The devil makes us sin

We all expected blood and murder, but for a while everything was mostly normal. The hunters and woodsmen, they’d see a big damn wolf sometimes, and find the leftovers of deer, but nothing came close to being what everyone told us a werewolf would be. No livestock dead, no attacks on people. It was a mercy, for the Widow Grumly asked after her grandchild every chance she could. Poor thing kept asking for her grandson; bedridden as she was, we hadn’t the heart to correct her. They’re fine, we said, not hurting no one.

Not until the wolfhunter came.

Talk spreads, as talk will. And he followed the talk, the hunter in the fancy clothes and the cape of scraps of wolf fur. Were-wolf fur, if he was to be believed. He offered to kill it for us, and we declined. He decided to kill it for himself, and we declined. Didn’t matter much- he set out anyway, calling for Jemma. That was her name, Jemma.

We found him dead as a doornail, throat ripped out as neat as you please.

Well, a man turns up dead and Authority will poke it’s nose in. Doesn’t matter if it was self-defense. No one listens to a werewolf, much less a peasant werewolf, not when a wealthy fool gets himself killed. Soldiers combed the woods and found nothing. Eventually they gave up, figured she had moved on.

She hadn’t.

The evening the soldiers were all cleared out, the Widow Grumly coerced the blacksmith’s sons to carry her outside, to the edge of town. She had a bundle of rags in her hands, shirt and trousers that had seen better days. We tried to tell her that Jemma might not be Jemma no more, and that killing people can turn the nicest were’ crazy no matter the reason.

She said nothing.

When the moon came up, the whole town heard her calling from her nest of blankets and pillows, there in the road.

“Jeremy! Jeremy, you come home now! I’ve been patient long enough! If you don’t come home for your birthday I will come get you with a leash!”

Those with windows facing the road watched the black shape come forward. Watched it nose the clothes the Widow held. Watched it change.

He goes by Jeremy, now. The Widow had family connections to a local pack, and when her grandson didn’t want to pretend any more, she called in a favor. Apparently, if you’re willing to wait a year or so, you can change how you look, a little at a time. Jeremy has hair now in places Jemma didn’t, and his voice broke a couple months back. The priest don’t like it, but he doesn’t complain too loud. Not after the hard winter, when Jeremy was bringing in the only meat the town saw. The hunters still say they’d trust his nose, four-legged or not.

“Hey, Gia… I don’t even know if you’re getting these anymore since I haven’t heard back from you. I’ve spent… so much time trying to find you, but I guess you don’t want to be found. Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I asked you to marry me, it was too much too soon. I know that now. I love you, G. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I hope that I improved your life in some way. I hope that… wherever you are, you’re happy. I hope that one day, you’ll allow yourself the love I know you deserve. I love you, Gia Desstrin. Know that will never change. Goodbye…”

Knowing that Gia had moved on to someone else was much easier to handle when she was still this fluid concept that he couldn’t get a grip on; when she was still the girl that people had told him a million times “if she hasn’t come back, then something probably happened to her”. Some nights it tortured him to think she might have died; some nights it comforted him that maybe she hadn’t come back just because she couldn’t. Facing the fact that she hadn’t come back because she’d found something better was much, much harder than anything he’d ever done.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Let’s sit.” He didn’t trust himself to walk. He needed to sit, because he felt like his head was swimming and the last thing they needed was his six foot frame hitting the ground. He motioned back inside, and once she’d stepped in, he followed behind her. The door closed out the cold wind that was brushing over the snow, and he raised a hand to his hair and shook out the snow flakes that had settled there before reaching out to pull out a chair for her. Braylin may have looked imposing, and been a werewolf, and a packmaster… But he was a softie on the inside.

He took a seat across from her and simply gazed at her for a long time. Braylin had always been a man of few words; but then… what exactly did one say to a woman who’d run away after you’d proposed to them? He couldn’t quite figure it out. He supposed it was this sentiment that meant the most, “I’m glad you’re okay.” He paused for a moment, looking down. “When I never heard anything… I worried…” he said softly, trying not to think about how desperately he’d searched for her. Especially now that he knew she’d come here and found… happiness.

He could smell the guilt on her before she’d even opened her mouth to apologize. He raised a hand to silence her and smiled just a bit, “Gia, don’t. It’s… You don’t have to apologize or feel bad. It’s… It’s okay.” He dropped his hand back to the table and his fingers drummed against it, “All I ever wanted was you to be happy. And it… Well, you look happy. So, I’m glad.”

She smiled up at him as he pulled the chair out for her and sank into the seat.  It felt, surreal, in that moment, to sit in this chair at this place and watch Braylin Morrow sink into the seat across from her.  She’d had good intentions.  Once, she’d decided to send him flowers (at first she’d wanted to send a letter, but it had turned into flowers once she’d sat down to write it and stared endlessly at the blank page, unsure where to begin) with a return address, so he’d know where she was if he needed her...but she’d chickened out, even of that, at the last moment.  

Gia had thought, in the past, about what he’d say if she saw him again.  It was a spew of all the vitriol she felt towards herself, usually, (deep down, she wasn’t sure if he’d really say those things...but she still felt as if she deserved to hear them,) detailing every little way she’d hurt him.  Oh, yes, she’d thought of the things he might say, but every time she’d imagined a way of responding, of defending her actions, she’d come up blank.  It was perhaps because of this that she’d never said anything, at all.

Still, it was good to see him.  As long as she’d known him, Bray had never failed to bring a smile to her face and she felt it glowing, even now.  Whatever else they’d been, they’d always been friends: she’d always cared for him, trusted him, relied on him, and she liked to think that, once, he could do the same.  She wondered if she could ever hope to repair that, now.

Her brows knitted together when he said he’d worried.  Of course he had.  She bowed her head.  Gia had never quite considered that: she’d considered the hurt, the anger, he must have felt, but not that.  She should have given his selfless heart more credit.  “I didn’t mean to worry you,” she said, softly.  She meant, too: I never wanted to hurt you, but somehow the words didn’t come out that way.

“But I do,” she responded, biting her lip.  “I owe you that much, at least.”  She shifted.  “I just don’t know where to start.”

All I ever wanted was you to be happy, he said.  Gia felt a pang.  Impulsively reaching across the table, she touched his hand.  “Bray, that’s all I ever wanted for you, too.”  Her fingers curled around his hand in affection, but quickly she pulled away again.  It was terribly strange, this notion that their lives had taken such a different track.  Strangely enough, before he’d proposed, she’d never imagined living her life separately from his in any way.  Now, though, her life with him seemed worlds away, and she wondered how she could ever hope to repair what she’d so damaged.  She wanted to ask if he hated her now - she couldn’t blame him if he did - but she found she didn’t want to know if the answer was ‘yes.’  

“I was too afraid to say goodbye, I think,” she murmured.  “But then, I don’t think I really thought it’d be goodbye.  I just...”  Gia looked at her hands, folded in her lap.  She’d just left.  She hadn’t thought, she’d just run.  After her father had abjured her and Braylin had proposed, Gia hadn’t had a single rational thought.  She’d just run.

Gia nodded softly when he said she looked happy and she nodded.  “I am happy,” she said, softly, hoping those words didn’t sting.  He didn’t look terribly happy, just then.  “Oxford is like no place on earth, Bray,” she added.  “You’ll see.”  Of course, when she’d first arrived, it hadn’t been nearly so charming.  She’d never forget that poor fledgling vampire chained in burning silver she’d discovered in the basement...She’d quit V cold turkey, then, and she liked to think she’d been a stronger person since, but she knew where the change in both Oxford and in herself had come from.  They all owed Everett Lawson an unpayable debt.  

who starts putting up decorations in october?Gia, and Everett always sheepishly asks her to come decorate his office.

who buys the advent calendars?Everett, he likes being creative for all the little surprises.

who places mistletoes all around the house?I think they both would, trying to surprise the other

who wraps the presents for other people?Gia, though Everett always tries his best but his hands are just too large for all that nonsense.

who puts the final star/angel on the top of the christmas tree?Everett raises Gia up so she can. He likes seeing her smile when she gets to.

who’s the one that hates eggnog?Everett, he had a bad experience their first Christmas together going way too hard, so he’s avoided it ever since.

who’s the one that bakes christmas cookies for guests?Gia (probably with Brett’s help/ and Ella’s too [lookin @ u @laurenplayspeople])

who sends out the christmas cards?Gia, though Everett is the one that insists on three different photo sessions being done for them; just because he likes having all kinds of pictures with her.

who knows all the words to twelve days of christmas?Gia, Everett gets tongue tied and ends up laughing the whole time.

who’s the better snowman builder?Gia for sure. Everett gets distracted and ends up rolling around in the snow.

who starts snowball fights?Everett, most likely while Gia is building said snow man.

The Wow! signal. 

After numerous checks and re-checks, it’s been found to have definitely come from an extraterrestrial source.

It was broadcast at 1420 MHz. This frequency isn’t used by Earth communications for science reasons. It’s a frequency which neutral hydrogen emits at in interstellar space and is useful in radio astronomy.

Interestingly, emitting a strong signal at this frequency is a likely way to get someone’s attention if there’s anyone listening, because any other radio astronomers in the universe will definitely know of it and be making observations of it.

That really is a very strong signal. Against the backgrounds, it looks to me like about 30 standard deviations (give or take).

Actually, that globular cluster (M55) is just the closest object to the transmission’s source. It appeared to have come from a region of mostly empty space (though it’s worth remembering that distant red dwarfs or brown dwarfs could be too faint to be detectable).

The astronomer who found this and scrawled “Wow!” on that printout was Jerry Ehman at the Big Ear radio telescope in Ohio. Credit where it’s due.

Despite a lot of efforts, this kind of signal has only ever been recorded this one time. There’s a chance we may never know what it was.