45.7 - Yappers FM

Here is everything that I have regarding my writing in chronological order (links are attached)

this blog has been reduced for practical purposes (this thing is huge)

it's me again, this time with a story I submitted for a competition! it's short bc the word count was 500 words, but i hope you enjoy it anyways!

A Past Self Is Just A Future Someone Else

The average day in Saint May is unlike any other average day, because the town of Saint May itself was never truly average.

So when a random kid made a lemonade stand claiming he made potions, it wasn’t really surprising when the potions actually worked.

Well, he wasn’t really a random kid. His name was Xander. And according to his older brother, Milo, he was a witch in training.

“Don’t you mean wizard in training?” Stephanie asked, watching Xander from the dinner across the street.

Milo sipped the soda in front of him, making sure to swallow before he replied. “Nope. Witch in training. Said it sounded cooler.”

“I mean, he’s not wrong,” Neasa replied, stealing a French fry off of their brother’s plate. “You have to give it to him, though, that little man is hustling for his money.”

Morrigan glared at Neasa but said nothing, allowing Dylan to speak. “What potions did he make, anyways? Nothing too complicated, I hope.”

Milo shrugged. “Just some confidence boosters and self-love potions. Nothing too bad.”

He looked over to where his brother had set up, watching as he laughed with one of his customers, waving her good-bye after she placed her money and a fortune cookie in the money jar.

“Well, as long as he’s having fun,” Dylan replied, also stealing a fry from Morrigan’s plate. This led to a very heated discussion revolving around the fact that “just because we’re family doesn’t mean you can just take my stuff”, which was swiftly ignored by his twin when they went to reach for another one.

Milo let the argument continue, too busy watching his little brother have the time of his life. He couldn’t help but think about himself at his brother’s age, running around in his dad’s old clothes while trying to find ingredients for their local witch doctor’s potions.

And now here his brother was, making his own potions and selling them for only a dollar because “feeling good shouldn’t come with a high cost”.

Xander’s stock was still quite full, consisting of ten potions for each type, but his money jar was full of cash and random toys that people had given to him. He was even playing with one now, holding the mini plush doll in his right hand and maneuvering it as if to make the doll fly like a superhero.

“He kind of reminds me of you,” Stephanie whispered, trying to ignore the friendly argument between the twins sitting next to them.

“My mom says the same thing.”

Because the truth was that Xander was Milo, in every form of the word. They were the same person, from the way they looked when they were younger to the way their smile showed their crooked front teeth.

If Milo truly tried, he could dig deep down into himself and find who he used to be, bringing back his past self.

two posts in one day! this one is a bit shorter than the last one (and a lot more confusing)

CCTV

Alek knew that Neasa had collected a strange assortment of things over the years, from bottle tabs and caps to old phone batteries. In fact, he had helped expand her collection, giving her everything from a bracelet he had found on the ground to the bones from his school’s frog dissection.

But what he had found while exploring was something that Neasa could have only dreamed of, and something Alek had to make sure she couldn’t get.

He had been simply wandering through the thick forests of his hometown like he always did, waiting until he eventually saw one of his friends to hang out with for the rest of the evening.

Before that had happened, he managed to come across what seemed to be an abandoned prison, hidden within the tall trees and vegetation that seemed to have taken back what was never natural in the first place.

It was beautiful in a way, but at the same time bone-chiling.

Still, Alek decided to forge on anyway, ducking underneath the curtain of vines that had covered the doorway before pushing open the rotting wood that used to be the prison's front door.

The prison seemed bigger on the inside, as if the people that built it had forged it into the mountainous hills that the town had been known for. The foundation reminded Alek of the last remaining original house in the area, the one that dated all the way back to the town’s first founding in the 1690s.

“I thought we were known for not having any prisons,” Alek muttered, moving through the hall of prison cells that seemed to echo the sadness and regret of its past

The feelings seem to grow with each step he took before he had made it to the main office of the prison, finding a surprisingly modern set up in place of some old-timey way of life.

There was a collection of VHS tapes placed in a giant bookshelf, with not a single gap in between any of them. A large box TV stood in the corner on the room’s desk, turned on with the screen full of static.

Alek hummed to himself. “I wonder what these are.”

He reached out to grab one, attempting to read the faded label before putting it into the slot in the TV and pressing play.

It looked like normal CCTV footage at the beginning, the date being titled the week before he was born. Alek breathed out a laugh at the coincidence, but didn’t think too much of it.

The only thing going through his mind was how excited Neasa would be at seeing the wall of VHS tapes, not even taking a second to take it all in before immediately trying to grab all of them to bring home and binge watch like Saturday night TV.

But then something started to shift. The energy surrounding the footage on the TV started to change the closer it got to Alek’s birth time. The prisoners, no matter how crazy they had acted before, grew more insane. The guards beat up the inmates for fun. One guard killed another in front of everybody in cold blood, simply because he could.

All the while, the footage crackled and popped, some scenes coming up as black before showing the aftermath of a person’s actions. Voices whispered through the speakers despite the barren screen in some cases, as if trying to entice whoever was watching into something that the voice would never say aloud.

Alek couldn’t pull his eyes off of the screen. He was glued there in horror as the time inched closer and closer to August 9th.

And then, at exactly 12:00 on August 9th, 2005, the TV crackled with blue static before revealing an empty prison.

No inmates. No guards. Not even a speck of blood to show for the amount of violence Alek had just watched.

It was as if the people in the prison never existed.

Either that, or some sort of crazy demon made them all go insane and then deleted them the moment that Alek was born.

“I don’t like this.”

It all matched up too well. They went missing the second he was born, forgotten for 15 years until he decided to check it out.

He could practically feel a smokey tendril snake up his back to his shoulder, enticing him into–what, staying there forever? Become a ghost the same way all those men did?

Alek decided then and there that he didn’t want answers, and he sure as hell didn’t want his sister involved in whatever was happening.

Alek stood, moving to the middle of the prison before starting a small spark in the palm of his hand. “May mother nature forgive me for what I am about to do, because I have no other choice.”

The flame grew to be the size of his head, and before it could grow any larger, he threw it at the door to the office, watching everything inside engulf in flames before he ran out into the forested dusk just outside.

i introduce to you yet another original story, this time with religious trauma and angels!

Angelic Awakening

Neasa was not a fan of Christianity. From the contradictions in the Bible to the way the town pastor convinced her she was nothing but a filthy sinner destined for a hellish rest of eternity, a lot of things led to her eventual panic attacks at the mere thought of going near a cross.

So the fact that she was now facing two archangels made her want to crawl out of her skin.

Things had been going well. Sure, she was stuck giving Ulysses a bath for 45 minutes after he came home at one in the morning covered in the pastor’s blood, but that was made better by the thought that the man that drove her to a fear of a whole ass religion was dead made her heart beat with a little more life in it.

Maybe she should have listened to the voices in her head that told her to go to bed instead of going into the kitchen for a witching hour snack.

That was how she got here, stuck in absolute terror, staring at two archangels sitting at the kitchen island.

The first one was demolishing a bag of chips, his amber eyes practically rolled into the back of his head as if the flavor he was tasting was sending him to heaven. Brown hair ribboned in short waves around his face, moving every time he took a bite.

The second angel stared coldly at the first, his blueish-grey eyes almost as icy as the aura that pooled from his very being. His bright yellow hair seemed to glow in the light from the front porch, slicked back and unmoving.

There was no outwardly sight that they were angels. They wore clothing you would find on your average person (although the blond one seemed to only fit into a professional 60s wet dream). There were no wings attached to their backs, nor any halos or rings of fire atop their heads.

It was the way the air seemed to bend around them that told Neasa what they were.

Their presence made the room feel thick and hot yet cold and thin at the same time. She couldn't tell whether she wanted to take her sweatshirt off or add another layer.

The blond angel finally looked up, noticing Neasa in the doorway. He hit the other angel in the chest, knocking the chip out of his hand.

“Dude!”

The brunet looked at Neasa, having a double-take when he processed the fact that he had been caught. “Oh.”

“I told you not to eat any of their snacks.”

“My apologies for craving something crunchy!”

Neasa felt like her lungs were going to explode from the amount of deep breaths they were forcing themself to take in the hopes of not collapsing.

The two angels didn’t look like they were stopping their argument any time soon, so Neasa took one final breath and spit it out.

“What the hell are you two doing here?”

The two paused, not even processing the fact she wasn’t scared of two random guys suddenly in her kitchen when the brunet one grew a smug face. “Yeah, Michael, what are we doing here?”

Michael.

Neasa heard far too many horror stories about him (specifically, what he would do to a sinner like her) to be calm about the sudden name drop.

She had to bite her tongue just to prevent herself from screaming.

Michael’s head turned towards her, his face remaining neutral. “It’s about Ulidor.”

“Ulysses.”

Neasa wanted to crawl into herself and never come out for correcting the literal archangel Michael, but it was too late to back out now that she did it.

“Right. I’m sorry, I’ve only had a couple of days to get familiar with the name change. And the career change.”

“Not really a career change if he’s still killing men of God,” the brunet replied, reaching into the chip back for a handful of chips.

“Which is why Gabriel and I have been sent to talk to him.”

If Neasa didn’t feel like throwing up before, she sure as hell did now.

“What kind of talk?”

Gabriel replied with his mouth full of chips, “the kind with our mouths.”

Neasa nodded with so much vigor that she thought her head would fly off. “Yeah, yeah, totally…”

Slight concern broke through Michael’s neutral gaze. “Are you alright?”

“Totally fine. Never better, actually. Just give me a second.” Before the angels could say anything, she sprinted to the bathroom, letting out everything that was threatening to make itself known before.

The door opened, revealing a sleep-deprived Ulysses that was already on his way to lay his head down on Neasa’s lap. Ever since the two had somehow managed to become friends only a week after almost killing each other, he had been super clingy for literally no reason.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his posh voice hoarse from sleep.

“Throwing up my religious trauma after meeting two of the most famous archangels in religious history.”

The silence between the two was deafening. “Am I hallucinating from lack of sleep, or did you just say what I think you said?”

“You heard the kid right, my fellow Abrahamic nightmare.”

The two looked up to see Gabriel standing in the doorway, Michael standing so close behind him Neasa thought the angel was trying to jumpscare his brother.

“And we’ve got some questions for ya.”

Ulysses stared at the two angels for a second before he spoke. “The bastard had it coming to him.”

“Clearly, if you tried to kill him two separate times.”

“Is that sarcasm, old man?”

Neasa felt the nausea build up again. “Alright, either hurry this up or get the hell out of the bathroom before I do something I really can’t control.”

Michael pushed Gabriel out of the way. “Just tell us why I have Lucifer calling me about a pastor getting killed by you despite your betrayal of the Devil’s Army.”

“He was an entitled piece of shit that beat kids. What else was I supposed to do, let him live out retirement in the Bahamas?”

Michael and Gabriel looked at each other as if the corruption of the town’s pastor had been a sudden revelation. It was then that Michael’s phone rang with the song “Hells Bells”, and with an annoyed grumble he went to answer it.

Ulysses smirked. “I always forget that angels have access to mortal technology.”

“Speaking of motel,” Gabriel added, “where do you get these chips?”

Neasa paused. “The grocery store?”

“Right.”

Michael came back. “Well, guess you were right about him being an ass and a half.” He turned towards Gabriel. “Lucifer confirmed it himself.”

“Welp, guess we better get going. Sorry for the trauma.”

Neasa smiled, although it was mostly one of discomfort. “Thanks?”

Without another word, the two angels glowed brightly, only to disappear with a quiet pop, not leaving a single trace.

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on forever until Ulysses spoke again

“We aren’t leaving this bathroom, are we?”

“Nope.”

“Fine by me.”

I have nothing else to write rn and I lost the draft that I was going to post, so here's some more OC lore

The Erskine Family

Aidan Erskine

Known as the “Original Erskine”, Aidan created the family legacy most noted as being a part of the Erskine name.

Born on July 11th, 1931, Aidan was born into a family greatly affected by the economic hardship that had been plaguing Ireland since the British arrived, forming a not-so-positive attitude for the country and authority. His youth consisted of causing trouble, making messes for the police to clean up, and avoiding getting caught despite how obvious he was when it came to his crimes.

In his teenage years, he discovered an angel with broken wings, and in his kind nature took it in. After nursing the angel back to health, the creature granted him a blessing, one that would be given to his descendants if they chose to bear the responsibility. Before Aidan could ask what it meant, the angel was gone.

In 1950, Aiden met a woman named Laureen Sutton (born April 17th, 1932) while trying to study in the college library. They married after Aiden’s graduation on August 1st, 1954. They would have a son born soon after, named Gatsby after Laureen’s favorite book.

It was with Gatsby that Aiden discovered the truth of the angel’s words; Gatsby was given the choice to become a Vessel, a human who had the ability to control one of the four key elements, alongside a limited amount of the fifth (the spirit). Aiden approved of the gift, as he knew Gatsby was responsible enough to handle it.

With the knowledge that the paranormal world was real and his and his wife’s status as professors, the family joined Ireland’s PI (paranormal investigator) group, hunting down the evil that lurked in the shadows and helping out those that needed it no matter their status.

Aiden worked in the group until he retired from his professor job once his eldest grandchild was born, but he continued to help the organization by having his home be a hideout for PI’s, a weapons hold, and an intelligence center.

This lasted until 1990, when his family was being threatened by forces none of them could overpower, causing them to move to the small, quiet, and fairly-hidden town of Saint May.

He passed away on December 22nd, 2017, at the age of 86. Laureen would follow suit, passing away at 87 on September 7th, 2019.

Gatsby Erskine

Born May 22nd, 1955, Gatsby was a child that somehow always knew when the wind was changing. This was only explained when he was fifteen.

Once reaching that age, he gained a vision of the angel his father saved years before he had been born, telling him that he would be granted the ability to become a Vessel. Unsure, Gatsby went to his father to ask if it was worth it. After gaining his father’s approval, he accepted the blessing.

He became a Vessel of Air, with his personality fitting the power; he was a fleeting boy, bouncing from one thing to another as if the wind itself took him where he needed to go. He did not plan, but acted, letting the consequences of his actions move him to the next stage.

Like his father, Gatsby met his wife in college. Unlike his father, it was far slower for them to reach that point.

The future wife in question was Anne Fritz (born July 4th, 1955), who he met in his senior year of college at a party five months before their graduation. The meeting was through mutual friends, and they hit it off as friends for a couple of years.

They started dating when they were 27, getting married two years later at 29 on June 26th, 1984. They would have two children; Sean, born March 17th, 1985; and Finnigan, born January 27th, 1987.

After a threat made to their family in 1990, the family moved to Saint May, where Gatsby became a firefighter (which was very easy to do considering how quiet the town was) and the designated paranormal guy if anything went wrong.

He is still there today, helping to run the fire department while also keeping a lookout for any paranormal threats within the town.

Sean and Finnigan Erskine

I’ve already gone through their backstory, so I’m going to get to the good part: their lives in America.

Sean and Finnigan adjusted easily into the small town, mostly because everybody knew each other and were dying to have more people to hang out with. This led the brothers to mingle a lot, given how close their friend groups were, allowing for their relationship to grow close.

Being the eldest, Sean graduated two years before Finnigan did, immediately meeting Penelope Megalos after running into her on the sidewalk of their college. The two became “enemies” as an inside joke for about a year before they accidentally had Aleksandr, their first of three children. They got married after graduating college and had their two other children, Morrigan and Neasa, three years later.

He was given the title of Vessel of Fire, which matched his fiery yet warm nature that he seemed to slightly inherit from his dad.

Penelope was born and raised in a small town in Pennsylvania with her Greek father and Czech mother. She grew up on witchcraft, and very quickly picked up on her husband’s gift of fire.

Finnigan followed in his brother’s footsteps, barely graduating from college when he discovered the news. He and his girlfriend, Solange Brodé, had their daughter, Dylan, on November 13th, 2010. They would get married October 2nd, 2011.

He was granted the title of Vessel of Water, contrasting his brother in both power and personality. Finnigan was calm and brooding, only getting violent when he needed to. His calmness was a trait he gained from his mother, who always knew how to ease tension.

Solange was born and raised in New Orleans, growing up around spirits and the afterlife. She uses her mother’s knowledge of Creole food and herbal medication to help the town of Saint May alongside Penelope.

Erskine Children Rundown

Alek, eldest of the four, was given the same title as his father, Vessel of Fire. His temper flickers like the flames of fire, lashing out one second before becoming small the next. He has a soft side to him, one that is only shown to people he cares about, as well as a protectiveness that is mostly reserved for his siblings and cousin.

Morrigan, the second-eldest of the four and the eldest twin, was given the same title as his grandfather, Vessel of Air. He is a care-free kid that seems to bounce off of the walls at lightning speed. He can be destructive when he needs to be, his light-hearted nature turning to a tornado of emotions the minute the emotions inside of him shift.

Neasa, the second-youngest of the four and the youngest twin, was the first in the family to be given the title of Vessel of Earth. She is the calm that goes along with her brother’s chaos, with a contradictory and violent side that follows the true ways of mother nature. Her behavior turns on a dime, and there is no way to know what to expect.

Dylan, the youngest of the four, was given the same title as her father, Vessel of Water. She is a soft person, her voice as smooth as her personality, with a layer of mystery lying underneath. Because of her mother’s side and her siren blood, her voice enchants and creates an air of caution around her, as if one step close to her could make you drown.

I added a picture of the family tree for your convenience (and also because I felt like showing it off)

i'm bored, so here's is a story i wrote over the weekend based on a title prompt (the prompt is from a user here on tumblr, but i can't find them. their old name was castielcapian)

Bruises Bloom Beautifully

Fighting is something that people do not see as beautiful. In fact, most think it’s a violent affair, one in which they want nothing to do with.

But to the Erskine family, it was as natural as the changing of seasons and the powers that stirred just below the surface of their skin.

They knew one thing most didn’t; fighting can be beautiful if you do it correctly.

All it took was practice, patience, and confidence, which is easy to get when your family was founded by a man who had an ego as big as his father’s side.

That is how Neasa ended up on their own, stalking a boy they were convinced was the target they had been after for weeks.

The theory started in freshman year. As soon as he had settled into their Appalachian small town, the normally calm paranormal air now filled with a feeling of dread, as if a spawn of hell had dragged itself through and decided to never leave.

It didn’t help that the boy acted like some sort of royalty, right down to the accent and mannerisms that stood out against his thrifted clothes and beat-up combat boots.

The feelings grew once the ghosts whispered about a boy sneaking into the forest after midnight, waiting until the witching hour to light a campfire to talk to with a hushed voice. Their description matched the new kid’s look perfectly, so much so Neasa grew weary.

Everything came to a head a week before Halloween, when the pastor of the town’s small, rotting church was attacked, barely clinging onto life as he was driven to the hospital. His attacker matched the description of the ghosts, minus the long, black horns and a black scales that seemed to drive a knife into his soul.

Most people thought he was seeing things after a few too many glasses of the Lord’s precious blood. But Neasa? They saw it as confirmation.

By that time next week, they were already explaining to their father why it would be better for them to get the candy for the family Halloween party, saying that it would allow the adults to mingle and have more fun instead of worrying about the kids' enjoyment.

“C’mon, dad. It’s not like I plan on poisoning the candy with allergy pills or something.”

Their father laughed, his Irish accent making it have the same bright tone it always had. “Is that really the worst thing you can come up with?”

“Do you want me to try?”

“Please don’t.”

The smile on his face told Neasa all they needed to know, so they smiled in response and walked away, their hands itching at the thought of a solo hunt.

Everything was planned, from the weapons they would bring to the car they would drive, all to make sure that everything went as smoothly as possible. By the time that the day rolled around, Neasa had already gone through the plan five times just to make sure that they had it memorized.

The sun was just starting to set when they were sent out by their parents to get the candy, and it wasn’t until the sun was halfway down the sky that the task was complete, with the car parking at the only opening for the town’s woodland path.

“Alright, Ness. You know what to do. Get in, kill the thing, get out without any blood on your hands.”

They paused for a few seconds after the pep talk, hands still on the wheel as they mulled over what they just said in their head.

“I have got to stop talking to myself.”

Finally, they got out of the car, making sure to grab their old softball bat from the backseat before making it onto the path.

It wasn't a long walk to get to the scene in which the ghosts described. A circle carved into the dirt surrounded a campfire, with offerings of drug store candy and vodka scattered around the inside. The fire was lit and blazing, meaning the boy was nearby.

Just as Neasa was about to investigate further, the boy appeared, causing them to dive into a bush in the hopes of hiding themself.

“You are thinning my patience, Ulidor.”

“I’m sorry, My Lord. I tried to—”

“I have heard enough of your excuses. You slay him tonight, understand?”

Neasa looked up from their spot in the bush. The boy–Ulidor, his name was?–looked the same way the pastor described him; onyx curls, dark tan skin, black horns that stood six inches tall, and black scleras that reflected tears in the firelight.

“Yes, My Lord.”

There was a hum of approval from the flames. “And make sure to kill that little girl, too.”

The flames lose their intensity, leaving a hollow feeling to stir in the air. Even in their shock, Neasa manages to notice the smaller details they had somehow missed; scars and bruises were scattered across his arms, the scars mixing between newly made and old. All of the bruises looked fresh, and Neasa couldn't tell where they had come from.

Slowly, they inched forward, their hands empty and slightly raised at their side. He hadn't noticed the movement yet, his body still stiff as he looked helplessly into the fire.

Then, he attacked, his fist almost making contact with Neasa’s eye. Thankfully, they had ducked away quickly, using the advantage to manipulate a nearby vine to grab their bat, recklessly swinging at the demon and hitting his chest.

Breathlessly, he kneeled over, his hand clutching at the area in which he was hit. “Jesus Christ–”

“Well, maybe if you didn't attack me first!” Neasa yelled, bat hung high as if they were about to strike.

“I thought you were another demon!” His voice was a lot raspier than before he was hit, a fact that Neasa cringed a little at.

“You thought your leader wanted you to kill another demon?”

“It's the devil, he does crazy shit all the time! Now will you please put the bat down?”

Hesitating, they did, allowing the metal to softly land at their side. A part of Neasa felt a bit guilty about what they did. But then again, he was a demon, so…

But there was a small voice inside of Neasa that reminded them of what their father used to say about demons; the brighter the eyes, the closer to humanity the demons were born.

And his irises were a beautiful lapis blue, with his right eye splitting into a bright emerald green.

“Do you like chocolate?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m trying to apologize, okay? Now do you want chocolate or not?”

He stood, his horns slowly fading away in a puff of smoke. His eyes looked like a human again, and it was then that Neasa noticed his left pupil was bigger than his right.

“On second thought, how about you just come home with me, alright?” Neasa didn't even bother to wait until he spoke again, grabbing his arm with their free hand before dragging him to the car.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Don’t fight it. You get free food.”

He was silent for a moment. “Is this what kidnapping feels like?”

“Not even close.”

Neasa dragged him all the way to the car, which was still parked where they had left it. They dragged the boy to the trunk, opening it up and hoping inside. They motioned for him to do the same before digging in one of the carved-out compartments for their first aid kit.

“How…old is this car?”

“Pretty sure it’s from the 70s. Why?”

“It doesn’t look very stable,” he replied, sitting down with a questionable air around him as Neasa resurfaced.

“If you can survive me hitting you in the chest with a metal bat, you can survive a 50-year-old car.”

As Neasa checked him for wounds, wrapping up a fresh slash on his upper forearm, a question bubbled up in the back of their mind. “Ulidor, huh?”

“Yes, Ulidor of House Baron.”

“Guess the Devil’s not good with names.”

“No, he is not.”

Neasa punched one of their one-use icepacks, placing it on his chest. “What’s the name you use in school again?”

“Ulysses.”

They looked up, seeing the intensity that came with his demon name fade away at the sound of his mortal one. “Suits you.”

“You think so? My Lord says–”

“Who cares what he says? You don’t work for him anymore.”

The words had slipped out so matter-of-factly, it was almost as if they had made the decision for him. Not that he seemed to complain about it.

“You are…a very strange mortal.”

“I know.”

“You are fine with that? Being seen as strange, I mean.”

Neasa shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to my weirdness. No point trying to fight it, especially not with my family’s track record.”

In the front seat, their phone started to ring. “Speaking of family…”

Calmy, they headed towards the front seat, answering their phone as soon as they grabbed it. “Hey, Morrgie.”

“Where the hell are you?”

They couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, closing the trunk. “Geez, what’s with the hostility?”

“The kids are practically screaming from the lack of candy, and mom and dad are nowhere to be seen. Put the equation together.”

Neasa opened the passenger seat for Ulysses, rounding the front before sitting in the driver’s seat. “You and Alek are getting attacked?”

“Bingo.”

“Relax, Airhead, I’m heading over now.”

“Good. I’ll see you there.” Before he hung up, Morrigan added, “oh, and when you get here, tell Dylan to come inside. I haven’t seen her in twenty minutes, and I’m pretty sure she’s trying to hide from responsibility.”

“Alright, alright.”

Finally, he hung up, letting Neasa start the car and pull away. Ulysses was lost in thought, staring out the window as if trying to put together everything that had just happened to him.

“What?”

He looked at them. “When we get there, how long do I have?”

Neasa looked back at the road, trying to focus on not crashing the car. “Knowing my family? Forever, probably.”