and embraced them both in a single leap.
"I thought you sleep all day again today, but I guess I owe your mother a favor now," Harvel said as he continued to eat his meal.
"I told you she'd be up. She has work to do today, and I'm sure Raphyl would fire her if she missed out this time," Kikana said as she smiled at the girl. "Good morning baby. Did you sleep well?"
"You know it! The best sleep ever, until The Screen called me." she responded as she released the two and made her way to the main entrance.
"I told you it's not nice to call him that, but you two seem to live for the sake of teasing each other. But you're leaving already? you won't stay for breakfast?" Kikana asked her.
"Nah, I'm already sorta late, but I'll be back tonight! I haven't finished my fourteen days of cuddling yet and I'll need at least that much if I want to make your smell cling to me," Harvel nearly choked on his food when the woman proceeded to audibly moan for both of them to hear. Kikana just sighed and chuckled to herself.
"Well, I look forward to spending more time with you."
"Alright! I'm out! Don't wait up for me if I'm late, I'll just join you both in the bed like a little puppy if you're asleep!"
"Oh, and Sarafyme?" Kikana's call made the girl turn to them both before leaving the home. Her mother's smile a boon for the rest of her day. "Be careful, take care of yourself, and have a good day. You know I'm always a call away if you need me"
Sarafyme smiled and waved to the two of them one more time as she opened the door. "I know, mommy."
Rather than focus on just how endearing the moment was, Jaffe could only ask herself multiple questions as she looked at Gabi’s head resting on her stomach. How easy would it be to twist her neck? Watch her head turn the opposite way and hear the audible snap of vertebrae? In this vulnerable state as they lie on the large couch under the dim illumination of the television, would she prevail? A movie she had chosen, one that spoke volumes about just how much Gabi cared for certain things, would that be enough to give her the opportunity to strike? One wing tucked against her side and the couch, the other lazily hanging off the side and resting against the floor. She was calm, eyes shut as if she were asleep, but Jaffe wasn’t oblivious enough to believe something like that was a true opening.
"Please don't. I'd probably try to become water and she'd turn me into fire." It was a joke... but Gabi's silence, once again, spoke volumes. "What the fuck?"
"Just don't try to fight her."
Work was normally much easier than this. Especially when she worked with her normal subordinates and assigned partners. And yet this time her mother had chosen to have her work with someone she had yet to even properly meet, regardless of what they had been told. The work itself was simple, yet delicate. Not a single margin for error amid the technical and accurate work which needed to be done, but that was exactly what made her a specialist. Having her niece and their subsequent partner wasn’t a big deal so long as they stayed relatively mild… if they stayed relatively mild in their talks. They were her guards in a place she’d need them, but they were also both troublesome. If she'd known her niece was the Gabi from the movies she enjoyed watching she'd have started a stream and shown her off to her own fans and followers, but all she had now was a lot of work to do and her nosy girlfriend.
"Shut your fucking mouth," Gabi responded while turning away.
"So, as I was saying before I was so RUDELY INTERRUPTED!” Jaffe started to which Sarafyme flipped her the bird while continuing to work with the other hand. “Funny. I’ll take that pretty finger.”
Bed Partner
DeVian was used to waking up alone.
She’d been waking up alone as soon as her mortal adopted parents deemed her old enough. She’d been sleeping alone for most of her life. She never needed anyone on the other side of the bed.
All her partners, however brief understood this.
They all knew that once the night turned to day, they were no longer welcome to stay. All of them, understood this unspoken rule. None dared to disobey - maybe mortals weren’t as clueless as they were made out to be.
So it was as if reality decided to force her through a very uncomfortable check when she was woken by the scent of cigarette smoke.
Naturally DeVian being someone who worked intimately with death, was not amused at the smell. Though tobacco and nicotine did not harm claimant bodies, their bodies resistant to the toxicity. The addiction was nothing but a laugh for most claimants; they smoked to mock the fragility of human beings.
She scrunched her nose, attempting to barrow back into the depths of night and sleep. Hoping beyond hope that it was just a false alarm, that she was just lucidly dreaming of someone smoking in her near vicinity. But fuck the smell persisted.
So did another more sinister scent. How had she missed it? The nerves along her arms prickled with a weary caution.
Cracking one eye open, DeVian hesitantly called for her Halberd, which was as it should be, encased and hidden. However like all blades fashioned for claimants, it would not fail to arrive when summoned. The depths of the void be damned otherwise.
Cypress. Which house was Cypress. Mind racing through the treasure trove of her mind until she settled on the most basic facts.
1. She’d met someone.
2. Sex had been and was amazing. She could feel the ache as well as the overwhelming remains of physical primal pleasure.
3. This person clearly didn’t understand the unspoken rule of departing before she woke.
4. They were a claimant.
5. They were a smoker.
6. They were DeVian’s first bed partner.
7. She didn’t know the person’s name.
After that last fleeting fact was confirmed, she sat up. Her nudeness was the least of her worries as the person, whose silhouette was consumed by the brightness of dawn; turned. Cigarette still in hand, naked and genderless.
DeVian could have sworn they had a pair of eyes on the back of their head - scratch that, neck.
Their eyes met. Clashed.
Well, alright. This person was not entirely nude. Bands of what DeVian surmised had to be some kind of metal clung to the person’s wrists, ears, ankles. All of it a stark contrast to the images that ran all over, length and width, height and depth. As if their contours were made to store vivid depictions of art.
Neither spoke. Their eyebrow rose. Having now seen the Halberd which waited eagerly by their previous night’s company.
“Just who the fuck do you think you are?”
The person, curse them. Finished smoking. The cigarette being disposed and then they dared to step back into her bedroom.
The person, lazy and languid reached for their possessions. Dressing like this was a completely normal occurrence. DeVian had asked and demanded an answer.
But still got no response. Not even as she got out of the bed, defences high and Halberd ready to eviscerate the person. Once they were seemingly dressed, they gave her the smile that had previous evening be damned, had won her over.
Well actually, a lot of things about this person had won DeVian over, their movements, their sense of humour, they had been the most captivating person on the rooftop bar. DeVian had a hard time trying to console herself with the fact that not once did this person ever reveal their name to her. As if expecting her to know already.
Just as soon as the smiled, they gave her a rather dramatic bow before turning back to the balcony and without so much as announcing their intent. Jumped.
DeVian, ripping her silk and cashmere sheets, moved towards the now vacant space. Expecting a corpse - which was stupid, claimants didn’t die like mortals did.
Instead, the person had the gall to wave up to her before putting on a helmet and starting up what had to be the most expensive deathtrap of a bike DeVian had ever seen. How the fuck had she been convinced to come home on that? The night’s events continued to ricochet in her skull.
Between one blink and the next, the person was gone and DeVian was left with the suspicion that this mightn’t be the last time she saw this peculiar stranger.
The next time DeVian encountered the stranger was surprisingly the same exact day, but in an entirely different context.
See, the Desdon-Law heiress was no stranger to elaborate gifts from mortals and claimants alike, all of them wanting to rub shoulders with her - mostly for their own self-indulgent purposes. She was used to sending the gifts back, or repurposing the gifts by giving it to someone supposedly less fortunate in whatever department of public relations was screaming that day.
So it was a bit of a conundrum when upon entering her office, she spotted a black rectangular container on her coffee table. She almost didn’t see it, if not for the stark white bouquet of exotic blooms that gently perfumed the room. None of them Cypress, but all of them familiar in one sense or the other.
She’d been overly cautious in the past with such unexpected mysteries. Hell, she backed away and asked her assistant and closest thing to a true maternal figure Marjorie to explain what the actual fuck had invaded her office.
“Security deemed it safe. There’s nothing of concern in the box.”
“Did they even bother to open it?!”
“Course not. They know better. It was delivered by a blind man in plain clothing. Said it was a complementary gift from his employer.”
DeVian was thus left in her office with a box, no name, no address, no label. She poked the box, hoping it would explode and she would be able to fire her guards for being such lazy assholes. But nothing happen, so she tried lifting it - light as a feather.
With nothing else to do, and after securing a bottle of her latest favourite vintage red, DeVian retrieved her box knife from its hidey–hole in the bottom of her desk and began the laborious process of opening the package.
What was revealed left her speechless. It reeked of elemental protection. Calling to her with a song she’d only heard once or twice before.
The first was when she collected her Halberd from Nammay, swinging to and from on the balls of her ankles.
Another was when she’d first been confronted by the pale persona - visage of a person, with identical eyes to her. Jaws that were unlike any living creature, and a deep sense of dread, hunger and yearning made her spine tingle and crawl. It was the Void, she had never gotten rid of the sensation since.
But the stranger from last night, somehow had known and had in the vast impossibleness of it all, conquered, shaped and melded a piece of the Void into this: armour for her, only her.
DeVian didn’t know whether she was about to faint or if she was about to be dragged wailing to the Void by Novevu to answer for this seeming mutilation of the Void.
The next person to enter her office was therefore a most welcome sight. Ritunen, strolled in, coffee mugs in hand, phone between his teeth. Looking refreshed and content. Due to business being in DeVian’s priority, she hadn’t the time to make the trek out of the city and into the wealthier suburbs of Rio to where one of her many properties were. That was where Ritunen stayed most evenings, awaiting and often sorely missing out on seeing DeVian. His nostrils flared and besides passing her the mug of coffee, releasing the grip of his teeth for his phone - it dropped mercifully onto one of the couches.
“You smell like you’ve just come back from the middle of the Mediterranean. New perfume?”
“No. Could I instead direct your attention to the contents of the box.”
Ritunen did as asked and let out a rather perfect rendition of a lyrebird. He blinked, stepping back and not at all wanting to touch it. This concerned DeVian. Ritunen shook his head, trying to reassure his partner that all was well.
“That’s got enough protective phrases on it to deflect the world’s nuclear arsenal. When did you order it?”
“I didn’t. It was delivered by a blind man. A gift from his boss. No idea how or why.”
“You gonna send it back? Keep it? Wear it?”
“I’m honestly not too sure.”
“Well, once you make up your mind. We need to find this person and ask them to make me something too. Not everyday you see part of the void turned into a wearable piece of clothing.”
Just as DeVian was about to place the lid of the box back on, something fell out, some kind of red thread anklet from a crevice in the lid, stunned, considering it was entirely out of place for the rest of the gift. DeVian reached to pick it up and was immediately thrown into a memory.
It was an out of body experience, being inside another person, the anklet was tightly wound around the right foot, its small charm brushing the buckle of what DeVian surmised as something from the 1920s.
This person, wearing a rather masculine suit, was polishing a series of glasses. A speak-easy bar. The bar stools were mostly vacant, though surrounding one of several booths were rowdy and probably intoxicated patrons. All of them smoking, shouting bets, guffawing and swearing as the deck of cards was shuffled by some unseeing hand.
The stairway that led to the bar’s entrance, well hidden and disguised behind two separate fire exits, was the sort that only regulars knew about.
The beaded curtain tinkled and swished as it was moved aside and a new person stepped in. Or rather their cane did before their person.
DeVian watched as the woman placed the glass down beside the rest which almost glittered every colour of the spectrum despite the place being lit by hideous yellowing bulbs.
She practically leapt over the sleek polished wood - also just as pretty as the rest of the well maintained bar. The new patron barely had a chance to shut the door behind him before he was engulfed in an embrace. These actions did go unnoticed by the patrons who were gambling. All of them stopping and lifting their glasses in welcome.
“You’re home!”
The woman’s accent was unlike any DeVian had heard in modern day, the man she was embracing had hair that was immaturely greying, he was shorter than the woman but for some reason DeVian registered his importance. Cane dropped - clattering to the floor indignantly.
“Mmm. Love you’re crushing the life out of me.”
“You had me worried Lucas. So worried.”
“I’m home. Aren’t I? Won’t be leaving either. Ancients and Eviax be damned. I need a break.”
“Mmm. You work much too hard and put yourself in too much danger Lucas.”
The memory faded to black and throughout it all, Ritunen was gently trying to get her attention. She blinked. Had she just hallucinated the whole thing? As she opened her mouth to speak, something cacophonous and ancient seemed to splinter inside her mind. When it did, resolving and mending into a solid bridge of knowledge, the woman’s voice, the one the memory shared spoke.
‘It is about damn time we were introduced. Amarjeet Desdon at your service.’
“I…did you see that? Hear that?”
“What? You went as still as a statue for a minute.”
DeVian furrowed her brows, placing the anklet back in the box didn’t feel right, she decided that this trinket was important and without further ado, put it on exactly as the woman in that memory had. It felt like a piece of the puzzle fell into place, the woman was her. She was the woman. But how?
There was only one way to find out. Find more memories. Ignore the voice that was inside her mind that wasn’t her and get some damn answers.
The next fragment came with the return of the blind man, well a blind claimant. Which was a rarity in itself - claimants weren’t meant to be flawed, imperfect. They were meant to be indestructible. Come to think about it, the person they’d spent the night with was also facially scarred. But no ordinary person who survive such a harsh injury, not without being rendered hideous. Based off the contents of the box, they were a claimant. But what kind? Why did they shy away from giving DeVian a name, or any inkling as to their identity.
All of this troubled the Law heiress. Despite the blind claimant arriving with another black box, identical to the one she’d received in the morning.
“Should I expect gifts and trinkets from whoever sent you?”
“Yes. Frequently. But this is all I have to give today.”
“Just who is your employer?”
“I cannot say.”
“You cannot say or you will not say.”
Silence. The claimant - nature, oregano was minimal but still. Only males of the Fovey line smelt like it. With that, the man who was dressed in the most exquisite butler suit, circa Edwardian England, left. He didn’t seem to need any aids, navigating the space like he’d always drop by with boxes with gifts.
The armour had made sense, but this gift? A luxurious almost unfathomably expensive piece of show wear made less sense.
Still, it made shivers and pinpricks run up and throughout her body. DeVian wasn’t one for gawky costume pieces. She was the kind to dress for purpose and intent, yet the person was not speaking to the conscious part of her, but rather the inner child who’d yearned for jewels, pretty things to be showered in for the hell of it.
“Fucking hell. This person is going to win you over. Making a fool out of me.”
“I… should give it back. It’s too…”
“Fairly certain this kind of gift is the sort you can’t give away or take back.”
“When the hell am I supposed to wear it?”
“Who knows. Clearly the person thinks it suits you.”
“I just wish they’d have told me their name.”
A lesson in substance
The next time DeVian genuinely encountered the platinum blonde stranger who had in the short time she’d been in their presence, completely captivated her. Was as mundane and as ordinary as when she rarely ever felt like venturing into the high street less than good local coffee franchises. She was a coffee woman, but by Novevu’s dripping prick, these places made the worst fucking coffee imaginable. Still, DeVian just happened to be in a forgiving mood.
It had been exactly seventy-five days, every day the blind claimant had come, dropped a gift or two off. Some of it had exposed her to memories which left DeVian rattled; in their familiarity and intimacy. The Blonde stranger seemed to know more about DeVian than the Brazilian Heiress knew herself. In a blink and miss it moment, approximately nine minutes and sixteen seconds into waiting for an overpriced iced-down frappe labelled as ‘Pumpkin Spice’. DeVian’s eyes met their storm-front grey eyes. Clashing, melding, aggression, mourning. All of these deeply nuance emotions; and the person hadn’t even said anything.
“Hello Stranger.”
They said, the corner of their mouth lifting only slightly into a breath taking smile. Seeing them under modern day lighting, still gave DeVian very little in the way of identifying if the person was of any discernible gender. Though the Law heiress had to say, the fact they were in rider black, hair short, piercings glistening and from what her nose was telling her, waves of Cypress and Tobacco - the same sort they’d been smoking when on her balcony that first time. It was so damn erotic, despite being a completely innocent scene. DeVian swallowed the lump in her throat, ready to pester this person, but before the sounds could even be produced, the person seemed to vanish once more into thin air, somehow between the mortals coming in and the door shutting… the stranger was gone.
But they’d not left this time without once more leaving DeVian feeling undeniably lustful, and a new piece of jewellery - this one, not too dissimilar to the red thread anklet, DeVian didn’t want to admit that she’d not taken it off ever since putting it on. All of these thoughts and voices in her head - the ones not that weren’t hers’ told her it was important.
This time, in her hand, was something akin to a hairpin, the kind worn by imperial royals in Asian courts, she held the metal up to her skin, it was surprisingly warm, as if it hummed with life. She blinked, the itch to put it in her hair was irresistible and as soon as the ornate decoration sat snuggly in her midnight black locks; DeVian Law toppled into another memory.
This was definitely the oldest memory yet, petrichor, blood, firewood, incense. All of it was swirling around. Some of it was definitely as a result of war. What kind of war? Unlike the fragments of previous, DeVian found herself able to move freely. This was no out of body experience.
Laid out rather haphazardly and definitely something Novevu would chide her for if she treated her armour as whoever she was did today. On the grass, with thick exotic rugs underfoot, she didn’t have to touch the grass or dirt if she didn’t want to. Another higher mound of furs, pillows - a kind of bed perhaps?
Behind a screen which wouldn’t stand up to a breeze, a large tub, empty but something told DeVian, the person used it frequently. A few chests laid open, some of them had clothing, blades, books - scraps of parchment, feathers. Empty jugs of wine or ale, plates with the very last dredge of a previous meal. Bowls of fruit, the current person loved their nectarines it seemed.
Stepping out of the enclosed lantern lit environs of the stiff wet fabric tent - seriously how far back in history was she? Come to think of it, who the hell was she?
Thousands, or at least what felt like thousands of identical tents stood in every which direction for as far as she could see. A tent city, men of different heights and ethnicities walked, talked, all of them armed and in heavy armour. Banners told her they were on her side - but she didn’t recognise the coat of arms, sure the colours were that of Desdon, but it was all wrong, mixed up with colours from another house and with symbols which weren’t related to any house or ancient DeVian knew of.
One thing was sure, no matter how many men and women she passed, all of them paused and gave her a look of reverent respect. Still, having not seen herself yet, DeVian was doing her best to seem unfazed.
“My Queen? Were you looking for his Majesty?”
Again, doing her best to control her shock, she nodded - afraid she’d sound weird and wrong. The person who had asked her if she needed help, was definitely human. Come to think of it, her tent had been one of the larger ones. Well she was a Queen in one of her lives.
As she fell behind the person, who had turned too quickly for her to see their face, she decided to see if she could find her reflection in a gleam of metal or some such.
The skies were grey, all of it screaming of an impending storm when finally after making their way through a host of impossibly tight spaces and paths through the camp. They reached an even larger tent, four men at the entrance, all of them, human. Since when in history were claimants fighting outnumbered amongst human allies?
DeVian knew the sound of a woman being pleasured, she’d been on the receiving end plenty of times. Yet rather than becoming furious or wanting to storm in and rip the fucker’s head off for being disloyal. Instead she strode in confidently and stopped, arms crossed at the sight of a female form, intimately exposed with a faceless male between the woman’s thighs. The woman’s eyes fluttered open and she let out a surprised squeak of what DeVian surmised as joy. Toppled against the grass was more armour, a very shiny crown and this man’s under clothing.
“Well, well. You started without me.”
DeVian nearly clapped her hands over her strange new body’s mouth. The woman let out a mewl of unhappiness as the faceless man finally gave her some kind of attention.
“You wanted to bathe, before coming. It cannot be helped if my other Queen is in need of attending to.”
“You will have to make double the effort then.”
“Aye. I aim to please.”
The man, DeVian had to admit, like the Blonde stranger was breathtakingly beautiful. But unlike the Blonde, this male was dark haired, with eyes of molten gold and lord that body… if this life she was currently living was being treated to having this man for a husband. Well, perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing that these memories seemed private and completely out of the grasp of men like Ritunen who was sure to be very upset if he knew what her reactions were.
“My dream, my shield. I am undeserving of you both.”
“Oh hush!”
“Mmm. Is our liege self depreciating?”
“I am but a man. I am not worthy to have you both.”
“Yet we both know that is not the whole tale.”
All three of them, in the giant mound of soft security, a sanctuary away from the curses of battle mere paces away. The other woman was entangled between the two of them, she was definitely human, her belly slightly swollen. No wonder DeVian had seen the man giving the other female pleasure, supposedly it helped to relax even the most taut muscles of a to-be mother. Arthur, as DeVian had learnt his name after this body of hers seem to say, was gently running his fingers over her arm, tracing and murmuring soft words she couldn’t hear.
“This war’ll be over soon. We can go home, stay home and if fate plays into our hands. We’ll not have to fight till the babe is a swordsman himself.”
“He might well be a healer, or an archer. Maybe a crafter, you wouldn’t forcibly impose a role like a warrior would you?”
“Course not. But no matter if a boy or girl. They’ll be strong and will be capable of protecting themselves and the ones they love. Just as we have done the same for you Zaya.”
“I’ll hold you to it. I won’t have our child shoehorned into any role.”
“We’ll make sure then he or she will have every possible door open for them.”
“Is that a promise Warren?”
“An oath.” Arthur and she declared jointly.
This time the journey to the present was not as pleasant. She genuinely had to slap a hand over both her mouth and stomach to stop the terrible sensation of inertia from taking over. All around her, human customers with their drinks looked at her in concern.
It made sense, in being rendered physically ill, she’d drop her newly retrieved drink - hang on, that wasn’t plausible? Had she been on auto pilot? Had that memory really caused her to lose all sense of time and place? Of reality. She cleared her throat and started looking around for one of those tacky little plastic containers with paper towels. Nervously, DeVian reached up for the hair ornament it was still there.
‘That was awfully clumsy.’
DeVian let out an audible hiss. It was that woman, correction, herself but not herself from another life. Amarjeet, having been awoken after DeVian had put on her-their’s red thread anklet. She almost braced herself to meet whoever she’d been in the memory with Arthur. Nothing of the sort happened, was something wrong?
‘Not going to happen. The pair of people you were hoping to meet are not here. They are elsewhere. In other bodies.’
Amarjeet had been incredibly perplexed when the silent entrapment of death, had been forcibly uprooted. One thing she could admit was that the wound in her chest from Novevu’s sword, wielded by Gahbreal Dimea still stung. How long she’d been rendered a phantom within the continum of time was not exactly what she cared about; rather the fact it had taken her this long to realise she was living a new life, in a new time with someone who was clearly unprepared and definitely had not done any work to find LUCAS.
As soon as her current iteration had fallen into the memory, Amarjeet had been pushed to the forefront; the much elder life suspected this was a failsafe from the person who’d been so kind as to give them these memories, as if attempting to rouse and work around the thick chains of internal enslavement to the Void. All of this spoke volumes as to how badly Amarjeet had fucked up.
Still, she found this punishment was designed poorly, suspecting that Novevu wasn’t the one who had implemented it; which left only two possibilities. Either Amarjeet had made a deal with the fucking Void or she’d somehow fallen into the good books of one ancient of order: Jayhe. The second was highly improbable, and based off the moments Amarjeet had had DeVian’s conscious mind violate her own. Amarjeet knew even now, the house of order did not like her. Wanted nothing to do with her.
So who was this faceless ally, one who had access to items from her lives. If she was awake, and this second fragment was supposed to jostle Warren and Zaya, then what kind of hellish shock were Amarjeet-DeVian in for next?
‘You must try harder to reveal the provider’s identity.’
“I’m not exactly experienced nor able to cope with the secrets and apparent lives I’ve lived but have no memory of.”
‘All of us will come back. You needn’t worry. Only Zaya and Warren will not return to us. Warren absorbed Zaya’s soul and cores know why or how the souls have again been disconnected and recombined to form parts of other souls. Perhaps, if we found the duo, we will be one step closer to the truth.’
Tragedy need not be all
“That’ll be all. This meeting is over.”
DeVian pushed back from her chair at the head of the polished table. On either side of her, claimants and humans alike in near identical suits pocketed their personal devices and documents, all of them shuffling out, some of them murmuring about lunch plans, deadlines, emails to send. She waited till they were all gone before allowing herself the chance to crack her knuckles and stretch her spinal column from top to toe.
Ritunen was her next companion, he entered with bags of white thick plastic and the aroma of an extravagant feast to come. DeVian barely even noticed the loud growl of her stomach as Ritunen handed her the steaming-scolding dish of food.
This was routine, Ritunen only interfering in her precise devouring of food to replace empty plates with full ones. Refilling her glass, wiping the corners of her mouth, ensuring all the deep fried sides of dim sim, spring rolls, dumplings and stuffed bao buns were eaten in exacting order.
Sated and now able to think, DeVian rested her elbows unladylike on the table and inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled.
“Feeling better?”
“Yes.”
“Any luck? News? Developments?”
“No. Kind of. Depends on your definition.”
“Well, we’ll start with the good news then.”
“How much more can you tell me about Amarjeet.”
“I have already told you all that I can. Anything I can’t tell you is because I’m void sworn to silence.”
“Does it apply to my other… my lives?”
“To some. Not all. As AJ probably explained to you herself. I know nothing about the whereabouts of Warren or Zaya.”
“She’s not the most forthcoming.”
“Hard to be, with her relationship with the Void.”
She’d rarely ever traversed so far from the bleeding path, but Amarjeet was the one taking her to their current destination.
The Void was as expansive as it was restrictive, even her place as current house champion meant little in the way of getting through some of these areas, it didn’t help much that the Void could at any given second figure out what she was up to and throw her to her death or some equally unpleasant situation.
However DeVian could not ignore the blatant desire to know more about Arthur, the life Amarjeet seemed to recall had a glorious shrine somewhere untouched and hidden, a memorial made by Warren and a true testament to their love. So Halberd and by her side rather than carrying her, Vazio kept his snout against the ground, ears perked up and tail as still as a pup his size could. Amarjeet had stressed that they’d likely need backup; especially because Warren’s most loyal men - though all long since deceased by now, haunted the shrine with a ferocity only seen by rabid hounds.
Halting atop what seemed to be a natural drop off, Amarjeet reached for the small telescope, compact and a piece of hybrid technology. DeVian had thought up this item and had collaborated with a light claimant to get it to work. As Amarjeet rested it against their shared eye, the view from beyond the drop off became clear as day. The Shrine would have been impossible to miss, but just as DeVian wanted to charge ahead. A ravenous groan shook the ground she stood on. She had to lean up against Vazio who was now growling.
Amarjeet had been correct. Raising from the vaporous mass of the Void were armed guards from every historical period of Desdon warriors to exist. Warren was absent but they all seemed to behave like she was standing there shouting orders.
“How the hell do we get through that?”
‘Well, there’s really nothing we can do but fight.’
“Warren went to all this effort for her husband? Was she really that obsessed with him?”
‘Harsh. She was us. We are her. Arthur meant an infinitesimally inordinate amount to her. She caused a cataclysmic event, well so did I and our other lives when our spouses have died’
“Have died?! All of them died before us?!”
‘Well… yes. It comes with the territory I’m afraid. In this case, Warren stole Arthur’s remains as well as Zaya’s and hid them here out of Nammay’s and Novevu’s grasp. Dunno what deal she-we struck. But it was probably one the Void couldn’t resist.’
“Like the one you made to have vengeance over the house of Rhihon when they slew Lucas.”
‘Precisely. You might just make a deal like we did. Don’t discount our.. past lives for what we did.’
“I would never stoop that low.”
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
Catalogue Spread
Saccharine aromas overwhelmed the senses, with notes of burnt incense intermixed with the overly astringent hint of orange; tempered by the crispness of a freshly bitten green apple. Soft waves of patchouli, charcoal and warm cinnamon, evoke the sensation of an autumn breeze.
These are not scents, that immediately spring to mind, when walking into the contemporary dream of modernity. Here, located just a stone’s throw away from the breath taking views of the Matterhorn. Camouflaged as a classic example of an Italian chalet.
The subject of today’s interview, lounges lazily in head-to-toe ABON. Sat atop a custom Koket Geisha Curve Couch in polished silver.
A glass of Chateau Margaux 1870 in hand. The uncorked bottle resting atop a polished Purple-wood side-piece. The quietly intelligent gaze of our guest, brings to mind an audience with such rare and ethereal creatures like a perched phoenix.
The view is breathtaking and the interior layout, paired artistically with subtle thematic choices are calculated. There is nothing here that ought not to be. Down to the very fibres that make up the glorious Vicuna covered arm-chair.
There’s naught but indulgence, authority and a shroud of quiet mystique that surrounds technology’s Prima-Dona. The President and head innovator of the world’s technology empire. Heiress DeVian Law, 28, knows she is a woman of power.
No effort or energy seems to be exerted by Law, all movements are swift and minimal. One could hardly be faulted, missing the softly almost imperceptible rise and fall of her shoulders.
Law, is no stranger to gossip and tabloid attention. Especially now, with the announcement of her intention to marry a private citizen. Long suspected to be attached to one or two anonymous figures, the news of Law’s upcoming nuptials caused widespread jubilation and surprise. With many foreign dignitaries, celebrities and other persons of note quick to congratulate the heiress.
‘The fuss, was expected. The notoriety of my name? Not so much.’
For all of the troubles of day-to-day life, Law is down to earth and quick witted. Conversation comes naturally. Wise beyond her years, a instantaneous lift of an eyebrow, shaped perfectly with its sister. Law gives nothing away, though teases the potential for summer nuptials. When pressed on if the press would be given access, she laughs.
‘The arrangements could be made. But don’t hold your breath. Getting down the aisle is more important.’
Law was raised in the hard and gritty privilege of Brazil’s top brass. Having excelled academically, Law propelled into the world of technology at eleven. Prodigiously talented, Law never allowed her family name to speak for her.
Having completed a double-masters in Commerce and I.T from both Cambridge University and Stanford University. By age thirteen, Law felt ready to take on the family business.
Much to the surprise of investors and shareholders globally, this has not stopped her from proving her place amongst the monochromatic geniuses of rigid traditionalist Silicon Valley. With at least 700 confirmed patents and counting. Law has no plans to slow down.
[Off the Record]
“N-nice to meet you Ms Law.”
“The pleasure is mine, Miss Gaine.”
DeVian had already memorised the file provided by Truman who was ushering another mousey looking intern photographer around the surrounding rooms. No doubt to create double spreads and to make sure no one was sneaking off and looking into rooms they shouldn’t.
She had set down two conditions to the press. The first was that her interviewer and the team sent had to be interns. The second was that any questions that were overtly personal were forbidden. When asked about the latter, Truman had helpfully supplied that the papers were more than welcome to delve into DeVian’s own history. Her upbringing, her schooling etc. But asking about her partner, her family or anything else below or above board would render the interview over and the press pushed out into the cold.
So, Miss Gaine. Freshly turned 21, a journalism major interning from the University of British Columbia had drawn the hypothetical short-long straw. Even if the article was read by no one, Miss Gaine’s career and those of the others chosen to come to the Italian Alps, was all but guaranteed.
DeVian had silently sneered at the lack lustre clothing of her interviewer, but she supposed college students didn’t have the time or budget to spend frivolous amounts on clothes.
“Please, take a seat. Get comfortable. When you’re ready to begin. Just start asking.”
“T-thank you.”
The poor mortal, DeVian observed that the girl was a pencil chewer, a nervous foot tapper and preferred to drink the glass of water without ice, over the options of juice, champagne, some other less impressive vintage of red. Her notebook, leather bound and aged - suggesting well loved and replaceable. Pen, ballpoint, but not her preferred writing implement based off the clumsy weight applied.
[On the record]
On the subject of her wardrobe, Law held nothing back. Long known to collaborate with the elusive fashion house ABON. Law is perhaps the only individual with full stakes, having what is described as an intimate relationship with the designer. ^See page 3 for a closer examination of Law’s engagement ring, reportedly worth a jaw-dropping 25 million.^
‘ABON will be designing my dress, and all other details I leave to my entourage.’
Though usually a hands-on perfectionist, Law seemed almost exhausted by the thought of having anything to do with her special day. Stating the pomp and ceremony were for the public, rather than what she would have done personally.
‘Mmm. No honeymoon. There’s no time for one. Coordinating my wedding and shoehorning it between events. An unexpected miracle.’
The guest list will likely be a closely held secret until mere days before the event. Law did not feel the need to elaborate. Venturing to ask if there would be a theme or a location, Law rolled her shoulders.
‘It’ll have something to do with the joint heritage of my own. Plenty of black, red, greenery, opulence of an unparalleled degree. Location will just have to come down to space and weather.’
Moving onto topics like the eye watering jaw dropping fortune Law will likely inherit one day. She was ambivalent, almost feigning ignorance laced with sarcasm when proclaiming:
‘I have not had anything to do with money since I graduated from my alma maters. There is little point in dallying in something so trivial.’
Looking past the fortune and academia. One would be surprised to find out that Law invests heavily in non-government organisations and movements. Most controversially, Law has never confirmed nor denied her connection to CMUR. Nor was the heiress willing to speculate on the theory of her being a supposed claimant.
‘I do believe, that Claimants are strictly forbidden from interfering with human society. Or at least they say so.’
^Spread 1: ABON sublime line; 65 carat Sapphire Asscher cut, white gold earrings. ABON Guild line; 350~ carat approximately Sapphire/Diamond Princess cut, white gold chain. ABON Base line; silk day-shirt shade nocturnal, defiant velvet-chiffon tights shade electra, minim beige ankle socks. ABON Rust line; Suede loafers, King Cobra Leather shade marble.^
[Off the Record]
Dismissed for the allotted 3 hour lunch break. DeVian nearly bolted up the stairs - Truman had kept the mortal visitors away, mostly by taking them to the nearby town for food and to sightsee.
Coming to a silent but measured halt in front of the bedroom door, the metallic-wood panel which looks like a wall slid to the left. Opening up to a currently darkened chamber, the black-out curtains were drawn tight, hiding the fantastic piece of portraiture on the far right wall. Eyes immediately focused on the giant floating bed in the only rugged area of the room. Sprawled and unconscious to the world, half tucked under the duck-feather filled blankets; Stasia Noba slept.
DeVian could just make out the inked pair of eyes that rested at the base of Stasia’s neck. She could have sworn the tattoo was capable of blinking autonomously. Stealthily, DeVian felt the panel-door click shut and moved straight towards the wardrobe. She barely missed the plushie elephant, dressed as she was. It would likely somehow change into what she was about to do next.
The portrait shimmered and disappeared, revealing a Queen’s ransom worth of one-of-a-kind pieces, displayed on mannequins or tucked away in custom built shelves. Stripping out of her current attire, flinging them into the open laundry chute - Needle and Thread would be by later to collect any/all garments in need of laundering and repair.
Down to undergarments, DeVian opted to just slip into one of Ritunen’s large business shirts. The buttons half done up. She shut the lights and moved towards the bed. Above, an illusion of the Northern Lights were on display, the brilliant hues bouncing off Stasia’s alabaster skin.
She was just a tad bit dismayed, having lifted the covers to find Stasia partially nude, but those accursed bracelets. Still there. A permanent reminder of the separation between them. DeVian knew it was for their as well as her own safety, but those stupid things prevented a level of intimacy DeVian just knew was waiting.
Stasia’s shoulders rose and fell, occasionally the electricity aikekunai would sigh or shift minutely. Burrowing further into the pillows - scented with a hyacinth and spearmint mist. DeVian gently pulled them into her arms. Resting her own chin on her partner’s shoulders. Immediately all the tense muscles of Stasia’s upper back, relaxed.
Time trembles when Stasia finally comes back to the here and now, eyes opening slowly. DeVian hasn’t moved from the position she had first settled into, her muscles and limbs numb from lack of movement. The bed dips as Stasia shifts so they’re facing her.
“I thought you had an interview?” The words are groggy, heavy with the last vestiges of sleep.
“I do. Lunch break. I wanted to check up on you.”
“Mmm. How much time do we have?”
“All the time.”
“I don’t think your guest or Truman would appreciate you nicking off indefinitely to be in bed with me.”
“You still have dark circles under your eyes. When was the last time you slept unaided?”
This gives Stasia pause.
“Guessing not very recently. I thought you said you were getting better.”
“I am. At least when I’m here. Or wherever you choose to stay. It’s difficult otherwise.”
“Do we need to speak to Alvax? Or maybe Xainayne about it? Have the nightmares lessened in their severity?”
“No, there’s no need to trouble them.”
Now it’s DeVian’s turn to face away as their positions are reversed and Stasia begins the slow work of kneading the tense knots, the stress caused by long hours standing, sitting, debating in heels.
“You are allowed to feel at peace. This isn’t…”
“Don’t. Just, I’ll speak to Xainayne. I’ll consult the lexicon in Eviax’s library.”
DeVian nods at this plan. Though she partially wonders how Stasia could jam this new side task into their jam-packed schedule.
Sure, Stasia was capable of self care. But being as selfless as they were, DeVian imagined being fussed over more than pissed off the Swede-Japanese. Stasia was just too polite to say so. Swallowing down the need to maternally scold Stasia like Marjorie used to do for DeVian, she chose to shut her eyes instead and relax; besides the discussion was most certainly over.
My best friend once told me something I could not refute. She said ‘a time will come when I must make a choice. I cannot babysit you forever. Will you live for yourself, or live for your children? That is what you must decide.’ Those words have haunted my dreams ever since she spoke them. Those words were the last things she gifted me before walking her own path, although she told me that she would return to my side when the time was right. Kikana is so much kinder than any claimant gives her credit for. That is why I love her as if she were my own sister… What am I saying? That woman is my one and only sister. Even if we are separated by our blood.
"They are all rotten to their cores. And for the sake of all claimants they must be destroyed."
Craft project
“Alright, quiet down everyone.”
Their teacher hushed, holding a hand up and slowly lowering each finger until the rest of the straggler children fell silent and turned their attention back to the front of the room. All of them satiated on freshly cut and shared orange slices, all of them with hands cleaned of sticky juice; sat on the kaleidoscope of a rug.
“Now, I know we’re all very excited for our visitors. But remember that today is about showing how great all of you are at school.”
There were some nods, others turned to look back at the crowd of adults standing, all of them covering the storage bays where multicoloured kid backpacks hung, coats on hooks, rubber boots and all tucked into designated spaces. It looked rather much like a hidden object game. Kiran sat crossed legged on his favourite part of the rug, where the turquoise diamonds merged and melted into deep indigo triangles. He did his best to always sit in this area of the rug.
“Now, one at a time, go get your visitor and take them to your desks.”
Slowly from the edges of the group, children got up from where they all sat either on their knees, crossed legged or in some other fashion of bent limbs. Kiran rose once he was sure he wouldn’t trip on one of his peers and took certain steps to the back of the room.
Several evenings prior
Kiran hadn’t been able to sleep, even after the stories, the small display of elemental prowess and reassurances that there weren’t monsters in the room. So he had climbed out of his rocket-ship bed, past the plastic neon astronomical decorations, his paused enactment of a war between his plastic horses and wooden horses. Up the carpeted stairs and off towards where he knew the adults were still awake. In this case, the first person he bumped into happened to be who he was looking for. Ritunen was brushing his teeth and looking rather pensively at the mirror.
“Hey squirt.” He said over his shoulder. Spitting out the foamy white substance.
Kiran bit his lip, he stood idly by the doorframe. Suddenly unsure of himself.
“What’s up? Can’t sleep?”
Ritunen wiped his face clean, patted his damp hands and shut the overhead light off. Kiran still stood, at the door silent.
“Come on, back to bed.” Ritunen nudged the boy softly on the shoulder.
Brought back to reality, Kiran looked up at the very tall adult and finally found the courage to speak.
“Can I a-ask you something?”
“Sure.”
Ritunen slowly led Kiran back to his bedroom, his eyes roaming for any signs of danger - after Kiran’s element started in, there were nights when the poor kid would crash into the ceiling or the lights and scare himself back to Earth. Kiran climbed back into bed, Ritunen having uttered a few words to make himself appear almost bioluminescent. He pulled his astronaut themed blanket up towards his chin.
“I… can you come t-to sc-hool in th-ree days time?”
Ritunen tilted his head.
“It’s o-open day.”
Open day? Ritunen would have to figure out what that meant later.
“You didn’t want to ask your aunt or DeVian?”
Even with the darkness of the room, Ritunen could see Kiran was flustered. He took that as a sign that the boy had been too scared to ask his maternal figure.
“Alright. When do I need to be at school?”
“At noon!” Kiran piped helpfully.
“I’ll make sure to come then. In three days, at noon.”
“Thank you.”
Kiran could now sleep with some amount of relief. Ritunen did another cautious scan of the room, tucked Kiran in and once he could hear the child’s breaths settle into something approaching deep sleep, left.
15 minutes prior to present
Ritunen had made sure to arrive, just as promised. He noticed the trove of parents, mothers, fathers and the occasional grandparent. All of them sitting in their vehicles and on their phones waiting for he presumed noon. They all walked through the glass-wood doors, paint chipped from years of exposure to the weather. There were helpful signs everywhere, all of them presumably made my students. Ritunen had been inside the series of buildings before, often to pick Kiran up when the weather was wet or when the boy had caused a small claimant related accident.
He found Kiran’s classroom, labelled with neon yellow painted signage as ‘2B’ he could see Kiran from a mile away, the kid had an uncontrollable cow lick and bed hair despite his best efforts to tame his black locks. The group of children that Kiran sat at a table with were all licking their hands and chatting amicably about who knows what. All of them divvying up identical orange segments. Ritunen eyed the walls, craft projects, laminated pieces of messy writing - though he supposed all children at age 7 were still mastering the intricacies of holding a pencil correctly. When some of the children finally started noticing they were being watched by adults, they excitedly waved or pointed so others would know.
At precisely noon, Kiran’s teacher; a short woman with hair that was only beginning to grey in places, opened the door. She had on her usual attire, pocket-overalls, a knitted shawl, rather than flats like normal, she wore some black kitten heels.
“Welcome, come in. The children are almost finished with their morning snack. Please stand in front of the storage cubbies.”
The group of adults shuffled in as directed. Ritunen found himself standing between a grandfather and a middle—aged woman, the kind who looked like they had a kid only to regret it immensely years later. That made the vein in Ritunen’s forehead tick, he hated women like this. Reminded him too much of the feral nuclear unit that was Verin Noba-Dimea. He took a quick picture of Kiran’s classroom whilst the children washed their hands and returned to the large mat at the front of the room. He’d send the image to DeVian later. She’d found it strange that he had plans that he hadn’t told her about.
Kiran approached much later than the rest of his classmates who were eagerly grabbing their visitors hand and dragging them to the tiny desks.
“This way.” Kiran pointed in the general direction of his table.
Ritunen, mindful of his height and the fact most of the female mortals around him were gawking, Ritunen allowed Kiran to make the decisions.
“Alright, settle.”
The children all fell silent once more.
“Now, I hope our visitors won’t mind getting their hands dirty.”
The teacher walked around the room, placing down tubs of coloured plasticine in the centre of each table.
“First things first, the children have been working on their numbers and their model making.”
Hmm, how curious. Ritunen like most parents and guardians were kneeling or squatting on tiny stools. Simultaneously all of the children seemed to open the lids and grab handfuls of their desired material. Including Kiran, who Ritunen noted grabbed the darker plasticine.
“Now, on the screen.” A series of words were projected onto the whiteboard. “Are some puzzles that will require modelling, counting and the help of your special visitor.”
There were nods and eager clapping from some of the kids. Kiran was fully focused on the puzzles.
“Pick one to solve of the four provided. When you’re finished, hand up and whoever is fastest will get a prize.”
That was when Ritunen saw the plastic tub of what he had to guess were cheap prizes. Still, children and competition were a natural concept.
“Ready, set… Go!”
As soon as the letters left the teacher’s mouth. The children all began furiously designating tasks, reading the puzzle out loud and asking questions of their visitors for words they were confused over.
“Which puzzle are we working on?”
“Number two. Here, start making balls please.”
“How many do we need?”
“Um… I think…”
Kiran read the question, silently mouthing the words.
“What’s… a heptagon again?”
To make sure no one cheated, Ritunen silently gave Kiran the answer by sprouting a small series of mushrooms for the kid to count. Kiran having received his answer, nodded.
“Make tubes for me?”
“Alright.”
Kiran seemed fixated on making cubes, Ritunen did as he was directed and made identical tubes - so much as one could with plasticine that seemed to leak their pigment. Once that was done, Kiran murmured they were going to have to make some kind of 3D model with the cubes and tubes. Something that had seven corners and was not a star. The next activity - Kiran and he had won the first round of puzzles, but lost out in the next two. Was now about the adults going around and observing their child during silent reflective work. Ritunen found this boring, seeing as he knew the work that was provided to Kiran was well below the standards expected of claimant children. He made a mental note to discuss transferring Kiran to a school where his talents as a claimant would be celebrated. Kiran, as Ritunen noted didn’t enjoy the boring word stuff either, he seemed to perk up when they were doing things with his hands.
By the time the bell rang for lunch. Ritunen had taken at least thirty photos, including that of Kiran’s attempt at poetry, the plasticine model he’d made with Rit’s help, some stored away macaroni project that the kids had made a week prior, a bag of DIY slime that smelled of artificial lemons and now, most surprisingly of all.
“Is this why you asked DeVian for ingredients?”
Kiran presented like the rest of the children, lunches presumably made before the adults had arrived. Kiran had made his best attempt at open-faced sandwiches, all of them a face - the easiest one to recognise was the one with cherry tomatoes for eyes and curly squid-ink pasta for DeVian. It was also the prettiest of the bunch, the bread underneath a rich rye. The other was made up of dried nori, somewhat clumsily cut mushrooms and cheese, rice cracker for a base. He presumed that it was meant to represent him, he laughed under his breath.
The smallest had raisins for eyes, was somewhat covered in celery sticks and peanut butter. He could just barely see the tortilla underneath.
“Is this meant to be the three of us?”
Kiran nodded. His smile covering his entire face. Another photo and a mental note to try to take the DeVian open face sandwich home.
Ritunen didn’t comment on the missing Stasia sandwich. What the Aikekunai didn’t know wouldn’t hurt.
“A-and I made this too.”
Kiran the presented some iced cookies, well the cookies Ritunen recognised as belonging to Bruno, but the icing was Kiran’s. Wobbly letters and the kid’s best attempt at animals.
“A pup for ma.” He pointed.
Ritunen nodded, Kiran obviously could not have done a skull without raising eyebrows, so he’d done some kind of puppy face.
“Birdie.”
This one, had to be for Ritunen. How the hell did Kiran know about Dev’s pet name for him? Maybe Kiran was more observant than Ritunen wanted to admit.
“Do you like them?”
“Sure squirt. They look delicious.”
“Do you think ma will like them?”
“Of course. She’s going to be so surprised.”
But that also led to why Kiran hadn’t invited Dev over him.
“I.. also made something else for ma. A surprise. Her birthday is coming up.”
It was. Ritunen was impressed at Kiran’s conscious efforts to remember details such as this.
“But you cannot tell her. Ok? Promise? I want it to be a surprise.”
“Of course squirt.”
After ‘Open day’ was finished. Kiran had waved goodbye to Ritunen who was taking home a treasure trove of items from the experience.
As Ritunen placed the items gently down in Kiran’s room, and put both the cookie and DeVian-wich, down on a plate. He walked the forty steps it took to get to DeVian’s home office. Thankfully he’d managed to arrive at a time when she was not on a call or furiously typing something.
“I bring food.”
“Food?” DeVian looked up from the screen.
“Yes. Kiran made them.”
This gave DeVian pause.
“It was open day today. No idea what the point of it was. But he made this for you.”
“But he didn’t tell me.”
DeVian examined the plate.
“That’s because other things happened. Things I can’t talk about. You’ll have to wait.”
“Alright. Ha! Is that meant to be a void pup skull?”
“Yes.”
No less than two hours later, Kiran was home from school. Fruit gummy snack in hand and a tall glass of milk. Legs swinging from the high bar stool and half concentrating on the worksheet meant for homework. DeVian stepped out of her office. Having not being able to stomach eating the gifts Kiran had made, she’d instead had Marjorie have the scientists at the lab figure out a way to perfectly preserve them. She’d been a little envious of seeing all the pictures but refrained from commenting.
“Welcome home limao.”
She wasn’t sure when she’d decided to start calling Kiran ‘lemon’ in Portuguese. But if she had to guess, it was probably soon after he’d become a permanent fixture in her life. His love of lemon-drops and sorbet had been an unexpected surprise. Granted, Kiran tended to be nothing but surprises on surprises.
“Ma! Hi!” Kiran waved.
She glossed over his worksheet, saw that he had indeed organised his fruit gummies from most to least preferred. She leant over the countertop.
“How was school?”
“Amazing!”
“Mmm.”
Kiran then recounted all of what had happened to DeVian, because she’d seen the images, she could follow his half-cohesive attempts at recounting. Before he finished his tale, and his snacks; he leapt from his stool and bolted to his bedroom. DeVian wanted to scold him for running inside and on the polished wood; but those words fell short when Kiran presented her with a cardboard box covered in childish attempts at flowers. He seemed so nervous and yet so excited.
“Happy early birthday!”
Her birthday wasn’t for another nine days. She nevertheless set the gift down carefully on the bench and with Kiran jumping up and down waiting for her to open it. She undid the ribbons, gently lifting the lid. She’s expected a craft project or something hand made… and she supposed this was handmade. Her fingers tingled with elemental recognition as the miniature solar system was removed from the box. Except the planets were pictures of herself, with Kiran and Rit. Even Stasia had a few images included. All of them gently floating in sync around a large black-red-blue-silver glass marble.
“Oh wow.”
“For us. Our family.”
“This is lovely Kiran.”
“You like it?”
“I do. Thank you.”
Excursion Mayhem
Kiran had been so excited over his class excursion to the children’s museum and library. So excited in fact that Ritunen was surprised the kid wasn’t sick of talking about it nonstop for days on end.
“I hope there’s enough time to see the animals!”
“Animals?”
Well, animals could mean perhaps this wasn’t just a trip to the museum but to the zoo.
“And the fish! I wanna pet a shark!”
Ritunen nearly opened his mouth to correct Kiran that there was no possible way for that to occur. Only to be stopped by a quick jab to the side by DeVian. She was leaning over a sleek pane of nearly imperceptible glass; reading the news of the day. Mug of coffee in hand, bowl of fruit approaching empty. Kiran now satiated with his preferred Wednesday breakfast of three slices of toast with blackberry, peach and grape preserve - differing from last weeks request for apple, pear and mango, his tall slightly warmed cinnamon spiced milk and last but not least his fish shaped gummy vitamins (not that claimant children necessarily needed such things, but Kiran had said other kids in his class had them and he didn’t want to miss out).
A quick hug, a tussle of hair, an eagle eyed assessment of belongings - both school, lunch and sport bags ready. Kiran who hadn’t yet mastered tying his shoe laces, happily velcro’d his shoe straps. Today’s pair were his special rocket light up sneakers. He tapped his feet together and squealed at the sight of flashing green, red, yellow and blue lights coming from his soles.
A shout of farewell and an insistent ‘Hurry up!’ Had Ritunen giving Dev one last kiss before he followed the youngster to the waiting car.
“I wanna sit at the front! No. At the back! What do you think? Buses are so big!”
Kiran hammered the statements and questions on thick as Ritunen navigate through morning traffic, sleepy neighbourhoods, very inept birds and other wildlife.
By the time Ritunen had pulled into the bay set aside for the arriving students, Kiran almost flew out of his seat. It was a good thing therefore that the specially designed Kiran-Proof seatbelts were working. Once he was helped from his seat, given his things, his striped orange and black bucket hat secured, Ritunen gave Kiran one last friendly squeeze before letting the boy rush off and towards his friends playing in the schoolyard. The thing about being a giant in comparison to most male adult humans and being one of exceptional beauty nonetheless, were the persistent almost appalling attempts to gawk. Hell, even on the days the traffic was bad or the weather was horrible and Kiran had to eat his breakfast in the back of Ritunen’s luxury five-seat passenger car. When all he wore was a t-shirt, track pants and slippers. Rit could feel the eyes and the murmurs, the blushes and reddening when caught. He tried not to sigh dramatically.
Today was different, once he left the bay and moved the vehicle towards the visitors spaces where volunteer parents like himself were waiting.
The permission slip had been printed on a sickly bright yellow piece of paper, beyond the usual explanations of where the kids were going, what they’d be doing, who they’d be seeing or meeting. Were the words in bold begging for parental chaperones. It had been DeVian who had signed off on consent for Kiran to go, but as she was incredibly busy, it left Ritunen to volunteer. Kiran’s teacher spotted Ritunen and waved him over.
“Good morning! Here’s a lanyard.”
The lanyard was decorated with what looked to be paw prints. Ritunen grasped the badge and inspected it. Kiran’s handwriting identified him as ‘Tune’. There was also the depiction of a tiger and musical notes. Ritunen snorted under his breath.
“I hope it’s alright with you. Kiran said it was a nickname?”
Well, it wasn’t but Ritunen could play along. He supposed his name was going to be difficult to those who couldn’t speak the tongue of the ancients. Kiran had of course improvised and picked the easiest and most recognisable part of his name.
“Yes.”
“The kids will probably call you by your surname. Unless you don’t mind…”
“Tune is fine. Besides, I don’t imagine the kids will enjoy having to remember all the new Misters and Missus they’ll likely be meeting.”
“Perfect. Well, here is a clipboard detailing everything. Allergies, you have first aid training right? Oh and emergency contacts too. You’ll be in charge of the Tiger group.”
Ahh, that was why Kiran wanted a striped bucket hat. All of the group members named were wearing similarly striped adornments on their heads. Ritunen put the lanyard on and once the clipboard was secured and mostly ignored. Ritunen approached the small group of boisterous children. Most of them, including Kiran were being helped by an older lady, one who was gently applying face paint. Black button noses, whiskers, some orange and black stripes on cheeks. Ritunen murmured and though it seemed nothing had changed, Kiran would notice the small but very sentient tiny orange and black toadstool mushrooms which would keep an eye on the group members during the excursion. Kiran turned just as Ritunen’s shadow seemed to cover a third of the children who were looking at him apprehensively.
“Squirt. You didn’t tell me you were part of the tiger group.”
Kiran turned to look at his uncle-father figure. His face now anointed in black and orange, he opened his mouth and let out his best attempt at a roar.
“So tall.”
“Like a tree!”
Ritunen listened to the children chatter, Kiran seemed both to be a part of the conversation and not at the same time.
“Children! Come sit! Roll call time!”
As if rehearsed, the children in troops of about ten or so all seemed to fall in line and sat in almost straight lines, their hats all signifying the animal they were being represented by. Though it was fairly obvious by the face paint too, just in case anyone was unsure of the point of the hats. There were the tigers, lions, zebras, giraffes, elephants, gazelles, meerkats and alligators. All parental figures had their own lanyards and clipboards. Ritunen fell into line at the very back of his group.
“Now, in a moment. Group by group. The children will announce their number. Today if you need to roll call your group. The kids will respond with their designated number.”
What, did they think Ritunen was incapable of keeping track of the kids he’d been put in charge of? But from the stern expressions of concentration on the other parents faces, he was the only one who seemed unconcerned. Kiran was number 4. Easy. Once all of the boring instructions and last minute requests for the bathroom were covered, the children led their adult carers to the buses. Bus number 2 was set out for the Tigers and the Alligators. Kiran having been at the front of his line, almost. Chose to sit at the very back row where the seats were just a little higher - something told Ritunen that had more to do with Kiran’s inclination towards heights and his claimant position of space then out of pure personal preference. He sat towards the back, next to the same old lady who had been applying face paint, based off her grey pants and soft pink blazer, she was a teacher. Not one Kiran had ever mentioned.
“So you’re Kiran’s…”
“Step father.”
“Oh! He’s always been so shy talking about his family members.”
Granted, how was any kid supposed to explain that their biological parents were alive but that he lived and was raised by his aunty and their wife and Ritunen? A Throuple was certainly not within Kiran’s vocabulary.
“He’s a very good student. Very chatty.”
The last words were said a bit more tensely, implying the lady was putting on some kind of show. As if she assumed Ritunen wasn’t at all involved in Kiran’s life and was just there to win points.The first stop - turns out the excursion slip implied that the groups would be rotating between the zoo, the aquarium, the children’s museum and the children’s library over the span of four school days. An overpriced espresso later, two bites of a barely edible cream cheese bagel and Ritunen followed the children, they had been given a child friendly map and a worksheet that tasked them with finding and then observing animals, talks were detailed and were supposed to be attended, as the children needed to learn the dietary habits of said wild exhibits. Kiran now a little more comfortable tended to stay near Ritunen. His pencil scratching answers against the questions.
“What was the Gorilla’s name again?”
“Gilgamesh.”
“That’s the name of a legendary warrior right?”
“Yes.”
Kiran barely asked for help, in fact it was the other children who weren’t as attentive who would end up asking Kiran for his answers. Ritunen was there to make sure none of them fell over or got lost or did something stupid and try to feed an animal. As they approached what appeared to be a small outdoor area meant for dining, the kids spotted a small ice cream trolley. All at once the cacophony of requests hit Ritunen’s ears. Something in the clipboard had mentioned that all the children had chipped in to create a small fund, the aptly named “zoo treats” piggy bank had just enough to purchase one lemonade icy-pole per child. Ritunen noted that this option also happened to be the cheapest and therefore probably the least appealing or lasting.
“Stop. Everyone crowd me.”
He hadn’t actually had to address the group on their quest to conquer the zoo. But stop they did, all of them and their mismatched orange and black bucket hats.
“Can we have an icy pole please!!” They pleaded.
“I’ll do you one better. What ice cream flavours do all of you actually prefer? In a minute, we’ll go by pairs to see and pick.”
“But what about our piggy bank?”
“Don’t worry about that. We’ll save it just in case we want another treat later.”
“Another treat?! Cool!”
With that discussion settled, he was ready to begin the plan when that annoying blazer lady who had been following behind by several paces approached and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Everything alright?”
“I just heard what you proposed. You can’t be serious. The lemonade icy poles will suffice.”
“And I beg to differ.”
Before she could possibly say something that would have Ritunen releasing toxic spores into the air to devour the lady. He started walking with the children towards the surprised teenager who was the trolley’s caretaker. Child by child. Each ordered a variant of one of the more shiny and definitely more tasty packaged ice cream. Kiran who felt a bit smug that Ritunen was breaking the rules and spoiling his group, eagerly chose a double chocolate brownie cone. Ritunen on the other hand, bought a bottle of raspberry flavoured soda and led the children towards the long wooden benches to enjoy their cold treats. Now perhaps someone should have been kind enough to inform Ritunen that small children, and ice cream would lead to only two possibilities. The first was a sudden sugar rush which had the kids going off and acting just a little like miniature missiles. Shooting off here, there and out of sight - bless the mushrooms. They not only let Ritunen keep track but informed him of their temporary charges. The latter was inconceivably more annoying, sticky fingers and faces.
Not that it really bothered him, but it certainly did a number on the old lady he’d definitely pricked the wrong way. What with the ice cream defiance, the offer to purchase the children a soft toy from the zoo gift shop, (all of them accepted with even louder shouts of glee, several stuffed Lemurs, Red Pandas, a tiger or two, three bottles of bubble solution and their accompanying wands, stuffed boa constrictors and glow-in-the-dark bracelets and necklaces later) the purchase of animal friendly treats for the aviary enclosure, native species and the fish in the large general pond.
“You cannot be serious. You’re spoiling these children as if they’re not here to learn!”
To which Ritunen corrected, rather smugly.
“They finished their assigned work before lunch. They deserve to have fun and do as they please for the rest of the day. Besides, none of them has gotten hurt or lost.”
“This is irresponsible!”
The lady for the past hour and a half had been chasing down the kids with wet wipes and hand sanitiser. She seemed to be under the impression that the kids needed to look overly presentable. It wasn’t like they were meeting the head of state.But as any experienced parent will tell you, once the sugar and adrenaline left their system, the children were now drained of their energy. To which the lady who Ritunen had never even bothered to learn the name of, felt rather smugly would finally destroy whatever idea of fun Ritunen had. Kiran who wasn’t tired watched as his fellow tiger group members began to tire and wince about wanting naps. Some complained about having tummy aches from their cold treats, others from having accidentally inhaled bubble solution. So Ritunen led them towards a shaded pavilion, finding nowhere appropriate for a nap. The old lady was about to declare victory when Ritunen and Kiran both seemed to have a light bulb moment.
“Pa”
“Mm.”
Ritunen bent down so that Kiran could whisper into his ear. Ritunen nodded and produced his phone, sending a quick series of nonsense to most, Ritunen assured the children they’d get their naps and still have time to visit the giraffes and elephants before they were put away for the evening. A convergence of suited claimants, male and female seeming appeared from the shadowed shade of trees and buildings, all of them holding picnic blankets, pillows and smaller child sized tents. The old lady, slack jaw with surprise almost fainted as the mini tent-pillow-picnic blanket fort was put into place. All of the children having sufficient space to rest their heads or riotous stomachs. Kiran also decided to indulge in a nap next to a pair of twins that Ritunen had been informed were ‘Ben’ and ‘Kenny’ from his out of school soccer team.