randomramblings

anais_pf posting in

These questions were written by

spiralsheep.

1. Does where you live have regular doorstep rubbish collections or do you have to take your trash somewhere else?

2. Do you separate recycling? What sort of stuff gets recycled from your household?

3. Do you take things you don't need to charity shops, or give them away online, or sell them secondhand, or ...?

4. Do you pick up litter in your local area, from streets or trails or play areas or parks? Have you ever found anything interesting discarded or lost in a public space?

5. Are there "repair cafés" near you to help mend fixable items? Have you ever been helped by a community repair service or volunteered for one? Do you do any other kind of upcycling?

Copy and paste to your own journal, then reply to this post with a link to your answers. If your journal is private or friends-only, you can post your full answers in the comments below.

If you'd like to suggest questions for a future Friday Five, then do so on DreamWidth or LiveJournal. Old sets that were used have been deleted, so we encourage you to suggest some more!

senmut

Reunion of Species (1770 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Dragonriders of Pern, The Talents Series - Anne McCaffrey
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Afra Lyon, Mirrim [Dragonriders of Pern], The Rowan, Menolly [Dragonriders of Pern]
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Other Characters Not Mentioned In Tags
Summary:

In the aftermath of yet another alien threat, Afra and other Talents are stranded on a world with dragons.

Reunion of Species

There was always a bigger threat, Afra Lyon thought to himself as he got his bearings. Humans and Mrdini alike had failed to truly appreciate the fullness of a race as determined to have worlds of its own, complete with races to enslave or kill to keep the factories and farms running for their whims.

He wondered if these aliens had faced Hivers, if they had chased the Hiver trails… or maybe even crafted the ships and flung them ahead of their onslaught. It was nearly as bad as the Nathi War was presented in history. He really hoped two things: that the last ditch effort by the gestalt-driven Primes had successfully destroyed the monstrous planetoid and that he and the rest of the other high-T ratings were able to be retrieved from whatever this planet was.

Okay, a third thing was hoping that the anomaly itself hadn't destroyed any of the ships with the Primes aboard them. He just really didn't want to think about that part, given how many of them were some form of relation to him.

The other carriers were settling, opening… and the ones that landed upside down were being rocked back over by their kinetic. Poor Talents, getting all shook up after that kind of mind merge, so he didn't blame them for failing the landing. At least all of them were moving. It was too soon to tell if anyone had gone mind-deaf from the merge.

"Talents, on me," he called, knowing that he had sheer seniority and a presence that was seen as soothing. He'd been the one to pull the cluster together, grabbing on to the kinetics as soon as the telepaths had deemed a spot lacking in mental energy. If he didn't have all that experience getting uncased ores through atmosphere, he never could have held the mesh that got all of their carriers down at a slow enough speed.

The others, sometimes assisting one another, started pushing through the sandy soil, mostly leaning on one another. Most had some telepathy, all had telekinesis, but few were dual-rated the same in both fields like he was. He started doing his head count, strictly visual, not wanting to tax anyone's mind —

— and five giant flying lizards popped into the air out of nothingness, each with what appeared to be a human on their neck, forward of the wings.

"Are those dragons?" Mick Hatfield asked, a solid TK, while his TP partner Shirn McCoy gaped wordlessly at the sky.

"Certainly appear to be," Afra said calmly, wondering if that was what had accounted for the clusters of 'strange minds' the telepaths had noted.

He then looked at the beach, realized the carriers were spaced just far enough apart to make it impossible for such large reptiles to land, and that he was certain they were not hostile, merely curious. With a groan that was more psychosomatic for his age and doing things like this, he managed to get two up in the air and moved, prompting one of the other TKs to move a third and clear a good size swath of beach.

The mind-noise he was certain he was hearing now burst into excitement at the display of what was a common enough clean up skill.

He focused on the largest one, a shimmery deep bronze color, then shifted to the very small green one off their flank. He cleared as much of his public mind as he could, and invited those two, as well as the others, to land by visualizing the action.

The reptiles… no, not really? He'd chase that impression later… the dragons suited action to his invitation, and the five humans swiftly dismounted. The dragons' eyes were scintillating with color in many facets, all blues and greens in hue. The humans came to a formation ahead of the dragons, shoving goggles and helmets back with practice. The bronze's human was a tall man that Afra was certain his daughters would have swooned over, while the green's human was a shorter woman with a face given to infrequent smiles. The humans from the blue and two browns were slender, about the man's age maybe, and were clearly subordinate to the first pair.

"Hello?" Afra called, once he decided that yes, these looked like typical humans. He was glad most of the rest of his own people showed standard human deviations in color and height, unlike his own skin and eyes.

The man said something in turn, but the smile that came with it was genuine, like someone realizing that for all they might be one species, they didn't have words in common.

Well, Afra had done first contact before. And the Mrdini had helped broaden that skill in their own way.

He'd figure out communication.

Mirrim wasn't certain she liked the idea of a person talking in her head the way Path did, but through sharing of sights, she and T'gellan could understand these strange humans — even Afra, who looked like no human she knew of — had come from the same places that their many-times ancestors had. Things had changed there, with humanity slowly exploring and making stable colonies like Pern… by the efforts of people that could do as dragons did!

They couldn't just ask AIVAS to work out the language, but since the people were friendly, she supposed it didn't matter.

They will wait for their people to find them. Path was trying to be reassuring, but Mirrim wasn't certain she liked that idea either.

Change was difficult, and if there was contact with other humans, it would change them, on all sides. Granted, with Thread due to end after this Pass tapered off, there might be need for new challenges but couldn't that wait until… then?

Menolly is here.

Mirrim closed her eyes to get her composure; of course a Harper needed to be here, and of course T'gellan had likely sent specifically for Menolly. She loved him, she loved her best friend, and Path had probably tattled on her uneasiness.

Yes.

That calm acceptance of blame made her laugh a little, and then her original trio of fire-lizards joined her, so she could go and help with Leader duties. That was something Talina was adept at, managing people, Mirrim thought as she jogged to the large meeting hall that had been turned over to the Others. For all that she was a solid dragonrider, and knew how to manage things as well as events, people were still not her strong suit.

"There you are," Menolly said, beaming at her. "I have been getting used to Afra's mind-speech. Different from the dragons and our fairs," she added, nodding to the seated man who was working on his second plate of plant foods. Many of the newcomers did not eat meat, Mirrim remembered from the first conference of settling needs and history.

"Without common words — and none of us took the science classes very far — the picture sharing has been effective," Mirrim said, making herself sit at that table. "What did I miss while I stepped out?"

"Wansor's people have been consulted, and it looks like the … hole in space? Is still there. Which hopefully means once the people on the other side recover — really they should all be gray, because I know what using their minds so much does to the dragons — there will be a rescue attempt, from Afra's complete confidence in a woman that reminds me a little of Lessa."

Mirrim didn't want to contemplate there being two of that dynamic woman in the universe.

"Then we just need to keep them safe, and their pods, until that happens." She met Menolly's eyes firmly. "Including keeping it to ourselves, because we do not need to invite trouble."

"I want to protest, but yes. That is the wisest course," Menolly agreed. "Wansor's students are going to be silent on the matter as well. No one wants more hysteria."

"Good."

The Rowan stepped out of her carrier to find Afra right there. She and Damia had had pointed words, a small argument, and then the Rowan had ruthlessly pointed out that Damia's need to protect Afra had diminished her skill much further than the Rowan's own abilities had been by the effort.

She was planet-side now, to arrange for the timing and to be certain her dearest, oldest friend was as hale as his mind had sounded when they had managed to navigate the wormhole.

"We still don't have a language in common, many of the dragons are shy about communicating directly with non-riders, and apparently they have recently had some form of technical resurgence," Afra said aloud, taking her hands. "You didn't have to come ground-side, you know. I have enough people here to do a translation to orbit even without generators."

"So you do, but having me among you will make it easier for Jeff and Damia to make the connection to guide us back through," she said with full hauteur. "Earth Prime," and she stressed the title to make it official, "wishes to know if this lost colony wishes to have a reconnection to Earth.

"From star patterns, we pieced together this was an interdicted system after colonization, but they are obviously thriving."

"Master Menolly, one of their teacher-legist-diplomat profession, is of the opinion that it would be best to wait a generation or so," Afra answered. "The best I can determine. The space-born threat they have endured for centuries is due to be at an end at that point, and negotiations could be handled at that time."

"She sounds wise." She then turned her attention to the tall man striding their way, placing him by Afra's mind as T'gellan, the male leader of this protective enclave. She focused on him, making her mind more receptive to the native's latent telepathy… and she wound up smiling, nodding to him.

"What just happened?" Afra asked warily, as the Rowan smiling was often dangerous.

"The dragons, who have space suits, apparently, will take us up to orbit, to make our lives easier."

"Now I've heard everything."

Master Jancis reported that the last of the pods had vanished near the space-hole. Wansor made a thoughtful noise, while Menolly just sighed.

"I have no idea if I will still be alive when they return, but I will be certain to train those who need to know about them," she said.

"I will be long gone, but… the idea that we might reconnect with others of our species, is as astounding to me as all I have learned of space so far," Wansor said.

"Indeed, Master, indeed."

senmut

But Why Not (600 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Highlander The Series
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Amanda Darieux, Rebecca Horne [Highlander the Series]
Additional Tags: Missing Scene, Slice of Life, Teacher & Student
Summary:

Rebecca has to deal with a student clashing with her own current ideals.

But Why Not

"But why not?"

There were days, Rebecca decided, that it wasn't enough to try and understand the cultural mores as they shifted. What was taboo in one land or century might be a requirement elsewhere and when.

No, it was also needful to stay abreast of how mortals themselves shifted, adapted, changed. Her latest foundling, a thief, was one such. Completely lacking in shame or guilt, Rebecca decided, and yet… there was a burning bright mind, the basis of a potential survivor in the Game.

Utter poverty, lack of resources, restricted chances for social mobility, and a complete attempt to prevent literacy while also stomping on oral traditions older than the province they were in had produced this young woman. Rebecca had trouble seeing her as more than girl, honestly, with the way she acted half the time. But maybe it was a bit like the tales of whipped hounds, that finding a safer master, reverted to more playful and rash behavior once they knew they were safe.

"I am not saying that it is never right to steal. I am saying it is not right to steal here, in this place," Rebecca told her.

Amanda was not convinced, so Rebecca dove in further. "One, theft is a good way to bring attention to your nature. Because if caught, you could be killed, except you won't stay dead, unless they use an axe."

"But I don't get caught… usually. Or stay caught if I am."

"Which is the second part, and the larger one of why I am counseling you," Rebecca answered. "Look around, my student. Actually see the people and the shape of this hamlet."

There was a cursory look around, then Amanda's eyes came right back to her and there was a shrug of uncaring.

Had she chosen poorly, Rebecca wondered, trying to find the striker to light a sense of compassion in this one.

"A person who takes from those who barely have enough to survive is already on the path of being corrupted by immortality," Rebecca said bluntly, then walked away in a different direction, her thoughts turning to gathering her pack and the jack she'd found half-starved at a burned out farm. Either her words or her leaving prompted Amanda to call after her, start her way… and then stop.

Where the main track through the homes became the rougher trail of an occasionally used trade route, Rebecca turned, and saw that Amanda was actually studying the people around her.

Well. Maybe she'd stay one night at the camp they had made before coming in to see if there was grain to barter for.

It was almost raining, a damp misery on top of the cool night air when Amanda showed up. She had half a loaf of bread and a rough-made crock of cider.

"I didn't steal them," she quickly said at Rebecca's look. "I taught some of the children how to set snares, and their mother insisted I take these for payment. I found out most of the men of age were dragged off for war."

"So the women are having to handle all aspects of life," Rebecca said with a sigh. "It will be the same through the region. We should move on to other lands."

"We can?" Amanda asked, lightly stressing the first word.

"Promise me to abide by my rules?"

"Teach me when stealing isn't offensive to your ideas?" Amanda countered.

Rebecca smiled and then opened her arm so her waxed cloak had room under it for Amanda, who swiftly took the offered spot.

"We have a deal, my student."

senmut

Annealed but to What? (4304 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 2/2
Fandom: TOS - Dwellers in the Crucible - Margaret Wander Bonanno
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: T'Shael, Amanda Grayson, Cleante al-Faisal
Additional Tags: Female-Centric
Summary:

In the aftermath of Dwellers in the Crucible, T'Shael is attempting to pick up her life, as Cleante is away with her mother. As a Vulcan, she expects this to be a logical step.

In the meantime, Amanda Grayson, mother of the one whom T'Shael served for, has put in place further protections for the introverted one.

Chapter Two is new with 1,041 words.

Annealed but to What?: Chapter Two

Tell me about your parents. I've told you about Mother, and the stories she told me about my father.

T'Shael even remembered Cleante's provisional words on that matter, if she remembered the correct one and wondered at the need to know more of T'Shael's family. Was it to fulfill an emotive need for something she had lacked, or merely a course to better understanding T'Shael? Were there lessons that T'Shael herself could learn by revisiting the past of her childhood dedication to her father, of telling Cleante about the woman that had rarely been present, and found her daughter lacking?

On another day, T'Shael had answered, knowing that she would soon receive the few belongings that had been held for her. With the physical reminders of specific points in her life, it would facilitate speaking of the past, of the two people who had created T'Shael and shared so little in the way of common cause.

Love. Cleante had asked her to speak of love, once, before their abduction, of love among Vulcans, and now T'Shael had a firmer grasp on the concept, understood that yes, it was an emotion, yet it was also a duty and choice. She had come to love by her own definition of it, with the need to see to Cleante's welfare, to share her life as long as possible, so that they experienced freedom and learning together.

Had her parents loved? Had it merely been duty? They had been traditionally wed, much as she had been to Stalek. Unlike with herself and Stalek, T'Pei would have known of Salet, as the man had already become a known entity with his calling to music. That they had never severed the bonds between them, even when their lives frequently left no time for cohabitation, spoke of something enduring, yet it might have only been tradition.

T'Shael consciously pulled in a deep breath, forcing herself to come away from thinking deeply — turning inward Master Stimm would say — and focused on true meditation instead. The belongings would arrive, and then she would answer Cleante's questions.

"My mother was a scientist, eminent in her field," T'Shael began, having neatly placed the holo-cube on the table after painstakingly setting it for voice cues to her script. The images were of T'Pei at work, conferences, even one aboard the ill-fated Intrepid. "She, and father, were from traditional families, and had been betrothed according to custom, much as I was to Stalek."

The image showed first the boy that had been chosen for her, and then the man at one of his own conferences.

"You didn't know him at all," Cleante said, remembering that terrible time of the burning fever within her friend.

"No. But I made it a point, during my time on Vulcan, to learn what he had become, to … what is it you say? Keep his memory alive? I believe he and I would have become as my own parents, pursuing our own lives, save for necessary times of cohabitation."

Cleante shook her head at that. "I mean, I know. In your culture, it works. Clan ahead of home, duty over companionship. It's still very odd to me, and … I don't want to be like that."

The last words were said with hesitation, and emotional weight, T'Shael realized, and had to take the time of silence after to consider the correct response for her human companion.

"I do not foresee a necessity of separate lives, until such time as you grow away from me," T'Shael finally said, before Cleante could jump up and pace, or perform some attempt at humorous deflection.

That got an impulsive reach for — and quick change of target — so that Cleante tangled her hand in the flowing sleeve of T'Shael's robe.

"Good.

"And your father?"

T'Shael remembered her script, and moved back to that. "Salet, master musician. You asked me once to speak of Vulcan love. And my father, I think, embodied that emotion, bringing it to his music, to his life in the perfection of instrument and harmony that he sought."

The holo-cube showed imagery of Salet in concerts, among the instrument makers, allowing Cleante a glimpse of younger versions of the people T'Shael had introduced her to. It ended on one of Salet in his bed, wasted by the illness, because that too was a part of T'Shael's experiences to share.

"Such opposites," Cleante said, and T'Shael could not disagree.

"My mother stated once that he indulged me, and she was not incorrect," T'Shael said. "But it was I to whom much of the labor of his care fell to. The community could only do so much, given propriety and privacy.

"I learned much, young. And chose to take the precision of my mother's analytical nature to guide me into teaching, where I could then foster the sharing of culture as he had."

"Which is how you came to be an instructor for us off-worlders, despite being young for it?" Cleante asked.

T'Shael paused, and looked at it from the human point of view, given that Cleante did know her age from discussion, albeit in very clinical words, of how T'Shael had not yet been fully wed.

"An accurate summation, yes."

Cleante studied the last image, one of T'Shael at a young age with both of her parents standing to either side, slightly behind her. T'Shael knew what she was seeing, that Salet had a hand on her shoulder, while T'Pei stood with both hands behind her, far more formal and fully Vulcan in her seeming.

"You are more than the sum of your parents," Cleante finally said, "but in the time I have known you, I can see the care for your heritage and culture that came from your father, and the adherence to duty that was probably your mother's nature.

"It is shaped by loss. I think you spent much time alone with your duty, but now? Now you can learn to share that, if you want, and we'll face the rest of it together."

T'Shael inclined her head, having come to acceptance of this in her soul-searching while separated from Cleante. In time, it would be another loss, but as with her father, she would face that ending when it came.

senmut

It Was a Sore Subject (100 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: X-Files
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Dana Scully [X-Files], Fox Mulder [X-Files]
Additional Tags: Drabble, Prompt Fic
Summary:

Fox drags in on Monday worse for wear

It Was a Sore Subject

"Don't ask."

Despite that warning, Dana followed Fox into their office, highly concerned about his disheveled clothes, the scruffy cheeks, and most of all, the black eye coming in vividly.

"I think this is one time I can safely assume there weren't any aliens involved," she quipped at him, to try and set a better mood.

His wan smile only highlighted how tired he was on top of it.

She raised an eyebrow, obeying the 'don't ask', knowing he'd cave.

"Frohicke took me to a con. There was a scuffle."

"At a convention?"

"Comic book fans can be very violent."

anais_pf posting in

thefridayfive

This week's questions were suggested by

canuckfetish.

1. Have you ever stayed in a hostel? If so, where? Did you like it? If you haven't stayed in a hostel, would you?

2. What is your favo(u)rite airport that you've been to? Why?

3. What is the best museum you have visited on vacation?

4. Have you ever made friends while traveling whom you keep in touch with on a regular basis?

5. Have you ever had a conversation with a seatmate on a plane?

Copy and paste to your own journal, then reply to this post with a link to your answers. If your journal is private or friends-only, you can post your full answers in the comments below.

If you'd like to suggest questions for a future Friday Five, then do so on DreamWidth or LiveJournal. Old sets that were used have been deleted, so we encourage you to suggest some more!

senmut

If you recently supported my endeavor for a new phone, and did NOT see a ficlet you enjoyed from me this month, feel free to pop a private message my way to ask for something different.

and because I keep poor records during stress, if I overlooked you I am so so sorry, please message me

senmut

Envy Himself (150 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/River Song
Characters: Twelfth Doctor, River Song
Additional Tags: Drabble and a Half, Introspection
Summary:

Twelve's thoughts as the final night is upon them

Envy Himself

From the moment he saw her, and she did not recognize him for who he was, his hearts had been in a knot. River Song, the woman that had defied so many temporal lies, become a scourge to certain parts of the galaxies… was nearing the end of her time.

The Doctor refused to let that flavor his last night with her, treating her to the delights she enjoyed, and savoring the heights of joy with her. When this night ended, she would go and save him, a few lives back, and the dance would begin for himself.

He envied that younger Time Lord what was to come. To experience River in all her moods, to feel alive because of her? It had been a needed thing for him to begin to put the past aside.

For now, envy had no place, as River kissed all of his thoughts away.

senmut

Hold Still (150 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Avengers [Marvel Movies]
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Characters: Clint Barton | Hawkeye, Phil Coulson
Additional Tags: Drabble and a Half
Summary:

Phil knows he can and will do it. It's Clint.

Hold Still

"Hold very, very still."

Any other person saying that in Coulson's ear-piece would have induced some concerns. Too many agents of SHIELD were given to having more confidence in their skills than deserved, after all.

But this was Barton. Barton had never let him down when skill was needed. He kept himself still, a smile pasted on for the captor that hadn't been thorough in his pat-down.

"Why are you — "

The man didn't get to finish his trite question, as Coulson processed the breeze that had been the arrow millimeters from his own cheek in its course.

"Safe to move?"

"Wouldn't mind a hand in getting us out of this place, now you mention it," Barton said dryly. "You're buying dinner."

"I'll put it on Fury's expense account," Coulson promised, swiftly breaking the zip ties on his wrists and reacquiring his weaponry. "Steak?"

"Surf and turf."

"That's a deal, Barton."

senmut

His Eternal Partner (200 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: X-Men Movieverse
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Characters: Erik Lensherr | Magneto, Charles Xavier | Professor X
Additional Tags: Double Drabble, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Summary:

When Erik feels Charles fading, he goes

His Eternal Partner

The soft whisper in his mind was getting harder to hear.

That fact alone drew Erik out of his dreaming state, and up, into action.

For too many years, there had been strife between he and his truest partner.

It was time to end that.

The hold out of mutants in the ruins of the Mansion had not expected any relief. They had been in communication blackout when the attack began, had already lost some of their number.

To have every single weapon, tank, and aircraft suddenly pulled into a single pile of twisted metal was stunning, even sickening to the embattled students and teachers on some level, but ultimately, they wanted to live.

If that meant accepting Magneto as their savior, it was what it would be.

"You came."

"You were fading from me."

No one intruded. The ones who had been there longest understood this was for their mentors alone.

"You were, as ever, ruthless and hasty in your response."

"You, as always, my old friend, are a sanctimonious shill."

Slow smiles were shared, before Erik pressed his forehead to his beloved's.

"Never leave me again, Charles."

"I cannot promise, but perhaps we can find a middle path."

senmut

Sunflower Auction benefiting Ukraine is open for bidding.

My offer

senmut

Peace, After Knowing (100 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Lex Luthor
Additional Tags: Drabble, Introspection
Summary:

Lex's world is not peaceful

Peace, After Knowing

There's solace in not knowing, they say. There's peace in shutting your eyes, turning away.

They're all wrong.

Lex hasn't had a moment of peace since the meteor. Not from his father, not from life, and not from him.

That day, when Clark Kent crossed his path and saved his life, has only amplified the chaos inside of Lex. He aches to find the truth, to see what was hidden, to hold that knowledge as his own.

Clark is his keystone, could be a foundation to lay his peace on, if he can ever decipher the clues.

He'll keep trying.

Up Above (100 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Superman (Franchise)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Clark Kent
Additional Tags: Drabble, Introspection, +Modern Age (1986-Present)
Summary:

Clark has a way to deal with his choices

Up Above

There are nights when Clark just hovers, high enough up to be unseen, eyes sweeping over the city beneath him. It's a way of choosing solace without going so far away as to risk losing precious time to help others. He can still listen, still see, if he chooses to.

The peace of the cool air, the muting of other distractions — all of it allows him to settle his choices into place. He is only one man, and choices have to be made. He makes peace with where he could not be, then returns to his home.

He keeps choosing.

Helpers of Hope (100 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Batman (Franchise)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Bruce Wayne
Additional Tags: Drabble, Introspection
Summary:

Bruce reflects on what fans his hope.

Helpers of Hope

A wise man had once said 'look for the helpers'. Bruce has been doing it since before his parents were killed. Maybe it's because they both gave as much of themselves to others as they did to him. Maybe it's Alfred's teaching and example.

Maybe, it's because the ones that reach out and help give him hope.

He goes out, he stops what he can of the relentless tide of corruption and danger for his city's people.

In turn, they reach out to one another, make different choices, raise each other up.

It's enough to make him try even harder.

senmut

Curse of the Faerie King (16004 words) by Merfilly
Chapters: 7/7
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Vierna Do'Urden, Zaknafein Do'Urden, Drizzt Do'Urden, Nalfein Do'Urden
Additional Tags: Mostly Gen, Eventual Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Ensemble Cast, but with wide divergence
Summary:

Vierna was startled the first time her sister was a brother. But she wasn't going to let that stop Dreeza growing up strong, no matter what strings she had to pull.

Entire fic linked above, or read just the new chapter at AO3.

Curse of the Faerie King: Chapter 7

Being summoned by the Matron of the House was never a good thing in either wizard's mind. Gromph had more than enough trouble as Arch-Mage of the city. Nalfein, juggling the responsibility of raising Gromph's hidden child against teaching in Sorcere, merely hoped the mind-flayer wasn't present. He enjoyed being free to pursue his studies, teach the bright girl, and have Gromph satisfied with saving his life.

That the meeting was held on a walkway above a holding pit for slaves, full of filthy duergar was almost intriguing enough to offset Gromph's irritation. What was Yvonnel up to now?

"Both of you are to learn all that these wretches know about where they came from," she said without preamble. "All the ways in and out, and what sent them scurrying into our patrols."

Gromph scowled. "Enlighten us as to why duergar would know anything worth your time, Mother?"

Nalfein recognized the strategic familial title as a tactic he had once used against Malice's scheming. It was good to see some things remained the same despite changing Houses.

"Haerinvureem has been killed, and I seek vengeance for old business," Yvonnel told him, more forthcoming than Nalfein had expected. "Dwarves now hold a strategic location that I will possess. See to this task swiftly -- or else!"

"Yes, Matron," and "As you wish," overlapped. Nalfein surveyed the filthy lot in disdain, before the woman left them to it.

Nalfein itched in his robes the more the tales poured out of the duergar under his and Gromph's interrogation. There could not be two such drow in existence. He wasn't certain, but he also needed to learn for himself. If Matron Baenre was intent on conquest of the dwarf hall, and it was Dreeza, Nalfein had a wish to not face her in combat.

She had been Zaknafein's heir in all ways, after all, and the way she melded magic to her combat had proven deadly to at least one experienced wizard after all. And if she survived, did that mean the other two did? Could Nalfein find a way out of Menzoberranzan by putting his sister in his debt during the invasion?

Or because of it?

A slow, sly smile crossed his lips, enhancing his sinister opinion as he selected his next victim for the questioning, building a more complete picture of the Hall, its fighters, and most especially of the purple-eyed drow with two scimitars.

Gromph settled a plate of seared fungi between he and Nalfein, in the latter's rooms, and set the tangy sauce in its bowl above the plate. Nalfein noted it was his favorite, and had his unseen servant pour liquor from the bottle behind the usual blend.

"You got distracted. Luckily, Vendes doesn't pay close enough attention to men to notice," Gromph said.

"Considering this move to more openly have a resource close to the Surface, pondering the ramifications," Nalfein said idly, taking a bite afterwards to give himself time to think.

"You mean wasting resources on something when we have other means of gathering all we could ever need from above?"

Nalfein's eyes went wide to hear Gromph be so critical, so openly. The Arch-Mage tapped a certain ring he wore, reassuring the younger man that all was hidden, for now.

"It seems this would be more a move for her than to glorify Her," Nalfein said very carefully. "So many things could go wrong, even."

"Hmm, but how to insure the correct things go wrong?" Gromph asked, considering plans and contingencies.

"We make contact with the drow involved." Nalfein knew this was a risk, but had weighed and measured where Gromph stood, was certain Gromph himself had been why Baenre took him in instead of ordering his death when Malice fell.

"A drow who fights by dwarves is no ally to ones like us, my dagger-wand."

Oh, he had Gromph intrigued if the endearments were coming out.

Nalfein smiled, a dangerous one, and nodded. "Except. I believe the drow is Malice's last child, and I did all I could to keep that one friendly with me."

"That one, is it? The daughter that was never schooled?"

"The child," Nalfein corrected, "that could never pass through school because of the Curse of the Faerie King."

Gromph's expression shifted rapidly through several emotions, before he returned the smile. "Nalfein, you keep being useful to me."

"Good. You keep me supplied with books, after all."

They both laughed, tabling the talk of their treachery for now, as it would take some time to work out the angles. One way or another, they were going to twist Yvonnel's desires for the dwarven hall into her downfall.

Nalfein shut his eyes as he slipped into his room for the night, a headache pounding from being under constant low light elsewhere in the city. He'd only just started to remove his outer robes, taxed by teaching Lirael a more advanced potion, stretching her ability yet again. He did not want the knock on the door, or the fact it was a specific rhythm to tell him Gromph was there.

At least the man knocked. In the early days of his assignment under Baenre patronage, the man had often just walked in, to make the point of who Nalfein needed to keep happy. He shrugged the robe back into place, made sure his favorite wand was in place, and let the unseen servant open the door.

Gromph, and the mercenary leader known as Jarlaxle entered and closed the door back.

"Tut, tut, no lights?" that dandified drow asked in a flippant tone.

"Shut it, Jarlaxle. Nalfein has more than earned the relief from them."

"Ahh, a good little pet."

Nalfein refused to bridle, showing nothing but contempt toward the unsettling man.

"What brings you with him, Arch-Mage?" he did ask politely, fixing his main attention on his superior.

"We have the beginning of a plan, to see about threads we may pull," Gromph said. "Jarlaxle, stop needling Nalfein; I assure you he works far more efficiently on a peer to peer level than being reminded of the past."

Jarlaxle swept his hat off, dipping in a bow with it over his chest to Nalfein. "Apologies, good saer. It's so rare that I get to meet the ones Gromph squirrels away, as if he fears I would poach your services for my own small pursuits."

Gromph did not actually growl, but there was an impression of it — and Nalfein relaxed further. This strange man was someone his friend was comfortable with, to a degree, and that meant it was safer to show ease in the situation.

"How may I assist in pulling threads then?"

"How's your penmanship?" Jarlaxle asked in a jaunty tone. "I may be able to have a letter delivered, to your unusual contact through a third party."

Nalfein looked at Gromph, who nodded. "Such a letter would add one more step of plausible escape for myself, after all," Gromph said. "And Jarlaxle knows how to keep his balancing act in place."

"I've managed so far," the man cheerfully said.

Nalfein acquired his writing materials, made himself remember which version of the longhand writing Dreeza had been taught, and nodded, hastily writing the letter that was needed. He was a little surprised when Jarlaxle added a few details in his idle conversation with Gromph, ones that had not been known to either of them, and he wondered just who the mercenary actually was in the scheme of things.

Nalfein was surprised to learn that the svirfnebli were to be the messengers. He listened to the threat and dismissal exchange, as clearly choreographed as if it were a performance, but obviously built from long association, as he sized up the shaman with the other deep gnome. He could not recall ever seeing them this close before, not even in his youth as a common fighter for House Do'Urden.

"Any betrayal!"

"Of course, dear Firble, of course." Jarlaxle then walked away, looking purposefully away from the other three. Nalfein was still uncertain as to the extent of the mercenary's involvement in House Baenre, but Gromph had been specific. Nothing said at this meeting could be heard by the mercenary, once Nalfein was the speaker.

"I will need to provide a hush over us, so that my ally can remain free and clear of what is said, as it deals with drow of a House that no longer exists," Nalfein told the pair.

"We are watching you, and you will die if you use trickery to foul us," Firble promised him.

"I can almost respect your tenacious hold on those threats," Nalfein told the smaller gray man.

"Go ahead, drow," the shaman said, and Nalfein pulled up his particular version of silence, coupled with a non-detection that obscured them from sound or sight. He'd kept this spell for himself ever since an accidental casting of it, finding it useful against clerics.

"I have a letter. It is for a drow who allies to the dwarves in the Hall above, the one Jarlaxle gave you a map to. The letter must go to this drow, to avert certain plans that could damage all of us in this section of the Underdark."

"How can we trust you to not be setting the dwarves up for betrayal?" Firble demanded.

"Because that drow was — is — my sibling, and once my student. I am of House Do'Urden, and so is the drow. I have interests in making sure my student stays alive, safe, and not mad at me."

He could not admit to wanting to be out of Baenre's House, to wanting a measure of vengeance for the fall of his own, but that much might appeal to their sense of family ethics.

"Give us the letter," the shaman said. "We will renew our ties with the dwarves, now that the Living Shadow is dead. And if the drow chooses to listen, it is done."

Nalfein pulled the letter out, passing it over, and inclined his head. "Until we meet again, some day perhaps. Peacefully, even."

Firble made a rude noise, but then Nalfein dispersed the magic, and both parties went their own way.

"ELF!"

Drizzt had been told the king wanted him right away, and he had come as soon as he could, canceling a holiday with Alustriel. That was often their lives; one or the other would be needed elsewhere.

"I apologize for how long it took me; none of the Tall Ones were in the city, and I did not want to bother a wizard," he said as he came over.

Bruenor counted on his fingers, then glared at his friend. "S'posed tae be five days 'twixt here and there, not three!"

Drizzt laughed, then they clasped hands in true greeting.

"So what has happened?"

"Deep gnomes, asking for the drow named Do'Urden," Bruenor said. "Been getting by, but hard tae speak proper with nae words in common."

Drizzt frowned, then gestured for Bruenor to guide him to the guests. "I cannot imagine why deep gnomes would wish to speak with me, but at least they usually have some Undercommon." No message would come all this way from his father or sister via gnomes; they had more direct means. Vierna had insisted that her little sister always have the sending stone on her, and could ask for the spell from her god anyway. Zak would send messages through Vierna… so Drizzt was at a loss.

"Do'Urden?" one of the three deep gnomes asked even as Bruenor led him into the guest suite that had been hastily made in the Undercity.

"Yes, and I promise I am not like other drow," Drizzt said swiftly in Undercommon, noting the stiffened postures. "May I bring up faerie fire? Bruenor is not able to see in this low a light, and I have lived under lights more than not."

"Polite," the shaman said, all three relaxing, before the first one nodded at Drizzt's request. The purple faerie fire settled above them, centered, and Bruenor relaxed some as well, not having liked being in the dark so fully.

"Need the light, anyway," the third one told him. "We have a letter, from one of your House."

Dinin, maybe? Which opened new worries, as Dinin might know of a threat to his family, given Jarlaxle and Zaknafein being so obviously fond of one another.

The first pulled out the letter, and Drizzt immediately forgot about Dinin. The way it had been puzzle-folded was Nalfein's doing, completely.

House Baenre. That was where Drizzt's wizard-brother had wound up. Which made him hold his hand over the letter for a longer moment, seeking if it held magic.

Once he determined it wasn't a magical trap, he did take it, and moved to lean against the wall, carefully unfolding it to avoid damaging the writing within.

After deciphering the words, he closed his eyes, and looked at the svirfnebli. "My gratitude for being the messengers, and I offer a warning. Pull your people in, until Menzoberranzan retreats." He then looked at Bruenor and switched languages. "We need to ready for war, my friend."

"Thought as much, me elf. Well, so be it."

The only reason Vhaeraun allowed His cleric to go aid dwarves was because those dwarves had killed a drow nemesis in the form of Shimmergloom. Zaknafein had not been certain at first, but knew ways to defuse whatever part Bregan D'aerthe was forced to play in the invasion.

With the warning, the Hall was prepared for the invasion, and Menzoberranzan was going to be licking its wounds for some time. All drow captives who surrendered were turned over to Vierna to be sifted out to her Lord's cities for new lives.

Except one.

Nalfein woke with a headache, stripped to his skin save a rough long tunic, and his sibling sitting across from him. Her — their? his? — face was still swollen from a whip-bite, and one arm was in a cast, but Dreeza looked at peace.

"Sorry we had to strip you down," Dreeza told him. "We didn't want anything you were carrying to be a 'return to sender' charm, and Vierna wanted to be sure you had a choice."

"So our sister does live, and I thought I glimpsed the Weapon Master," Nalfein said, nonchalant about his current state, even as he shifted on the cot he had been laid out on. "Thank you for listening to the letter. Care to tell me the end result?"

"One Matron escaped the party of them with the enslaved dwarf king. He, his descendant, myself, and father accounted for the rest, their attending junior clerics, the mind-flayer, and a handful of other drow that stupidly got in the way."

Nalfein was betting it had been Oblodra, but didn't ask. Dreeza would have said in Baenre herself had been the escapee. "What now, little sibling?"

Dreeza lit up at that casual acceptance of being different. "I mostly go by Drizzt these days, and have more control over the change. Vierna will always call me Dreeza; she's a possessive wean-mother/big sister."

Nalfein chuckled. "She had her peculiar ways."

"As to you? You can either 'escape' us and flee to Menzoberranzan, if that is where you wish to be, or you can take up an offer to go very far away, with a letter of reference from Vierna, to attach yourself to a temple of Vhaeraun as a wizard."

Nalfein's eyebrow arched at that, and things clicked further into place. "Is she there to help me figure out the ways of it?"

Dreeza nodded. "And father, who has grudgingly said you were tolerable all the years he knew you."

"Abyssal stones, but I remember how jealous every fighter was that he got the spot for Melee Magthere that year," Nalfein mused. "I wasn't yet officially an apprentice to the House Wizard of the time, but I was just as glad to not be dodging that many murder attempts."

"Oh you'll have to tell Vierna stories about what you remember!" Dreeza said in delight. "If — "

"Oh I intend to take her offer. Gromph is a comfortable associate, but he is still very drow and I could become useless or a liability to him at any time." Nalfein shrugged. "Never cared for Lloth, probably won't care for her god, but if I can keep learning the arts, I will go."

"Good." Dreeza stood up, still graceful even with the aftermath of the battle stamped on them. When his sibling sat beside him, Nalfein decided to keep currying favor, having noted the value of clothing and armor alike marking Dreeza — Drizzt — as still high-ranked in their new life. He slung an arm up over the shoulders, careful not to jar the broken arm, and looked over at Drizzt.

"Is starting over hard?" he asked.

"Not when you choose it. Not when you want freedom that much."

"Glad to hear it, little sib." He squeezed a little. "If I tell you which items I know were mine and untouched, can I have them back?"

"Describe them, and I will sort through. The rest of them will have to be checked over by a stronger wizard — wait, you said Gromph. I might have to ask my Lady to visit, then, so it is another Arch-Mage checking them over."

Nalfein threw his head back and laughed, hearing his strange sibling admit that level of a relationship.

"Dreeza, no, Drizzt. I am so damn glad Vierna managed to save you, and that Mother listened to me and her about how best to use your presence in the family."

"I am too, Nalfein, and I'm actually glad you survived," Drizzt admitted, leaning into him. "House Do'Urden, ancient house of Daermon N'a'shezbaernon, represented by a Vhaeraunite cleric, best swordsman ever, a canny wizard, a fair enough lizard riding fighter, and me! Pretty sure some cosmic entity is laughing over the change of fortunes."

"Yeah I guess… wait, Dinin?!"

Drizzt settled in to fill in the gaps, about their other brother, and life since the city for them all.

senmut

Drift Ghosts (150 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Pacific Rim [2013]
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Mako Mori
Additional Tags: Drabble and a Half, Speculation
Summary:

Mako considers what she knows, what could be.

Drift Ghosts

Drift ghosts.

Mako knew they existed. She'd felt the man that Yancey Beckett had been through the Drift. She'd felt like part of Chuck's problems outside the Drift had been contending with the ghost of Herc's former partner, his uncle.

The Drift held every lost pilot, every lost jaeger. Some nights, she entertained the idea of trying to find them all, to pull them out of the survivors' minds, out of Tendo's biometric data, and giving them new form.

She was convinced Yancey had been with them, had helped save Raleigh. Could those ghosts find a new way to exist, if they just channeled the technology in the right way? Mainframes built to house that experience, the transformed residue of once living people and brilliantly made machines? Could that be the beginning of a new protection against new threats in the future?

She didn't have answers, but she kept questioning.

senmut

Well-Meshed Allies (450 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Lando Calrissian/Mara Jade
Characters: Lando Calrissian, Mara Jade
Additional Tags: Romantic Friendship
Summary:

Mara recognizes a threat while on mission with Lando and others.

Well-Meshed Allies

Lando was the one who noticed her hand was shaking, Mara noted, almost gratefully, as he used his effusive mannerisms to take it, lifting it to his lips in that gallant way of his.

The eye contact said everything; anything that could upset her control was a galaxy level threat and he was on guard.

She just had to focus on keeping her presence wrapped tightly to herself, while hoping the rapport between Han and Lando would tip off the other half of their little mission.

Thank the Force that Luke hadn't come along on this one! He still didn't know how to cloak, and with another Force user manipulating people and events, they had to be careful. There were Inquisitors that Mara knew were not among the confirmed dead, and she had never been certain of how many Hands actually existed, once she had sifted through her memories and all of the Emperor's lies to her.

"How'd I let you get so far from me?" Lando asked in his suave, playful voice, moving to drape his arm around her, leaning in for kissing her cheek and a nibble along her jaw… putting his ear close enough to hear secrets.

"Dancer, red and black, trained like me," she conveyed with as little lip movement as possible, so he knew who the threat was. She then gave him a playful shove, and followed up with a soft laugh, easily falling into the role of 'couple still new to one another'.

She wasn't certain just how the communication between Han and Lando worked, but when the sith-trained dancer made her move to get the same informant Leia needed, she actually tripped over Han who had moved with that uncanny timing of his. Lando handled crowd control, Leia started organizing the people who actually were reacting…

…and Mara gave chase to the other woman, half of a mind to strike her down, and half — the half poisoned by Luke's compassion and belief in the better of people — looking for a way to help the woman crawl out of the Dark Side.

"You!" the woman hissed when she was cornered.

"You don't have to be his any longer."

The words were ignored, as a Force Choke came into play… but Mara had been training, more fully, in using the Force. A few minutes later, Mara closed the other woman's eyes, and went back to Lando. He didn't say anything, just tucked her close, and kept her that way as they made their way out of the casino.

He knew she didn't want empty comfort, understood hard choices almost better than Leia, but also not to leave her alone.

It's why he mattered so much.

senmut

Actual Meeting (400 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Nyota Uhura, T'Pring
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Summary:

Uhura meets T'Pring

Actual Meeting

Uhura had been fascinated by the woman in the transmission, and shocked to learn of her status. When they left Vulcan's orbit, she had put the encounter out of her mind, focused on the missions ahead. She certainly had not thought of T'Pring since that day, or that there was a chance of running into her during this course held on Vulcan while the Enterprise was undergoing a minor refit.

Yet the prim lines, the hauteur all captured the memory of that transmission as Uhura noted the woman enter the study room with her. She knew she should not use past experience to reach out, and yet she had never been anything but outgoing and friendly, even here on this arid world of logic.

"Greetings," she said in a low, quiet voice, just being polite, she decided. "Nyota Uhura, currently studying the translations of your world's poetry."

A slender eyebrow rose, before the woman inclined her head just slightly. "I would recommend reading S'task, what survives, if you are seeking to understand our people more, but only balanced by those poets which are in the approved course.

"I recall your features. I am T'Pring, as you may remember."

"I did. I do remember those people that have a striking presence," Uhura told her. "Thank you, for the recommendation."

"I found S'task enlightening, as to how we came to be who we are," T'Pring said. "Most who come to study on Vulcan are seeking an understanding."

"Perceptive," Uhura said, "as I find the arts a better way of filling in the dry data of history and statistics when I am learning any new language or people."

That surprised T'Pring, if Uhura was any judge, but which part?

"Not many Terrans seek to learn our language."

"I find the more languages I know, the easier it is to find peaceful solutions," Uhura said to that. "But language is only a beginning, and thus I study the culture."

"I find the logic in that impeccable," T'Pring praised, before she indicated her own study pad. "I am furthering my studies in psychology, sociology, and how the individual needs contrast or complement the societal ones."

"As I've studied multiple peoples, and could use a local expert on language, would you be opposed to a study appointment for the weeks I am here?" Uhura offered, seeing how she could help.

"This time, every day," T'Pring agreed.

senmut

Oblique References (300 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forever Knight
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Amanda Cohen, Natalie Lambert [Forever Knight]
Additional Tags: Triple Drabble, Slice of Life
Summary:

Shared dinner, and dropped intimations.

Oblique References

Natalie settled in the small eatery, and tried hard to relax. She had no idea why the captain had asked for an informal meeting. Nothing Captain Cohen — Amanda, as she'd been told — had said indicated what this was about.

"Family's visiting others, and I didn't want to cook for one," Amanda began once the food had come. "I thought taking advantage of my one night off, and yours, could let us get to know where we stand a little better."

Ahh, there it was. Internal police politics or fishing for dirt, Natalie thought.

"I appreciate the invitation, and this is good Italian," Natalie said neutrally.

"I like all the garlic," Amanda said, with a quick look at Natalie.

Oh. Oh no.

"A bit like Schanke in that, thought I try not to breathe it everywhere."

Natalie laughed, making herself relax back from the worry over Nick. "I keep giving him mints, cinnamon gum… he doesn't take the hint."

"Maybe he uses it to keep some people at a distance," Amanda told her blandly.

Was she on about Nick in the most oblique way possible? Nick had confided in her that Joe had known, or at least guessed enough to choose to work with Nick's restrictions.

"Still, he's a good detective, and works well with Knight, despite Knight's habits."

"Nick, his medical exemptions…" Natalie mused, trying to pin this down one way or another.

"Yes, those." Amanda met Natalie's eyes across the table. "An admirable detective who has managed to make those work for him.

"I'm glad he has a doctor like yourself, even if not a physician, to keep him from going too far."

"I try," and Natalie had to let it rest with that, enjoying their meal while she decided if Nick needed warned.

"I appreciate you doing it."

senmut

Chosen Family (200 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica [1978]
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Athena [Battlestar Galactica], Cassiopeia [Battlestar Galactica]
Additional Tags: Double Drabble, Slice of Life
Summary:

Cassiopeia is there when Athena wakes.

Chosen Family

Cassiopeia was sitting by the berth when Athena came to, something that tried to spark worry and affection both in the injured woman's heart.

"I made Apollo and Starbuck go sleep. The commander is probably still working," Cassiopeia said very softly. "You remember? Sometimes people don't but you didn't immediately try to move."

"I saw my death coming right at me; hard to forget," Athena answered, realizing that they had to have used precious pain-blocking injections for her not to hurt more than a dull ache.

"You need to sleep, as much as you can, and let us take care of you. We brought you to quarters to clear medbay, and one of us will be with you always until we know how you are recovering," Cassiopeia told her.

Athena felt the ridiculousness of Starbuck's paramour being her keeper chase through her mind, and discarded that as lacking in kindness.

"I appreciate it, Cassie."

The other woman smiled a little for the diminutive epithet. "Well, family gets to use that," she said with the smile still in place. "And we are, so." Cassiopeia moved to help Athena sip water through a straw, as Athena was weighing that.

Yes, they were.

senmut

Catching Up (300 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Dungeons & Dragons [Cartoon]
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Hank the Ranger [Dungeons & Dragons Cartoon], Diana the Acrobat [Dungeons & Dragons Cartoon]
Additional Tags: Triple Drabble, Slice of Life
Summary:

Hank and Diana have a visit.

Catching Up

Hank's face lit up as he saw Diana carrying a single piece of luggage walking toward him. He reached his hands out to her, and she stepped into his space for a quick hug with her free arm going around him. Hank would have liked to hold her longer, but they should get going.

"How have you been?" Diana asked before he could, and he gave a small snort.

"Tired? Overworked? Underpaid? So, the same."

She laughed with him, walking beside him out to the parking lot. He didn't insult her by trying to take the bag, though she was probably less prickly on that than Sheila could be sometimes. He did open the door for her to stow it, and then her door for her to get in. Once he was behind the wheel and navigating the parking lot out, he spoke again.

"It is good to see you. I haven't managed a visit with anyone since Eric and I went to that one game together."

"I saw Bobby a month ago," Diana said, "but it is getting harder and harder to get away responsibility."

He covered her hand on the seat between them, squeezing a bit, before putting it back on the wheel.

"I wish we all lived closer. Or…" He cut himself off, holding his wishes in his heart.

"Or that we could have made a life there, together, given tha tit all changed us to the point our families here were strangers?"

As ever, Diana's observations cut through to the crux of it.

"Yes, all of that."

"Wishes don't work here," Diana said softly. "But, maybe someday, life will guide us all closer. Until then, we use what we learned to help others here."

Hank nodded with a soft sigh. That was all they could do.

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The Deities

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