Afternoon
Guild Wars 2
Characters: Serendipity and Athaliah
Serendipity contemplates the rising tides and the end of days as Zhaitan's reign has come to a crescendo. Tucked away in Lion's Arch they have been telling fortunes in their little home, others coming to them with those fears. This particular afternoon they are visited by a familiar face from their time in the Mists, to sit with them and face what may be to come.
¤
Is this the end? It had been uttered by customers day in and day out of lateâthe reality settling upon their shoulders in some unbearable weight. Scarred faces and fingers that trade coin for cardsâthey are not those that speak in tongues of fear until it is in front of them, intangible as it isâwhat are they to do but wish on cards for the day after tomorrow to come none the less.
The rain has not let up, and in the droplets come the whispers. The whispers of the end, certainly, but of those brandishing swords against it, against inevitability. How sharp must your edge be to cut down death in the form of bones and teeth?
Haze colours their windows, deepening the warm shades of shadows within the wooden space. Candle light shines only more golden. The edges of their reality smells of cinnamon and cardamom.
Hand beneath the loose petals of their hair, Serendipity lingers in a half-doze amongst the pillows and blankets they have made a nest of. Their cards lay abandoned upon the scuffed polish of the old table at the front of the room.
She arrives in the corner of their eyeâshadows and the feathers of crows. Seven fall, a secret never to be told. The scent of spice burns away with the edges of reality, the quick warmth heat of it breaking down to allow her through.
âHave you come to admonish me? Or are you a figment of my imagination? Do I hate myself that much to conjure youâŚâ Their voice singsongs along notes that dance with the half-daze of sleep still coating their tongue.
Taloned fingers grasp the edges of cards, Athaliah standing full before themâthe lingering dissipation of the Mists about her like a fog then gone. âYou have been tempting fate.â
âI have been alleviating their fears.â Sitting up, hand falling into their lap, Serendipity tips their head. âOh deathâwill you come for us, drag us down into the depths, or place us up as skeletal displays to dance in the halls of fallen Orr?â
Crowâs mask hides her features, Athaliah folds out the cards upon the table. âGlib.â
âHave I changed that much since my time in the Mists? I was quite serious then.â
âMmm.â The sound resonates for a moment, and then silence fills the space only punctuated by the click of the cards finishing their pose upon the wooden table, spread out to be contemplated.
âNo come back? Is this truly the end of days then? Are you going to blame what fates I pulled and played with for this? Would that it serve me right for trying to do something nice.â
Talons clatter, and then the figure turns in all of her gloryâfeathers and mask, the Divine of Constellations, the Mists Being she isâlooks upon the child of the Pale Tree. âI cannot speak in tongues of truth or lies around what is to come, whether the strings prefer one ending or the otherâit is not for me to weave that into comfort or derision.â
âComforting.â
âI have never been known to be. Sit with me starseer, read me the cards I have lain out, and we will see how this afternoon ends.â
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Precipice [Fragment]
Guild Wars 2
Characters: Pixie, Magdalene
The final moments of Zhaitan, Pixie's mind is taken by the last letter they got from Magdalene Strange. Fragmentary writing exercise to practice writing Guild Wars 2.
              They stand on the precipice of The End.
              Dull sepia colours rot the landscape in some laughable moment of out of time, out of placeâpulled and dredged from the bottom, rot of the ocean to float like some long forgotten childrenâs toy found at the bottom of the pond. The edges of everything are frayed, caked with the splendor of the depths. Oil slick purples and greens pool in the cracks and crags of the landscape.
              They stand on the precipice of The End.
              Tattered wings cannot full blot out the sun, but the noxious condensation playing at being clouds attempts to do so, and what little light goes through is a sickening green. Mouths upon mouths scream and writhe against the fight above.
              They fight below. Blotting blood spilled coats the ground beside them, old rancid stuff filled to the brim in bodies that should not rise again but riseâriseârise. They come back with teeth and nails, pushing, and screaming for the victory of the beast above.
              âMy dear,
              Full glad am I to hear that you are well despite the state ofâwell, everything. Orr sounds fascinating, I am quite certain; however, it sounds a mixture of moist and rather unpleasant things. Still, I do hope you will send me more letters, or return before your next one is to arrive. That is certainly the hope given what you say is to transpire with the Pactâs intentions.
              While neither of you wishes to join arms with one of the darling Orders, I am happy to hear you have been able to avail yourself of characters besides Ronaldâs delightful personality.
              Pomona sends her regards as well, and she is over my shoulder telling me to write that, as well as: hi. Ah, my apologiesâhi with an exclamation mark. I believe she is rather lonely since Billy went off on her adventure with that Kiddo friend of hers. I will defer to your expertise that Kiddo oversleeping in their dream was not a slight against Billy, but stillâpoor Billy was quite hurt waiting for them all that time.
              Pixie, please keep in mind I am not a believer in some delight of martyrs. People are better off alive and flourishing. Do not throw yourself at something you will not walk away from. Promise me that much, my sweet thing. Pomona has many new tasks for both you and Ronald once you return to Divinityâs Reach.
              Give Ronald my regards.
Magdaleneâ
Sap stains their features, sticky heavy stuff in their eyes as they brace for the waves and corpses. One eye closed, Pixie breathes in. Hand readies their rapier, bouncing it before their voice breaks the scene. âHold on.â
       Arm upâthe moment lasts a second, the moment lasts an hour. Light distorts around them, a shield thrown up that holds, catches and splashes with the incoming deluge. In the dazzling shifting of coloursâthey can barely see the skies above and the great dragon faltering, its wings falling askew.
       The moment falters, and the pressure and gravity of it descends, pulling their feet from under them. All that is left is blackness and the song that rings in their ears as their breath is pushed out of them.
Intake
Characters: Serendipity, Athaliah
Positions, alcohol, and philosophies stain their evenings.
⌿
Her lips around the circumference of a copper glass bottle--tongue coated in the thin, burning liquid. They watch her through lowered lids, head tipped and hair in their eyes. She is cut into pieces by loose fringe--a torn up photograph framework.
"I would not have thought you'd stoop so low to drink such cheap swill."
"Do you imagine me with wine and pennies thrown at my feet in prayer for kinder days, deaths?"
"They offer me sweat-drenched bills and cans of soda that I cut my thumb upon when I push them to opening."
The bottle drops with a sound as her hands go to the buttons and collar of her shirt, divesting it in the moment, like the bottle--called by gravity. "These are all mortal concerns."
"Do you partake of my things to be part of my world--to crack your knees to strain some stain of mortality?" Her knee is between their legs as she looms above them.
"We play at all of these things, even you, touched as you are by this gravity. You are still a spark that burns with the aethers of the heavens." Her fingers settle upon the bone of their breast, upon the skin that encases it and the ink that colours it. "What difference does it make what form of alcohol we intake?"
Gilded Dinner and Motorcycle Dreams
Features: Magdalene Strange, Pixie Styx, Kazuya (belonging to Maple), Aderyne (belonging to Rin)
Universe: Pokemon Redeux
 While there were those who would delight in the mixture of leather and lace, the high and low, the maĂŽtre d' of the Grand House could not truly abide by such a flagrant misstep of the dress code. Worn out denim and scuffed boots, he found his shoulders tightening more and more upon looking over the creature with such arrogance to walk into his establishmentâ
 âTruant defiance of the night, my sweet thing, are you attempting to charm me with your cavalier attitude to the troubled side.â Lilting, lulling voice, the man swallows back his words at the sirenâs sounds. Magdalene Strange, a familiar and vaunted guest when she comes around. A valued patron of the owner of the establishment, the employee finds his tongue swallowed in the moment.
 The rapscallion on the other hand seems to have words, despite themself. âWhat can I say, I thought Iâd show you what you could go for a ride with, Mags. Iâd say you look nice, but when donât you?â
 Nice. The word sits in the manâs brain like an unwanted piece of runaway trashâhow banal, how lacking--
 Smile quirks on Magdaleneâs features as she tucks her clutch to her waist. âNow, now donât go out of your way to flatter me, darling.â
 âSorry weâre late, it took a bit to findââ Awkward though she is, Aderyne at least cuts a more appropriate figure in the maĂŽtre dâs mind. At least she tried. And the otherâwell, he swallows. An attempt was made, but something just radiates off the man that is loud andâfrankly not what he was expecting tonight.
 Be strong, be strong for the Grand House. Breathing in so his chest expands and fills, the man releases the pressure as he steps into the view of the party. âMight I seat you all? Ms. Strange, it is lovely to have you grace our establishment againâwould you like me to inform Master-â
 âOh, my sweet thing, absolutely notâdo not bother the old man tonight. I am entertaining new friends tonight in a game of wits. Thank you though.â Delicate handwave, Magdalene smiles as she leads her party into the vaunted heart of the Grand House, despite the maĂŽtre d' trailing behind like a lost puppy. Menus are gathered awkwardly to keep up with the woman who strides with ease in heels that elevate her already grand height.
 Short words and stiff bow, the maĂŽtre d' moves wound up, his body aching to move himself out of the narrative. He offers words, clumsily, before moving on. âOf course, of courseâhere are the menus for the evening, and your waiter will be with you shortly. Enjoy.â
 Kazu and Pixie were used to concrete floors, splattered blood, teeth clenched as a fist cracksâbut the plush velvet carpets and the gilded pillars offer a new battlefield. Aderyne cannot claim any more knowledge of such spaces, but she attempts to make herself momentarily small in the midst of everythingâon the bill, in her chair, not certain what to make of the chandeliers and grand pianos.
 âA moment such as this, Aderyne dear, you really should indulge in what a place has to offer as their best.â Finger on the other womanâs menu, Magdalene peruses until nail clicks against the page. âI think you would quite enjoy that.â
 âOh wowâitâs um, a lot.â
 Kazu straightens in his chair, folding and unfolding the cloth napkin as he attempts a lopsided smile. âIâve got it, no worries.â
 âSee, Aderyne darling. Kazu has it.â Laughter sweet on her tongue, Magdalene tucks away her thoughts for later, of the powder room excursion to write all of this off on her own bill, leaving the boy with something far smaller to tip the place with.
 âOhâright, yeah, of course. Well, weâre here to talk about motorcycles, right?â Aderyne folds her hands over the menu, nervous energy trying to find a place to land like a flickering ember.
 âYeah, yeah! Right, so Miss Magsâyour thoughts, pros and cons.â Trying to decide how best to lean at the table, Kazu plucks up a utensil as he gesticulates, before catching the visions of other tables, and dropping it back to gravity.
 âMy sweet thing, I think they are absolutely fineâbetween the legs of someone younger and far more roguish than I. Though, I do believe it is best left to those of us who might not break a hip at this day and age.â Eyes flicker to Pixie, who offers a sly grin in response.
 âPomâs the one who said you need to get out and do something fun outside of the bar, Mags. Besides, we could take it slow on the backroads outside of the city, go drive down through vineyard country.â
 âIt can be relaxing, if you go slow, and quite a lovely ride on those backroads.â Aderyne chimes in, fingers dancing over her cutlery. âAndâto be quite fair, you would look very stylish on the back of a bike.â
 âHey nowâhip breaking probability is low, and motorcycles are super hot. Ads is right! Youâd look really stylish, not that you need any mechanical help to up your status, butââ
 Dinner flows over laughter and quips exchanged. Kazuâs ears brighten red before raucous noise rises from the group. Stories are exchanged over red wine that sends Kazu to sweet bottles of champagne, and the group finds a pleasant rhythm as the night continues on. Motorcycles ride off in the back of their minds, forgotten until the evening comes to a close.
 Velvet black sky, the group parts ways beneath neon glow of the city named for light. Pixie and Magdalene the last of the group walking back along the streets, heels echoing on the concrete.
 âYâknow, Mags I donât think I got you to agree to a ride.â
 âOh, my sweet thing you absolutely did not, but I did manage to rope you into a day at the symphony.â
 Snorting, Pixie rolls their eyes. âVossâ right, I am a soft touch.â
 Thumb brushing their chin to turn their eyes up to hers, Magdalene grins. âAbsolutely do not let Ronald hear you say that. It would go to his head. Thank you for walking me home, my sweet thing.â
 âOf courseânight, Mags.â
 Fingers about the backdoor to the apartment, Magdalene leans over to press a swift, quick kiss just along the high of Pixieâs cheek bone. âSweet dreams, Pixie dear.â
Narratives and Whiskey Sours
Features: Pixie Styx, Ronald Voss (belonging to eldritchrach)
Universe: Pokemon Redeux
 Heavy thud of crystalline cut glass hits the finely polished surface of the bartop, heady caramel liquid lapping up, attempting to jump from within. âYou, Pixieâyouâre a soft touch.â
 âHah. You really would say no to Pomona, my boy? I heard she owes you some money, and somehow I highly doubt youâre ever seeing that again. And you and I both know it.â Fingers wrapping about the glass, Pixie dips it towards Ronnie Voss.
 Towel thrown over his shoulder, the barkeep rolls his eyes. âFair. Still, I would feign shock if I didnât know you.â
 âKnow me, thatâs bold of you.â
 âJust saying when it comes to Magdaleneââ
 âComing from the man working behind the counter for said woman. Personally if she signed my cheques, Iâd be considering my words.â
 Snort cracks as the ginger shakes his head. âYou sure you donât need that drink a bit more deludedâI mean, diluted.â
 âYou want to hear about the triathlon or not.â
 âPins and needles, Pix. Honestly, I donât even think I have a say in it either way.â Wiping his hand on the towel, Ronnie pops the top off a beer, pushing it across the counter to a waiting hand.
 âInsult to injury, we begin with my being paired with two kidsâKid One and Kid Two for ease of storytelling.â
 Leaning against the counter, Ronnie lifts an eyebrow. âEase of storytelling of course.â
 âThey could always win over the Kid One spotâcompetition within competition breeds a bit of healthy drive afterall.â Ignoring the noise out of Ronald, Pixie continues. âKid One starts off strong, a bit too strongâswam right out of the triathlon. Got dragged back, throws a pretty good punch. Anyway, get him shaken not stirred rightâtoss him back in, and we complete that round.
 âFrom there weâve got some running to do, and Kid Twoâs got a bit of pep to her step, so send her out on it. She makes pretty good time, takes her a bit with some of the traps, I thinkâbut we get through that too. So now itâs on my plateââ
 âAnd let me guess, itâs a kitshcy paper plate for a cute family picnic.â Ronnie interjects between slinging suds, half-listening to the story.
 âTo be fairâitâs a plate where I tried to encourage Kid One and Two to sabotage the other teams, in the spirit of the competition and all. Theyâwell, better left there. After that I just played what honestly reminded me of one of those games they give to toddlers, and thatâs itâtriathlon.â
 âAnd I had to hear about itââ
 âBecause you, sonnuvaâmanaged to get your pale ass out of it. Wonder how Pomona found that flyer in the first place.â Sipping their whiskey, Pixie lifts their brow as Ronnie quirks a grin.
 âFairâs fair.â
 âYou lost that card game absolutely fair.â
 âCry me a river, StyxâIâm certain you absolutely abhorred spending a day with Magdalene out in the sun.â
 âBetter to look at than your face even in the shadows.â
 âYou wound me.â
 Laughter flows out as Pixie sets down the emptied glass. âIt wasnât an awful day. Just wish I could have seen you go up in flames with that red hair and pale skin.â
 âMy sweet fair complexion.â Ronnie places a hand upon his cheek like a gentle lady before joining in the low laughter under the singing that resonates around the bar.
 -
 âYou were supposed to do the running, or swimming!â Pomona saddles up alongside Pixie beneath the warm early summer sunâher face slathered in sunscreen.
 âWas I?â
 âYeah! I wanted to see you do something athletic and coolâI mean, good work winning the puzzle.â Eyes meeting her motherâs, Pomona offers a sideways grin and a shrug. âIt was fun to watch still.â
 âThanks kid.â Shaking their head with a half chuckle, Pixie watches as Pomona ducks off to the left to look at a booth as Magdalene moves into their side.
 âHere I thought you were training criminals for a moment.â
 âJust encouraging the kids to have fun with it.â Lifting their gaze, Pixie offers a toothy grin.
 Hum purses Magdaleneâs lips before her fingers wrap around Pixieâs shoulder, allowing her leverage as she pulls herself into their gravity, cheek to cheekâthe pressure of a kiss just against the side of their features. âYou did well. Thank you for indulging Pomona.â
 Grin falters, curves into something smaller, and Pixie reaches out to squeeze Magdaleneâs upper arm. âOf course.â
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Agreements and Arrangements
Features: Magdalene, Pixie, Pomona
Universe: Pokemon Redeux
 It begins with a rattling noise on their dresserâscuttling metal and plastic hitting the old wooden top. Fingers to facial features, Pixie pulls on flesh and tries to dig trenches with tips along forehead. Cracking their jaw, they roll towards the nose, squinting in the marmalade warmth of sunlight streaking in.
 Hand lurches forward, wraps about the buzzing nuisanceâ
 Fingerprint smeared screen reads âunknown numberâ
 Huh.
 Itâd been a beat since Starling had been in touch (maybe new phone while on the road?). Holding the phone aloft, they consider it, and then finger slides over the answer in quick motion.
  âMorninâ?â
 A warm hum, and then a lilting voice follows. âGood morning, my sweet thing.â
 Feet hit the ground, shoulders rolling back as Pixie takes in the moment, before swallowing with a mouth and throat dry after sleep too long. âMagdaleneâoh, hey. Uhâwhatâs up?â
  âIt has been a proper time since you have come by, and I can only hope that means your facial features are still attached.â Laughter is a dancing noise on the other side of the line before Magdalene continues. âEither way, it will not be held against you in a court of law. Pomona asked me to call you, because she would like to invite you to brunch, and Ronald was kind enough to offer your number.â
  âOhâuh, yeah, sorry. Got caught up the last few weeks. Brunchââ
 âShould be asked by Pomona herself, give me a moment. Poms, darlingâyes, Pixie is on the line, come here. If you wish to askââ There is a shuffling noise on the other side, thudding and thenâ
   âHi!â   Â
  âAh, hey, kid.â
 âSo! I want to invite you to brunch, you canât say no (there is a âthey can say no, Pomonaâ that floats in the background), and it is in two hours at our apartment, and you have to come! Iâm making the pancakes, and theyâre really good. I put everything on them.â Â
  âR-right, that sounds great, kid.â Hand under chin, Pixie cannot help feel the pull of their cheeks into a curve of a smile. âSure, Iâll be there at eleven.â
  âAwesome! Momâs giving me the eyeâso um, see you then!â
 The shuffling of hands and soft vocalizations echo with static until Magdaleneâs voice returns. âI apologize for Pomonaâs insistence, but I must echo it. It would be lovely to see you. Make sure that black eye of yours from that thrilling fight of yours that she saw has now properly healed overââ
 âListen, Mags.â
 âAs I said, Pixieâapologies and explanations are not needed, I am going to be glad to see you.â
 Lips twitch as elbows hit knees, Pixie staring at their feet on the old, barely finished floors of their apartment. âYeah, right. Itâll be good to see both of you again too.â
 âUntil then.â
 âUntil then, sureââ The phone holds no more sound, and eyes wander over the sleek screen and the imprints like a crime scene. âHm.â
 -
 Two weeks does not wipe out the past year of wandering down to Autumnal  Avenue; though, entering through the backdoor was a new development. Feet thudding along the backstairs, Pixie makes their way to the Strangeâs apartment with a practiced, put-on ease. Leather jacket, loose button-up, denim pantsâthey cut an image of some lost eraâs idea of cool. Â
  Knuckles to darkly varnished doorâit takes one rap before the wood is thrown open with a flourish.
  Wild crimson hair, freckles, and a wide smile showing all of her teeth, Pomona stands before them. âHi Pixie!â
  âHey kidâdid you grow another inch in the last two weeks?â
 Stretched out tall with the comment, Pomonaâs grin grows in vibrancy. âYou should hope not! Iâll overtake you in the next few weeks then.â
 âFair enough.â Stepping into the entrance, Pixie peels off their jacket after a moment of consideration, draping it over a coat hook. âSo, are you making the pancakes or your mom?â
 âI make themâby adding everything on at the end. Anyway! I wanted to ask a favour of you.â If the wattage of her smile could be dialed up, the twelve year old had found a way to do as such.
 âAh, so this is a stick-up.â
  âYes! Pew pewâbut for real.â Delicate fingers wrap about their wrist, tugging Pixie into the living room.
  Magdaleneâs voice reverberates from the kitchen and dining room. âPomonaâhas Pixie arrived?â
 âYeah, mom! Theyâll be in in a moment, Iâm taking their coatâanyway.â Grabbing a piece of paper from the coffee table, Pomona turns full on Pixie. Paper is thrust upon them. âI want you to do this.â
 âWhatâtriathlon? Take you to it? Canât your mom do that, kid?â
  âNo! I want you to compete. Mom said I canât, and I still owe Ronnie money from an IOU⌠So you have to! Then mom and I can go and watch you.â
 Paper loosely held between rough fingers, Pixie looks over the ink once, twice, and then sighs. âIââ
 Wide eyes well at the potential of a negative, hands clasping together. âPlease!! Please. Come on, Pixieâitâll be fun.â
  â⌠Arceus, youâre evil.â
 The voice from the other room suddenly is louder and directly behind them, Magdaleneâs shadow draping over Pixie. âShe gets it from her mother; though, I think you would have learned well enough, darlingâyou should sweeten others up before asking things of them. Pancakes are done by the by.â
 Long fingers land on Pixieâs shoulder, wafts of pale once-golden hair brushing their cheek as Magdalene leans down to press a kiss to their cheek. âIt is good to see you.â
  âYouâre training a racketeer, Mags.â
  âOh darling, donât I know it. Put down the paper, and come alongâbrunch.â
 Sugar and spice and whipped cream and maple syrup and some candies that Pixie does not recognizeâeverything nice and not so nice makes it onto Pomonaâs pancakesâ
 And it is in the end of a fog of sugar and laughter that Pixie finds themselves ending the meal with: âSure kid, Iâll do the triathlon, why not.â
There is rust on their tongue, and they feel a weight as they follow behind Magdalene. The bruises hurt for the first time since they dragged Pomona from the fight club (thatâs a lie, they had hurt the entire time, it just is easier to ignore when youâre lecturing a kid).
    âPomona, darlingâI think it is time for you to go to bed.â Magdaleneâs words waft, light and airy. âWe can discuss all of this in the morning.â
    Pixie can see half a shade of Pomona, pause in the hallway of the apartment, ginger hair aflame as she tilts before asking. âAm I in trouble?â
    âYou are certainly not not in trouble, butââ Magdalene waves her hands through the air. âIt is not an offense that means anything more than a long discussionâin the morning, after you have had some sleep.â
    Pixie can hear the huff on the pre-teenâs lips. âAlright, butâare you sure you donât need help with Pixie?â
    âQuite, my loveâgo to bed. We will talk in the morning.â
    âIn the morning, yah, yeah.â
    The thud of footsteps deeper into the apartment marches on with the thud of a lowgrade headache from the entire evening, drummers on bone. Pixie presses their hands deep into their pockets. âYou really donât have toâdo any of this, Mags. I can be out of your hairââ
    âMy sweetâsit down, and give me a moment to get what I need to clean you up.â Hand upon shoulder leads Pixie to a too-clean couch for where theyâre settled. The entire livingroom isâ
    It is a shrine to Pomona, to art, to a handful of well-loved plants, books galore, and knick knacks of all sorts. It is pristine. Golden gilded edges of frames, porcelain pretty thingsâbut it has a sense of home, of family.
    Boots sink into the throw rug as Pixie wants to laugh at how out of place they must lookâleather jacket, boots, bloody face.
    âHere we go.â The couch shifts as Magdaleneâs weight presses into the cushions, hand settling upon Pixieâs features to tilt and tip them to her, to a small cloth. âThank you, Pixieâfor bringing Pomona back with such care.â
    âListenâit was my fault in the first placeââ
    Laughter is not as boisterous as it might be in the backroom, carefully lowered for the occupant who is supposed to be going to sleep. âPixieâhow were you to know she would overhear your invitation and take it as a family affair? My sweet, I appreciate that you wish to be the guilty party in thisâdonât flinchâbut really.
    âBesides, she is of an age where boundaries are to be tested. Iâm grateful it was a situation where there was another adult looking out for her.â
    Wincing, teeth tight as the alcohol hits another wound, Pixie sighs. âI get it thoughâsheâs a kid, youâre her mother. I donât want to be a bad influence orâArceus that sounds idiotic, but you hear me, right? I wonât skulk around and make things harder for you.â
    Thumb runs along the curve of their chin as Magdalene hums and tips her head. âI suppose it is my fault for not being more openâI see us as friends, Pixie. Or else I really should charge for the constant play nurse we do. My dear, if you do not want to be friends with a single mother and occasionally have to run about with a wild little fox of her daughter. Well, I cannot say I would be delighted to hear that, but I would understand and not up your drink cost by too high a percentage.â
    Silence sits for a moment in the warm golden of the lamp light, before Pixieâs lips curve. âDo I get a discount as a friend at the bar? You would have to tell Ronald, he can be rather taciturn about everything.â
    âYou get the absolute pleasure of being in my acquaintance, my sweet thing. And drinks occasionally as friends, outside of my barâs hours. Really, I am a woman of business afterall.â Thumb gently taps chin as Magdalene pulls away. âYou understand though, donât you?â
    âI donât want to fuck up your life, Magsâor Pomonaâs especiallyââ
    âTrust me, then my sweet thingâtrust that I know to make good calls for myself and for my daughter.â
    Eyes dropping for a momentâexamining the crimson of the carpet before returning to Magdaleneâs features, Pixie nods. â⌠Alright. I canât say I was looking forward to stopping being friends, anyway. Youâre a diamond in the rust.â
    âOh, darling, I know it. I am quite something. But you are always welcome to tell me moreâ Grin cracks on Magdaleneâs features as she leans onto her hand, watching Pixie in the dim light of her living room.
Criminal for a Day
Featuring: Pomona Strange, Pixie Styx, Magdalene Strange
Universe: Pokemon Redeux
âGo Pixie!â Small sweet voice dances over the gruff cheers of the crowdâgolden and catches Pixieâs ear. A turn they should not have madeâa turn that allows knuckles into their cheek.
 Warm rust fills their mouth as they still try to catch a glimpse of the childlike voice calling for their victoryâbut pain and focus wins out.
 -
 Knees curved to chest, it is well-past her bedtime, but Pomona cannot help but linger upon the staircase to the apartment. Voices and laughter fills the room just beyond the door, the backroom of her motherâs bar. Sheâs heard the second voice beforeâplaying back and forth to her motherâs own dulcet tones.
 Pixie Styx.
 It took a few conversations to put together the name, but she has had it now for some time, pulling together bits and pieces of a world beyond the one Magdalene cultivated for the two of them. Blood, punches, the cheers of an adoring crowdâ
 Fingernails dig into the soft wood of the staircase, straining to hear more words.
 âCome to one of my fights.â
 More laughterâher mother loves to laugh, and the sound pulls upon Pomonaâs lips. Words fill in the space after the sounds subside, and Pomona leans in again, listening.
 âThe invitation is there, if you ever want to take it.â
 Feet scrambling up the stairs, Pomona thuds back into her bed in record time. An invitation.
              It was not for her, per say, and Pomona hums to herself as she pulls blankets over herselfâbut if her mother did not take it, it would be socially rude to completely ignore it, wouldnât it?
 Society.
 Magdalene painted herself as a figure of it, class and crust, indulgence in the finer things. And Pomona knows she has always benefited from said thingsâfine paintings, music, scientific outings. But a fight?
 A fighting ring.
 Lifting hand out from beneath her quilt, Pomona examines what she can make out in the darknessâstretching fingers long and wide before curling in them into a fist. One year spent with claws and teeth, and she had never fought. The call of fire in her belly reminds her that so many like her make their way that wayâ
 This Pixie Styx does.
 And theyâre momâs friend, right? Soâwhat would be the harm?
 -
 So, whatâs the harm, she repeats mentally to herself as she pulls her hood up and tightens it. Ginger locks poke out as teeth press into lower lip to try and contain her smile.
 Rocking back and forth, rubber squelching against the hardwood floorsâPomona listens for the rise of the first notes of the night. Ah, the saxophone, the playful tones of the songstress for the evening.
 Thoughts of why her mother never sings rise and fade as she reminds herself to beâvery, very quiet.
 Luckily, the chaos of the early hours of the bar is loud enough to create enough quiet for her to sneak down the stairs, through the backroom, and then out the backdoorâ
 Into the alleyway.
 Hopping to and fro for a moment, Pomona presses hands into the pocket of her sweatshirt, grinning as she steps into and fades into the movement of Lumiose.
 -
 Fingers to blood pouring from their nose, Pixie bites the tip of their lip, head tilted to one side before they spit. âThat all you got, kid? Come on, I thought you said I was old enough to be your father.â
 Cracking their jaw, they step back as the young man rushes forwardâmomentum driving him into their foot, and then overâ
 Payback is a hell of a one-two hit, but something had to end the tango. Ribs burn as they breath outâallowing him to drop to the ground. Foot on his chest, they stand above him, keep him down while the ref calls it.
 Rolling shoulder back, Pixie drops down with a hand out. Winking, they laugh. âCome on, get off the ground, boy. Yâdid good. I mean, I beat you, but yâalmost had me.â
 Fond words are tossed between fighters before the sound rises againâa tittering, happy voice congratulating them.
 And then they see her for the first timeâred hair, hood up, and freckles leaning and waving hand.
 âGimme a momentâgot a⌠fan?â Pixie thuds hand against the young manâs shoulder, before exiting from the conversation to reposition the scene onto the bright, cheerful red head, pressed up along the edges of the fighting ring. âHey⌠kid. Literally right? You know youâre not allowed in here.â
 âUmâyou do not know that. I could very well be over⌠sixâeighteen?â
 âYeah, rightâdo I know you though? Like, no fucâfreaking offense, kid. You look a bit familiar about the eyes, butâcanât place you for the life of me.â
  Blood had never bound them, but it was just the same to Pomona when she had come to be a human, her face would hold the same things as the woman who had found her Egg and raised her so gently.
 âOh, yes! I apologize, I should introduce myselfâIâm Pomona!â
  âPomona.â
  âPomona StrangeâMagdaleneâs--â
  âOhâshiâoh. Right, that makes sense, but alsoâum.â Words, usually their forte, forsake Pixie in the moment, hand coming up to pull their entire jaw down, pinching their chin before they stare the child down (Arceus, how tall was she going to get, she already was only a few inches shorter than they were; though, knowing her motherâArceus.)
  âUmâare you okay?â
 âKid, do you want your mother to have one of her bouncers beat the crap out of me? Did I do something to like offend you? Yâknow whatâdoesnât matter, weâre getting you the helâheck home. Come on.â Waving off the guys in the fighting pit, Pixie dives into the spectators, grabbing Pomonaâs arm.
 âHeyâhey! I can follow on my own.â
 âClearly you can get here on your own, and how old are you even, kid?â
 âAlmost⌠twelve?â
 âArceus.â
   âHey! I am very intelligent, and well-versed for my age, and you did invite mom after all.â
     Pixie cannot help the pull of their lips, half-ease of curve. âI thought you said you were smart, kidâI invited your mother.â
âWell, I simply decided that was a fair invitation to me too, and I wanted to goâI havenât ever been in a fight, or seen one!â
Blood burns in their nose as they breath in against aching ribs, and Pixie sighs as they continue down the streets with the child, leading her back towards her motherâs establishment. Darkness sits upon the city, the lights it was so named for burning bright. âBetter for it, kidâyouâre too young to get wrapped up in all of that anyway, and Iâm certain if you have to be punched, your mom can find you like a self-defense class to take. Justâit was really dangerous for you to come, alright?â
âToo dangerous for me, and not for mom?â
  âYour momâs an adult.â
âIâm almost as tall as you, and itâs not too dangerous for you apparently.â Pomona shrugs demurely turning to face the glowing lights of the jazz bar ahead. âCan we justâsneak me back in?â
âNo.â
   Opening the door to the backroom, Pixie sighs. âListen kidâIâm going to walk you up to your apartment, and then Iâm coming back down here to get your mom. She deserves to know you snuck out, and you two need to figure it out between you.â
 A plan that sounds all well and good until the door to the apartment is opened, and Magdalene stands in all of her glory, a jacket half-on, her features coloured with worry, but her hair not a strand out of place. âPomonaâdarling, my sweet thing, there you areââ
 â⌠Hi mom?â Smile pulled on, Pomona pulls on the strings of their hoodie.
âPixieâwhat are you? Is someone going to explain this to me?â Knees to the ground, Magdaleneâs arms wrap about Pomona, before she peers back over to the other adult upon the stairs.
    âUmâyeah, so met your kid, she well. She overheard my invitation to you, and decided it was a group invite, and so. Showed up for my fight.â
 The words sit for a moment before a small noise escapes Magdalene. âAh. Alrightâyes, Pomona come in. We need to chat, darling. And Pixieââ
 âLook, Iâll get out of your hairââ   Â
âCome along, you are going to bleed all over my staircase otherwise.â
The thud of the dark brown bottle is not satisfying in the leastânot the click of a glass of whiskey, the porcelain kiss of a well-plated steak dinnerâno, it is a plastic dull noise. âYou are lucky I like you, my sweet thing.â
âOh, how much, Ms. Strange? Quite a lot, I should hope?â Cocky smile attempts to slide over features, but falters as the fault line down their lower lip aches and oozes. Skin between eyebrows contracts as teeth pull together to hiss.
âFar too much for my own good. But luckily, you are a well-paying customer.â Chin tipped forward, Magdalene grins down at Pixie before lowering to her knees. Towel in hand, she gathers the dark brown plastic bottleâletting liquid pour onto fibres, just enough to dampen the fabric. âDo not fidget too much, my dearâwe would not want to worsen these.â
 âHeyâI came out on top. You should see the other guy.â
âI am quite glad not toâtwice the work if you had dragged him in here. Moral obligations to clean up your messes. Quite like a cat, I think.â Palm settles against cheek as Magdalene adjusts Pixieâs head, pushing to one side before pressing the alcohol soaked rag to scrape upon cheek.
 âFuckâyouâd think you get used to that. Arceus. Hurts worse than he could punch. Mercy, Ms. Strangeâthis is my money maker afterall.â
 Magdalene smiles as her free hand holds their shoulder, keeping them still from pulling away from the sting of alcohol. âYes, yesâyou are quite the lithe and spry fighter, but I seem to remember our last conversation.â
 âOh, and what was that?â
 âAn exchangeâI told you about how I came to own the bar, and I merely stated the fact that you, my dear, owe me a story now.â Fingers pressing against cheek and chin to check the remainder of their face, Magdalene runs her eyes over their features. âSo, indulge meâhow did a scamp like you end up attempting to take down men three times your size?â
 âHah.â
-
 There are things you do not give words to, or weave into tales.
 How did you find your place, your home on a cold, harsh floor that a quarter of the time you find yourself kissing in blood and once, a chipped tooth?
 Why is it there that your blood pressure can lower for a moment, your muscles relax to flow in a dance?
Thereâs a truth about homes when you grew up a neglected thing upon the streetsâscrapping by for the leftovers and safety in dumpstersâ
    Itâs all ephemeral. Nothingâs guaranteed.
Except the people who you give your trust to, and those who give their trust to you (thatâs how it is supposed to work, thatâs how it was supposed to work, god they still try to argue with the past as their mind flashes through falling tales of how they ended up thereâ
    Blood beneath their nose, pooling out, crooked grin on their lips. Their opponent casts a shadow long with the low, bright lights of the pit. They winkâ
  Because it isnât about the fight pit is it really, Pixie?)
 âFuckinâ because it was your fault, PixieâI wouldnât have tried to take them home if you were fuckinâ there.â
    âI was coming backâyou couldnât hold your impulsiveness off for two secondsââ
    âOh, itâs always my fault isnât it, Pix.â Cyrine looms in their memory, blonde âhawk eskew and sharp dark amber eyes. âCome on admit itâyou know deep downâitâs all on your shoulders. You found us the bullshit Dittechs to begin with. Iâm where I am because of you.
âCome on, sweetheartâwake up. You werenât behind the wheel, but Starlingâs there, because of you. Sânot like you care anyway. Youâre always the victim, huh? And all I ever did was love you, and you threw that away tooâwhat the fuck ever, Pix.â
 Sweet, heady scent still lingers in their nose as her breath is saturated with the stuff.
The memory slams on the brakesâ
 Knuckles in their cheek, blood rising to the surface of flesh, purpling the ordeal, a warm liquid within their mouth too. Hard to pay rent that you used to split three-ways, but at least theyâll be out of the place in a monthâ
    Tongue pokes between lips before they spit crimson stuff onto the floor, hand lifting. âIs that the best you can do, my boy?â
 The dive, the duck, the weavingâa bad bruise and an open wound on their gums enough for the night, a high enough cost. Even for rent. Their fist slams into his back, just beneath ribsâfoot planting itself into the softness behind his kneeâ
-
âI ended up getting into itâbecause I had to pay rent.â Pixie shrugs at the simplicity of the start and end of their tale. âAnd then I ended up pretty good at it, so it kept paying that rent.â
 âMmm.â Magdaleneâs thumb etches across their face as she tilts their head. âYou know, my dearâI was hoping for a romantic tale, something to take me awayâyou are usually so very delightful in weaving words.â
 âCome to one of my fightsâIâll show you I can be delightful in other ways.â
Laughter fills the backroom of the bar as Magdalene pulls away fully from them to cover her mouth. âOh, my sweet thingâI can see how absolutely delightful everything is from the aftermath.â
âAbsolutely cruel, Ms. Strange. Well, the invitation is thereâopen if you ever want to take it.â
Of Ends and Papier-MâchÊ
Featuring: Magdalene Strange, Pixie Styx
Universe: Pokemon Redeux
Bruises and whiskey are a common combination for that one, Magdalene watches across the woodgrain of the barâs top. Towel between her fingers, she smiles as they catch her eye.
 "So, yâknow Iâve been wondering. Howâd a woman like you end up running a place like this?â
 Laughter hits heavy bar air as golden hair brushes her shoulder with the tip of her head. âA woman like me?â
 Heavy glass thunks with a lack of grace. Hand freed, knuckles scraped and sore, rise to tuck beneath their chin. A single shoulder rises and falls as Pixie mirrors her headâs position. âI would half expect you to be up there crooningâor somewhere more romantic and retired.â
 âOh, sweet thingâI want to keep my clienteleânot drive them away with my tempestuous attempts at singing.â No other calls for her attention, and heels click beneath the beat of the song that sounds far away now. âI got divorcedâor was in the process of it, and wanted to make the most use of the money I had made during that entire--â
  Magdaleneâs hand rolls through the air as she searches for the word on her tongue (relationship, debacle). âAffair.â
 -
 Divorce is a messy thing, but a freeing one, Magdalene decides as she crosses the threshold into her new life. The old door groans with the pressure, and she has to dip to avoid the frame, before pulling herself once more to full height.
 Golden afternoon light dapples across the scuffed wooden floors, scattering with the dust that obscures its view into the empty building. Fingertips slide through the stuff, rubbing grime between index and thumb. Heels make a low beat across the old floors, finished barely a descriptor that can be used anymore for them.
 The room is a cavern of times pastâof songs sung and the chatter of ghosts that hums in the old pipes of the building. Freed of anything beyond the remaining bar, what else remains are the interlopers of time and decay. Broken wallboards, a window once shattered and taped back into place. Â
 âWell, my sweet thing, she has certainly seen better days, but once a great beauty, the bones will make for one still.â Magdaleneâs voice echoes in the empty ribs of the room. The contractor peers back, nodding once, before ink continues to assess the damage.
 Black on white the final number is presented with the stroke of a swordâs swing, and Magdalene merely smiles. Sharp orange eyes turn back to the expanse before her. Shoulders pull back as she breathes in. âLovely. I think we have ourselves an agreement to tango. You mentioned you can begin tomorrow?â
 -
 The room thrums with saxophone and piano, moody notes roiling across the slick finished floor. The instruments fade as a voice rises above them within the dull lighting of the room, golden as the sconces that illuminate the space.
 âMoney simply for moneyâs sake is incredibly dull, my dear, and I wanted more.â Pulling the towel back from her shoulder, Magdalene peers through her lashes at the pit fighter, who has raised the remnants of their whiskey once more to their lips. Off to the right the drink goes, avoiding the violet blooming along their lower lip.
 âHonestly, you paint yourself a pretty picture in your getups, where I canât really imagine you settling for less than the world.â
 There are days gone by in crimson and gold that ache beneath Magdaleneâs ribs, shaded beneath her motherâs shadow. Growing into long legs and holding herself small. Marble and filigree playing the ghosts of an age long gone, a puppetry of pathos. Long days turning into long months and years. Once you learn to steal for yourself thoughâa deal, a bargain madeâ
Rosaire was an excuse, but thisâthis was, she had made hers, tall amongst the vintage bottles and delights of the night life.
  âWell, why ever should I?â Hand on chest, Magdalene boughs her body like a willow tree in the breeze, grin and laughter flowing out of her. âYou realize though, you owe me now.â
 âIs this a game?â
 Righting herself, Magdalene reaches across the bar to tip chin, evaluating wounds before her eyebrow flicks and only the corner of her lips curves. âYou are the competitive one, sweetâyou tell meâ
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