ft. @gunmetclgrey

He could deal with this in a number of ways, really. None of them good. He wouldn’t shoot Sherlock for this. Not yet at least. Either way, it was probably good that she was the messenger. Or bad. He wouldn’t have reacted well no matter the way the news was delivered. 

Silence. 

“What did you do?” Find someone to blame, that was always the first step. Find some way to cover what could easily become a nagging guilt that if he’d been there she might have survived, if something had gone different, she might not have died. Sebastian didn’t have regrets. He’d tell anyone that. However, he didn’t lack the capacity to have them entirely. “What did you fuck up?” Ignoring the fact that Alex was entirely capable of getting herself killed on her own. 

God. Fuck. She was the only blood family he’d cared about for the past while. And he’d been…himself to her, but that didn’t cover the fact that she’d mattered. 

“If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to shoot you.”

Sherlock stared at her brother, blinked, and then leaned back with a sigh. “Congratulations on finding enlightenment,” she drawled through a suppressed yawn. “Perhaps next you’ll find a way to be less dull.” 

“What an absolutely inspired idea!” Mycroft half-exclaims as he leans forward to rest his elbows upon the table, fingers interlocking. 

❝ Do you think I could maybe borrow your History of Magic notes from yesterday ? ❞

Remus hates to ask. In fact, he’s put it off all day, but he knows he has to. He’d been a little... busy... the day before, after all, and he can’t just not have the notes from his classes. And he had had no luck at all with his friends. For most classes they’re alright, but not for History of Magic. Not that Remus really blames them... Professor Binns can put anyone to sleep. He’s dozed off in class himself several times. 

@apcgee

Travelling south was fine. Mostly. The people of Verdania, though, had a vastly different picture in mind when they spoke of travellers. Merri became well aware of that as her journey was halted at a bridge into one of their towns. Two guards looked equally surprised as the young woman when she turned up at their river and explained she merely wished to pass over. Northerners normally travelled in groups and brought goods, she had the two guards explain to her.

“As you are, there won’t be much of interest for you inside anyways. Your axe is as good as a lumberjack’s, and you’d best help them where you’d normally find them if you’re looking for work,” said one.

But that was where they erred. Merri might not have any business in the town in the mercantile sense, but she had a personal reason to cross the river, nonetheless. 

“You don’t look much like a pilgrim either,” added the other one to his fellow’s remark. “Besides, there’s a toll for anyone passing through the city. You’re always free to walk around!” 

By then, another woman had stopped right next to Merri, appearing to be listening to the conversation. She as well caught the attention of the regulators.

       Well -- it’s not as if he’s ever been known for tact. ( a fact he never quite seems all that torn up about. ) Neal doesn’t take a moment to do so much as introduce himself when he spots her, well trained gaze fixing on the other’s appearance and clouding better things like manners or even some scrap of bedside demeanor that has never been able ingrain into his conduct. No, he’s already flagging her down with his usual brand of obstinate, somewhat dramatic fluster. ( though, gods forbid, he ever calls it as such. ) ❛ Hey ! You -- yes, you. That needs to be looked at -- honestly, walking around injured, when will people learn. ❜