#thread 7

Astarion was nowhere to be seen. At least, not from what Nico's been able to track down on his own. All he has to go on is a title;

The Pale Horror.

Pointed ears, pale skin, dark leathers. All you will see is the gleam of red in the dark before you're butchered and drained alive. Sounded like his father when in killer mode, which would only make sense with his kidnapping. Roberto will be furious when he finds out.

He hopes his old man at least was okay. He hadn't heard a damn thing about him.

It's your fault I died, kid. It'll be yours if I die again.

"Ugh, shut up." This must be what the moss felt like. But he's showing no signs of infection. He hasn't seen any black moss either. No pulsating red, no war, no-

Gunfire rips him out of his thoughts, making him jerk back into the street he was in prior. He peers from the corner, noting a familiar figure hauling ass away, cursing at his guns it seems. Jammed, or out of rounds by the sounds of it. Damnit, if only he-

Light bloomed beside him, a pillar slowly prying open just shy of his instinctive reach. Cloth slipped from it, familiar and inviting.

When he rounded the corner, fabric fluttered around him, clasps latching on to one another before clipping to his belt in a rippling mass. He grunts as the massive cross thumps on his hip, a familiar weight as he braces himself. The long end hissed as it sprung open, dark eyes flashing down at the red head behind cover.

"Get your ass moving before you owe me more than a drink." He flashes a grin to the broker before his hand twisted in the skull trigger system.

The machine gun ripped into the street, making the gaggle of cronies howl and scramble to flee. Getting involved in gang business wasn't on his list of things for the day. But if anyone had intel on this place, it was probably the broker himself.

Wearing a face that isn’t yours feels uncomfortable at the pit of your stomach- though the feeling is addictive all the same. A brief moment in time where now you no longer have to worry about who you are or should be, where you can just be yourself- or rather, someone else entirely. Perhaps that’s why those occasions were so rare, otherwise your life would’ve surely ended up a trainwreck if you had been left to be whoever you wanted to be. Who knows.

You decide that you love it for the time being, as you adjust your mask on your face. Or rather, your new face for this moment.

“Well, if this place doesn’t look like a fever dream in the best way possible…” You speak out loud, eyes scanning your surroundings, trying to find something or someone you can recognize- none.

It’s almost comforting. You know no one. They don’t know anyone either.

“I’m not crying, I just have some–okay I am crying but if you tell anyone I’ll make you regret it.”

“Make me regret it? What you’ll go crying to your cousin Anderson Cooper?” Wat paused, not actually angry or even annoyed with her. Just teasing, even though she was in tears.

This was absurd. She didn’t even know the man. And ‘feeding’? That sent her stomach turning. She didn’t know anything about him, she wasn’t even taking his class. Why her?

Cherry tried not to cry packing her bag for the week. She set on being mad, being viciously angry at someone so entitled, but she couldn’t help but feel terrified, too. They were a vampire, probably. She wanted to go see Jody, get a run down on him as a staff member, but the guard was waiting and texting anyone wouldn’t make much difference. She was expected to leave now, arrive in a few minutes and then she’d be at some random master’s beck and call for a week.

As glad as she was to reconnect with Lily and Daisy and seeing them happy, and as grateful as she was for the friends she’d made so far...

Cherry really fucking hated this place.

She took a deep breath and held her head high, her mouth set in an unhappy line as she followed the guard to Ronin’s room. A quick knock on the door and the guard stood aside as they waited for the professor. She didn’t even know what he looked like. Not that it much mattered because only a giant prick would rent someone they didn’t even know. The rules could have been worse, she supposed. But this was her first rental, as well. She had no idea what to expect anyway.

Jody had back issues since he was a kid. He knew the things that caused it. Environmental, not hereditary. The terrible bed he’d slept on while going through puberty, entirely alone. The damaged caused by being beaten and whipped and left nearly to die. The time he had fallen asleep at the door, waiting for Daniel’s promised new book for him and Mr. Krieg had shown up instead and kicked him hard enough for him to fall backwards, hitting his back so hard down the stairs and breaking his arm. He’d been a kid, still growing, hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet.

He’d been told, or mentioned before that yoga was supposed to help. He had never really had the courage to go. He felt nervous about his back, not potentially hurting himself, he knew Frankie was trained and would know how to stop him from doing that... But revealing scars. Perhaps keeping in the back of the class would help.

But he figured he would come to Frankie and talk more about it. See what she recommended on doing. He entered the studio, looking around for the woman.

“Frankie? It’s Jody? We spoke-- or texted earlier?”

[text] Good morning. Happy early birthday, Buttercup. Meet me at the tree where we first said I Love You?

[text] I love you.

Dhani took a deep breath, nervous. He jumped up and down a few times, trying to shake away nervous energy. He strummed on his guitar, tuning again and listening for the fifth time, he was sure. The last time seeing Daisy had not gone well. It set off their first real fight. It was just such awful timing and not being able to talk to each other. It was far more than missing one another, this punishment. It was letting tensions build over grievances until they shot out, not being able to have the luxury of talking things through or communicating. Dhani had always been told by his parents that communication was the absolute foundation of a relationship. Honesty and kindness were cornerstones. Their punishment had pulled all of those right out from under him. But they could rebuild and fix things. Dhani believed that.

Dhani had worked hard to give Daisy a perfect (early) birthday. He’d rigged up a rope and board swing to the tree, giving it an romantic touch, wrapped the rope in flowered vines. Flowers were scattered on the ground, battery powered fairy lights strung up in the tree. Brunch was set out on a red blanket, still warm in containers. Her presents were wrapped in brown parchment paper, against the tree like Christmas, hemp twine in bows, daisies in each one, romantic song lyrics written in Dhani’s hand, a song for every present. Dhani was dressed in tan pants, brown boots, a white henley shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons free, and red suspenders. He had even, mostly, shaved, giving himself a mustache that he suspected worked pretty well for him.

Once he saw Daisy approaching in the woods, he leaned against the tree, hoping to appear casual and happenstance. Hoping to fulfill and fit the romantic fantasy he had set up this morning. He started playing, strumming and extending the opening bars until she was close enough to hear him sing to her. As she moved closer, around the first chorus, he moved away from the tree, no longer some wandering bard, but hers. Only.

It was written that I would love you From the moment I opened my eyes And the morning when I first saw you Gave me life under calico skies

I will hold you for as long as you like I'll hold you for the rest of my life

Always looking for ways to love you Never failing to fight at your side While the angels of love protect us From the innermost secrets we hide

I'll hold you for as long as you like I'll hold you for the rest of my life

Saru had the bridge; he wasn’t sure where Captain Lorca was, but he would guess down in Engineering. If he was on shift and wasn’t on the bridge, the captain tended to be preoccupied with the spore drive. It was understandable--Saru would have rather not had anything to do with technology that had somehow ended up involving human experimentation, but since it was too late for that now, at least the captain was paying attention.

Otherwise, the bridge was quiet, Saru’s monitor spitting back the expected numbers, until Lieutenant Bryce called across the bridge, “We’re getting a distress signal.”

“Where is it coming from?” Saru asked, turning towards him.

“A planet--non-Federation, Class M,” the lieutenant was tapping at the panel. “I’ll try to raise them and get a more precise lock.”

Wat pressed play on his phone. There wasn’t any official soundtrack because of contractual conflicts between Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney. But Wat had assembled his own playlist for the Christmas season anyway. Danny Kaye had a special place in his heart... Not only was Wat a huge fan, but... he’d known him. And Danny had been a great guy, if not a friend... And smart as a whip. Danny had figured him out, a sixty year old man with a memory like a trap, when Wat had helped in a Broadway production of Two By Two, Danny had pegged him from Wat’s earliest days in the LA motion picture scene. Back when Danny and his wife had just moved to the west coast. That had been a lecture in moral obligation Wat wouldn’t forget.

He crossed the stage, light on his feet, tap shoes on while Danny’s voice floated out of the blue tooth speaker his phone was linked to. Wat always thought he was an exceptional singer as well as a comedic genius. Maybe a big head but he had a big heart, too. Wat uncrossed his arms from behind him and started on a soft tap routine on the empty stage, set dressed as the beginning of the show in a bombed out landscape. Parts of some Wat had picked up from Danny’s infamous (and director infuriating) improvising during the show, some routines from other shows and some from the hundreds of performers Wat had worked with and watched from the wings over the years.

Wat sang along with the song, humming in parts, dancing along and he thought, in the theater, alone...