《Trial Songs》


 Prologue: Empire Runaway

    PROLOGUE: EMPIRE RUNAWAY


    ¨C POV: LYRE, ONE YEAR AGO ¨C


    (WRITER: VEN)


    ¡°You are to listen to me. As always.¡±


    Lyre grimaces, standing stiffly in the formal suit he¡¯d always worn to these kinds of meetings. Chaos, his father, the emperor of the Blackstone Empire, stares down at him.


    There¡¯s a table. For meetings. Not like either of them are going to sit, though. Chaos never sits. Lyre¡¯s mouth is pressed into a thin line, trying to hide any internal conflicts that bubble beneath the surface.


    Because, God, he¡¯s terrified.


    Lyre¡¯s tail-tip twitches. Chaos¡¯ eyes flick to it for a moment and then narrow, and he steps towards his son until they¡¯re inches apart. Lyre bites down sharply on the urge to back away as fast as possible from the armored emperor.


    ¡°Are you having doubts?¡± His voice is commanding, intense, and Lyre winces every time he hears it.


    ¡°No,¡± Lyre says, voice shaking. God, he¡¯s going to screw this up. He¡¯s going to get yelled at again, or worse. His ears lower, his tail curls involuntarily around his legs. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    He is, though. Chaos had brought him here for new orders. New orders for the first time in years. Lyre was supposed to scout by No Man¡¯s Land, the country that had recently ¡°freed¡± itself from the Empire in a bloody war.


    One that cost Lyre¡¯s mother her life.


    Distaste curls on Lyre¡¯s tongue at the thought, and something writhes beneath the surface of his anxiety. He pushes it down just as quickly, though, as Chaos stares at him.


    ¡°You are a one-man army. You have nothing to be afraid of.¡± The Emperor¡¯s voice is sharp, harsh. Lyre winces again. He knows this isn¡¯t entirely true, though ¡­ as efficient as Lyre had been in the war, as strong as he was ¡­


    Well. He wasn¡¯t exactly a force of nature. Just a strong soldier.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Lyre whispers instead. ¡°I ¨C I understand. May, may I go ¨C now?¡± He adds onto the end, shifting from foot to foot, tail flicking. He can barely meet Chaos¡¯ eyes.


    There¡¯s suddenly a glint and a blur of motion and the whoosh of air as something sharp swings past Lyre¡¯s shoulder.


    THUNK!


    The end of Chaos¡¯ massive battleaxe sinks into the hard floor next to Lyre, inches from his feet. The voidfolk hybrid, fur bristling, freezes completely. Okay, wrong choice!


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a coward.¡± Chaos sneers at Lyre, and then yanks his axe out of the floor, hefting it over his shoulder. He stares at Lyre for a few more moments, and Lyre stares back.


    ¡°... But yes. You may take your leave.¡± The Emperor turns with a flourish of his cape, and Lyre lets out a long breath of relief, immediately turning to scramble back towards his room.


    ¡ª


    When he reaches his room, Lyre finds himself fighting with more anxiety. Impulsive thoughts race around his head, and he thinks of his mother, Allium. What would she be doing in this situation?


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    Lyre ¨C doesn¡¯t want much to do with No Man¡¯s Land unless he has to. Unless there''s a good reason to go near it ¡­


    He swallows. His gaze darts to the sword on the wall.


    Lyre¡¯s life in the Blackstone Empire has been getting worse by the month, by the week, by the day. Chaos seems to get more irritable every day, and he cannot keep together for much longer. Maybe ¨C maybe if he just ¡­


    Lyre paces over to the sword, grasping the hilt and yanking it off its resting place on the wall. He¡¯s used it many times before, and he¡¯ll need to defend himself where he¡¯s going.


    Where he¡¯s going?


    It¡¯s in that split second that Lyre decides ¨C he needs to leave. Chaos had given him survival courses, right? Surely he can live out there if he wants to, and he wants to, he wants to get away from Chaos and the Empire.


    Lyre grips the sword tight and slinks towards the door, creaking it open. He slips out through the opening and begins to make his way down the hall.


    ¡°Prince Ambrosia! Where are you off to?¡±


    The voice of a guard. Lyre stiffens, and then looks back at them. Then ¨C in a moment of impulsivity, he sprints.


    ¡°What ¨C where are you going?! Are you ¨C¡±


    It won¡¯t be long until the alarms are sounded if they figure out what he¡¯s trying to do ¨C escape. Get out of here. Lyre¡¯s pace picks up as he streaks through the halls of the castle, shoving past various residents and guards as he does so.


    His breaths come heavy as he presses on.


    ¡ª


    Lyre bursts out through the front doors of the castle and sprints through the courtyard. There¡¯s a forest, between the Blackstone Empire and No Man¡¯s Land, he can ¨C he can go there, he can¡¯t go farther he might die in the wilderness ¨C


    His pace picks up. The woods are good for hiding in.


    Eventually he reaches the outer wall and bursts into familiar-unfamiliar territory, streaking through the air like a dying star. His path is aimed for the forest in the far distance.


    Thunk!


    An arrow hits the ground just inches from him. He knows it¡¯s laced with sleeping potion. He switches up his path, darting between buildings and various other cover as he heads for the forest.


    More arrows fly, but Lyre is already halfway there ¨C he¡¯ll reach the woods soon. He will. He¡¯ll be under the cover of the trees and the undergrowth and the plants ¨C


    ¡ª


    Lyre finally hits the forest after a long while of running, and slips between the trees, hearing more arrows hit the trunks of the trees as he does so. The glow of magical torchlight shines in the distance, and Lyre goes deeper.


    He presses through the undergrowth, unfamiliarity with the territory causing him to make some racket. Lyre bites his tongue. It¡¯s fine. He¡¯ll get better at this!


    Soon enough, he¡¯s run far enough that the torchlight is beginning to fade. He breathes out a long exhale of relief, collapsing in a clearing that he¡¯d happened upon.


    How convenient ¡­ this area is large, open ¡­ maybe ¨C maybe he can stay here. Maybe ¡­ he had learned how to build, so maybe ¡­


    No, he needs to rest first. Lyre sets his head in his hands, exhaling a long breath. His tail curls up around him as he considers what he just did.


    If he went back now, Chaos would practically kill him, he¡¯s sure. So he¡¯s stuck here. For better, or for worse. Squished between the Blackstone Empire and No Man¡¯s Land, both places that he didn¡¯t have a particular fondness for ¨C


    What if scouts from No Man¡¯s Land found him? Lyre freezes at the thought, anxiety spiking. The Empire would be looking for him ¡­ No Man¡¯s Land wouldn¡¯t, but if they found him ¨C


    Lyre vows to stay as secret as he can, in that moment. He heaves another long breath, and curls a little tighter.


    This is ¨C it¡¯s going to be hard.

 Tying the String of Fate

    CHAPTER 1: TYING THE STRING OF FATE


    ¨C POV: ??? (CASPER) ¨C


    (ROLEPLAYERS: VEN, TEA)


    (ADAPTATION: TEA)


    A forest is no place for the dead.


    It''s quiet. Isolated. Lonely. Though, he supposes it''s quite the appropriate place after all¡ª especially for someone like him.


    Far from any life or civilization, a ghost lurks between the trees. And, listen¡ª it''s not like he intended to be here. At least, not this far from "home." But god forbid a man take a walk, right?


    And for a while, he was convinced he was alone. It did appear to be that way. But then he sees it, with the slightest turn of his head¡ª red twin-lights, glowing in the darkness. Slightly obscured by the undergrowth. The lack of any sound makes the appearance of what must be eyes rather alarming¡ª the ghost stiffens, but he doesn''t exactly feel threatened, no.


    He just knows it''s better if he isn''t seen. Ever.


    He hears a sharp breath, and it practically rings out in the otherwise quiet of the night. By now, he''s sure that whoever he''s looking at can see him, too.


    The ghost takes an unnecessary breath of his own.


    ¡°I can see you.¡± Is what he chooses to say.


    Silence. At least, for a good few long moments.


    "... I can see you too," Is what the stranger says at first, somewhat clumsily. Then, he seems to panic, and amends with, "I mean! It''s¡ª I, uh,¡ª It''s nice to meet you? Aw¡ª No,"


    The stranger then steps out of the undergrowth, finally, and looks at the ghost.


    "... Hi.¡±


    He can feel the tension in his shoulders release immediately.


    "... Hello." The ghost says lowly, having to look up to even face the stranger. He doesn''t move from where he''s ''standing''. "What are you, ah. Doing all the way out here, might I ask?"


    He tilts his head. Never mind the fact that this question applies to him also¡ª he''s dead.


    This guy is, decidedly, not.


    "Nothing," He says quickly. His face gives it away immediately, though¡ª that he''s lying. The stranger looks away, and then back, and then sighs heavily. "Okay. I live here," He admits. A pause. "Well, not here here, but, around here."


    Another pause.


    "Please don''t tell anyone I said that though. Or that I''m here, or¡ª" Oh, he seems to be struggling, at this. The stranger huffs. "Listen. I''m really trying to¡ª be ... uh ... missing." He crosses his arms. "So."


    He looks away, again. And then back, and then his tail-tip twitches. "What are you doing out here? Uh, lost or something?" His brow furrows.


    The ghost clicks his tongue.


    "... That sounds like sensitive information," He says after a moment of silence. "I think you could''ve stopped at ''I live here''. But sure, yeah. I won''t tell anyone." It''s not like there''s anyone to tell.


    And, besides, he''s not like. A cop, or something.


    Something else seems to process for him, though¡ª


    "I am not lost¡ª" He says immediately, the slightest tinge of offense in his voice. He clears his throat. "Just, you know." He vaguely gestures around. "Walkin''."


    His feet don''t even touch the damn ground.


    The stranger pulls a face that looks like a mix of panic and a grimace. Seems like it was sensitive information. It only lasts a few seconds, though.


    "You''re walking," He echoes. "In the, uh ... deep woods ... ?" His brow furrows, and then he blinks. "I mean¡ª hey! I''m not gonna judge! Walk wherever you want to!" His hands raise in a placating motion. "It''s just, it''s a little strange."


    His lips press into a tight line. He''s not gonna up and admit he''s definitely lost to some¡ª guy. So, instead he dances around it by saying, "I didn''t. Intend. To be this far into the woods, exactly." Sounds like he''s pulling teeth.


    The ghost crosses his arms, looking the stranger up and down.


    "... Why the woods, of all places, though?" He can''t help but wonder. "There''s much nicer places to live.¡±


    "It''s easy to hide in," The stranger says with a shrug. "Plus there''s wood, which is good for building and making stuff, and for firewood. Also I hunt, sometimes. Oh, and there''s edible plants, if you look. Berries, mostly."


    "I see," He supposes it''s practical, but it all sounds very lonely. At least, he assumes so¡ª this guy didn''t seem the type to, uh. Have, anyone. With him.


    The stranger digs around in his pockets for a moment, and then produces a small, carved wooden animal. It looks like a wolf.


    "I carve stuff. Make things out of wood." He smiles, and then pockets the little thing again. "Gives me something to do out here. You, uh¡ª gonna keep walking?¡±


    "Oh," He can barely get a look at it before it''s pocketed. "Oh I see!"


    Ah, he supposes that''s his cue. The ghost looks away, then back, and decides to swallow his own pride. Just this once.


    "Do you, er. Happen to know what direction¡ª No Man''s Land?" That''s what they''ve been calling it, right? "¡ª Is? Perchance.¡±


    "Oh¡ª" The stranger looks and sounds completely taken aback. "... Yeah, I do. Why do you ask?"


    I live there, isn''t really the correct answer. It''s something more like¡ª "I... died. There."


    Which is the barebones truth. The ghost isn''t about to explain his strange fixation on the city¡ª because there''s certainly more to it than that.


    The stranger breaks the now-tangible silence as quickly as possible.


    "I ... see," He says, frowning slightly. "And you want to go back. Am I¡ª right in assuming that?" His tail-tip twitches again. Back and forth, back and forth, like a metronome.


    "... Yeah, sorta." The ghost says. "It''s¡ª ah. Familiar, you know?" He hasn''t... provided him with a direction. Hm. "So¡ª so you know. Where it is...?¡±


    "Yeah," The stranger says, shuffling his feet. "But directions aren''t gonna cut it this deep in the woods if you haven''t learned them. You start walking around the trees and then you get turned around and you''re right back where you started. Uh¡ª no offense!"


    He rubs at the back of his neck with a hand sheepishly. "If you want, I can ... walk ... you to the border?" He sounds hesitant, but weirdly, somewhat determined. "It''d be good for me to go ... somewhere that isn''t ... here. For a bit."


    "Ah¡ª are you. Okay, with that?" He''s gathered that the man is, well. A recluse. A hermit, perhaps. And one that has a reason to hide¡ª why would he do that? For a stranger, no less. "I¡ª I mean I appreciate it. But..."


    His lips press into a tight line. Best not make any further assumptions.


    "It''ll be fine," The stranger says dismissively, in a tone that the ghost thinks doesn''t match him very well. The anxiety creeps back moments later, though. "Probably," he amends quickly. "It''ll probably be fine."


    He looks left, and then right, and then re-settles his gaze back on the ghost.


    "Look¡ª if you wanna get back, I just¡ª it wouldn''t sit right with me to, just, uh, send you away knowing you could end up just about anywhere in these woods. I''d rather know you got back okay, yeah?"


    Why? He almost asks. Why wouldn''t it sit right with you? Where''s your self preservation?


    Instead he just... stares. Confused. Perplexed.


    "Ah¡ª okay, well..." He looks away, and then back. "Al... alright, then? Let''s... go?" He can''t hide the confusion in his voice.


    The stranger turns and gestures for the ghost to follow.


    "This way¡ª we have to go through some thick foliage and stuff. Make our way around a ravine or two, go up some steep hills¡ª that''s why I didn''t just send you off."


    The ghost floats after him. Following, quietly. It''s almost impressive, the lack of sound he makes, as he moves through the undergrowth. Though he imagines that it''s rather necessary for his own survival.


    . . .


    "What''s your name?" He asks randomly, turning to the man with ever increasing curiosity.


    The stranger blinks, looking to the ghost with wide eyes. Then he pulls himself together, and forces himself to ease¡ª looking away so that his expression can''t be seen.


    "Lyre," He says. A beat of silence. "Like the instrument."


    As promised, they swerve around a ravine.


    "Lyre," The ghost echoes instinctively. "I see. Do you happen to be a musician? Or is that just a coincidence?" He tilts his head.


    "No," Lyre says with a bit of a laugh. "I never learned music at all. There wasn''t ever really ..." He pauses. "Any, time, in my life¡ª for that." He bites his lip. "I used to be a busy guy, is all."


    "Awe, shame." He vaguely, vaguely remembers being able to play an instrument himself¡ª was it bass, or was it guitar? Was it both?


    It doesn''t matter now.


    Another stretch of silence as they keep walking. Then¡ª


    "What about you? What''s your name?" Lyre looks back to the ghost, blinking that pair of glowing eyes.


    The ghost blinks, when Lyre asks his name. And, he''s quiet. For a long, long time. Because, well.


    He doesn''t have one.


    ¡­ Technically he does. Technically, but. It never felt right to use. And, he never bothered filling the void.


    Ah. Until now, at least.


    Silence. Silence¡­


    "Casper," He says, suddenly. "My name is Casper."


    ¡°Oh, that''s a nice name,¡± Lyre says with a smile.


    That''s a nice name.


    His eyes widen. Just a touch. He wasn''t¡ª expecting that. He wasn''t expecting that at all. He wants to look away, as if to save him any embarrassment.


    Instead, he mutters a quick "Thank you,"


    Lyre''s gaze moves forward again, as they start heading up a rather steep hill. He digs his feet into the earth with each step to get a better foothold as they make their way up. A natural motion for him, looks like. He looks entirely unbothered.


    "We should be getting close now,"


    At that, he raises an eyebrow. "Really? Weren''t we just deep into the forest?" Maybe he just moves quickly?


    "If you take the right route you can get through the woods pretty quick," Lyre says, smiling. "And I took us the fast way." They rise to the top of the hill and¡ª sure enough¡ª there are lights in the distance. Still some good ways away, but still.


    "Come on," Lyre gestures for him to follow as he heads towards them.


    "Oh, I see," And that''s when he sees it¡ª the lights. Huh... guess the guy really knew his stuff, then.


    As they walk, Lyre seems to speed up a touch. The terrain is flatter, here, as they approach No Man''s Land. And as the distant buildings come into view, and when they reach the edge of the woods he¡ª


    Stops.


    Lyre¡ª stops in his tracks, freezes at the very edge of the forest, and then takes a hesitant step back. He lowers his voice as he looks back to Casper, any of his prior confidence¡ª gone.


    "... We''re here. You¡ª if you want, you can go," He says quietly, to the ghost.


    Casper stares at the settlement, and¡ª he doesn''t move. He doesn''t know why, but, returning suddenly seemed so... deeply unappealing.


    Does he often feel like he needs to be there? Yeah. Is it a compulsion? Probably. Does it fulfill him at all?


    Casper bites on his lip. If he doesn''t leave now, he would''ve completely wasted Lyre''s time. What''s he gonna do? Go back into the forest? And then what?


    "I... I," He doesn''t even realize he''s talking. He feels paralyzed; the look on his face, distant.


    Lyre''s words, unfortunately, fall on deaf ears.


    "... Casper?"


    Lyre looks at the ghost with what must be concern. Casper doesn''t notice this, but he reaches out to settle a hand on his shoulder¡ª and finds it passing through, as though he were pawing at fog.


    "Sorry! Sorry¡ª I, uh¡ª are you okay? You can go now. If you want¡ª" Lyre''s voice sort of raises in pitch from stress. ¡°¡ª Or! Or if you don''t, we can just, uh, stay here for a little while! I''m okay with that," Are you?


    "I¡ª" Casper blinks, once. Twice. Pull yourself together. "I''m sorry, I wasted your time,¡± He says downright automatically, looking at Lyre apologetically, then, away. "I don''t know¡ª" What''s wrong with me,"¡ª What''s, happened. I, uh¡­"


    He''s quiet.


    "I''ll just¡ª I''ll just go."


    At this, Lyre''s brow furrows in further concern. He tilts his head at Casper, like he''s taking in the ghost''s expression. He must be.


    A long silence.


    "... Are you sure?"


    The question hangs in the air for a long few moments. Lyre is looking Casper in the eyes. Tail-tip twitching, like he''s uncomfortable, with this.


    Casper''s never looked someone in the eyes before. He''s only ever looked from afar. It''s... odd. And yet he maintains the eye contact with ease¡ª if not a little too well.


    "... No," He says quietly, looking away to stare at the city with wide, unblinking eyes.


    He''s quiet, again. For a long moment.


    "I don''t know where this came from." Muttered.


    Lyre frowns, plants a hand on his hip, and says¡ª


    "Well, if you don''t want to¡ª uh, go back there¡ª" He gestures to No Man''s Land, "¡ª Then I guess we go back into the woods. Yeah?" We?  When did this become a we? "Or¡ª or¡ª if you want! Only if you want. I''m just ... making sure that! You don''t! Get lost, again, and, uh, that you have somewhere to go." Lyre grins nervously.


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    He doesn''t respond for a moment or two. Then, abruptly, he looks at Lyre again. Looking him up and down. Like he''s sizing him up. Like he thinks, for just a moment, that he''s tricking him.


    "I¡ª I mean, I guess," He says, finally. "I appreciate it, though, it''s just..." Where do I go? he doesn''t wanna say. It''s a vulnerable question. "... What am I gonna." Vague hand gestures. "Do."


    He''s gonna have to figure that one out himself, if he''s gonna start acting like a dramatic bitch. "... In the forest.¡±


    "I have a cabin," Lyre says quietly. "In the woods. I have a place to like, actually live, you know? If you want, you could come there and ... hang around until ... you figure out where you want to go?"


    He smiles nervously.


    "It doesn''t have to be forever¡ª and, and it''s only if you want!" Lyre says, stumbling over his words a little. "But¡ª but I figure, you¡ª you need somewhere to stay, right? And¡ª and I ..." Aaaannnddd?  "I dunno, it gets ... quiet?¡±


    Casper fucking stares at Lyre and what he''s¡ª well he''s not insinuating anything he''s being rather straight up about it, isn''t he.


    A million thoughts start to rush through his head and it ranges from your lack of self preservation is almost admirable and you barely even know me and that''s a bit forward but what he lands on is¡ª


    "That''s¡ª that''s an awful lot like haunting you, isn''t it?"


    "... I mean, I guess," Lyre says thoughtfully. "But ..." He hums quietly. "Does it really matter? So long as we aren''t killing each other or¡ª or I dunno, making each other completely crazy I don''t really see a problem with it."


    He smiles.


    "... I don''t have a reason to kill you," Casper says quietly. Kind of hard to want to when the man has done nothing but aid him for some god forsaken reason. "I guess¡ª it doesn''t? I''m just surprised you''re so... willing."


    Is that something he just said? Casper almost looks shocked.


    "I¡ª I, I appreciate the thought, though?" He smiles. It looks weirdly unnatural on him. "You''re, ah. Very considerate.¡±


    "Oh," Lyre says, as if the thought of Casper trying to kill him hadn''t even crossed his mind "Well, thank you." He grins sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck with a hand, tail slowly twitching back and forth behind him in a metronome.


    "Well¡ª if you ... if you want I can lead us back there? If that''s a yes? Tell me if I''m wrong I''m, uh, not too good at ..." Talking to people? He clears his throat. "Uhm. This kind of thing."


    Lyre looks away, back towards the woods.


    "Just¡ª yes or no? Quickly? Because I should be, uh, getting back there, anyway," He says, wringing his hands together. "Being, uh, at the¡ª the border is. Not safe. For me. For long stretches of time, at least!¡±


    "It''s not safe?" Casper echoes immediately, concern seeping into his expression. "Good lord, why are you even out here!? You, you¡ª you can''t¡ª"


    He takes in a sharp breath, resisting the urge to pinch his nose bridge in exasperation.


    "Yes¡ª yes! You need to get out of here, man!¡±


    Lyre startles a bit at the urgency. Tail fluffing up like a cat''s fur.


    "Yes¡ª ? It''s ... Oh. Oh, okay, yeah, definitely, yep, mhm, doing that!" Lyre turns and starts power-walking back into the woods, glancing over his shoulder like he''s making sure Casper is following.


    Once he''s sure Casper has caught up, he picks up the pace into a jog, somehow not making that much noise, still.


    There''s this moment of silence where Casper just kind of stews in his own bewilderment.


    He takes in a breath.


    "I don''t mean to be rude, but how have you lasted this long? I''m sure you''re real handy and such but¡ª" Vague hand gesturing. "You really need to work on your self preservation. Like, badly.¡±


    "I don''t talk to anyone," Lyre says as he walks, focus still forward as he makes for the cabin. "Ever. This was like, a first in, I dunno, months? A year, now, I think?" His tail waves, and his head turns, those glowing eyes look back at Casper.


    "That changed tonight, obviously. Maybe I just got sick of it, the quiet and the dark and the alone ... ness." Loneliness, Lyre. The word is loneliness. But nonetheless, he shrugs. "Who''s to say?"


    The forest blurs past as they move through it quickly, only as quickly as a hybrid with plenty of foresting experience and a literal ghost can.


    And Casper''s silent, again. For a long, long moment. And there''s just this¡ª pity? Or is it sympathy, on his face?


    "Are you lonely?" Slips out. It''s an abrupt question, and rather inappropriate to ask. But. Well, he can''t exactly take it back.


    And Lyre doesn''t quite stumble, per se, but his steady pace stutters.


    "... Yeah," He admits, fidgeting. His pace slows, but only a little. "There''s no one out here."


    Every time Lyre looks at him Casper maintains unflinching eye contact. He wonders if it''s unnerving. He wonders if he''s unnerving.


    "... I''m sorry," Casper says, quietly.


    "Thanks." Lyre says, softly.


    And keeps moving through the undergrowth.


    . . .


    "We should be getting there¡ª uh, soon," Lyre says, changing the subject at a moment''s notice, looks like.


    Casper nods, slightly. Best leave it there.


    "I see," He says. "You, uh. Said you had a cabin, right?" He tilts his head. "Did you build it?¡±


    Looking back to Casper yet again, Lyre smiles.


    "Yes, I did, actually!" His tail waves. "I like to make things," Lyre tacks on, ducking his head. "I''m good at it.¡±


    "Do you really?" He asks, genuinely curious. "Must be nice. Haven''t been able to do anything with my hands since... well," His entire existence, basically. Pause. "But, ah. Never mind that," He waves a hand. "You make any other stuff?¡±


    "Oh, it''s mostly woodworking," Lyre says. "Because I''m ... in the woods."


    Lyre huffs out a small laugh, and somewhere in the distance is the faint shape of a building illuminated by faint torchlight. If you squint.


    "I already showed you my carving, but I also make my own tools, and stuff. I know some basic stuff with stone, so I can make axes. To. Get more wood." He shrugs. "It''s kind of a wood-cycle of wood all the time. Wish I could get my hands on some clay again, but I don''t exactly have a kiln, anyway."


    "Oh so you really are handy, then," Casper says. "That''s interesting! Did you teach yourself all this?" For a brief moment a part of him wonders how he ended up here¡ª small talk, with a man he just met.


    ... Going. To his house. Hm.


    Casper wonders if this would be a drastically different situation if he were actually alive.


    "Some of it!" Lyre says. He doesn''t elaborate. "Hey, look, we''re coming up on my cabin," He says, pointing at the rapidly approaching, dim lights in the distance.


    "It''s ... a little basic, but it works. Just a warning." Lyre grins sheepishly.


    "So?" It''s a bit blunt, but he means well. "You built¡ª an entire cabin, yourself. So who cares if it''s not up to code, or¡ª or whatever." He waves a hand around for emphasis. " ''S a lot of work."


    Maybe he''s overstepped...? Casper corrects himself immediately¡ª "A¡ª ah, that is to say. I''m sure it''s fine.¡±


    "Oh," Lyre says, blinking. He ducks his head in what seems to be embarrassment. "Th¡ª thank you. It, was definitely a lot of work." He laughs quietly.


    Now the cabin is really in view. It is, as Lyre said, a little sloppy, but it''s definitely serviceable. The torches that light it¡ª God forbid they be fully fledged¡ª are dim, most likely enchanted with the regular magic that most use to keep them from lighting things on fire.


    "Aaaalmost there," Lyre comments helpfully.


    Casper squints as the cabin comes into view. " ''S quite cute, actually." Is definitely not something that was meant to be said out loud, what with the way he mutters it.


    If Lyre noticed Casper''s mutter, he doesn''t say anything about it. Instead, he makes his way over to the cabin''s door, and creaks it open. He pokes his head inside, glances around, and then turns back to Casper, smiling.


    "Welcome to, uh, ... well it doesn''t have a name! My home?" He laughs a little.


    The cabin is much brighter on the inside than the outside. There are a couple windows, but without glass¡ª just frameworks of holes built into the sides of the walls, as though Lyre would have liked to fill them with something.


    Additionally, there are shelves with so, so, so many little wooden animals. Like, an impossible amount. Or¡ª well, entirely possible, given that Lyre mentioned he was out here for a year all by himself.


    Lyre slips inside, and then holds the door open for Casper. There''s a smile on his face, still, albeit a little nervous.


    Casper "steps" into the cabin (read: he doesn''t fucking walk), and just. Takes a gander for a moment.


    "... ''S very homey," He muses, looking around at what the cabin is offering. He glances at the framework, though, and feels a tinge of pity, somewhere in his heart, again. But he quickly shakes it off.


    "So this is it, then?" He looks at Lyre, wringing his hands together subconsciously. He doesn''t know what "it" is, exactly.


    "Yeah," Lyre says, fidgeting with his hands. His tail-tip twitches. "This is it."


    Casper wonders how long he''s gonna let that last.


    Where there should probably be a couch for it to be a proper living room is a pile of what looks like definitely stolen pillows arranged into a seating-like shape. Lyre scoots over to them and sits himself down in the pile.


    ... There''s a sort of makeshift fireplace, also. At least, clumsily lined with stone to keep anything from burning. It''s far from proper work with bricks, but again¡ª it''ll have to do, it seems. God knows the man needed some source of warmth in the winter.


    ¡­ This is when Casper''s other comment seems to register.


    "I guess it is kind of homey," Lyre murmurs, glancing around. He even takes a moment to smile about it, and settles into the pillows a bit further.


    Casper floats over to where the shelving is, peering at the cluster of wooden animals. They all look meticulously made¡ª something only a man with an absurd amount of time to kill can achieve.


    ... He swipes at one of them, like he''s testing something. Of course, his hand phases right through it. Still, the ghost can''t help but feel a tinge of disappointment.


    "I like this one," He points at one of the little things. "It looks silly.¡±


    Looking over, Lyre blinks, and then smiles.


    "That''s a deer, and probably one of my earliest ones," He says, standing up and walking over. "See how the legs are a little ... off? That''s because I still hadn''t quite gotten good at making it look symmetrical yet." Lyre reaches out, picks it up gently, and holds it up.


    "Maybe I should remake it." Lyre laughs quietly. "Though I''ve definitely made other deer since then. Pretty much any animal you can think of." He shrugs. "You should see my attempts at turtles. They''re, uh ..." He grins nervously.


    "I think it''s rather charming, actually," Casper says, eyeing the wonky little deer in Lyre''s hands. "You know? Not everythin'' hasta'' be," Vague gesturing. "Symmetrical. Life''s not like that."


    He... blinks. No need to start waxing poetry about a little wood carving¡ª he''s not that pretentious.


    He coughs.


    "But, ah. I applaud you for your improvements," He turns, gesturing at the shelving and the certain increase of quality. "I don''t imagine that''s easy."


    Then, Casper turns to look at Lyre, again. "You got any recent projects?" He tilts his head.


    "Thank you," Lyre says with a smile, and then blinks. Without a word of warning Lyre turns and slips into another room¡ª presumably some kind of workshop. Though, he''s only gone for a moment as he carries out a decently-sized chunk of wood.


    The way he sets it down with a THUNK on a nearby shelf suggests it''s rather weighty. Casper raises both eyebrows¡ª the man hauled the chunk of wood around like it was nothing. It doesn''t make sense¡ª he looked like a gust of wind could blow him over at a moments notice.


    ¡­ No matter. Casper drops his gaze down to the piece of wood to keep himself from staring.


    Upon closer inspection, it''s partially carved. It looks vaguely like a person¡ª two people, actually¡ª embracing each other.


    "I wanted to practice people," Lyre says with a wistful smile. "And it became kind of ... personal, but I''m proud of it, so I don''t mind showing you it." The people in question are rather featureless, with rounded, smooth heads devoid of faces and arms that wrap around each other formlessly.


    It''s pleasant to look at, but very clearly incomplete.


    "Ohh," Casper says, leaning just the slightest bit forward to get a better look.


    It''s... somewhat entrancing to look at, and he doesn''t really know why. It''s just a hug¡ª an embrace, even. There''s a certain quality to it, though.


    "They look... close." He mutters to himself.


    "Yeah," Lyre says with a bit of an awkward laugh. "It doesn''t really have a story, though. I guess it''s, uh, more of ... a feeling." He reaches out and gently runs a hand over the smoother parts of the carving. Some of the edges still need to be sanded down, they''re still rough in some spots.


    There''s this long stretch of time where Lyre just kind of stares at the carving. Then, he seems to snap out of whatever trance he was in and picks it up again.


    "Well, I''d better put it back on the workbench, or I''ll forget and never finish it," He says with a bit of a laugh. "I have some memory issues up here." He taps the side of his head with a finger.


    Casper is pulled out of his own trance as Lyre speaks again. God, alright. How embarrassing. What''s up with him, lately?


    "A¡ª ah, alright, then." He blinks, looking at Lyre and wow Casper was really big on eye contact, huh?


    He lets that information sit in the air, for a moment, before back tracking¡ª


    "Oh, you have memory issues?"


    Blinking at Casper, Lyre nods.


    "Yep," He says as he carries the carving away back to its previous resting place. As he returns, he says, "I''ve had them for as long as ... well, ironically as long as I can remember," Lyre says with a bit of a laugh.


    "Just ... sometimes things slip my mind. Even important things, which can be pretty frustrating.¡±


    Casper hums.


    This guy... well. He doesn''t wanna say he''s spilled his guts to him. (He''s bordered on it, though.) And¡ª and! As it stands, he''s giving him a place to stay. So, he figures the least he can do is sacrifice bits and pieces of his own information.


    "I... find that I often have gaps in my memory," Casper starts off cautiously. "Very. Big gaps. Which isn''t, uh. Favorable,¡±


    He crosses his arms, glancing away to look at the framework.


    "... It''s hard to fill them.¡±


    Lyre hums.


    "Yeah, that sounds pretty bad." His head tilts sympathetically. "Any memory problem is rough though, not being able to, uh, remember stuff? That''s scary to a lot of people, I''ve found. Though to me it''s more annoying than anything these days." He frowns slightly.


    Lyre seems to have a thought, but quickly discards it. Instead, he makes his way back over to the pillows and sits back down.


    "Well it can be annoying, yeah," Casper says with a bit of a laugh. Like it''s all amusing, to him. "I think it''d be a lot scarier if I were ... you know." Alive.


    He doesn''t need the reminder, does he? His presence is quite enough.


    "But, I cope. So." He shrugs.


    "I guess," Lyre says with a frown. He settles into the pillows a little more and yawns¡ª good God that jaw can stretch¡ª and then shrugs. "I cope, too." Now he smiles lightly.


    "I guess that''s the least any of us can do, though." Lyre rolls over to lie on top of the pillows, not seeming to care much that Casper is literally right there still. "I know it''s the least I can do."


    His tail swishes across the floor and the pillows, a long, sweeping motion, to come curl up around him again.


    "Yeah..."


    ¡­ This is when he starts to feel a little awkward. It''s not like he can just make himself at home¡ª and even if he could, he''d feel weird about it, anyways.


    So Casper, just. Stares at Lyre, for a minute. Eyes wide and unblinking, like he''s figuring out what to do next.


    Then he just ... sloooowly lowers himself onto the nearby table and takes a "seat"¡ª if you can even call it that, with the way he just barely hovers above it. He thought it''d be a little less weird than just. Staying suspended mid-air.


    He clicks his tongue.


    "... So how ''bout that weather, huh.¡±


    "The¡ª" Lyre blinks. "It''s ..." He trails off. "Well, there are lots of berries around this time of year and flowers and whatnot." He sits up again, shrugging.


    "Ah," Finger snap. "Spring.¡±


    Lyre seems to notice something, and then hesitates.


    "And, oh, can I¡ª do? Anything? For you. I don''t want to be a bad host." Lyre fidgets nervously.


    Fuck.


    "I¡ª well, I appreciate the thought. But," He gestures at himself. "I doubt there''s much you can do for me, other than uh¡ª ¡­" He winces, because the thing he''s about to say sounds fucking pathetic¡ª "Speak to me. I guess."


    He''s about to let that hang in the air before saying¡ª "I, I''d hate to keep you up, though.¡±


    "Oh, I don''t mind," Lyre says immediately. "Voidfolk are meant to be nocturnal anyway. I''m only a little tired¡ª my sleep schedule is super wacky ''cause of that hybrid thing, I just kind of go out like a light whenever I, uh, feel like it. Sometimes that''s night, sometimes that''s day." He shrugs.


    "Oh, is that why you''re so tall?" He blurts out, and the look on his face that follows after is shining embarrassment. "Ah¡ª sorry," He clears his throat.


    There''s a few beats of silence where Lyre just kind of stares at Casper. And then¡ª he laughs? Genuinely and whole-heartedly. Not a small, awkward sound, mind you¡ª a genuine laugh.


    Casper feels embarrassed, but not, particularly, in a bad way.


    "Yes! Yes¡ª that would be, why I''m so tall." He shakes off the last of the giggles with a huff of breath, smiling. "No need to apologize."


    He lets that settle in the air, for a moment.


    "... Is there anything you wanna talk about?" Lyre asks, drawing his knees to his chest, tail curling neatly around himself. He rests his chin atop said knees.


    No one''s asked Casper that before. Therefore, he''s never thought about it, before.


    "Uhhhhhhh," He thinks, fingers drumming on his knees. "Got any other hobbies besides wood carving? Anything you''d like to try, maybe?"


    He says this, because there are things he often wants to do himself. Directing this at Lyre, makes him think of that less.


    Lyre hums thoughtfully.


    "Well¡ª I used to love working with clay. Anything that could be molded, really," Lyre says, head tilting. "I was never a good painter, though ... I mean, I could paint figures just fine, but, uh, on a canvas? Not so much. Oh, and¡ª I liked working with stained glass, too." He''s listing off so many things ¡­


    "Ahhh," Casper says, leaning backwards and crossing his legs one over the other. "So you''re like an¡ª arts and crafts guy, then?"


    He tilts his head.


    "That''s cool. I don''t remember doing anything visually art oriented myself, it was more like." He pauses, like he''s struggling to recall. Squinting. "I think it was music?¡±


    "Yeah, guess so!" Lyre nods, smiling. Then he blinks. "Oh, music? That''s pretty cool! Do you think¡ª" Lyre deflates visibly. "¡ª Nevermind. Did you¡ª or do you have a favorite song?" His head tilts.


    "Favorite song,¡± Casper echoes. ¡°I... I''m not sure. I just vaguely remember what I used to play." He leans even further back, somehow, in thought. "Bass? Or was it guitar... think it was both, at one point, actually." He mutters, staring up at the ceiling.


    Then, he looks at Lyre.


    "Think I used to pick up different instruments rather frequently. And, ah..." He remembers now¡ª "Drop them. Because I wasn''t good enough, or whatever." He shrugs.


    Pause.


    "Ah!" Abruptly, he snaps his fingers.


    "Clair de Lune," He says. "I was always fond of Clair de Lune¡­ did you know, that ¡ª¡±


    And before he knew it, they were talking the entire night.

 I Want You to Stay

    CHAPTER 2: I WANT YOU TO STAY


    ¨C POV: LYRE ¨C


    (ROLEPLAYERS: VEN, TEA)


    (ADAPTATION: VEN)


    ¡°¨C Ah, but what could you do, right? That was that. Guess you could say it was, like," Lyre listens as Casper snaps his fingers, once, twice, seemingly trying to find the right phrasing. "Rock and a bad place. Or ¨C or something.¡±


    They¡¯ve been talking all night ¨C Casper and Lyre, the two of them. Or more accurately, Casper has been talking all night. Lyre has mostly just been listening, the idle rambling fighting back his growing exhaustion.


    ¡°But it''s like ¨C¡± Casper vaguely gestures around, leaning back like he''s reclining on the air itself. ¡°Actually ¨C nah. It doesn''t matter.¡± Lyre tilts his head, smiling faintly. He¡¯s about to reply when he notices something.


    Light is beginning to seep in through the (glassless) windows of the cabin. Morning has risen, oh. His ears flick up. How long has it been? He¡¯d been so enamored by Casper¡¯s rambles that he hadn¡¯t noticed until now. It¡¯s at that very moment that the exhaustion hits Lyre like a truck.


    ¡°Mm ¨C it¡¯s morning,¡± the voidfolk hybrid says quietly, looking back at Casper, almost feeling guilty. However, he then finds himself smiling faintly. ¡°Worth it, though.¡±


    ¡­ Why¡¯d he say that? As Casper blinks and glances towards the window, Lyre just about almost slaps a hand over his own mouth. Maybe he should just never speak again. Maybe ¨C maybe it¡¯s the tiredness? The exhaustion, making him ¨C say things.


    ¡°Shit. Really?¡± Casper says, abruptly leaning forward like one would out of a chair. ¡°Fuuuuuuck,¡± the ghost drawls, with what must be a touch of embarrassment to the word. Not that Lyre fully processes ¡­ all of that.


    No, Lyre instead goes on to fumble more.


    ¡°I mean. Talking to you was nice.¡± Not any better than what you said before! ¡°You¡¯re ¡­ a good storyteller?¡± Ugh. Good enough. He wants to sink into the ground and disappear, especially as Casper looks at him again.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry for ¨C keeping you up ¡­ ?¡± It seems to take Casper a moment to process Lyre¡¯s words, and when he does, he just kind of stares for a few moments. Then he pulls at his collar (oh no, Lyre must have made this awkward), like it¡¯s suddenly too tight. ¡°Th ¨C thank you? I, I, I just. Say shit.¡±


    At this, Lyre immediately waves a hand dismissively, tiredly shaking his head in a motion of silent denial.


    ¡°Keeping me up? What, noooo,¡± he says, exhausted but completely genuine. ¡°It¡¯s fine, don¡¯t worry about it, it was nice.¡± AUGH. ¡°... Good conversation.¡± Nice save ¡­ NOT. Lyre resists the urge to scrunch up. Maybe curl up in a hole.


    Casper chuckles quietly in what¡¯s definitely amusement. Lyre wants to curl up in a hole even more now. He sighs, and then continues on with his train of thought, hoping to salvage the conversation.


    ¡°... It''s just nice to ¨C talk to someone. After a year of, of, not. And, well, back in the Empire people didn''t really talk to me, talk to me, so, you know ... this is ¨C this is ¡­ different.¡± Lyre smiles, faintly, hoping that will help, somehow.


    There is a palpable beat of silence as Casper stares at him.


    Oh no, he thinks for a flash of a moment, face paling considerably. I ¨C I just revealed ¨C he¡¯s going to hate me. I¡¯m from the Empire, he¡¯s not, he¡¯s from No Man¡¯s Land, he¡¯s going to hate me, he¡¯s going to hate me he¡¯s going to turn me in ¨C


    ¡°... O ¨C oh!¡± Casper says after that silence is over. His tone isn¡¯t angry, though. If anything, he sounds ¡­ Well, he starts to sound sympathetic rather quickly. ¡°Oh, I see! Well I¡¯m terribly sorry. Why¡¯s that? You seem like such a sweet guy.¡±


    You seem like such a sweet guy.


    Oh, Limbo below, Lyre cannot take this. The color is quickly returning to his cheeks, even a touch darker, face warmer, at that comment. Oh, this is an irregular way to be speaking to someone you just met, for sure. But Lyre doesn¡¯t really notice.


    ¡°Uhm ¨C uh ¨C¡± He stutters for a moment, and then, ducking his head slightly, squeaks out a ¨C ¡°Thank ¡­ you ¡­ ¡°


    Casper¡¯s reply comes after another momentary silence, but it¡¯s without missing a beat in the process.


    "Oh, of course," The ghost shifts into a more regular looking seating position, leaning forward just a touch. Cheek resting on one of his hands. "Though I suppose I happen to be biased ¨C I did appreciate your hospitality, very much."


    Now Lyre¡¯s face gets even darker pink. He feels his cheeks warm and he -- he doesn''t really know what this feeling is. What is this? What is this? He''s never experienced it, he doesn''t know. Is he sick? What''s happening? He ...


    It. It doesn''t feel bad.


    "Th ¨C thank you," He manages after a few moments. "Again! I''m ¨C I''m glad I could ... help you out." Lyre smiles. It''s a bit strained. But not in the bad way. More like the ... mild panic way. The on the verge of a small freakout way.


    Casper tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. But where Lyre might have expected discomfort ¡­ It''s a playful expression. Huh?


    "... Yes, I really needed it, at the time," He begins. "You really didn''t have to go through so much trouble," Casper shifts into a ''standing'' position ¨C only a mockery of the gesture, seeing as he can¡¯t touch the ground.


    Lyre watches as Casper floats over ¨C stopping just a little ways before him and ''crouching down'' to his eye level. "You alright, though, lad? You look very sleepy." His eyes narrow, slightly. "And you''re still in that dress shirt... can''t be comfortable."


    Well. Lyre could feel his eyes get all wide and round when Casper got so much closer. He¡¯s sure that the ghost could see right into the depths of his soul through them, at this point.


    His face feels like it¡¯s overheating.


    ¡°It was ¨C It was the least I could do,¡± Lyre stutters. He fidgets with his hands, looking away, breaking eye contact. ¡°And, I¡¯m ¨C I¡¯m alright! I ¨C I just don''t have ¡­ many clothes,¡± He admits in a murmur.


    Lyre spots Casper¡¯s light, sympathetic frown out of the corner of his eye ¨C and feels a crashing wave of guilt. But he continues.


    ¡°So I kinda ... reuse them. I didn''t have much time to pack before I ran from -- where I, was before.¡± He ducks his head again. ¡°I had to leave almost everything behind.¡± Almost everything.


    Lyre¡¯s gaze trails idly to his sword, which he¡¯d hung up on the wall. Even from here, it¡¯s more visible in the light of day ¨C its enchanted sheen glittering in the sunlight. Sometimes he wonders if it was smart to keep it.


    But he needs some way to defend himself, right?


    ¡°... I see,¡± Casper says suddenly, breaking the silence with a hum. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that sounds rather difficult.¡± As Lyre looks back to him, his frown deepens slightly and he clicks his tongue.


    ¡°You have a bed, at least, right? You don¡¯t wanna, like ¡­ lay down?¡± Oh, Lyre feels his heart sink at this question. ¡°At least?¡± Casper sounds concerned. Well, it¡¯s about to get worse.


    ¡°No,¡± Lyre says, miserably. ¡°Just the pillows, and a blanket.¡± He settles down into the pillows a little more. It''s better than nothing, but God, he misses having a proper bed. Unfortunately, mattresses are rather hard to steal inconspicuously.


    ¡°I might lie down, though,¡± Lyre finds himself laughing quietly, uneasily, rubbing at his sore eyes. He¡¯s so exhausted¡­


    Casper blinks at him. Lyre feels shame.


    ¡°Ah ¨C hmm ¡­¡± Casper¡¯s lips press into a tight line as he visibly thinks. ¡°Maybe you should look into that ¡­ ? I mean, you¡¯re very handy, aren¡¯t you?¡± Lyre wants to wilt and perhaps rot into the dirt at that moment. ¡°I assume it¡¯s easier said than done, though.¡±


    Now Lyre grimaces. Time for the ugly truth.


    ¡°There¡¯s no way for me to get the materials for the mattress,¡± He says pathetically. ¡°Otherwise I would¡¯ve made one by now, for sure.¡± Lyre sighs heavily, shaking his head and frowning to himself.


    ¡°I ¨C I can¡¯t just get away with taking a mattress from somewhere, either. They¡¯re too big.¡± He wrings his hands together.


    There¡¯s a long silence. Where Lyre wishes he had more to say, where he wishes he could¡¯ve been better to Casper, maybe, been a better host, where he wishes ¨C well, a lot of things, really. He gets so caught up in his own racing thoughts that he almost doesn¡¯t hear it when Casper blurts out ¨C


    ¡°I wish I could help you.¡±


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    What?


    Lyre¡¯s ears flick up ¨C quick ¨C and he sits up just as fast. He looks to Casper with worry and concern and ¨C well. He doesn¡¯t want Casper to ¡­


    ¡°You don¡¯t have ¨C to feel bad,¡± He murmurs, wringing his hands ¨C fidgeting. His tail-tip flicks up and down in a metronome. ¡°It¡¯s ¡­ my living situation, not ¨C not yours.¡± As if he hadn¡¯t been concerned for Casper for the same reasons, before. Lyre ignores that.


    Casper frowns at him.


    ¡°Ah ¨C but you helped me, didn¡¯t you?¡± He points out, and Lyre hates that he¡¯s right. ¡°I, I dunno. Call it me wanting to repay the favor, I guess.¡± The ghost shrugs, and then quickly adds: ¡°Not ¨C not to imply that you aren''t perfectly capable, of course. I just ¨C ¡­¡±


    The words hang in the air for a moment, as Lyre considers them, really lets them sink into his head. And then he sighs and deflates, rubbing at the back of his neck with a hand to try and ease his nerves.


    ¡°I guess,¡± He says quietly. ¡°That makes sense. I''d want to repay the favor, too,¡± He says, and his tail curls around himself. Absent-mindedly, he starts fidgeting with the long fur that grows from the fuzzy appendage. The fluffiness sometimes helps ease his mind.


    In the silence that follows, he finds himself thinking. Casper doesn¡¯t seem to know what to say, and neither does Lyre, and they¡¯re kind of stuck there, for a long few moments.


    And then Lyre has a realization.


    ¡°... How long are you going to stay? Here,¡± He asks, suddenly. ¡°I¡¯m not ¨C I¡¯m not rushing you out the door, I¡¯m just ¨C I¡¯m just curious, is all.¡±


    This is a question he immediately regrets, as Casper practically visibly bristles at the inquiry not even seconds after its completion.


    ¡°Oh, I''m terribly sorry if I overstayed my welcome. I ¨C I could leave now, if you prefer ¡­ ?¡± As the ghost says that, he ¡®stands¡¯ back up. Lyre, himself, jumps to his feet, feeling his eyes widen.


    "No ¨C no no no no!" He says, waving his hands in a panicked motion. "You didn''t! I ¨C I ¨C" He swallows. You what? Say it, maybe it will help. Lyre breathes in. He breathes out. Then, he says ¨C


    "I ¨C I want you to stay." God. "I really liked talking to you and ¨C" His ears droop. No, he''s ruined this, hasn''t he? Casper is going to hate him now. "¨C I dunno, I just think you''re cool."


    Casper looks at him with eyes just as wide. Unblinking, shocked ¨C blinding white, almost, almost unreadable. But then he speaks.


    ¡°You ¨C You, you want me to stay?¡±


    There¡¯s a pause, as the ghost breathes in. Lyre is holding his own breath, feeling his anxiety rise rapidly in his chest with each passing moment.


    ¡°You do?¡± Casper¡¯s voice sounds almost, almost, distantly ¡­ soft.


    Okay. This is not the end of the world. It¡¯s not. Lyre ¨C relaxes, a little, and takes a hesitant step forward. And then another, and another, and he¡¯s getting so close, and he doesn¡¯t know what he¡¯s doing, really.


    ¡°I ¨C I do! Really, I ¨C¡± As he gets closer, he reaches out hesitantly, as though to place a hand gently on Casper''s shoulder ¨C it passes through, though, like mist: you know it''s there, you can feel it, you just can''t hold it, grasp it.


    ¡°Oh, er ¨C !¡± Casper exclaims, and Lyre recoils instantly, as though he¡¯d been struck, with a sharp inhale. What was he thinking, doing that?


    ¡°Sorry! Sorry, sorry, I wasn¡¯t thinking, I ¨C¡± Lyre feels his face heat up again. Casper just kind of looks at him, expression unreadable. ¡°¨C Yes. I do want you to stay. At least ¨C at least for a while, if you¡¯re okay with it.¡± It¡¯s genuine. So genuine, maybe the most genuine he¡¯s been in years.


    Momentary silence. Anxiety builds again.


    ¡°... I¡¯m fine with that,¡± Casper says, quietly. Lyre looks up sharply from where he was staring at the floor guiltily, feeling his eyes widen again. ¡°If that¡¯s what you want.¡±


    Limbo below. Okay. Lyre feels himself relax, letting out a long, long breath. Okay. Everything is going to be fine.


    ¡°... Thank you. I ¨C appreciate it. A lot,¡± He mumbles that last part, fidgeting with his hands. It is what I want, he doesn''t say, because he doesn''t need to dig his hole any deeper than he has already.


    It dawns on him how tired he is, though, as Casper continues to stare at him almost owlishly with those white eyes of his.


    ¡°I should probably get some sleep, soon, though,¡± Lyre admits, rubbing at those slightly-aching eyes of his. God, he¡¯s tired.


    It¡¯s about then that Casper suddenly reaches out and mimes a ¡®pat¡¯ of his shoulder. Once, twice. Lyre jolts, and looks to Casper again, who is staring at him directly in the eyes.


    ¡°That sounds good,¡± Casper says with a smile. ¡°Ah, actually ¨C have you had anything to eat, recently ¡­ ?¡± The ghost tilts his head as the words begin to blur into static in Lyre¡¯s brain as the eye contact is held. ¡°Perchance?¡±


    Lyre¡¯s head is buzzing, thoughts racing: You can¡¯t be looking at me like that you can¡¯t be looking at me like that you want to hurt me you want to kill me you¡¯re out to get me you¡¯re a threat I should fight you I should ¨C


    He breaks eye contact first, looking away sharply.


    Casper seems to realize what happened moments later ¨C voidfolk tendencies are somewhat common knowledge these days ¨C with an utterance of what¡¯s definitely a curse, but definitely not English. Lyre no longer feels his gaze on him.


    ¡°... No, I haven''t. I, uh, haven''t eaten, since ¨C¡± Lyre¡¯s stomach rumbles. He winces, holding a hand to his gut. Embarrassing, but a good distraction. ¡°¨C Uh ¡­ yesterday ¡­¡± He grimaces.


    Clearing his throat, Casper speaks again.


    ¡°A ¨C ah, you probably should, then,¡± He says, still looking down towards the floor. ¡°I can speak from ¨C well, not experience. But from memory? You¡¯re gonna feel like shit.¡± Now the ghost looks back up, and Lyre notes his caution to avoid eye contact.


    Something on his back itches. Lyre ignores it.


    ¡°Yeah, I should get something to eat. But, I, uh. Don¡¯t have a fridge ¡­ or any kitchen appliances really. I cook ¨C using the fire.¡± He laughs quietly, nervously. ¡°So I¡¯d have to hunt or ¨C or forage, or something.¡± Now, Lyre sighs. ¡°That¡¯s why I don¡¯t eat as often as I should.¡±


    As he talks, Lyre makes his way back over to the pillows and sits back down, tail curling neatly around himself. Casper watches, looking somewhat thoughtful. Or at least, Lyre thinks it¡¯s thoughtfulness ¨C it¡¯s hard to tell.


    ¡°Awe, well,¡± Casper says, his lips pressing into a tight frown, ¡°I¡¯d say you should, er. Do that now? But you look very tired.¡± He wrings his hands, and Lyre can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s uneasiness or something else.


    ¡°So ¨C So you should sleep soon, yeah?¡± The ghost¡¯s words linger for a moment before he adds: ¡°But don¡¯t let me tell you what to do.¡±


    Fortunately for Casper, Lyre is extremely exhausted and knows that he should be sleeping. Definitely, absolutely. He wants to be absolutely 100% asleep right now.


    ¡°I am tired,¡± He murmurs. ¡°I can probably sleep. For a bit.¡± Sinking into the pillows, he twists to look at Casper. Staring into his eyes, for just a moment, as he asks:


    ¡°You¡¯ll stay, right?¡±


    Double, triple-checking, afraid on some unreasonable level that Casper will just up and leave while he¡¯s asleep. That somehow, if he looks away, the ghost will do as ghosts do and disappear. Because Casper might hate him, after all of that, right?


    ¡°I just want to make sure,¡± Lyre adds, as Casper stares at him.


    Then, Casper crouches down. Well, more like ¨C sits. Looking directly at Lyre, though not quite in the eyes this time. Caution is clearly being exerted.


    ¡°I won¡¯t leave,¡± He says quietly. ¡°I¡¯m ¨C I wouldn¡¯t do that, to you.¡± A beat of silence passes. ¡°Because ¨C because of what you¡¯ve done for me, especially. I¡¯m not ¡­ I¡¯m not ¡­¡± Casper breathes in.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay.¡±


    The words stick in Lyre¡¯s head, sickly sweet and painfully reassuring. He¡¯s letting a stranger practically coddle him, but you know what? He doesn¡¯t care. He really doesn¡¯t care.


    I wouldn¡¯t do that to you.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Lyre says. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    He reaches out for his blanket and tugs it up and over himself, curling a little tighter amidst the blankets. It takes a bit of grappling to finally get settled, with Casper looking on all the while, but he manages.


    ¡°Goodnight,¡± Lyre murmurs, even though it¡¯s morning.


    As the light begins to fade, as Lyre¡¯s eyes close, the last thing he sees is Casper¡¯s face, and the last thing he hears is an echo ¨C


    ¡°Goodnight.¡±

 A Particularly Perilous Meeting

    CHAPTER 3: A PARTICULARLY PERILOUS MEETING


    ¨C POV: IZAIAH ¨C


    (ROLEPLAYERS: VEN, TEA, AWISHA)


    (ADAPTATION: TEA)


    It''s not a restful day for anyone in the White House of No Man''s Land.


    Izaiah paces around the meeting room like an anxious child. Up, down. Up, down. It takes him a lot of restraint to not bite down on his own damn fingernails.


    That letter didn''t exactly reveal much¡ª and that made him deeply stressed. Something he really, really does not fucking need right now.


    He''s expecting the worst. He''s expecting for the Emperor to walk in and slice their heads off, or some shit. Crack them open just like he did with Petrikov¡ª as much of a violation of the ceasefire that''d be.


    That''s his only comfort, in taking such a risk.


    And at this moment of time, Jeremy is the only one who dares to break the silence¡ª


    "I can''t believe you fucking invited him. Here." He taps his finger, repeatedly, against the table. How annoying. "Of all places.¡±


    Izaiah whips his head around to stare at him, stopping right in his tracks.


    "I didn''t invite him. You make it sound like I had a choice¡ª¡±


    "You did,¡±


    "Alright? You wanna play this game, Collins? It was either this," Izaiah rapidly gestures around. "Or setting foot in the Empire. And I can confidently say that you don''t want that."


    Jeremy falls silent. But Izaiah continues:


    "If anyone else has any bright ideas, please do fucking tell me. Cuz I''d love to hear it.¡±


    ¡°Alright, now¡¯s not the time,¡± Says Naomi. She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. ¡°We don¡¯t need to start fighting before he¡¯s even here.¡± Her nails dig into her sleeves. ¡°It¡¯s not like we can kick him out, so. Let¡¯s just get it over with.¡±


    "Yeah, I don''t think any of us really wants to go to Empire territory. That''s asking for trouble ... or, well, worse." Says Queue, at the far edge of the table. He grimaces, then casts a glance towards the door. Then another. Their wings fluff up and the feathers bristle¡ª


    There are several sets of footsteps, rapidly approaching. That''s Izaiah''s only warning¡ª


    The doors swing open, revealing the Emperor himself with several No Man''s Land guards in tow. They all look severely uncomfortable. The Emperor, Chaos, has a crooked grin on his face, all teeth and no real mirth. Slit pupils regard everyone in the room with a distinct sort of disdain.


    "I do hope you''ve been expecting me after I sent word." Every word he speaks is harsh, emphasized, like he''s presenting at the podium. Nevermind the fact that it''s a small meeting, and that there''s no need for that¡ª but Izaiah doubts he cares, anyhow. "Because I''ve certainly been looking forward to speaking with you all."


    Chaos gives the guards a look, and then steps into the room. One of them moves forward as though to accompany before the other pulls them back. Ultimately, both of them fall into the background¡ª lingering outside the doors as they close again.


    Striding directly over to the side of the table opposite the President¡ª Izaiah¡ª Chaos slams a hand down on its surface (it shakes from the impact.) At the corner of his eye, Izaiah can see Jeremy and Queue flinch. Jolt. It''s a little bit pathetic, he thinks¡ª stuff like that, that''s how he gets you.


    The Emperor smirks, at him. Like this is all some sort of game. Izaiah has to look up to even meet his eyes.


    He doesn''t sit.


    "You see. I have a very, very important request to make of you and your countrymen, if you''ll have me?" He grins wide, again, all teeth¡ª Izaiah knows that they''re in no position to deny. How could they? The axe that rests in its holster says as much.


    "I... see," The President decides to spare everyone the pleasantries¡ª "Is there a problem?"


    "Yes," He says bluntly, fingers drumming on the table, now. He still doesn''t sit. "There''s a missing . . . let''s say, fugitive from our area who happens to be most important, and we have ample reason to believe he was sighted at your border."


    Chaos straightens up to his full height, staring Izaiah down, any trace of a grin evaporating like mist in harsh sunlight.


    "Your scouts wouldn''t have happened to see any suspicious figures, would they? A hybrid, perhaps?" The man¡ª a hybrid himself¡ª presses harshly, fingers stopping their drumming to curl against the table¡ª claws making an awful screeching sound against the wood.


    His head tilts to the side, slit pupils narrower than ever as he really looks at Izaiah¡ª like he''s trying to see through him.


    "Surely you would be willing to surrender that information. It''s quite important to our national security, you see, of utmost importance." The serious expression doesn''t leave. It''s not often that Chaos loses his grin, but he looks deathly cold, now.


    The President crosses his arms, silent. For just a moment. Can''t afford to be speechless, in a moment like this.


    "... There are some rumors," He starts off carefully. "A sighting of two ''suspicious'' individuals at the border," He taps a finger against his arm, a small slip of restlessness. "We don''t know the validity of this information. As it stands, it''s hearsay. Talk amongst the people. You understand."


    Izaiah takes a long glance at Queue, and it''s a sort of signal¡ª the you are needed, type¡ª before his eyes flick back to the Emperor. Gaze unflinching and hardened, like it often tends to be.


    Queue sits up. Almost stands, drawing attention to himself with a clearing of his throat.


    "It is hearsay," He says carefully. "But it''s well-traveled hearsay, at least. It''s gone around town a good few times, what with some veterans swearing they saw familiar faces. None of them could really say exactly who, though. Too far away." A pause.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "I personally can''t confirm or deny the validity of the rumors, as the President said, it''s talk amongst the people. But make of it what you will, I suppose." Queue shrugs, then sinks back into his seat.


    The silence from the Emperor is palpable as he leans on the table.


    ". . . So. It''s hearsay, a rumor," He begins dangerously. "But not one that you can deny, if I am hearing you all correctly." Chaos'' expression cracks into a grin again, sharp teeth bared. Like some sort of predator.


    Izaiah would be deeply familiar.


    "Thank you all kindly. I do believe I have my information, and will be taking my leave, then," Chaos says, hand dragging off the table, claws scratching the surface faintly as they go. He turns to start to leave, with a flourish of the cloak.


    Izaiah''s ready to let this go. He''s ready to let this end. So he says nothing¡ª even though it''s really tempting, to.


    Jeremy, however, doesn''t seem to have quite the same idea¡ª


    "... Who is it that you are looking for, exactly?"


    The clanking of armor grinds to a halt as Chaos does upon hearing that question.


    Oh, he''s going to kill him.


    He''s sure the rest of the Cabinet, will, too. What with the way Naomi shoots him a look and Queue''s sharp slip of an inhale.


    Naomi, brave as she is, with a sigh, adds: ¡°And what is this person capable of? What should we be looking out for?¡±


    The Emperor stands, back turned, to the Cabinet for a long few moments, in complete silence and stillness. Tension is thick in the air.


    Several heartbeats pass.


    Then, and only then does he twist his head around to look in the direction of Jeremy and Naomi. Pupils thin slits, he imagines.


    "My son," Chaos hisses, voice cold. "I''m looking for my son. A capable killer and a hybrid you should truly exercise caution of."


    Then, without another word of elaboration¡ª Chaos strides right out of the room, swinging the doors open and passing the NML guards who stood outside. They scramble to follow him as he makes his way down the hallway, the doors slamming shut behind him as no one bothers to ease them closed.


    The President stands motionless. Frozen, to some extent.


    For a moment, there, he really thought that was it. That they were dead where they stand. That it was over, all of it. The end of the line.


    That doesn''t happen, though.


    . . .


    He waits for the footsteps to recede in their entirety, and just when he''s sure they do¡ª


    "Jeremy." Izaiah shoots him a downright glare. "What the fuck.¡±


    "Don''t fucking start,¡± He hisses. "Don''t act like that''s not something we should know about."


    And for a moment Izaiah just fucking stares at him.


    "Do you know¡ª" Jeremy stands up, suddenly. Like he''s trying to prove something, to him. Izaiah hears an audible huff of frustration. "You know¡ª You know who he''s talking about! You fucking know! You all do!¡±


    Izaiah can see Naomi''s face buried in her hands. There''s a crack in her fingers, though, as she glances between both men. Her eyes land on something specific¡ª


    ¡°The voidfolk hybrid.¡±


    She''s looking at Jeremy''s scar, isn''t she.


    "... Yeah. That guy." Queue grits his teeth, grimacing visibly. Slumped in his seat.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± Naomi laments. ¡°What are we supposed to do?¡±


    No one seems to have an answer, to that.


    "... I''m with Naomi. What do we do? Surely we can''t just do¡ª nothing about this." Queue breathes in. "If¡ª if it''s not on our territory, it''s out of our jurisdiction, obviously, and, the ceasefire needs to be preserved. But¡ª surely¡ª surely¡ª" Surely what? They seem to be grasping at straws, here.


    The President visibly deflates, any remaining traces of anger slipping off his face. He tries to muster up some sort of answer¡ª but he finds that he can''t.


    "I don''t know.¡±


    ¡°You don''t know?¡±


    "Oh, what¡ª and you do? Jesus, Jeremy, You can''t just¡ª! ..." Izaiah cuts himself off. It''s an ungraceful maneuver¡ª frustrated. Because he quickly realizes that this isn''t what they need, right now.


    The President turns to the rest of the Cabinet, fully.


    "If it''s out of our territory, it''s out of our jurisdiction, yes." He begins. "But¡ª¡±


    "The borders," Jeremy says. "He was seen at the borders, wasn''t he? We should monitor them. Send a few scouts over, I don''t know."


    He shrugs, half-heartedly. Jeremy sits back down.


    ¡°Monitoring the borders¡­ That¡¯s perfect, actually,¡± Naomi sits up straight, nodding. Jeremy seems to be surprised, by this. ¡°We¡¯d need some kind of rotation of scouts to keep watch, but, we can arrange that, right?¡±


    It''s a good enough solution. It worked, he''ll give Collins, that. However, Naomi seems to bring up a catch¡ª


    ¡°What happens if they find him?¡± She looks towards the rest of the Cabinet. She almost looks wary. ¡°We can¡¯t just¡ª hand him over to Chaos?¡±


    "Mierda," Queue mutters. He sighs heavily, putting a hand to his head, and thinks, looks like.


    "... Do we have a choice?" Queue mutters, again. Then, speaking with more of a raised voice, looking up. "So much is at stake, Naomi. Our people. Our country. I hate to say, it but¡ª we may have to.¡±


    Izaiah clicks his tongue.


    "I know you won''t like this, Naomi," He starts off. Izaiah straightens his posture, standing up to his full height. "But Andrews is right. It''s the most logical decision, if we give him the¡ª" kid? He''s not fucking saying that. "¡ª hybrid. Then, we stay out of trouble, surely." Surely?


    He crosses his arms.


    "Let us not forget how much of a known war criminal this guy, is. Threat to our national security, blah blah blah, I could go on," Bit rich coming from him¡ª what with everything he did to survive, but. You know.


    It''s all about perspective, isn''t it.


    Jeremy taps a finger on the desk, amidst the silence. Quietly, quietly¡ª but very noticeable.


    "Alright. So who''s organizing, this." Leave it to Collins to be so fucking direct.


    ¡°But¡ª¡± Naomi hesitates. And she seems to hesitate, for a long time, before she slumps back into her chair. ¡°I can¡¯t take care of this one.¡±


    At the corner of his eye, Izaiah can see Jeremy try to comfort her. Leaning in, hand on shoulder and all. How obnoxious, that he''s done this, before.


    "I can organize the scouts," Queue says, voice sounding empty. "They know me well. It should be easy to convince them, and they''ll listen anyway," They say with a sigh. "I''ll get on that as soon as possible."


    "Perfect," The President says curtly. "Thanks."


    And that''s all he needs to say. The President breathes in, and¡ª he clasps his hands together. Not very subtle of a cue, but it''s never failed him, has it?


    "Alright, that''s a wrap. You can all go, now." How tactful. "Resume to your schedules as normal.¡±


    Until next time ...

 The Quiet That Comes After

    CHAPTER 4: THE QUIET THAT COMES AFTER


    ¨C POV: CASPER ¨C


    (ROLEPLAYERS: VEN, TEA)


    (ADAPTATION: TEA)


    It''s almost dusk by the time Lyre wakes up.


    ¡°... Casper? Are you there?¡± Lyre says quietly, from another room. Then, he clears his throat. ¡°Uhm. Good morning!¡±


    "Ah¡ª yes¡ª!" Answers Casper, a bit quickly. He makes his way over to Lyre in a matter of seconds; he wants to show that he''s true to his word. "Good morning! T¡ª technically,"


    Lyre''s head whips around to look in Casper''s direction. Eyes wide, round. Like he''s stunned. Or maybe, just surprised.


    Maybe, even relieved.


    ¡­ That''s a big assumption, though.


    "Did you sleep well?" Casper smiles, pleasantly. If not a bit¡­ strangely.


    "Yes¡ª yes, technically," Lyre laughs, a little."I mean, I just woke up. So morning, to me," He says with a light shrug.


    "Ah, well. What really is morning, anyways," Casper says, waving a hand around. "Time is an illusion of man, or something like that. Blah blah blah, I can probably spin bullshit about that some other time,"


    It''s about now, when he hears Lyre''s stomach rumble.


    "I¡ª ! Should go foraging or hunting or something," Lyre murmurs, pushing the blanket off. Face flushing in embarrassment. "Before I start getting hunger pains." He sighs, pulling himself to his feet, brushing himself off.


    Casper''s lips press into a not-quite-frown.


    "Hunger pains?" Caper echoes, floating a little closer to him. "Do you get those often?¡±


    "Unfortunately," Lyre says, placing a hand over his gut for a moment with a frown of his own.


    "Oh, Lyre."


    Lyre sighs, heavily, and then starts to walk over to a sword that''s hung up on the wall. One with an enchanted sheen.


    "This kind of hungry means I can''t just go berry-picking or whatever," Lyre says quietly. "I have to hunt something down." He twirls the sword by the handle experimentally, like he''s held the weapon many, many times before.


    "... Are you going to stay here?" Lyre asks, turning to look back at Casper. There''s some sort of distance to his eyes that wasn''t there before. A silent kind of resolve.


    "Oh!" Casper says plainly. He blinks. "Oh, ah¡ª hm. I''d say whatever''s most convenient to you?"


    Now Lyre smiles lightly, lowering the sword to a neutral position at his side. The blade still shimmers faintly. He shifts his grip on the hilt experimentally once more.


    "You can come with," Lyre says simply, "So long as you''re tolerant, of, uh," he hesitates, "Blood. And whatnot." He grins nervously.


    Casper clicks his tongue. "Blood doesn''t faze me, no."


    "Also, don''t make too much noise." Lyre raises a finger and presses it to his mouth for a moment for emphasis, the smile turning a little bit playful. "You''ll scare stuff off otherwise. I know you''re literally a ghost, but I just wanted to say."


    "Ah, yeah. I figured as much¡ª please do tell me to shut the hell up if I somehow don''t get the memo, though," Casper jokes. Then, feels like he needs to clarify: "But I understand.¡±


    "Great!" Lyre turns and starts walking towards the door, and then pauses. He grimaces, seeming to remember something unpleasant, and slips his shoes off ... ? Well. The action reveals very obviously soft-padded feet, like a cat''s. Lyre glances down and then to Casper.


    "... Uhm. Voidfolk genes. I always do this when I go hunting because my, uh, feet¡ª are built for quiet. Voidfolk, we''re, uh. We''re ambushers." Lyre shrugs. "I don''t like the feel of not wearing shoes, but ... this helps me not make noise, so I deal."


    "Ohhh," Casper drawls, and his tone suggests a touch of intrigue.


    Lyre moves to stand on his tiptoes instead of on the flats of his feet and seems to do so with ease, remaining perfectly upright¡ª it also makes him just a bit taller.


    "Let''s go. Yeah?¡± Lyre says, somewhat expectant.


    "Ah, of course. After you,¡± Caspers says, stepping to the side.


    "Will do!"


    And with that, Lyre slips¡ª alarmingly silently out the door and into the slowly darkening forest.


    ¡ª


    The forest is getting darker by the moment.


    Lyre raises his head, ears perking up, listening carefully to their surroundings. Eventually, he will hear the distant rustle of something.


    Lyre lowers his head, and sets off in the direction of the sound. He seems to remember that Casper is there around halfway through his slinking, murmuring¡ª


    ¡°I heard something. We''ve got to be quiet.¡±


    "Oh, alright," Casper says quietly. He hadn''t spoken, up until now. Seems he took the memo rather well. "You, uh. You got it.¡±


    Instead of replying, Lyre just nods, pupils dilated in the dusky light. He slips away into the darkness again, completely silent, head low.


    Then, he spots it. The grip on his sword tightens.


    There''s a deer in a clearing just through the undergrowth. It doesn''t seem to have noticed anyone, or anything is there as it walks. Lyre begins to move¡ª the underbrush barely disturbed by his motions, no sound made at all as he moves slowly, slowly, carefully. Each motion is deliberate. Methodical. Calculated.


    And there''s a point where Casper just... stops following him. Lets him do what he needs to do. Get down to business, if you will. He figures it''d be better for him, this way¡ª no distractions.


    So, he watches. Quietly. Distantly. Removed. Like a ghost such as himself often does.


    Lyre circles around the clearing until he''s behind the deer. And then he crouches down. He prepares for the next step in complete silence.


    One heartbeat. It''s silent. Still.


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    Two heartbeats. Everything is happening at once.


    Lyre bursts out of the undergrowth in an arcing leap, glowing eyes practically leaving a blazing trail through the air as he full-body tackles the deer, straight to the ground, using his strength and somewhat-greater weight to his advantage.


    The ensuing struggle is rough. The pair rolls across the forest floor for a few seconds, but ultimately, the Voidfolk hybrid overpowers. With Lyre pinning the deer down with his entire body¡ª and a clawed hand¡ª and the creature flailing about, it''s a sight.


    A stray hoof strikes him in the face. A crack is heard. Purpleish-red blood drips down his face. Lyre winces, but does not falter.


    Raising the sword, he slashes it across the deer''s throat in one quick, rather violent motion with an unreadable, hardened expression. Blood sprays. His own blood drip, drip, drips onto the deer''s now-still body, as more crimson pools on the ground.


    Lyre isn''t even breathing heavily. Just staring down, expressionlessly, at the body of the deer. At the blank eyes of its corpse. He doesn''t sit back. He remains hunched over it for a few long moments.


    . . .


    The ghost considers the events that transpired carefully; where one would expect horror, perhaps, even disgust¡ª all Casper can describe "feeling" right now, is, well.


    Understanding.


    He understands, what happens here. It''s not pretty, certainly not¡ª Hell, he, himself, winces at the audible crack. But he knows why it happened.


    Lyre needs to eat.


    There''s not much more to it, than that.


    Casper watches Lyre intently. He''d say something, but he quickly figures it''d be better if Lyre did that himself. So, he gives him time.


    After a few moments, Lyre lets out a long breath, relaxes¡ª and then promptly un-relaxes, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth, rearing back and dropping the sword rather dramatically before covering his face with both hands.


    He stays like that for a little bit.


    Then, hesitantly, he removes his hands from his face, looks down at the deer again with wider eyes than before, and then scans the undergrowth, seemingly, looking for Casper.


    His eyes eventually land on the ghost''s pale form.


    And for a few moments he just peers. Dares, to make momentary eye contact. Casper wonders why he makes himself do that.


    Lyre looks away soon after. But then he speaks up, knowing that Casper will hear him.


    "... It broke my nose, but I''ll be okay," Lyre calls, his speech a little muddled by the affliction. "I hope you''re okay, too?" His expression is still a little pained from that broken nose. It''s kind of obvious.


    "It broke your nose?" Casper echoes. He''s not surprised¡ª he heard that crack. And yet, he can''t help the rush of concern that follows, ¡°Oh, fuck¡ª are you okay? How''re you gonna treat that?" Casper makes the easy assumption that Lyre doesn''t have any potions on him.


    Like many, many other things.


    Casper floats closer to him. "God, you''re bleeding,¡± He murmurs, as Lyre properly comes into view. He frowns. "Does it hurt?"


    It''s a stupid question, he knows.


    "You think I haven''t gotten hurt hunting before?" Lyre questions with a faint, pained smile. He is bleeding. His face is streaked with reddish-purple blood, spilling from his nose, but it''s hard to tell with the spray that coats his front, too.


    "Oh, I''m sure you have," Casper says, and he''d roll his eyes if he wasn''t actively worried about him. He doubts Lyre would be able to tell, though¡ª no pupils.


    Lyre laughs quietly at his remark. "... Yes, it does hurt. But I can re-align it ..."


    Breathing in, Lyre reaches up and grimaces in pain as he adjusts his nose back into position. It looks painful. No crack this time, at least. Lyre grits his teeth, hard¡ª but doesn''t make a sound.


    "... I''ll make a splint for it when we get back to the cabin," Lyre says simply. He reaches down and picks up the sword, and then the deer, hauling the latter over his shoulders.


    "Yeah, sounds good," Casper says, watching Lyre as he¡ª oh wow he really did just haul that thing onto his shoulders like it''s weightless. Okay. Okay.


    Lyre starts to walk back in the direction of the cabin, having eased back onto the flats of his feet, no longer needing to be deathly silent. His tail drags along the ground behind him.


    "I have, really!" Oh, so he hasn''t let that go. Lyre''s retort to Casper is light, his voice still stuffy from the broken nose, but a bit less. "I''ve gotten far worse, trust me."


    "Oh, you don''t need to prove it, Lyre. I just bloody watched," Casper snarks, floating after him. "I believe you." Is said with a smile.


    ¡­ Or maybe a smirk.


    "Was this one of the better experiences or nah,"


    Lyre stifles a huff. Silent for a bit before he replies:


    "Yeah, this was one of the better ones¡ª could have done with one less broken nose, though," Lyre says nonchalantly. "I''ve had some really rough struggles. This, uh, luckily wasn''t one of them." He laughs quietly.


    The pale light of the cabin can be seen in the distance, now.


    "Ah, well. What can you do," Casper says. "So what, did it just, like¡ª" He vaguely gestures around. ¡°Think I saw it kick you? It was pretty dark, do correct me if I''m wrong,¡±


    "Hoofed me in the face, yeah," Lyre says with a sigh. "Kicked me. Whatever you wanna call it¡ª I''m, uh," He hesitates. "I don''t tend to be the most careful when I''m focusing like that, so it slipped my mind."


    The light gets closer, and closer, and soon, the cabin is visible.


    Casper frowns, lightly. "Awe, well. Try to be more careful next time, maybe," Riiiight. Because he knew soooo much about hunting. "But hey, what do I know,"


    He shrugs, turning to face the approaching light of Lyre''s cabin. All in all, not an awful experience¡ª which is easy to say, seeing as he''s not the one who ate shit.


    Twisting to look back at Casper, Lyre''s eyes narrow, an accomplishment for someone with an already-scrunched-up face. He opens his mouth to speak, and then closes it, and then frowns¡ª pouts.


    "... Yeah, okay¡ª whatever," Lyre says, muttering and looking away. "We''re almost at the cabin." He raises his head.


    "Mm," Casper hums, and he lets him have this one. "Looks like it,"


    Lyre nods, and then they''re at the cabin''s door soon enough. He pushes it open and walks inside with everything in tow.


    ¡ª


    Slipping into the cabin, Lyre wastes no time in squirreling away to the kitchen. He moves rather quickly through the living area, as to minimalize blood dripping onto the floor to be cleaned up later. All-in-all, kind of speeding around the cabin, in a flurry, clearly having his mind set to the tasks at hand.


    Casper, in contrast, strolls in rather calmly. He lets Lyre do his running around¡ª he needs to. So, the ghost stands off to the side, in the "living area", of sorts.


    ¡­ He peers at the shelves on the wall. He''s seen this, before, yes¡ª but something catches his attention.


    The deer. He''s carved deer¡ª a handful of them, in fact. Intentionally, meticulously. Some sloppier than others, some eerily refined.


    Casper thinks there''s some sort of metaphor to be found, there.


    "Casper, are you¡ª are you, uh, still there?" Lyre calls from the other room. "Don''t come over here. I''m gonna, uh¡ª" He hesitates. "Knife. Deer," He says, awkwardly, skirting around the subject of cutting it up.


    "I''m still here," Casper says simply, eyes still focused on the wood carvings. The deer wood carvings. "You go do that. Don''t worry."


    Lyre is shaping up to be... an interesting man. It sounds a little naive¡ª especially considering Lyre lived in the forest¡ª but the ghost genuinely doesn''t think he''d have expected this side, to him.


    Lyre, was... pathetic. Emotional, it looked like. Anxious, to an extent. Insecure. Lonely. Kind.


    But what he didn''t expect, was for Lyre to be efficient as a hunter.


    It''s downright fascinating, to him¡ª and he doesn''t know why, it''s this big of a deal. And honestly, it''s not the hunt that catches his eye¡ª


    It''s the quiet that comes after.


    Casper shakes his head softly, turning away from the shelving.

 Off the Clock

    CHAPTER 5: OFF THE CLOCK


    ¨C POV: QUEUE ¨C


    (ROLEPLAYERS: VEN, TEA)


    (ADAPTATION: VEN)


    It''s been a couple hours, since the meeting with the Blackstone Emperor, Chaos. That¡¯s long enough, though ¨C it''s been long enough that the sun is beginning to set, and everything is getting quiet. Darker. Queue finds himself lingering in the halls of the White House.


    He also soon finds that he¡¯s not the only one who¡¯s had this particular train of thought about hanging around. As they round the corner they spot Jeremy ¨C standing in the hallway, fumbling with his keys as he locks the door to his office. They hang back and watch for a bit.


    Jeremy starts to walk away, but then abruptly stops, seems to curse under his breath, and then walks back, repeating the process all over again. Queue lets out a quiet huff of amusement.


    Now he steps out of the shadows, small wings fluttering.


    "I think you locked it right the first time."


    Queue speaks casually, despite their uneasy mood. They''re lingering around the White House after the events of the meeting like a disturbed spirit of some sort, unable to rest for the life of them.


    But unlike a disturbed spirit, he has a relatively friendly expression on his face. Or at least, he¡¯s attempting to have one.


    They don¡¯t fully process the way Jeremy freezes.


    "Honest, I understand! But ... man, we all need to ease up a little, huh?" Queue looks and feels a little wistful, now. A little thoughtful, thinking of a better time for a moment. But it passes, and then he''s back in the present.


    "How have you been?" Queue asks. It''s conversational, casual. Trying not to break their usual routine, between the two of them, too much ¨C Queue knows Jeremy just enough to puzzle out that ... that would not go over well with him.


    They bite their tongue on other than the lock troubles, that sounds a bit mean.


    Jeremy whips his head around in Queue¡¯s direction. Eyes wide, like he''s been caught doing something he shouldn''t have. And he stares, for just a minute.


    And as he looks at them with those wide eyes Queue wonders for a second if they shouldn''t have said anything, meeting his gaze with slightly widened eyes of his own. And then the man relaxes slightly, the moment passes, and oh, thank God, things are normal again.


    Jeremy looks away. Vaguely embarrassed, if Queue had to guess. Well, they had caught him at kind of a bad time, they suppose. Maybe they could have been nicer, about that, but hey. Now that the guilt has passed ¡­ It was kind of funny, okay?


    "... I''ve been fine," Jeremy says, finally. Pocketing his keys and turning to face Queue fully. "I was a bit behind schedule, but. Ah. What can you do, right? I managed."


    He nods to himself. Queue tilts their head.


    "What about you? You got around organizing the scouts, yet?" Jeremy asks, looking at Queue with his usual neutral expression.


    "I''ve been working on what I can, but to be honest it''s been really hard to actually focus on much of anything with the stress," Queue admits openly with a little huff of breath. "The Emperor himself sure left a bad impression, that''s for sure. I''ve been running around trying to calm people down."


    That much was true ¨C but most of it had been inside the White House. God knows what they''d have to do outside of it, people who were just living their lives and still hurting from the war would be terrified of Chaos appearing.


    Jeremy huffs. "Well that''s the Emperor, for you," He says, with what Queue thinks might almost be distaste or disdain. But it¡¯s hard to tell with Jeremy. "Hopefully we don''t have to ¨C I don''t know. Just let him in, again. Like it''s nothing."


    Crossing his arms, Queue frowns.


    "Well, unfortunately, it''s not like we had much choice in the matter." You aren''t the one who saw -- "It can be kind of life or death, with the guy." They huff out another short breath, a sigh. "But you''re right, in a way. I hated just seeing him walk in like he owned the place."


    "... I know," Jeremy admits. It¡¯s almost surprising. "Still don''t like it, but ¨C actually, whatever," He waves a hand, dismissive. Then there¡¯s a pause. Queue rubs at his arm subconsciously, a nervous habit, and then decides to move on.


    "Sorry about your schedule." They shrug. It''s genuine, at least ¨C they¡¯re sorry for what everyone at that meeting had to be put through. A schedule is the least of everyone¡¯s worries, he knows, but sometimes people mask their bothers with simple complaints.


    A beat of silence passes, and Jeremy blinks.


    "Oh, it''s fine, really." He says, and it sounds automatic. "Nothing I can''t handle. I''m just bitching about it." Sure enough, Queue was right. Jeremy is bothered by something else. Not that Queue is going to press for it.


    "Just bitching, huh." He laughs a little. "Yeah, I understand that."


    At that, Jeremy dimly laughs, too. Sort of, it''s a quiet kind of sound. "Yeah, just bitching. Lot to bitch about, you know? I just ... don''t say anything, usually. Most of the time." Oh, yeah. Queue knows.


    "There sure is," He says tiredly. "Even without the Emperor getting involved there''s a lot of things to be doing." Their wings rustle. He always gets this odd feeling, talking to Jeremy, especially lately, when the man would just ... talk to him, like an equal. Queue can''t really put a finger on it.


    It reminds him of how someone else made him feel, but. Well. They don''t like thinking about those feelings.


    "Anything else in particular worth bitching about, you think?"


    "People," Jeremy blurts out immediately. "God, people. People. Overwhelming bunch of ¨C" He groans, saying something inaudible in between it that¡¯s not quite decipherable. "The phone calls? I can handle them, most of the time. Maybe today I was just ¨C already pissed off. I dunno."


    He shrugs.


    "But like I said. I cope."


    Damn, Queue thinks. Can''t really relate, but okay.


    They don''t say that, obviously, and, well, maybe they can relate a little more than he''d like to admit ... dealing with the community was something that he loved but could only take so much of. It''s draining him, a little.


    "I get it, I think," Queue says thoughtfully. "Kind of. Glad you''re coping, though." He offers a smile.


    Their wings twitch.


    "Of course,¡± Jeremy replies.


    And then there¡¯s silence between them. It lasts an uncomfortably long amount of time, enough for Queue to almost want to say, okay, maybe I should be going now, see you later! However, Jeremy clearly doesn¡¯t have the same train of thought, because ¡­


    "Hey ¨C are you doing anything this evening, perchance?"


    One, two, three.


    Queue blinks. Several seconds pass. The gears turn in his head, steady clockwork powering his brain slowly as it reasons through that line of questioning. Their mouth opens to speak, and then closes again. And then ¨C


    "Uh, no. I''m not. Why?" His brow furrows, still trying to puzzle out what''s going on here. Or is this just ... a Jeremy thing? It''s probably just a Jeremy thing but he''s really, really not sure.


    "Do you wanna get a drink?" Jeremy asks. "Or ¨C or something? I dunno."


    Another pause. There¡¯s a loud dial-up tone in Queue¡¯s head as he processes, and he swears it''s audible to Jeremy, too.


    Then they blink, and it''s gone, and they''re saying ¨C


    "Yeah, sure! I don''t see why not," With a big smile, maybe a touch too warm, like nothing is wrong at all. "Like, right now? Or later?" God, what are you even asking? "Just ¨C just for clarification, because it is late ..."


    Jeremy just kind of blinks at him.


    Fuck, Queue thinks.


    "Oh, well. I usually go after, work ¡­ ? Would you rather it be later?" Jeremy looks at Queue with what must be mild confusion. And possibly judgment.


    "Oh ¨C no, no, it''s fine! We can go. Whenever." Queue shoves their hands in their pockets abruptly and the feathers on their wings fluff up considerably for a moment, bristling slightly in embarrassment. "I''m free, so."


    For as socially adept as he can claim to be ¨C Queue can seriously suck at the most basic of human interaction. Or ¨C what he thinks is the most basic of human interaction.


    "... Okay,¡± Jeremy says, and Queue for the life of them cannot read his tone. "Let''s, go then?" Oh ¨C he''s already starting to walk. Expecting Queue to follow, clearly.


    "Yeah, alright!" Queue says, jogging after Jeremy to keep up.


    Off they go.


    ¡ª-


    "Okay, I know what you''re thinking ¨C" Jeremy starts off, walking into the bar. Holding the door open, for Queue to walk through. "It''s obnoxious. Right? But, listen ¨C the service is pretty fuckin'' good, yeah? Surprisingly so. And also, it happens to be close. So."


    Vague ¡­ hand gesturing. "What can ya do. It certainly speaks for itself, doesn''t it?" Jeremy¡¯s right. The bar certainly does speak for itself.


    Getting around the way he does, Queue has seen this place once or twice, but never really gotten anything to drink ¨C alcohol wasn''t exactly his favorite flavor, and he was wary of the concept of getting drunk, anyhow.


    It¡¯s one of the few bars around town. What''s particular about this one, though, is the fact that it''s run by pirates ¨C former pirates, that is. But they didn''t exactly let you forget ¨C


    The entire bar has a theme to it. Wooden floors ¨C planks, looks like ¨C nautical flags strewn about, the anchor theming ¨C it all looks like it''s trying to emulate a ship.


    But to Queue, despite Jeremy¡¯s words, it''s hard to find obnoxiousness in a place overflowing with so much passion.


    Queue''s eyes are wide as they walk into the building, not because they''re scared, but because he''s genuinely a little awed and excited by the decor and the people who frequent the place.


    There are just some places his mind has labeled as not supposed to go because of his status (and other reasons) and bars were one of them.


    Alone, that is. Alone. Right now, he has Jeremy with him, he''s not alone. Queue has backup, so to speak. So they feel a little more confident as they glance around and adjust to their surroundings gradually. Okay. He can work with this. Jeremy is saying the service is good.


    Okay! Sweet!


    "Yes," Queue says with a grin. "It does speak for itself, and it speaks rather grandly, too," He murmurs, careful not to disturb the populace with loud outbursts. "Interesting theme. I like it, actually. If the service is good, that''s even better."


    As Queue says all of that, Jeremy blinks, as though a touch surprised, though he quickly gets over it outwardly as far as Queue can tell. Nothing seems to last long with that guy ¨C emotionally, at least.


    "Yeah... certainly brimming with personality, isn''t it?" He says, closing the door behind Queue as they step in. Walking further in ¨C again, expecting Queue to follow.


    It doesn''t take long to reach the bar itself ¨C like a lot of things in No Man''s Land, the building was rather small. Quaint. Jeremy practically climbs his way up onto one of the stools, and sits down.


    Queue pauses. The stools are tall ¡­


    Oh, damn it. If Jeremy has to almost-climb a stool, Queue has to scale the damn thing. They are short.


    Huffing out a quiet sigh, Queue, with some difficulty, aggressive flapping of his small wings, and odd looks from a few strangers makes it onto his stool and immediately sits down with complete dignity as though nothing had happened.


    Jeremy doesn¡¯t seem to notice, or if he does, doesn¡¯t comment (thank God), and leans on the counter. Must be waiting.


    "... D''ya know this place is owned by pirates?" Jeremy mentions, idly. Voice a little a louder than a murmur. "Hah ¨C pretty obvious, right? Guess they wanted to remember their lifestyle, even when they settled."


    Queue blinks, but honestly? Isn''t that surprised.


    "It definitely looks the part," He says, and it''s honest. "Our histories are kind of intertwined anyway, yeah? Pirates and No Man''s Land." They laugh quietly, glancing around the establishment again to see what there is to be seen.


    There are actually a couple of familiar faces in the bar ¨C and Queue''s own expression lights up when he sees them, offering a quick wave here or there to say hello silently. All-around, this experience ... isn''t terrible! And Jeremy seems to feel the same way, as far as Queue can tell, so ... win-win!


    "Mm," Jeremy hums. "Yeah, they are, aren''t they? I guess it''s only fitting." Jeremy''s fingers tap against the table, idly. Waiting, waiting.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    And as if on cue --


    "Evenin'', Jeremy!" A rather tall, bulky looking woman slides into view. If it weren''t for the relatively friendly expression on her face, you''d actually find her quite intimidating, you think. (Especially with the scarring on her face... hm.)


    She glances to the side, eyes landing on Queue. "Ohhh, who''s ya friend, here?"


    "He''s my co-worker," Jeremy answers unremarkably.


    "Another co-worker? You really need to start getting actual friends, Jeremy. It''s getting a little sad!" She snarks, a pointy looking grin on her face.


    Queue glances between them, blinking as they go back and forth.


    "Oh -- shut up," Jeremy practically ducks his head, shoulders hunched, face flushing slightly in ¨C embarrassment? Is that embarrassment?


    The woman rolls her eyes, before turning her attention to Queue. "I feel like I''ve seen ya face around, before." She squints, like she''s reaaaaally studying that face, of theirs. "Can''t really recall, though ¨C I see different faces every day! Please do jog my memory."


    A friendly smile breaks onto Queue''s face. As of now, there''s no reason to be intimidated ¨C scars never hurt anyone, and her attitude doesn''t seem sour at all. Though Queue does have to crane their neck up to make eye contact.


    "Queue. Queue Andrews," he says easily. "It''s a pleasure to meet you!" They beam, smile all warmth. And it''s genuine! It''s honest! Queue wants to know more about this place, they''ve always meant to learn more about this side of NML''s history, it was just ... intimidating, for a while.


    But now he has (a friend?) backup with him! So it''s not like anything is going to happen to them, really.


    The bartender snaps her fingers. "Queue Andrews! Ahh, I remember now! I''ve heard a lot about you, yanno," She grins. "Mustn''t be easy, getting around like that..." What does she mean? What does she mean by that? Queue¡¯s brow furrows.


    Mustn¡¯t be easy ¡­ Well, someone has to do it, right? Someone has to make sure the people are happy. Safe. Despite the ups and downs. Someone has to ¨C


    The bartender leans on the counter, now. Seemingly considering them both. Her gaze slides over to Jeremy.


    "So what will it be, Jeremy? Today a good night, or a bad night?"


    And surprisingly, Jeremy almost seems to bristle, visibly. Queue¡¯s eyebrows raise in surprise, snapping out of their momentary daze. Though he supposes it¡¯s not new to see Jeremy bothered about something ¡­ or at least, confrontational? Mm. Whatever.


    "Today is a fine night," Jeremy says, a bit sharply. But there''s no malice behind it, as far as Queue can tell. This must be a routine of some sort. Jeremy then glances at Queue. "What do you want?"


    ... Queue is a bit taken aback. He almost pulls a grimace. They ... they''re not big on alcohol. Might as well be honest.


    "I don''t ... usually go to bars. Or ... do alcohol," They admit, and it feels like pulling teeth. "Hate the taste." Hate the idea of being loopy. "Is there anything else?" He looks to the bartender, blinking curiously.


    Jeremy looks away. Expression unseen. This does not go unnoticed by Queue. Their brow furrows ¨C cues from Jeremy are often small, they find, but you didn''t have to be the most adept person in the world to figure out that someone ducking their head that way is not feeling the best.


    After a few moments Jeremy looks back, face perfectly neutral. Placid. Somewhat expectant, like it often tends to be. Queue doesn¡¯t make eye contact.


    In fact, he doesn''t press on it all, though he resists the urge to pat Jeremy on the back for reassurance. They''re pretty sure the man wouldn''t appreciate that gesture, either.


    "Aahhh," The bartender drawls. "Well, there''s some sodas in the back?" She gestures behind her. "Soft drinks, stuff like that? Will that do it, for ya?"


    "Soda is fine," Queue says with a smile to the bartender, some sympathy lingering on his face from when they''d been looking at Jeremy. They hadn''t realized how much their expression had softened. "Just ... anything that won''t get me loopy is good."


    God. The thought almost makes him shudder.


    "Loopy," The bartender echoes, like she hasn''t heard that phrasing before. It takes a moment, but then ¨C "Ahhh, I understand."


    She leans back, away from the counter. Glancing between them both, again. Queue suddenly feels extremely self-conscious, but doesn¡¯t move from their stiff position.


    "Anything else I can do for you both?" She asks, generally.


    Jeremy''s fingers tap, tap, tap against the wooden counter. Queue guesses he must be a bit restless. They feel a prick of guilt for making him so clearly uncomfortable by complete accident.


    "... I''ll also have a soda," He says quietly. Queue glances at him. The bartender also raises an eyebrow at him, like it''s an odd request. But she also looks a bit expectant, like she''s waiting for something else. Jeremy, then clarifies ¨C "Surprise me."


    Queue breathes out. Okay. Now ¨C


    "For me, anything sweet is fine." He says to the bartender with a smile, head tilting ever so slightly. Their wings twitch subconsciously.


    "Okie dokie!" She grins, all very sharp teeth but still managing to look somewhat approachable. The bartender leans away as far back as she can, turning her as she does so, and goes ¨C


    "EY, JOHNNY. GET ME TWO SODAS WILL YA?"


    Almost comically, as if on cue, two cans of soda slide down across the counter with just enough momentum to reach them.


    Queue gives a faint, slightly amused smile. It¡¯s kind of absurd. They glance back at Jeremy to see his reaction and ¡­


    Jeremy¡¯s lip twitches. No other reaction is seen from the man, at least not visible to Queue. It¡¯s almost frustrating at times, the blankness.


    "Gotta love Johnny," The bartender muses, to herself.


    She taps the counter, with one more note before departing: "I''ll put it on your tab, yeah, Jeremy?" She smiles, tilting her head. "Give me a shout if ya need anything."


    "I most certainly will not," Jeremy says with what must be just the slightest bit of amusement in his voice. A sliver, of it. The bartender easily barks a laugh, though, and ¨C she''s off.


    There''s a long pause as Queue watches her go, and then the two coworkers are ¡­ mostly alone.


    More silence, until it can¡¯t be stood for any longer.


    "... You know, I don''t go to bars often, like I said," Queue mentions idly, to Jeremy, "But I don''t mind this one. It''s just that ¨C" He bites his lip. How do they word this without sounding like a coward? "¨C I dunno. I get nervous." He winces. God ¨C fuck, it''s good enough.


    "I''m quite sorry, by the way," Jeremy says, suddenly, instead of mocking Queue or anything of the like. Turning to look at them. "I ¨C didn''t know. I really didn''t." It¡¯s a little stunning.


    And ¡­ eyes widening a touch, Queue blinks, realizing that that must have been what was bothering Jeremy when he looked away. It makes sense now ¨C the cues from before. He sighs, and shakes his head. They smile faintly, and nudge Jeremy slightly with their elbow.


    He barely budges.


    "Of course you didn''t know. I didn''t say anything," Queue says with a touch of sympathy to their voice. Almost a softness ¨C yet, chiding, in a way. "It''s not your fault. And like I said, I don''t mind it here at all. It''s okay!"


    "I would''ve preferred if you did," Jeremy says, if not with the slightest beginnings of a smile. Like he''s realizing that it''s okay. "I''m glad you don''t seem to mind it, though..."


    He looks down, and finally opens the soda can with an audible clack. He doesn''t drink from it yet, though. He peers at it, as if to consider it. Queue watches curiously.


    "... Been going here for a while, actually," Jeremy muses. "Like, for years. Kind of hard to imagine. My brother ¨C" His lip twitches into a frown, briefly. Queue blinks. "He introduced me to it, in the first place."


    "Really?" Queue looks at Jeremy curiously. Dully, he somewhat recalls his own family ¨C before swiping the train of thought away and off of his mental table entirely. Not the time to be dwelling on such things.


    "Your brother introduced you to it. Huh," They hum, and take a moment to struggle with the lid of their own soda. And then another, and then another and -- okay, that''s quite a few moments, Queue, surely you''ll have gotten this by now.


    "Yeah," Jeremy says, raising the can to his lips, clearly not having noticed Queue¡¯s struggle yet. "One of the few good things that he did," Murmured.


    Queue rapidly mutters a long string of curses in Spanish under his breath. Many of them should likely not be repeated in English around pleasant company.


    Then. Defeatedly, Queue says ¡­


    "... I can''t open this."


    Jeremy turns to look at them. Blankly. Staring with a completely neutral expression, which almost adds insult to injury, honestly.


    "... Do you need help." It¡¯s more of a statement than a question.


    "No ¨C no, actually," Queue changes their mind the second that Jeremy offers, suddenly feeling indignant. He struggles with the lid again, with a little bit more intensity this time. Perhaps too much intensity ¨C


    Caught at a bad angle and with too much force, the tab pops! clean off ¨C shoots through the air ¨C and hits Queue directly in the face. Between the eyes, luckily not in one of the eyes.


    "A ¡ª" Queue bites down on a shout, covering their face with their hands immediately after. "Fffffffuck. Shit." Muffled, from behind their palms, and in complete and utter shame and embarrassment.


    "HhhHahha ¡ª" They stiffen as they hear the beginnings of a laugh from, someone. Queue''s fingers part, eyes searching for who -- J ... Jeremy? Their hands drop from their face as they just kind of stare for a few moments in shock. Jeremy. Laughing. Wait, wait ¡­


    Laughing AT him. Just as quickly as the disbelief washed over Queue, embarrassment and indignance follow directly after and their face flushes a deep, deep red.


    "Hey -- hey hey hey HEY it''s not THAT funny ¨C" Queue complains, swatting at Jeremy. He''s trying not to be so loud as to disturb other patrons but is also feeling EXTREMELY slighted. But more in a kind-of fun way than in an actually angry way. "It hurt! Like a bitch!"


    "Did it?" Jeremy asks, borderline snickering and raising an eyebrow. An actual smile, on his face. What the hell. What the hell! "Did it really?"


    He leans his side against the counter, looking Queue up and down.


    "What a shame."


    Registering the actual smile, the look, the well. The everything, really, Queue''s face gets a touch redder and on top of it their wings puff right up, spreading slightly. The little yellow things give a small flap for emphasis when Queue next speaks ¨C


    "Yes!" It''s almost hissed, because they''re trying so, so hard not to be obnoxiously loud like they usually are. "It did hurt! Like a bitch!" He puts a hand to his forehead dramatically and leans on the counter himself. "So don''t make fun of me. ''Cause it was so, so painful." Still. Despite the redness of their face, the bristling of their wings, the tension of their frame ¨C


    Queue is smiling now. He can''t contain it. Can''t help it. He can''t be angry, here ¨C they just struggled with a soda in front of an entire bar and hey! It got Jeremy to laugh! Which Queue has never heard before. It''s the kind of laugh that sticks with you, simply because you never, ever hear it.


    "Ohh, well. Boo-hoo," Jeremy snarks, smile turning into a smirk ¨C a smirk?! ¨C if only for a brief moment. It lingers, before his expression eases into its more natural neutrality.


    "... Do you, er. Do you want my soda?" It''s a half amused, half genuine question. "Since, well. Can''t exactly open yours, can you?"


    The question catches them off-guard. The smile drops from Queue''s face, if only because he''s startled. Their wings twitch and he looks at Jeremy with an utterly perplexed expression for a long few moments ¨C the warm red not leaving his face.


    It feels different, though. Where it was once indignance it''s now something they ... can''t identify.


    "I, I haven''t even drank from it, yet. By, by the way,¡± Jeremy quickly clarifies, and Queue blinks. Okay, that¡¯s good, at least ¡­


    "... Uh, sure." Queue looks away, casting a glance at his own soda. It ... it is kind of ruined, isn''t it. They clear their throat. "If it isn''t a problem. Obviously," He clarifies, looking back. "Wouldn''t want to cost you extra just because I fucked up my own soda. You know?"


    Jeremy shrugs. " ''S just a soda, Andrews," He mutters, sliding his mostly untouched opened soda, to them. Glancing down at it, then glancing back up. Eye contact.


    Eye contact. Queue holds it for a few seconds before deciding he can''t take it anymore and redirects their gaze to the soda. He takes it and finds himself feeling slightly dizzy. Maybe a bit nauseous? Hmm.


    "Doesn''t cost me a thing." Jeremy¡¯s voice is ¡­


    Queue frowns down at the drink for a long few moments, before looking back to Jeremy. Their eyebrows go up, wondering if that statement is actually true but ¨C it''s Jeremy, who isn''t exactly known for lying to people. At least, not often.


    "... Really? That''s good. I think." His wings twitch. It''s not like he''d know much about the way a bar works.


    Jeremy hums, fingers tapping against the counter idly. Looking at Queue, like he''s considering them, carefully ¡­ Queue feels a bit inspected, but it¡¯s fine.


    "... Did you know that you can use soda to remove rust?" He murmurs, randomly. Somewhat absently. "Tried it before, actually."


    Both eyebrows go up.


    "Really?" Queue is genuinely intrigued. "I didn''t know that, do you have any details on how it works, exactly?"


    They''re content to spend the rest of the night like this, talking, like nothing is wrong. Blocking out the world, just a bit.


    He smiles to himself and thinks ¨C


    Everything will be okay.

 How the Rain Burns (My Heart)

    CHAPTER 6: HOW THE RAIN BURNS (MY HEART)


    ¨C POV: LYRE ¨C


    (ROLEPLAYERS: VEN, TEA)


    (ADAPTATION: VEN)


    The sun hangs in the sky over the forest.


    Lucky for everyone (all of the ... two! People at the cabin) today is a foraging day, not a hunting day. Lyre has found a particularly large patch of blackberries ¨C or, rather, he found it a year ago, and has been coming back to it regularly since ¨C and is picking berries somewhat methodically and placing them into a little ... wooden ... bowl, thing.


    Well. He does what he can with what he has! That is, until the air starts to feel ... damp. Lyre breathes in, and there''s a distinct hint of bad weather in the air. He shoots a glance Casper''s way ¨C for the ghost had accompanied him ¨C frowning.


    He''s about to say they should start heading back to the cabin when the very first drop of rain strikes him dead on the nose. He hears Casper draw in a sharp breath, and ¨C


    Lyre lets out a startled voidfolk hiss, slapping a hand over his face, feeling the shiver run through his entire body, his skin disturbed by the contact with the substance. Being a hybrid meant the reaction was lessened, and his internals were immune, but that didn''t render him impervious to how uncomfortable it was.


    And besides, getting wet sucks when you''re covered in fine, thin fur.


    ¡°The weather''s about to turn for the worse, I think, we ¨C¡± It begins to drizzle. ¡° ¨C Should start. Uh. Heading back! I think I''ve got enough berries and I''m not fond of the idea of collecting rainwater in this.¡± He smiles at Casper a touch awkwardly as the ghost stares blankly up at the sky.


    Casper squints. And then Lyre hears it.


    Sizzling. The ghost starts sizzling in the rain, as the droplets make contact with his skin. He raises a palm, and as more droplets strike, the sizzling continues, and Casper says ¨C


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    Lyre stares blankly in shock for a few moments, head having whipped around to look moments prior. Then he draws in a sharp breath and slaps a hand over his mouth ¨C horrified. Honestly, he feels like his heart might beat out of his chest.


    Seconds after he pulls his hand away, he exclaims, rather unceremoniously, though in a complete and utter panic ¨C


    ¡°Casper, you¡¯re burning up! In the ¨C in the rain ¨C¡±


    He rushes over to the ghost and awkwardly holds the bowl (which, granted, is pretty sizable) over Casper''s head like a makeshift umbrella, careful not to spill any of its contents in the process. And, for good measure, blocking a good chunk more of the rain just with his height alone.


    ¡°¨C Let''s not! Do that! Let''s go back to the cabin, yeah? I''m not gonna ask let''s just, go ¨C¡± Lyre stammers, holding the bowl precariously, still protecting Casper to the best of his ability as the ghost blinks at him.


    ¡°Oh ¨C huh?¡± Casper stares at Lyre. At the bowl over his head. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s ¨C it¡¯s fine.¡± It¡¯s not, Lyre wants to blurt out. He doesn¡¯t, though. ¡°I don¡¯t want you dropping, anything. But, ah,¡± The ghost wrings his hands together. ¡°It''s okay! I''ll manage. But we should head back, yes. I don¡¯t want you getting wet.¡±


    Lyre stares at Casper, who was just SIZZLING! In the rain. In COMPLETE disbelief. It takes him a few moments to collect himself.


    ¡°Casper, you¡¯re literally burning up, I heard you sizzle,¡± Lyre says exasperatedly ¨C with a surprising amount of sternness. It¡¯s the most conviction he¡¯s felt in a while. ¡°You¡¯re the one who shouldn¡¯t be getting wet. Not me.¡± He shuffles forward, fully intent on maintaining this position on the way back.


    The ghost has little choice but to shuffle alongside Lyre as the voidfolk hybrid does. They move along awkwardly through the forest as Lyre continues to speak, anxious but stern.


    ¡°Come on, let''s ¨C let''s just go. Okay? The bowl will be fine. We just need to get a roof over our heads and then ¨C and then we can talk. I guess.¡± Lyre¡¯s tail flicks and he looks up in alarm as the rain begins to fall heavier. He glances down at Casper, whose eyes widen as well. ¡°... And we should probably be quick about it," He adds.


    ¡°... Well. Yeah. It¡¯s not particularly ideal, I¡¯ll admit ¨C¡± More shuffling. ¡°But ¨C let¡¯s not chat, about it here, yes,¡± There¡¯s a hint of urgency to Casper¡¯s tone, the closest to real anxiety for his own safety he¡¯s shown. ¡°Let¡¯s go, then? You take the lead, yeah?¡±


    ¡°Yep,¡± Lyre replies immediately. That¡¯s all he needs to say on the matter.


    He picks up his pace ¨C and the rain, while still heavy, starts to ease a little as they get deeper into the woods once more, the canopy of leaves making it so that barely any droplets pierce their way through. Lyre heaves a breath of relief and lowers the bowl.


    The cabin should be within sight soon.


    ¡°You freaked me out a little,¡± Lyre murmurs in Casper''s direction, not fully expecting a response. He¡¯s feeling ¡­ not angry, not ¡­ freaked out by Casper, just. Worried. Less you scared me and more like I was scared for you.


    ¡°Oh ¨C sorry,¡± Casper says, out of nowhere, and Lyre gets the feeling it¡¯s almost automatic. ¡°I ¨C should have brought it up, sooner? I didn¡¯t exactly ¨C consider it,¡± He murmurs. Lyre opens his mouth to reply when Casper continues on to say ¡­


    ¡°... I''m fine, though. If you''re worried about that.¡± He says quietly. ¡°I don''t ¨C let it get to a bad point. It''s just ¨C you were there, this time. I guess ¡­ ?¡±


    Now Lyre speaks up, but not before staring at Casper disbelievingly.


    ¡°Don''t ¨C don''t apologize! You ¨C you are fine! Or, well, you were burning up, but you''re okay now, and that''s what counts,¡± Lyre says somewhat clumsily, but with heart behind it nonetheless. ¡°I don''t mind you not bringing it up, just ¨C¡± He looks away, now.


    ¡°I was worried. Most people don''t sizzle in the rain. Voidfolk don''t react well to it, but that''s different.¡± Lyre sighs, finishing his thought with a shake of his head to accompany it.


    ¡°Oh ¨C yeah,¡± Casper replies immediately. ¡°It caught me off guard the first time, too. I don''t know if it''s, it''s a ghost thing, or what, but ¡­¡± He sighs. The following words are said with a sort of lamenting tune, one even Lyre can make out ¨C ¡°It''s a shame.¡±


    Lyre feels unfocused. Or, rather, too focused. His gaze is focused on the cabin in the distance, and for a moment, he thinks ¡­


    If he could, he would pick Casper up and run him over there himself ¨C voidfolk are fast as all Hell. Of course he''d ask first, but ... well ... that entire plan is kind of null, given the ghost thing? Honestly he''s not even sure why it occurred to him.


    It just felt right.


    ¡°... Why is it a shame?¡± His mouth seems to move on its own. Snapping out of his trance as he finally processes Casper¡¯s words fully, Lyre looks back to the ghost ¡­ blinking away the last of the thoughts.


    And from Casper, there is a momentary silence.


    ¡°... I liked water a lot, when I was alive.¡± There¡¯s melancholy, wistful hints to Casper¡¯s voice. ¡°I liked the beach ¨C well, not the sand. Maybe I just liked the ocean. I liked to swim. I liked to ¨C you know. Stand in the rain ¡­¡±


    He reaches out a hand. A stray droplet of rain falls between the canopy of leaves and splashes on the palm, sizzling, and Lyre breathes in sharply and instinctively darts out his own hand as though to attempt to shield Casper¡¯s in that same moment. They make brief eye contact.


    The ghost retracts his hand to his chest.


    ¡°... Not an option anymore, hah.¡±


    Lyre pulls back his own hand, God, what¡¯s gotten into him? Face burning in shame and sympathy, he looks to Casper with a heart full of sorrow and ¡­ well, a grief for the life that Casper was maybe, maybe supposed to have.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Is what he finally says. ¡°That is a shame. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    There¡¯s a long silence as the two of them keep walking. There¡¯s not much for Lyre to say here, is there? Or for Casper to say, even. It¡¯s just ¡­ sad. They¡¯re both sad. Casper is more sad than Lyre thought he would be, but, Casper is a ghost. He¡¯s dead. Lyre should have expected this. But somehow, it still aches, still hurts, somewhere deep inside.


    ¡°... We¡¯re getting close to the cabin,¡± Lyre says suddenly, in a mumble, to mask all of the hurt. It¡¯s the truth, too. The dim lights are getting closer.


    Likely picking up on Lyre¡¯s distress, or at least, Lyre selfishly hopes that¡¯s what it is, Casper floats closer to him with at first, a frown on his face ¨C but one that eases into a sad, comforting smile.


    ¡°... Hey. It¡¯s okay, man,¡± Casper says, looking at Lyre with those white, white eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll ¨C I¡¯ll deal? It¡¯s a bit rough, but.¡± The ghost shrugs. ¡°I dunno. Maybe I can ¨C find something else,¡± Casper muses. He looks to Lyre, now, eyes sparking with an idea. Lyre blinks at the unexpected change ¨C still somber, but thinking of something.


    ¡°Got any suggestions, for me ¡­ ?¡± The ghost looks at Lyre expectantly, wringing his hands together. Like he¡¯s waiting for some kind of affirmation or ¨C well, an idea. Or maybe he¡¯s just trying to cheer Lyre up.


    Lyre finds silence hanging in the air as he thinks.


    And then he says, out of nowhere:


    ¡°... I like your voice, and talking to you,¡± He turns his head to look at Casper, who promptly startles, eyes going wide and round. ¡°You could try singing, maybe? Ever, uh, given that a shot?¡± Lyre blinks, peering at Casper. ¡°I¡¯m sure there are other things you could do, too, you just have to discover them.¡± He smiles warmly.


    As soon as the ghost gets a chance to get a word in, the first thing that comes out of his mouth is ¨C


    ¡°You ¨C you what?¡± Now that Lyre looks closer, there¡¯s a shade of some kind of deep blue creeping onto Casper¡¯s face. What ¡­ ? ¡°Th ¨C thank, you ¡­ ?¡± The ghost adjusts his collar, the blue continuing to spread. What is that?


    And you know. Sometimes, Lyre is astutely perceptive. Sometimes, he can track a deer from quite a distance and take it down with just as much skill. Those sometimes, unfortunately, are reserved for very special occasions.


    This is not one of them.


    ¡°Oh ¨C oh no ¨C¡± Lyre feels alarm rising in his chest. What is that color? What does it mean? Is ¨C is Casper sick? Ghost sick?


    ¡°Ah ¨C¡± Casper goes to speak, but Lyre is already scooting closer, looking Casper directly in the eyes with a worried expression, ignoring the voidfolk-blood discomfort that the prolonged eye-contact brings.


    Casper stares back, completely paralyzed (is he sick? Is he?) apparently, as Lyre raises a hand just in front of his forehead to try and check his temperature. Then he realizes. Casper is a ghost. And his hand drops abruptly again, and he backs off, quickly.


    ¡°No, I can''t check your temperature like that, you''re a ghost, what am I thinking, your face won''t feel warm you''re a ghost,¡± He murmurs, gaze directed firmly away. Then he looks back and blurts out ¨C ¡°Sorry!¡± ¡­ Reflexively. Lyre feels his own cheeks warm in embarrassment.


    Once Casper gets over his shock, it doesn¡¯t take long for him to verbalize his feelings. Well, sort of. Lyre can¡¯t really tell what he¡¯s getting at when he says:


    ¡°Oh, no. Nononono,¡± Spoken quickly, ¡°I, I, I''m fine! Truly, really, hahaha,¡± The ghost¡¯s laugh shakes audibly as the dark shade of blue gets deeper on his face, and the first thing Lyre thinks is: Oh no. Now Casper sounds uncomfortable. The second thing he thinks is: Oh no. He just got even more blue!


    He''s really, genuinely not sure what the cause of all that blue is and whether it''s something he should be worried about until he registers the mark on Casper''s face properly.


    It''s ... a scar. Ragged, jagged as one, and a deep, deep ... blue.


    Uh-oh.


    ¡°Oh Limbo below ¨C I am so sorry ¨C Casper ¨C¡± Lyre covers his mouth with his hands but it quickly shifts to just being his entire damn face as he sinks his head into his hands. ¡°I wasn''t thinking! I didn''t mean to embarrass you like that, I swear.¡± His fingers part slightly so he can peek at Casper pathetically.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    And the ghost inhales. Exhales. Looks at Lyre, his lips pressing into a tight line, the flush starting to ¡­ ease, a little.


    ¡°N ¨C no, it''s okay ¨C it''s okay! Really, I, I ¡­¡± There¡¯s a pause, as Casper seems to think. And then he speaks again. ¡°I¡¯m really flattered, truly. I ¨C¡± He clears his throat audibly. ¡°You know?¡±


    At that, Lyre finally removes his head from his hands. Casper is flattered? He¡¯s not angry? It sounds almost too good to be true. He¡¯s almost a little doubtful, at first. Even though Casper has been nothing but kind to him, he still worries.


    ¡°... You are?¡± Lyre¡¯s words come out a little high-pitched. Not quite squeaky, but almost. ¡°That¡¯s good ¡­¡± He looks down, avoiding eye-contact, feeling his face warm, knowing his cheeks are a shade darker than before.


    ¡°Well ¨C¡± Casper hesitates audibly for a moment. Then he says, ¡°Yes ¨C Yes, of course! Very much ¨C¡± And then seemingly fails to think of a finalization to the sentence. It¡¯s okay, though, because Lyre has it covered.


    ¡°Okay ... We should. Get to the cabin,¡± He says in a mumble, gesturing to the building in the distance. Casper looks up in surprise, and perhaps partial relief.


    ¡°Are we ¨C are we close?¡± The ghost asks, floating a little closer to Lyre, to try and get a better judgment of how close they really are to the cabin.


    ¡°Yes ¨C the cabin is close! We''re almost there, actually, so we should hurry up before the rain might get any, uh, worse.¡± Lyre grins nervously, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck with a hand somewhat awkwardly.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Casper echoes. Then after a momentary pause, he asks, ¡°Have you ¨C got enough?¡± Lyre looks back in momentary confusion. ¡°¨C Blackberries, I mean?¡± Oh! Yes, that question makes sense now. Lyre smiles.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to get a lot at once,¡± He says. ¡°They go bad after not too long a while. So ... I make frequent trips! That is to say, I''ve definitely got enough, maybe too much ¡­¡± Lyre looks down at the little bowl, which is quite filled with blackberries ¨C and rainwater. Oops.


    By now the cabin is well within sight, with its dim lights and relative warmth. Lyre is excited to get out of this dreary weather and back inside, already ¨C and maybe forget about that whole thing with Casper (even though he keeps thinking about it).


    ¡°I see ¡­¡± Casper says. ¡°Well, that¡¯s good! I, ah. I hope you enjoy them ¡­¡± It¡¯s a murmur, but audible nonetheless.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Lyre says with a bit of a laugh. ¡°I¡¯m lucky they taste so good, because I have them a lot.¡± His tail flicks as they get closer to the cabin. Almost there ... just a little more walking and they''ll be away from the threat of the rain.


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Casper laughs quietly. ¡°Ah, well. That¡¯s good.¡± There¡¯s a pause, and then. ¡°¨C Do you, do you ever find any other types of berries, in these woods?¡± He asks, head tilting. ¡°Or do you just happen to be familiar, with these.¡±


    He blinks. Lyre doesn''t often think ¨C too hard about what he''s picking, besides checking if the berry is. Well. Poisonous. Or making sure it''s even edible. Because he stopped being picky a long time ago ¨C you can''t afford to be, out in the woods!


    ¡°Well ¨C yes, there are other kinds, like huckleberries ¨C and. Well, there are some I can''t remember the traditional names for. I just recognize them by shape and color," he laughs quietly, shaking his head.


    Now they''re at the door. Finally.


    ¡°... That aside, though, let''s go inside. We can keep talking there!¡± Lyre puts a hand on the wooden entryway and smiles back at the ghost.


    ¡°Oh ¨C yeah, of course. Alright,¡± Casper floats idly by the door. ¡°After you.¡±


    ¡ª-


    The door swings open, and Lyre steps through. The second he does, he prepares to shake himself off ¨C then promptly remembers that Casper is behind him and scoots further into the cabin to get away from the ghost before he does so. When he does, though, he sure does shake.


    Casper floats in right after Lyre does, as promised. He keeps his distance as he watches Lyre shake himself off, chuckling quietly at the action.


    Lyre¡¯s long tail whips water droplets across the room. He feels ... Ugh. Rain. His tongue sticks out for a moment in distaste before pulling back in as he sighs, shaking his head lightly.


    ¡°Bleh. Rain is never fun,¡± Lyre says, looking at Casper with vague amusement but also ¨C concern. ¡°I''m just glad you''re okay, though. Were you actually going to, uh ¨C burn up? Melt ... ?¡± His brow furrows in worry.


    ¡°... I melt,¡± Casper admits after a momentary silence. ¡°I know that sounds bad ¨C but I never let it get to that point, yeah? Usually just some, sizzling. Stings a little, you know?¡±


    ¡°Oh, so you do melt,¡± Lyre says with a frown, suddenly very glad they got inside when they did. ¡°It does sound bad, yeah. It hurts? I ¨C I didn''t know ghosts could ..." He trails off. "Er ¨C I mean, I guess I''m just not! Well-versed! In, ghost ... things ..."


    Lyre looks away in shame. What is he saying? He shuffles his feet awkwardly. He could not have made this any worse if he tried.


    ¡°You know?¡± He asks, a somewhat pathetic attempt to salvage this disaster.


    ¡°I know,¡± Casper says. ¡°I mean ¨C admittedly? Neither am I. I''m kind of, just. Winging it ¨C does that make sense?¡± He laughs, a little. It ¡­ sounds distinctly kind of sad. Lyre can tell.


    ¡°It, ah. It hurts. Well ¨C ''hurts,''" He reiterates, fingers making air quotes and all. ¡°¨C but, well. As long as I avoid it, it''s fine.¡±


    And almost as if on cue, the rain starts to increase in volume, from outside. Intensity. Enough to pierce through the thicker parts of the forest, seems like. As Lyre watches, Casper almost winces.


    Lyre¡¯s head perks up as that sound of rain increases, and he moves to pick up a thick tarp from the floor. Lyre walks over to the nearest window and pins the cloth with pre-made little widgets at each of the corners of it, covering it up. It''s the best he can do in these situations.


    Task complete, Lyre looks back to Casper with a furrowed brow, as the ghost looks like he¡¯s about to explode. And well, he practically does.


    ¡°I ¨C I don''t want you to worry,¡± Casper blurts out. ¡°About, me.¡±


    ¡°What you''re saying is worrying,¡± He says honestly. ¡°You''re not doing a very good job of not worrying me.¡± The voidfolk hybrid paces back over to Casper and makes eye contact for just a moment. ¡°Take care of yourself. Okay?¡± The ghost¡¯s face flushes in clear embarrassment, and Lyre adds: ¡°I know you''ve been doing that since probably forever, but ¨C I dunno. I think you''re cool.¡±


    There it is again. I think you''re cool. The statement that he uses to mask an I care about you oh-so-gracefully.


    ¡°You ¨C¡± Casper blinks, and quickly looks away. ¡°You think I''m, cool.¡±


    Lyre¡¯s face flushes in the momentary silence that follows. He was also ¨C about to break eye contact when Casper did it first. He looks away anyway.


    ¡°Yeah, I do,¡± He says, wringing his hands together. Just say what you mean. SAY what you MEAN! Lyre doesn''t say anything, besides ¨C ¡°I like ... hanging out with you. I wouldn''t want ¡­¡± God. Augh. ¡°... Anything. Bad? To happen to you?¡±


    ¡°You ¨C don¡¯t?¡± Casper almost sounds surprised, and that worries Lyre more. There¡¯s a long silence. Lyre debates interjecting to reassure the ghost, but instead, Casper speaks up again. ¡°I don¡¯t want anything bad to happen to you, either.¡± A pause. ¡°That¡¯d be, er. Unfavorable. To me.¡±


    ¡°Unfavorable,¡± Lyre murmurs. Then he laughs a little. ¡°I mean, yeah, if something bad happened to your host ¨C¡± He cuts himself off and frowns. ¡°Well. I guess you could just haunt the cabin in that case, huh,¡± He says, way too casually. Lyre is getting comfortable. Too comfortable. He¡¯s feeling a little mischievous, in not the best way.


    Still, he walks over to check on the cloth. Soaked through, looks like -- but at least it''s blocking the rain droplets themselves.


    ¡°I wouldn''t mind you doing that, by the way.¡± It''s said absently as he inspects the window. Thoughtlessly. He really, really didn''t think that particular statement through, at all whatsoever. He does not notice as the horror sinks into Casper¡¯s expression.


    ¡°No,¡± Lyre hears from behind him, from Casper. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant, I ¨C¡± The voidfolk hybrid turns, eyes wide, realizing his mistake. ¡°You¡¯re not just a host to me. I don¡¯t want to haunt your cabin, Lyre, I want ¨C¡±


    ¡°Wait ¨C¡± Lyre begins, but. But ¡­ He finds that. As his fur bristles, Lyre stifles any further exclamation, any panicked reassurance, anything ¨C because in that moment, bewildered curiosity drowns it all out. The guilt, the shame. God, he feels horrible for this, but he has to know:


    ¡°... You want ¨C what ¡­ ?¡± Whispered. Murmured.


    And then it practically explodes in his face. Casper¡¯s fists clench, his expression twists up in dismay, and he bursts out with a very genuine shout, voice distraught ¨C


    ¡°I want to be with you!¡±


    The silence that hangs in the air afterwards is tangible.


    Lyre''s mouth opens, as though he''d like to speak. It hangs that way for a little, instead of making any sound. His tail drops straight to the floor with a thump and he raises a hand to his head, mouth snapping shut again as he does so.


    Oh, God. He''s a bit dizzy. How does he respond to that?


    ¡°I ¨C¡± Lyre feels something welling up at the corners of his eyes. He steps ¨C one, two, three ¨C towards Casper, and reaches out ¨C hands passing through Casper''s shoulders again, but then adjusting to hover. He looks the ghost in the eyes.


    ¡°I''m not going anywhere. I''m not. Okay? I was just ... I was just ... making a really, really bad joke. You can ¨C¡± He swallows, biting back the tears that make his voice hoarse, and withdraws. ¡°You can be ... here ¨C er, with me.¡± He ducks his head.


    It feels strange, but kind of right, to say.


    ¡°You were joking,¡± Casper says. He sounds deflated. Wilted. His voice wavers. ¡°... Can I?¡± And Lyre wonders ¨C is that even a question at this point?


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Lyre says guiltily to the first part. Then, with resolve, he answers ¨C ¡°Yes. You can.¡±


    And Lyre holds eye contact. If Casper has done anything else, he doesn¡¯t notice. He''s too busy focusing on keeping himself from going a bit crazy at the extended gesture. To voidfolk, eye contact is a threat. A declaration of hostility. But Lyre is a hybrid, and he knows that to others, it''s not like that.


    Maybe he can train himself out of this whole eye contact issue. Maybe that would make Casper happier. Why does he want Casper to be happy so badly? Maybe because he''s lonely, or maybe because ... because ...


    ... Something on his back itches. Lyre ignores it.


    ¡°I''m sorry for scaring you.¡±


    Casper breathes, and scrunches his eyes shut. Lyre feels a surge of guilt. The ghost holds that expression for a minute or so, before opening his eyes back up as his expression settles into something more relaxed.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Lyre.¡± He smiles, and it almost looks a bit uncanny ¨C except, Lyre doesn¡¯t mind that at all. ¡°I¡¯m just ¨C dramatic,¡± Casper lets out a breathy half-laugh, ¡°Sorry for that.¡± A beat of silence passes, and Lyre is about to speak when Casper clarifies: ¡°I ¨C I meant it, though.¡±


    Lyre swallows. God. This is such a mess, so why does he feel so warm? So ... happy, with that reassurance? It should be wrong, it should be wrong, it should be wrong. But it isn''t. It feels right.


    ¡°... Thanks. I¡¯m glad,¡± He says.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Casper replies, and then there¡¯s yet another pause as the two of them just kind of look at each other. ¡°Do you wanna, uhm, sit down, maybe?¡± He asks after a few long moments. Looking into Lyre¡¯s eyes ¨C where ¡­


    There''s a pause, as Lyre looks into Casper¡¯s own eyes.


    There''s a look, there -- something that looks almost ... Well, the closest feeling he can get to describing it is hungry.


    But ¨C but ...


    It doesn''t scare him. It doesn''t. In fact, Lyre feels ¨C maybe he feels that way too, just a little. So he smiles. And so when Casper asks if he wants to sit down, he nods, pacing over to the pillow pile and dropping into a sit, feeling as though he''s in a bit of a daze.


    ¡°Yeah. C''mere.¡± He pats the pillows invitingly, despite the fact that Casper can''t actually sit.


    ¡°I''m comin'',¡± The ghost says quickly, and he does. He floats over, and he ''drops'' down. ''Sitting'', now.


    This is about the part where Lyre would instinctively lean ¨C towards Casper, towards a source of warmth. Unfortunately, there is none. Just mist, just fog ¨C just nothingness, a hint of something that should be there but isn''t nonetheless.


    Casper stares, and grins, wide. Lyre stares back, and his own smile occupies his face. He''s happy to see Casper smiling ¨C grinning ¨C even if it''s kind of all teeth and a bit big on his face. Lyre doesn''t mind ¨C voidfolk blood makes him a little uncanny himself, sometimes.


    ¡°You wanna talk? About stuff.¡± Lyre had long since set down the bowl of blackberries by the pillows, and he goes to shuffle it close again. It''s collected some rainwater, but that''s kind of a good thing ¨C washes them off, keeps them cold.


    ¡°Like ... before.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Casper says, quickly, immediately. ¡°Let''s talk, let''s talk. Let''s talk, about something,¡± With almost a sort of desperate intonation.


    Lyre blinks. It¡¯s surprising, but not in a bad way. He kind of likes this. The balance of attention between the two of them, this ¡­ this way that they seemed to swing back and forth, together. It was nice. It was secure, in a way, even if sometimes it felt unstable.


    ¡°Tell me something interesting.¡± Casper says to Lyre.


    ¡°Tell me all about it.¡±

 Vision Troubles

    CHAPTER 7: VISION TROUBLES


    ¨C POV: CLOVER ¨C


    (ROLEPLAYERS: VEN, TEA)


    (ADAPTATION: VEN)


    When Clover wants to go somewhere, he gets there.


    So it is that when he strode up to the White House demanding to see the President that the guards let him right in. Even though he was only seventeen, he was the only enchanter of high blood left in No Man''s Land, and that held a lot of weight. He knows that.


    It''s too much pressure, sometimes. Too much work, too much responsibility. But at times like this, it works to his advantage. Because at times like this, he really needs to see the President, Izaiah, because he has urgent, urgent, urgent news.


    See, Clover had been having visions as of late. Not just any visions, though ¨C enchanters had small insights on the regular, but these were more intensive. Indicative of the necessity of a Glimpsing. They starred the Cabinet, which was especially concerning ¨C he needed all of them to be gathered for this, and, well.


    There''s only one person who can really do that.


    Knock-knock-knock, on the office door.


    "Mr. Marris?" Instead of Mr. President, Clover knows he hates that title more than anything. Finds it embarrassing. But the hybrid can''t help but be formal with the man, he''s older and wiser and more war-hardened than him, even if Clover isn''t actually afraid of him in the slightest.


    "I need to talk to you. And like ¨C soon, maybe? Right now, even? If you can?"


    There''s a palpable silence that follows. Clover almost wonders if he''s even there. Surely, he would be? At this time of day?


    And he was right ¨C a sound of distinct shuffling follows, and ¨C


    The door is cracked open, just enough to be peered through. Then, abruptly, it swings open. The President stands in the doorway, and it rivals his own height.


    From Clover, there''s nothing but a blink as the door swings open with such force. He almost winces, but doesn''t ¨C he knows he''s not going to come to any real harm here (unless the door had hit him in the face). He smiles up at the President, Izaiah, anxiously.


    "Do you need something." Is the first thing that leaves Izaiah¡¯s mouth, automatic. He blinks, almost like he''s processing the rest of Clover''s words. "You need to speak to me? About?"


    "Yes, I do!" Clover hops from hoof to hoof, the motion making a quiet clack-clacking sound on the hardwood. "I''ve been having, uh, visions ..." Clover''s face screws up in thought as he tries to figure out how to word this appropriately.


    But. There could be people listening, and he doesn''t want to cause undue panic.


    "... I don''t think I should talk about it here, though," Clover murmurs uneasily. As headstrong as he can be, he''s still nervous at heart. "Maybe in the office? Where less people are ... you know." His brow furrows, he wrings his hands together uneasily.


    "You''re having. Visions," Izaiah echoes. Clover feels a prick of indignance, but waits anxiously for his answer. Finally ¨C "... Yeah, okay. Fine," Izaiah steps to the side, allowing the young enchanter to pass through. "Step in."


    "Yep," Clover says quietly as he passes by, confirming the visions part of his statement. It''s an enchanter thing. He knows it sounds weird to literally everyone else, but to him? It''s just normal. Every day, he sees something or other, and honestly?


    Half the time, the visions are more annoying than actually scary. Like, he''ll be trying to relax and then see flashes of war, and it''s like ¨C hey. I''m trying to read my book and take a breather. Get out of my face!


    But this time ¨C this time was different.


    "I think ¨C I think that I need to arrange a Glimpsing," Clover blurts out as soon as he''s within the office proper, turning to face Izaiah. "With ... with you. And the Cabinet. I''ve been seeing things ¨C stronger. Stronger than usual ¨C" Now he''s starting to sound anxious. "And it''s ¨C worrying me." A pause.


    "And to see it in full I need all of you to be there, I think. Because the things I''m seeing, they''re about you guys. It ¨C it doesn''t have to be now or soon but sometime maybe ¨C" God, Clover. Breathe.


    "Ey, ey." Izaiah snaps his fingers. "I don''t need you panicking this quickly. Relax, kid." Clover huffs internally. He doesn¡¯t need to be told what to do! Even though he was just trying to calm. "... You need the Cabinet." Izaiah says slowly. "For this. To take it all in, I assume?" He crosses his arms together.


    As Clover is about to reply, the President continues.


    "... Listen, Clover. I don''t want to dismiss your concerns, but. I guess you could say we''re a little preoccupied, right now." The young enchanter feels his face start to burn. "Can you tell me? What you saw. ... Now."


    "I know you''re preoccupied!" There''s a loud CLACK! as Clover stomps his hoof on the floor in visible frustration. Yeah, he''s a bit of a spoiled kid, maybe, but also, this is really important. Like, really, really important!


    Izaiah raises an eyebrow at the brief outburst. His only visible reaction to the enchanter¡¯s upset.


    Clover grits his teeth. No one seems to understand how important a Glimpsing is, no one seems to understand how important enchanters are besides enchanting tools and weapons of war and hurt and pain, no one seems to ¨C


    Breathe, Clover. He just wants to know what you saw. He takes a moment to try and relax, like Izaiah had just said. Clover inhales, and then exhales, and folds his hands together with a frown.


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    "It''s hard to put to words, but ... I don''t know. I saw your faces, and the Emperor''s ... and I felt like something was wrong." He shudders at the memory. "It was vivid in the moment, but like a dream I''m ... struggling to remember it. Mother and father said Glimpsing sessions with the people in visions makes them clearer."


    Clover has never performed a Glimpsing before. He knows how woefully underprepared he is. But God, this seemed so important, and if the Cabinet got hurt or worse because of his negligence, what kind of (almost) head enchanter is he?


    A silence. But then ¨C


    "The Emperor?" Izaiah asks. "And our faces? Is that all you can remember?" He presses, slightly. It¡¯s obvious.


    "Yes," Clover answers immediately. "The Emperor, I remember him very clearly and ¨C" He pauses, face screwing up as he thinks deeply. "I remember feeling ¨C sad, and scared, and angry all at once, but ¨C but almost like I wasn''t feeling it, but you guys were feeling it, as I saw you." He frowns.


    The goat hybrid crosses his arms and sighs, shaking his head.


    "I feel like there was more to it that I just can''t remember right now. I''d tell you all of it if I could, but it keeps slipping away every time I try to grab it, you know? Like trying to catch a fish with your bare hands." He makes a face. It''s not a happy one, he knows.


    Izaiah¡¯s lips press into a tight line. Clover feels anxiety spike in his chest.


    "Are you experienced, with ''Glimpsing''?" The President asks, and Clover¡¯s heart sinks. "You ever done this, before? Any possible hazards? Etcetera, etcetera?"


    This is the part where Clover''s expertise ends. His ears droop and he looks almost guilty for what he says next ¨C


    "No. No, I''m sorry. I haven''t done it before. I just ¨C I''m remembering what my parents told me. They taught me how to do it and I''ve practiced but I''ve never really done it ¨C I guess ... I know side effects ..." He frowns quietly. "It can give you headaches, and uhm."


    Clover wrings his hands together.


    "The vision is shared. Both the enchanter and the person involved see it. It''s ¨C I don''t know." He shakes his head with a huff. "It just feels like I should do it." A lot of things with enchanters are about just feeling like it ¨C emotions, mental urges, that kind of thing. Logic rarely applies.


    "... Just headaches?" Izaiah narrows his eyes. Clover feels exasperation, now. No one ever trusts him with this stuff. "I don''t want you getting migraines, kid. You think your dad would be okay with that?" Oh, now he¡¯s bringing his dad into this? Mx. Andrews, Queue, the community manager?


    "I get headaches from visions all the time," Clover says, and admittedly it''s almost a bit whiny, but God, he''s trying. "It''s like, an everyday thing. It goes away with a little soothing potion." He frowns, realizing full well that doesn''t answer whether a Glimpsing would entail the same level of headache.


    He fidgets with his hands. Clover is not about to admit to Izaiah that he hadn''t really talked to his dad super in-depth about the Glimpsing and that he''d just run off to go talk to Izaiah about it as soon as possible after getting those visions. Because this involved his dad''s safety, and his dad''s friends'' safety.


    Clover just wants them all to be okay.


    "Look ¨C I think I can do it. I really do ¨C please. Just trust me? For a little, at least?" He feels a little like he might explode into a million tiny pieces if Izaiah says no. Emotionally.


    There¡¯s a pause of silence.


    "See, I''m pretty sure that you can," The President starts off. "I''m sure you''re perfectly capable, aight? I just don''t want you causing any sort of ¨C" Another pause. Clover frowns. "¨C Strain, to yourself. Because, to some extent, that falls on me." That lingers, for a moment. Clover goes to speak, but then ¨C


    "Listen ¨C I''ll see what I can do. I can''t promise anything happening soon, but." But...? "I''ll ¨C I''ll think about it, yeah?"


    He¡¯ll think about it. He¡¯ll think about it?!


    "Just don''t do anything stupid." That last comment is like rubbing salt into the wound. He sounds exactly like Clover¡¯s dad.


    Clover is a little bit livid at first.


    It''s obvious from the way his face scrunches up ¨C but ultimately, there''s some gratitude buried deep under that initial anger. And I''ll think about it is better than nothing. And the reassurances, while a little misunderstanding, are ... welcome, kind of.


    He shifts from hoof to hoof, quiet clack-clacks sounding out. Clover lets out a long sigh ¨C and then smiles, faintly. Maybe it was relief he was feeling, now. Yeah, almost definitely.


    "Thank you," Clover says, and while it sounds a little bit strained, it''s honest. "I won''t do anything stupid, I swear. Or ¨C uh, well, I''ll try not to." He cracks a half-grin. An attempt at a reassurance of his own.


    "Good." Is all Izaiah says. He can be a man of little words, sometimes. There¡¯s another silence as they both look at each other. "... Is there anything else, you need?" He asks. And it almost works like a cue, of sorts. Clover knows it¡¯s a you can go, now.


    But he almost wants to ask something else. Something like ¨C are you okay? Are you guys going to be okay? Is everything going to be okay? But he doesn''t. Because he knows Izaiah wouldn''t have the answers to most of those questions, and they''re just the anxious ramblings of some kid.


    So instead, he says ¨C


    "No, I''m alright," And gives a light smile. "I''ll be on my way, now. Thank you for listening to me!" Clover turns and trots away towards the door, hooves clack-clacking on the floor the whole way (it was always going to be like that, it seems). He''s almost reluctant to leave, but ...


    The President deserves some peace, especially if the visions were to be trusted.


    "... No problem." Izaiah¡¯s voice sounds out from behind Clover. "Make sure to close the door behind you. Thanks."


    "Don''t worry about it, Mr. Marris," Clover says with a light smile, opening the door, stepping through it, and then, as promised ¨C


    Closing it behind him.


    There''s much to think about.

 Restless Night

    CHAPTER 8: RESTLESS NIGHT


    ¨C POV: CASPER ¨C


    (ROLEPLAYERS: VEN, TEA)


    (ADAPTATION: TEA)


    It''s the dead of night. Casper is in another room. Lyre is asleep on the pillows, last time he checked.


    That is, when¡ª


    A thump. A big one. Something smacked into the wall, it sounds like. There''s a mumbling that follows after.


    Casper cracks open an eye, at the noise. He wasn''t sleeping, per se¡ª he''s physically unable to. Resting his eyes, more like. So he reacts rather quickly¡ª


    "... Lyre?" Casper calls, loud enough for Lyre to hear him. "You alright, mate?"


    ... No response. Well, actually, there''s a mumble. Barely audible. Then some shuffling.


    "... Uhm. Can you repeat, that?" Casper says, ''standing up''. Floating closer to the next room, but not quite crossing the threshold, yet.


    THUMP.


    "Oh, bloody hell." Casper mutters to himself, under his breath, finally ''walking'' into the room. "Alright, what''s up, with you." He plants both hands on his hips. "You''re not trying to give yourself a concussion, are you?¡±


    There, facefirst against the wall, horns pressed, is Lyre. His eyes are half-open, with a barely visible glint of green behind his pupils, like a cat''s eyes alight in the dark. His head turns stiffly to ''look'' at Casper when he walks in.


    His eyes looked¡­ unfocused.


    Lyre mumbles something unintelligible. It sounds like it might not even have been English¡ª or any language based in human or realm-native roots, for that matter. Must be voidfolk-speak¡­?


    Lyre''s tail hangs limply against the floor, though it thumps once in a lazy flop when he ''sees'' and ''hears'' Casper.


    Casper raises an eyebrow. He quickly realizes, though, that Lyre clearly isn''t lucid, right now. Not fully.


    ... Or awake, for that matter. Hmm. Sleepwalking, maybe? That''s Casper''s first guess.


    "Uhm," Casper starts off, wringing his hands together. "Hey, lad. You good?" He doesn''t know why he''s bothering, here¡ª Lyre''s clearly not going to be able to string up an answer. At least, not a coherent one.


    ... Or maybe he will...? Well. Casper guesses that''s probably why he''s talking, at him, in the first place. He needs to find out.


    Lyre promptly and aptly responds by turning and bumping his head into the wall again. More gently, this time, but still. It''s unclear why he''s doing this, but then he turns abruptly. Presses his back against the wall. Slides down it, twitching.


    Like he''s trying to scratch some kind of itch¡­


    He slides back up, then, before ''looking'' at Casper with a sort of absent frown, his head tilting to the side, eyes blank. Lyre mumbles something in voidfolk speak again. Completely incomprehensible.


    Casper observes this... behavior, carefully. And then it clicks in his mind¡ª


    "Your back?" Casper starts. "Is there something wrong, with your back?" He frowns, lightly. Apologetically.


    There''s a beat of silence, and then Lyre nods, groggily, unfocused. He can seemingly understand Casper, in this state. This is good.


    Lyre turns and rubs his back against the wall again, a more frustrated motion this time. When he pulls away, he reaches at his back, towards the spot between the shoulder-blades he can''t quite seem to reach.


    He lets out a warped growl of frustration, twisting in a tight circle, eyes flashing green as he tries to chase the spot on his back. It doesn''t work. Casper thinks he''s only going to make himself dizzy.


    Then he stops. Lyre mumbles something furiously in Casper''s direction. It sounds like some kind of plea, vaguely.


    "Hey, hey¡ª..." Casper says, floating closer to the now very frustrated Lyre. "You''ll make yourself dizzy, Lyre. Don''t do that,"


    Then, he''s quiet. Then, he frowns, as he considers¡ª realizes¡ª something.


    Lyre''s eyes were never green.


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    "Do you¡ª can you show me?" Casper tilts his head. "Show me, what''s wrong? Can you do that, Lyre?" He asks softly, softly. Careful not to¡ª he doesn''t know. Set him off?


    Lyre freezes. There are¡ª a few beats, a few distinct moments of hesitance. Then, clumsily, absently, Lyre tugs at the bottom of his shirt, both layers. Casper stiffens as he watches him do this, and he resists the urge to immediately look away, as flustered as he is. He gets the feeling this is important. Very important.


    Slowly, Lyre begins to peel it off. As the cloth falls to the ground, he turns, showing his back to Casper. All the motions are clumsy, exhausted, not lucid¡ª but perhaps just lucid enough. He points, and¡ª


    there, on his back


    are enchantment runes.


    Glowing, glowing softly in the dim nighttime light.


    "Oh," Casper doesn''t know what they say, but he knows what they look like¡ª he remembers, runes. Vaguely.


    Casper is quiet, very quiet, as he reaches out a hand. Hovering, misty, over the runes, with the clear intention of¡ª he doesn''t know. His hand just about nearly phases through.


    Lyre would feel a slight chill run down his spine, at that. Casper withdraws immediately¡ª he doesn''t want to overstep, so soon. Not when Lyre''s being so vulnerable.


    "... Did. How did this, happen?" Casper asks quietly. "You didn''t want this, did you?¡±


    Lyre''s head twists to look back at Casper and, despite the emptiness, the haunting backing of green to his pupils, he looks ... miserable. Lyre looks like he might actually just cry. He wraps his arms around himself and shivers.


    One, audible word is murmured:


    "Father ..."


    "Your father?" Casper echoes, looking at Lyre when he twists back to face him and, oh¡ª Casper looks distraught. "Your father¡ª he did this, to you?"


    He frowns, deeply. It doesn''t clear up much, but¡ª it says quite a lot, on its own, doesn''t it? A father, a father is supposed to love you. To care for you, to raise you. To¡ª love, you.


    Casper quickly assumes that, whoever Lyre''s father is, clearly didn''t care for him at all.


    There''s a palpable silence.


    "I''m so sorry," The ghost whispers. It''s haunting¡ª it sounds haunted.


    It''s about then, at Casper''s apology, that Lyre crumples, to the floor. In complete anguish, covering his face with his hands. Lyre lets out a warped, distorted whine. He sounds distinctly like he might cry.


    Absently, Lyre grabs for his shirt, and clutches it to his chest. He twists back around to face Casper, and then starts inching towards the ghost, across the floor. He stops at his feet¡ª well, as much as he can, as the ghost is floating¡ª and just kind of. Curls up there. As though that''s his only solace.


    Lyre shuts his eyes. Tears roll down his cheeks. Claws scratch against the floor. He grits his teeth.


    "Oh, Lyre," Casper says pathetically, like he might cry, too. He doesn''t, though¡ª not when he needs to, needs to be there, for Lyre.


    He drops to his fucking knees.


    Casper feels¡ª hopeless, as he watches Lyre cry. He can''t¡ª do anything. He can''t touch him, he can''t hold him, hug him, anything¡ª


    No, no. He''s not allowed to feel hopeless. Not right now. Casper leans in, as close as he could physically get, for an intangible being.


    "I''m here," He whispers. "I''m here.¡±


    "Thank you," Lyre weakly says, and it''s starting to sound a little more lucid. Vaguely, vaguely. "I ..." Lyre slurs the word, and the following too: "Don''t want ... to hurt you ..." He whispers, and then the last strings of his lucidity, his consciousness, his waking world, give out. Slips through his fingers, like fine sand.


    ... To put it simply, Lyre passes out. At least he was already on the floor, and his chest rises and falls steadily, but he''s fallen asleep with tears still rolling down his cheeks. Cried himself to sleep, practically.


    I don''t want to hurt you. It sticks in Casper''s mind, it repeats like a broken record. I don''t want to hurt you, I don''t want to hurt you.


    What a haunting thing to hear.


    Casper can tell he''s slipping¡ª and before he gets a chance to react, Lyre''s out. Like a light. He practically slumps¡ª and. It''s a distressing sight. But, to some extent, Casper finds relief in the fact that he isn''t actively suffering anymore.


    God. How morbid.


    The world goes silent. Casper doesn''t even breathe¡ª he doesn''t need to. All he has, is the steady rising and falling of Lyre''s chest. Like some sort of reassurance, to his ears. To his mind.


    . . .


    Casper lay down, next to him. He''s not, he''s not gonna leave his side now¡ª absolutely not. He isn''t going to sleep, either. Not like he ever does.


    So, Casper stares up at the ceiling.


    He has a feeling this will be a long night.

 Prescribed Tensions

    CHAPTER 9: PRESCRIBED TENSIONS


    ¨C POV: JEREMY ¨C


    (ROLEPLAYERS: TEA, CYC)


    (ADAPTATION: TEA)


    "Is there really no chance that you can, just. Up the dosage?" Jeremy asks, and he always pulls this shit. It''s his little thing. But it''s becoming less and less of a joke, these days.


    The pharmacist sighs. She looks like she wants to roll her eyes, but she doesn''t.


    "No, sir," She crosses her arms, lips pressed together. Seemingly maintaining that fine line of professionalism and a sort of tough-love. "Can''t do that,¡±


    "Ah, well," Jeremy leans away from the counter. He expects to feel disappointed¡ª but instead, he just feels a sort of... complete absence.


    He glances down, at the pill capsule in his hands. The happy face on the label stares right back at him. It''s a bit on the nose, he always thinks. Obnoxiously cartoony, too. But, hey. It got the job done.


    ... Somewhat.


    Jeremy pockets the thing with a sigh, stepping away from the counter.


    "You take care, Macoun.¡± He says. ¡°Hope your mother''s doing better,¡±


    The pharmacist leans on the counter, resting her cheek on her hand.


    "She is," She says quietly. "It''s been looking up.¡±


    ¡°That''s good.¡± Jeremy says simply, with a vaguely sympathetic nod. Then, he turns around, and starts heading for the door.


    It''s about now when Laurence Faulkner ambles out of his office with a purpose. As he rounds the corner to the waiting room, making a beeline for his receptionist, he spots a familiar client.


    ¡°Jeremy!¡± the doctor brightens, a bright contrast to the visible evidence of exhaustion on his face.


    Jeremy stills, and then he turns. "Ah, Laurence," He smiles, politely. His own eye bags sticking out like a sore thumb, too.


    The doctor offers the pharmacist a polite nod before picking up pace to catch him. Jeremy closes in the distance, standing a little ways before the doctor.


    ¡°How are you today?¡± Dr. Faulkner asks in a low voice, giving Jeremy a soft but concerned look. Ah, he knows that look. Jeremy finds it embarrassing, if not a bit obnoxious¡ª he''s not a kid, and he hasn''t been in years.


    "I¡ª well, I could be doing a lot worse, actually," Interesting choice of words. Jeremy nearly winces and resists the urge to scrunch his eyes shut right then and there. "¡ªThat, that is to say that I am fine."


    Jeremy tilts his head. "And yourself?"


    ¡°Tired,¡± Dr. Faulkner admits with a weary smile. ¡°Had an early go of it this morning¡ª there¡¯s a cold going around amongst the kids, it seems.¡±


    "What a shame," Jeremy says sympathetically.


    Laurence sticks a hand in the pocket of his doctor''s coat, not having bothered to switch it out for his regular one. He offers Jeremy a worried frown.


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    ¡°How¡¯s work going with you? Busy?¡±


    Jeremy instinctively sighs. It''s a soul sucking sound. Faulkner chuckles empathetically, at it. That laugh will soon die in his throat¡ª


    "Very," Jeremy admits. "And it''s about to get busier. The Emperor, ah. Let''s just say he paid us a bit of a visit," He says that last word with the slightest bit of a hiss, but hushed. Jeremy knows better than to talk about such things in public¡ª but he trusts, Laurence. So.


    "Not a nice one either, mind you.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Laurence practically hisses back, suddenly growing concerned. He shuffles a half-step closer to Jeremy to ensure a sliver more of privacy. ¡°What did he want? Is something happening?¡±


    Jeremy looks around the clinic. Like he''s making sure no one is listening. Faulkner''s receptionist has dutifully put up a ¡°Dr. Faulkner will be back soon!¡± sign, and the only other person around is an old man perusing the clinic¡¯s collection of magazines, mumbling incoherently to himself.


    Jeremy, paranoid as he is, leans in just a touch closer, anyways.


    "He''s looking for someone," He says, quietly. Quietly. "His son. Can you fucking believe that? The famed war criminal? You''re familiar, right?"


    Jeremy''s gaze darts away, and then back. He fights to keep this next line of his a whisper¡ª


    "He was seen at our borders.¡±


    ¡°His son? I didn¡¯t¡ª¡± Laurence sucks in a breath. ¡°I mean, I only know of him in passing, but I¡¯ve seen what he can do.¡± He grimaces. ¡°What could he possibly be doing out here?¡±


    "Oh I don''t bloody know," Jeremy hisses, again. Quietly. Distress rising in his chest before he forcefully shoves it back down. "I don''t know if he''s here to finish, some, some sort of job or what, but¡ª"


    He sighs, and presses his lips into a tight line. Forcefully cutting himself off. Considering his next words, carefully. "We''re on the lookout, for now. As it stands, there''s only been one sighting. And it''s a rumor. If we''re lucky,"


    Jeremy glances away, glances back.


    "You''d¡ª you''d tell me if you see him, right? Tall guy¡ª" He raises his own arm, for emphasis. "Horns, uh. Black¡ª like, like the color, black. What''s the term," He snaps his fingers, once, twice. "He''s¡ª I dunno. A hybrid, of, of something.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course.¡± Laurence says. He looks just the slightest bit tense, about it.


    Jeremy seems to visibly relax. If only by a little.


    "Thank you, Laurence." Jeremy smiles, and it''s an exhausted looking thing. "Things have been¡ª hectic, to say the least. And I''m expecting it to get, uh. Quite worse," He admits.


    He lets that linger in the air, for a moment.


    "But I appreciate it, I do.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I understand,¡± Laurence huffs. He takes a step towards the door, toward his coveted cup of coffee. ¡°Anytime. Should I pass the message along to Octavian?¡±


    "Ah¡ª yeah, yeah! That''d be rather convenient, yes,¡± This is when Jeremy glances down at his watch, and¡ª oh. "Awe, fuck. I should probably get going," He says, shuffling towards the door. "On the clock, you know?"


    Jeremy stands by the door, ready for departure. But lingering, still. Quickly, he tacks on¡ª "Tell him I said hi. Hope he''s well, and such.¡±


    Laurence nods in a rush, not wanting to make Jeremy late, seems like. He makes a playful shooing motion toward the door.


    ¡°Yes, yes, get to it! Don¡¯t let me keep you any longer.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, alright. Goodbye¡ª!¡± And he''s off.

 If No One Else Will

    CHAPTER 10: IF NO ONE ELSE WILL


    ¨C POV: LYRE ¨C


    (ROLEPLAYERS: VEN, TEA)


    (ADAPTATION: VEN)


    As the night passes, morning light begins to filter in through the ... well. The window is cloth-covered, so neither of the cabin¡¯s occupants get as much as they usually would. But at least the rain has stopped.


    Nonetheless, as the light falls on the sleeping face of Lyre, he seems to stir.


    ¡­ There''s a groan. Lyre slowly, slowly peels his eyes open, barely recalling the events of last night as a distant blur in his mind that''s slowly coming into focus ¨C gripping onto the remainders of a dream as he wakes.


    He almost doesn''t want to remember, but he recalls Casper''s face, so he does anyway.


    Father ... ? My back ... ? He''d told Casper about ¨C he''d shown Casper the ¨C


    Lyre sits up abruptly, gripping his shirt in his hands, close to his chest. The enchantment runes are still visible on his back, albeit no longer glowing, and the green backing to his eyes has entirely evaporated. He breathes in sharply, and tries to steady himself. Casper is still ¨C


    He looks. Left, right ¨C trying to find Casper ¨C and soon enough, he does.


    The ghost is right beside him, and he¡¯s cracked open an eye to look at Lyre as the voidfolk hybrid panics. Having shifted to ¡®sit himself up¡¯, he watches Lyre, and when he speaks, it¡¯s with a quiet intonation of dismay.


    ¡°Lyre ¡­ are you okay?¡±


    To be perfectly honest, Lyre wants to shout out in that moment, to the world: NO! No, no, I am not okay!


    ¡°... Yeah,¡± Is what he says instead. But it still carries a certain dishonesty that he can''t shake, like ¨C like blood ... soaked into his clothes. An obvious stain on his words. ... God, why did he think of it that way? Now all he can recall is ¨C


    ¡°I''m okay. I am.¡± Lyre doubles down, despite hearing his own voice betraying him, sounding exhausted, voice hoarse and raspy and a little teary, still.


    He clutches his shirt closer to his chest. Then, suddenly, he unfurls it and, out of paranoia, checks it over. There''s a fear that lingers. That he might have done something while he was like that. Even though he knows he was at least partially lucid, because his memory is mostly intact ¡­


    ¡°Are you ¡­ sure ¡­ ?¡± Casper¡¯s voice says, distantly, quiet. He¡¯s looking at Lyre with anxious, concerned eyes. Clearly worried deeply for Lyre¡¯s well-being.


    Lyre grimaces slightly. He doesn''t want to do this, he''s been running from his problems for a year, the enchantment ¨C there''s no way his father could be operating it unless he somehow knew ...


    ... Lyre remembers the trip to the border, and suddenly feels sick.


    ¡°... You know what? No, actually,¡± He murmurs the admittance, and he would''ve stumbled if he were standing. Instead, the hybrid just sort of lightly sways, before slamming a hand down to steady himself, leaning on the arm for stability and scrunching his eyes shut.


    ¡°I figured,¡± Casper¡¯s voice says once more. Quietly.


    They both stew in silence for a few long moments. Lyre¡¯s heart pounds in his chest, as he stares down at the shirt, convinced he¡¯s done something wrong. Convinced if he scours his memory he¡¯ll find blood and suffering and pain. But the thoughts are interrupted.


    ¡°I, I was really worried, about you. Uhm¡­¡± Lyre turns around to look with wide eyes at Casper¡¯s statement, mouth hanging open for a moment. Then it snaps shut, and resigns himself to exhaustion once more.


    ¡°... I figured, too,¡± He says, quietly, about Casper worrying about him. There¡¯s another long pause. Another silence. And then Lyre says ¨C ¡°So you know, then. About ¡­¡± Lyre twists, reaching an arm towards his back up and over his shoulder to gesture somewhat painfully towards the runes tattoo on his back.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard not to see them, when I¡¯m not wearing a shirt,¡± Lyre says, with a numb sort of laugh accompanying the words. Casper looks on with a similar sort of worried numbness.


    ¡°You told me, yeah,¡± The ghost¡¯s voice is quiet. ¡°Told me who ¨C did it. Yeah.¡± Lyre can hear his voice waver, a little. He feels a pang of guilt at the sound of it. A distinct sting of unhappiness.


    But before Lyre can say anything, Casper continues.


    ¡°... Do you wanna talk, about it?¡± It¡¯s quiet, not pressing in the slightest, like Casper is prepared to back off at a moment¡¯s notice for the sake of Lyre¡¯s comfort. And Lyre appreciates it, he does, but ¡­


    Even if he doesn''t want to ... he probably should. Casper deserves to know. Lyre ... knows. That Casper deserves to know. Before Lyre does something horrible and unforgivable while he''s like that and Casper hates him forever and leaves ¨C oh, who is he kidding. The enchantment just ...


    ¡°... I don''t know what it says,¡± Lyre says quietly. ¡°But it ... brings out ... bad things, in me. Horrible things.¡± He¡¯s aware of how his voice sounds, deathly serious ¨C deathly afraid. His expression is haunted. ¡°I ... I don''t even remember it, I just remember hearing ¨C the stories.¡± Lyre''s grip on his shirt tightens, and tears well up in his eyes.


    Casper looks on with growing concern. Lyre can¡¯t bear to look. He feels so horrible, so guilty. Because, surely ¡­


    The enchantment just brings to the surface ... thoughts that he shouldn''t be having at all, if he were a good person. Makes him act on them. But they shouldn''t be there to begin with, right ... ?


    He¡¯s about to continue stewing when ¡­


    ¡°It brings out bad things, in you,¡± Casper¡¯s voice echoes. Where Lyre expects horror, Casper only looks... deeply sad? Almost, remorseful? Lyre feels confusion fill his chest. Why was that something to be sad about? It¡¯s terrifying. It is.


    Casper draws his knees to his chest. Setting his chin, atop them. The ghost seems to deeply consider Lyre¡¯s words for a long few moments.


    ¡°... That sounds scary,¡± He says, finally. An admittance Lyre was expecting, finally. ¡°Are you ¨C are you in control, in that state...? At all?¡± Casper looks at Lyre, eyes wide. Owlish, unblinking. Lyre breathes in, sharply. Wincing.


    The hybrid winces, visibly. Pulling the shirt back to his chest once more. Lyre breathes in ¨C


    ¡°That''s the worst part. I don''t really ... know.¡± His ears pin back, and he frowns, deep. Casper stares at him silently. Lyre''s tail curls around himself, the long fur dragging across the floor with a swish as it does so. ¡°What little I do remember afterwards ¨C it feels like my thoughts, my feelings. So I don''t ... know.¡±


    It is scary, he wants to say. I want it to go away, he wants to say. And ¨C Can I stay here, with you, and pretend it doesn''t exist? He knows that last one is never happening, though. Not while it''s active again.


    "Oh," Casper says. "Oh."


    There¡¯s a long pause as he thinks. Starts to look more concerned again,


    "Everyone''s got bad thoughts," He says, so, so absentmindedly. Like he should''ve, perhaps, considered his words better. But he keeps talking, "Very bad thoughts ¨C this ¨C whatever is making you actually act on it ¨C is probably different, but ¨C ..." He bites on his lip. Lyre can see the tension.


    "I don''t think, the thoughts. Or the feelings. Or the "bad" things, in you make you ¨C well, bad." Lyre stares at Casper speechlessly as the ghost continues to speak. "You clearly ¨C didn''t want, this. The runes, on, on your back. That surely says something, Lyre."


    A pause, like he¡¯s grappling with his own words ¨C as meanwhile, Lyre looks on in complete shock as to what Casper is saying.


    Lyre listens, the whole time, eyes wide and confused, at first. But gradually, those wide eyes get wider, and then sadder, and then shocked, and ¨C well, he''s going through all the damn stages of grief right in front of Casper, really. But ultimately they fill with tears.


    "I, I, I know it''s not that simple, actually ¨C I can''t imagine." Casper, finally, concludes weakly. "I''m, sorry."


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    You clearly didn''t want this. That surely says something.


    . . .


    Does it? Does it really?


    Lyre breathes in sharply. He scrunches his eyes shut, tears roll down his face, and he buries said face in his hands just as fast, shoulders shaking. What Casper unfortunately doesn''t know is that this is not a bad cry. It''s a no one has ever said anything like this to me before cry. A no one has ever cared this much cry.


    Luckily, he verbalizes. As well as he can.


    "Thank you ..." Lyre hiccups, and sniffles, just barely getting the words out. "I don''t ... thank you. Thank you."


    "Oh, Lyre," Casper says, quietly, sympathetically. Scooting, shuffling, leaning closer like it''s second nature, to him. "I meant it ¨C all of it. I, I ¨C"


    Casper breathes in, breathes out. Lyre hears it come labored.


    "Of, of course. You''re welcome," The ghost smiles, weakly, unbeknownst to Lyre. He hears it, though. He can¡¯t bear to look, though.


    Lyre lets out a sniffle. A weak sob. He¡¯s a quiet crier, but he''s flesh and blood, and this is an ugly cry ¨C he couldn''t force it to be silent if he tried. Besides, why would he? He trusts Casper, now, perhaps more than he''s ever trusted anyone, probably ever.


    "I ¨C I don''t know ..." A hiccup. "What''s going to happen ... to me ... but ..." Lyre, slowly, clumsily, pulls his head away from his hands to look up at Casper, eyes overflowing with tears. "Thank you ..." He wipes at his eyes with his arm, only for more tears to take the place of the old ones.


    He wants things to go back to normal. He never wants this moment to end. He wants to be with his family. He wants to be with Casper. He wants ¨C he doesn''t know what he wants. Lyre ... Lyre never really thinks about his own wants, not often.


    Just needs. And requirements. Never wants.


    ¡°I ¨C¡± Casper stammers, and Lyre quickly thinks, I¡¯ve screwed this up. I¡¯ve ruined this. He¡¯s going to hate me. But instead, the opposite happens.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of you,¡± Casper blurts out suddenly, and Lyre freezes, the sobs and sniffles easing into unsteady breathing. Moments later, though, Lyre buries his face in his hands again, with a sob. But it¡¯s not really a bad thing.


    He¡¯s just feeling so, so much.


    "I''ll, I''ll try, to. I really will. I''ll, be here," Casper elaborates, sounding almost pained, but genuine. Completely genuine. "I''ll be here, I will. I''ll be here." Like a broken record. "If anything ¨C happens."


    A pause.


    "Thank you ..." Lyre then says again. "You sh ¨C shouldn''t ... have to ..." His shoulders tremble and shake. Lyre shivers, his tail curling even closer to himself, like a little shield around his crumpled form.


    "Oh, but I want to," Casper says, immediately. Then he laughs, a teary sound. "I really want to." It¡¯s honest. Painfully so. Lyre almost can¡¯t take it, but ¡­


    "You ¨C" Lyre''s head lifts from his hands, slightly, eyes still full of tears, but ¨C looking at Casper. Searching his gaze, despite the eye contact making his skin prickle. "Want ... to ... ?"


    Confusion. Lots of confusion. Guilt, maybe. But amongst it all ¨C


    relief.


    Maybe it''s horrible to feel that way but right now, Lyre doesn''t care. This is the first time someone has loved him unconditionally in years and he''d forgotten how good it felt and he''s not about to let it go again, so he holds on tight, tight, tight, tight, tight ¨C


    "... I''m ..." He hesitates, for just a heartbeat, "... glad." It feels almost poisonous to say. But it''s true.


    Lyre laughs, too, a teary sound to match Casper''s own. He wipes at his eyes, shivering. Wanting to collapse, into Casper¡¯s arms, even though he knows he can¡¯t. Casper nods, as though in understanding. But then ¡­


    "Can ¨C Can I hug you?" The ghost blurts out.


    The answer doesn''t take long to leave the crying Lyre.


    "Yes," He says with a wavering voice of his own. He lifts his arms, as though to invite Casper forward. And God. He wishes it could be real, but ... pretending is ... pretending would have to do.


    It would have to do.


    Casper shuffles, closer, closer. Closer, to him. And he opens his arms, and he wraps them around him. Even though he''s still crying, Lyre manages to remain perfectly, almost serenely still. Despite the chills, despite the way that it feels like being engulfed by a fog bank. Lost in the depths of the mist. Maybe forever.


    ¡­ Would he really mind that, though?


    Lyre lets his eyes shut and lets out a long breath, tears slowing to a halt. He lacks the strength to raise his arms at first, but eventually does so, ''wrapping'' them around Casper ¨C the approximation of Casper''s form, more like ¨C and holding them there.


    "Thank you ..." Is murmured, again.


    Lyre hears Casper breathe in and out. There¡¯s a pause.


    "Of course ..." The ghost whispers. "I ¨C"


    Lyre ¡­ freezes. What is Casper going to say next? That he ¨C that he hates Lyre, now? That he ¨C no, no, he¡¯s not going to say that, he¡¯s not going to say that, he wants to take care of you, he wants to ¨C


    "I, I really ¨C care, about. You," Casper murmurs.


    Lyre draws in a sharp breath. He might cry again. He really might. But he doesn''t yet. He doesn¡¯t yet.


    "... I care about you too ... a whole lot," He mumbles. Staying still, so very still. Still as a statue, and just as cold as one, surrounded by Casper¡¯s arms, wrapped up in the fog. The fog which seems to try to tug him closer, arms partially phasing through him.


    "Me too ..." Muttered, from Casper.


    There¡¯s a long silence. Lyre can hear his heart pounding, and he swears Casper must be able to hear it too. Something spikes in his blood. And it spikes more, and more, and more, when Casper says ¨C


    "I love you."


    Lyre¡¯s pale red eyes widen slightly ¨C or, quite a lot, actually. And immediately, tears well up in them again as he struggles to keep it together.


    "I ¨C I ¨C" Lyre chokes back a sob. "I love you, too ¨C and I ¨C" He wants to grasp ¨C hold onto Casper, pull him close, but he can''t, he can''t. "I want to stay. With you ..." He lowers his head, sobbing for real this time, "And I want you to stay, too."


    Maybe it''s selfish. He hiccups. Maybe it''s selfish. But ... it''s honest. And honesty is good. Right?


    "I want to," Casper says, quickly. Lyre feels his heart skip a beat. "I want, to. So bad. So bad, Lyre. I''d squeeze you if I could, you know. In my arms. Right now,"


    It goes by so fast.


    "I want to stay, Lyre. I want to be, with you. I want ¨C you."


    I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you. Lyre feels dizzy, the phrase repeating over and over and over again in his head, like a broken record of a reassurance, of something he can cling onto forever and never, ever let go.


    His answer comes quickly.


    "I''ll be here," Lyre says quietly. Then, breathlessly ¨C


    "You can have me."


    And as Lyre leans into the embrace to the best of his ability ¨C on the other side of the exchange, Casper ¨C his face flushes, warm, hot, blistering hot. Casper grins, he grins. It''s all teeth. It''s all teeth, like his flesh, like his bones, and despite being dead ¨C


    he''s never felt so alive.

 Confiding in a Friend

    CHAPTER 11: CONFIDING IN A FRIEND


    ¨C POV: ALEX ¨C


    (ROLEPLAYERS: VEN, TEA)


    (ADAPTATION: TEA)


    It was just a regular day in Sunrise Park, No Man''s Land ...


    "So, how''d the thing with the President go?" Alex asks idly, dangling on the monkey bars like the subject of the conversation was something as casual as asking someone about the weather. "Did he hear you out?¡±


    Sat on the very end of one of the slides nearby said monkey bars is Clover, arms crossed with a thoughtful frown on his face.


    "It went better than I thought it would," Clover admits, kicking his feet. "He said he''d think about it.  At least. The whole ..." He briefly hesitates, but then seems to disregard it. "Glimpsing. Thing.¡±


    "He''d think about it?" Alex echoes incredulously. "Maaaan, that''s nothing! Surely that''s not all, right?" She''s swaying, a bit, as she speaks. Side to side, idly. Talk about that arm strength, damn.


    "I know," Clover says with a sigh. "Unfortunately, yeah. That was it." A pause. "And he also seemed to be worried I''d get myself hurt somehow." He shrugs.


    "Damn," Is all Alex says, letting go of the bars and hitting the ground, landing easily on her feet, with a considerable oomf . "I mean, it''s kind of cool you could just. Go up to him, like that. Like it''s nothing. I can''t do that,"


    She says, strolling by to where Clover is sitting and plopping herself down next to him.


    "What''s your next move, now?¡±


    With a small laugh, Clover looks to Alex.


    "You know that I''m supposed to be able to do that." Clover pauses. "Well¡ª¡± He hunches his shoulders, looking a little embarrassed. "Maybe I shouldn''t ..." It doesn''t last, though, as he puffs out his chest. "But I did it anyway, and I didn''t get in trouble, so."


    He seems to consider her next words.


    "I guess I just have to wait. Maybe talk to my dad about the Glimpsing a little more in-depth now that it''s organized and he can''t tell me just not to do it," Clover says with a bit of a smirk. "Because it''s important.¡±


    "Oh yeah¡ª you didn''t talk to your dad, right? Yet?" Alex tilts her head. "Maybe they''ll actually listen to you...? Or nah. I mean, they''re your dad," She vaguely gestures around. "You know how it is," With parents, she almost has to clarify. But Clover already knows that Alex''s dad is, uh.


    A little dead.


    ¡­ She can''t remember him much, either.


    She leans against the slide. "I think this is a good start, though." She smiles.


    "Yeah, I didn''t," Clover says, and he almost sounds guilty about it. "I know they would have stopped me, is the thing. He gets real worried for my safety, and Glimpsing is a lot more intense than just regular visions." He sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck.


    "But, you''re right. It is a good start." He smiles, too.


    "Damn. How rebellious of you, Clo," Alex snarks. She laughs, soon after. "But hey! I get why you did it, dude."


    She pulls her knees up to her chest. Quiet, for a moment. Just a moment.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "... What''dya see, anyhow?" She asks, quietly. "I don''t think you told me.¡±


    "Thanks," Is all Clover says to the first bit, with a smile. Then¡ª


    "I didn''t?" Clover looks to Alex properly, and for a moment his expression turns anxious. But then he sucks it up. "I saw¡ª" He breathes in.


    "The faces of the Cabinet, and¡ª and the Emperor. And I felt ... a lot of bad things, but I got this sense that they weren''t really my feelings." He frowns, pressing a hand to his chest. "Like ... like the vision was trying to tell me something. That''s why we need to do a Glimpsing, so I can listen to it.¡±


    Alex lets that hang in the air, moment. Like a consideration.


    "Awe, fuck," She says finally, unremarkably. "The Emperor? Shiiiit, man. Hope that doesn''t mean another war," She murmurs. She''s certainly seen enough of that, in her life.


    Weren''t the Cabinet supposed to keep them safe¡­?


    Clover looks up sharply and his eyes briefly fill with dismay¡ª then his expression eases into just ... worry.


    "I hope not too," Clover says quietly. His hands twitch, and he fidgets with them idly after a few moments, looking away from Alex as he tries to decide what to say next. "I¡ª" He pauses.


    "I¡ª I think I''m seeing these visions so we can stop whatever might happen. I''ll ... We''ll figure it out." Clover grins, but it''s nervous. almost forced.


    "Is it possible¡ª to stop them?" Alex asks, eyes wide. Round. Worried. "Like it''s not, set in stone. Right? I dunno how it all really... works. So," She shrugs.


    "I think so," Clover says, and seems to try to keep uncertainty from leaking into his voice. He fails.


    "That''s why my parents would hold these rituals in the first place¡ª to peer into the potential future and ... change the course, I guess." He looks¡­ nervous.


    Alex hugs her knees a little bit closer to her chest. Then¡ª she sighs. She still has her doubts, but¡­


    "Okay, well. If you say so, Clover." She smiles, and it''s a shaky looking thing. "I hope they listen to you.¡±


    ... Clover scoots a little closer, closer, closer to Alex¡ª until their shoulders bump together, and then he stops and just.


    Stays there. Like usual.


    "Yeah," he says. "I hope so, too." He''s leaning on Alex, a little¡ª like a reassurance. Contact has always helped him, she finds.


    Alex leans in a little, too.


    "... It''ll be okay," She says after a moment. "I mean, things have been pretty quiet here in NML, right?" Easy way to jinx it, Alex. She winces. "¡ªSo, so. You know. Clearly they know what they''re doing, I think. And now the President knows, too, so!" So? "You did what you could.¡±


    ¡­ She sounds like she''s trying to reassure herself more than Clover. She hopes he doesn''t notice.


    "Yeah, I guess so." Clover fidgets, still. It''s subtle, but it''s there. "Mr. Marris does know now¡ª I definitely made sure of that," He says with a little bit of a laugh, an attempt at humor in the sudden gloom. "I ..."


    Clover sighs, and goes quiet. Uh oh.


    "Hey," Alex nudges Clover with her elbow. "C''mon, dude. Don''t be like that. If you think about it too hard you''ll go all crazy in the brain and we can''t have that,"


    Nudged, Clover blinks. Then, a small, embarrassed smile breaks onto his face and he looks to Alex again.


    "I definitely don''t want to go all crazy in the brain! So yeah, I guess I shouldn''t think about it too hard," Clover says, rubbing at the back of his head. "It''s tough, but I''ll try. Just tell me if I start getting weird again." He smiles.


    "You say that like I don''t already do that," Alex snarks, with a smile nonetheless.


    She leans forward, like she''s preparing to stand up. "Hey, let''s go take a walk. A stroll. Mama always used to say it was soothing for the soul, or¡ª or something." She offers.


    Clover blinks.


    "Sure! I don''t see why not," Clover says with a smile. "Dad says taking walks is, uh, healthy?" His brow furrows. "They say that it, um, gets the blood moving in your body? Helps let out stress? He says a lot of things, actually," the hybrid muses, tapping a finger to his chin.


    "I guess we got double parental approval, then," Alex says, pulling herself up to her feet. Looking down at Clover expectantly. "Need any help? Or nah.¡±


    "No, I''m good," Clover says, and hops right up beside her. His hooves tap against the ground as he finds his balance and he smiles. "All set and ready for, uh, walking?" He grins awkwardly.


    Wow. That was. Something.


    "Look, let''s just go," He hunches his shoulders in embarrassment.


    Alex gives him a light pat on the back, already beginning to walk. Pulling him along.


    "Yep, going.¡±

 Whats Become of Us

    CHAPTER 12: WHAT''S BECOME OF US


    ¨C POV: LYRE ¨C


    (ROLEPLAYERS: VEN, TEA)


    (ADAPTATION: VEN)


    It''s been a couple hours since... all that.


    Staring at the far wall, Lyre lies on his side on the floor, curled into a half-ball, back to Casper, who¡¯s also taken up residence there.


    He''s long since re-assembled his clothes, pulled the shirt back on and all of that, but he still feels decidedly vulnerable. His arms are hugged tight, tight, tight around his chest.


    He wants to feel like someone is holding him. Desperately, desperately ¨C


    "Hey," Casper blurts out from behind him, voice slightly off-kilter. The voice cuts through his thoughts, and he jolts, tail whipping across the floor as it fluffs up. Lyre sits up abruptly, head twisting to look at the ghost with wide eyes as though he''s just said they''re going to be attacked.


    A few heartbeats pass.


    "... Hi," Lyre says. Very quietly.


    Casper sits up, too. Considers Lyre for a few moments, seemingly ¨C nervously, uneasily, almost. That¡¯s a new look on him.


    "Uhm," The ghost says. "What''s, uh. What''s up, man..."


    Lyre is honestly exhausted from the whole ¨C sleepwalk, crying his eyes out, pouring out his emotions ¨C uh. All of it? And so he feels a little too honest. So he twists to face Casper, scoots a little closer until he''s face-to-face with the ghost, and pauses.


    He sits down on his knees and leans forward on palms set in front of him on the ground, tail curling up. He looks directly into Casper''s eyes ¨C he''s starting to get better at that, actually, at least when it''s Casper ¨C and then blinks.


    ". . ."


    Lyre is silent at first. It''s like ¨C someone has stolen his voice, maybe? It''s like he doesn''t know what to say, or something. But he spoke earlier, so ¨C yeah. Yeah, he''s just having a bit of trouble figuring out what to say. Still, he leans forward ¨C head inclining slightly.


    Casper¡¯s face flushes deep blue.


    If they were both flesh and blood, their foreheads would have bumped together.


    "Not a lot. Just ... thinking."


    Lyre pulls back and smiles at Casper warmly. With the way his eyes shine he also looks (and feels) like he might start crying again at any second.


    "Just thinking?" Casper echoes, with a touch of amusement. "Ah, well. I guess I''ve been thinking, too." Lyre tilts his head at Casper.


    Then processing the deep blue spreading over Casper''s face, Lyre blinks, and feels his own face heat up, dark pink spreading over his cheeks. He ducks his head ¨C tired confidence can only do so much for him. He laughs quietly, awkwardly.


    "Sorry ¨C sorry, about that. I just ... Yeah," He clears his throat. "You''ve been thinking too, huh?" Lyre looks back to Casper now, blinking, the warmth still covering his face. He doubts it will be leaving anytime soon, even if the flush fades.


    "Thinking ¡­ About ... ?"


    "Why are you sorry," Casper says, quickly. "I liked that." Then, he blinks. Oh, there it is. Lyre''s eyes widen, and the shade of pink on his cheeks deepens considerably. Casper clears his throat, tugging at his collar absentmindedly.


    "... Uhm. You, mainly." The ghost then answers Lyre¡¯s question, properly.


    "Oh, okay, that''s ¨C good ... that you, uh ..." His head feels like it''s spinning, and yet he doesn''t want it to stop. He clears his throat. "I''ve been thinking about you. Too. I''ve been thinking about, uh. Us." Us? When did it become an us, Lyre? He swallows. "Uhm, and everything."


    Lyre doesn''t dare to look away, either. His tail does curl up around him, though, as he absentmindedly fidgets.


    "Us..." Casper echoes breathlessly. The shade of blue on his cheeks somehow gets deeper.


    Lyre jolts when Casper points out us ¨C in his phrasing. He looks at Casper in alarm, and almost goes to apologize when he sees the blue has deepened in color. Lyre blinks. A flushed face usually means embarrassment, right? But Lyre has been feeling it, himself, and he''s wondering if that''s not always the case.


    Maybe, here, it''s a good thing. He decides to go with that conclusion for now. But then Casper is asking what he thought about, and Lyre is kind of feeling like curling up in a ball out of embarrassment anyway.


    "I, I didn''t know there ¨C" A pause. Audible. Then ¡­ "Can you tell me, what you thought about?" Casper asks quietly, leaning forward a little.


    "... Uhm, well," Lyre stammers. "I guess I thought a lot about what we said. To each other," He murmurs. Lyre''s hands twitch. He wants to hold, and be held, even though that''s not possible, with Casper.


    You can have me.


    "... I meant all of it," Lyre says suddenly. "I really did. Honest, promise."


    "Oh, good," Casper blurts out. "I, I meant it too. All of it. I was going to tell you, I ¨C" He cuts himself off, and stares deep into Lyre¡¯s eyes. Lyre finds that he no longer minds the eye contact much. Casper¡¯s eyes, however blank, are pretty.


    "... I like, us," The ghost says. "I ¨C don''t know what it means, yet. I..." He wrings his hands together. "I guess, ah. Would you want to figure that out? With me?"


    There''s a momentary silence. And then Lyre, feeling a wave of relief wash over him, smiles warmly.


    "Of course. I''d love to. Because ¨C" He hesitates. It''s still a little scary, but ¨C Lyre reaches out, and places a hand over Casper''s chest, where the ghost''s heart would be. "I love you."


    God, it feels so nice to say, though. Lyre''s tail curls up again, like a happy cat''s. He feels warm. Casper¡¯s face gets bluer, too.


    "Oh, Lyre. I love you too," Casper says, the beginnings of that mildly uncanny grin playing at his face. "I love you, too."


    The ghost leans forward, a little. Lyre feels his hand become slightly engulfed by the coldness of his intangible form. Not that he minds it that much, the mist slipping through his fingers ¨C to feel anything at all is a good reminder that Casper is real and he didn''t just dream him up.


    And Lyre is almost content to sit there in silence, listening, smiling, for a while. Maybe it wouldn''t bother him to just ... stay ... like this. For ... a long time ¨C who knows how long, even ...


    "Yeah," He says, quietly. There''s a pause as he thinks.


    Then he breathes in.


    "... Well. I. Uhm, I''ve never ¨C" Lyre ducks his head, face flushing again. "It''s never been an us for me, with anyone, before, so I don''t know how this works. And you''re ..." A ghost, so you''re probably not going to know either, Lyre doesn''t say, it''d probably be rude. "Uhm. Do you know anything? About ... that?"


    "I''ve never been an us with anyone," Casper murmurs. "I don''t, ehm. I don''t remember much about that stuff, either. There''s probably a huge gap in my memory, for that."


    He''s awfully close to Lyre, right now. Casper doesn''t pull back. Lyre doesn¡¯t really want him to.


    That makes two of us, then, Lyre thinks. We''re both brand new to this. And he realizes, too, how close they are, but it doesn''t feel like enough. Lyre lowers his hand but scoots closer. Closer, still. Is too close even in either of their vocabularies, right now?


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    At this rate Casper could phase through him and stay there and Lyre genuinely wouldn''t mind, if it meant being closer.


    "... This is new, to me," The ghost says, as if to really hammer it in. "But ¨C ah. I don''t mind, that. You''re lovely," He smiles. It''s a sickly sweet looking thing. Lyre doesn¡¯t mind it at all. "You''re more than lovely."


    "... Thank you," Lyre says, face flushing again. "You''re ¨C" Lyre searches for the right word. "¨C Well you''re just kind of amazing." Maybe a little underwhelming, but he''s trying his best. He smiles again.


    "Kind of amazing?" He echoes, a smile cracking on his face. Casper practically giggles. "You think I''m kind of amazing?"


    He tilts his head. Lyre blinks.


    "You''re so silly."


    Silly? He''s ... silly? ... Lyre''s face flushes dark pink. He laughs nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck with a hand. He feels a little overheated, his tail fur fluffing up not helping the problem.


    "You are!" Lyre bursts out. And then ¨C "Okay, maybe remove the kind of," He murmurs, smiling at Casper with embarrassment. He feels a little light-headed. "How about this: you''re really amazing," he says, gesturing widely. "Like, really!" God, he feels giddy.


    "I see we''ve upgraded," Casper says, and he physically leans in as much as he can. Casper would literally phase through him, at this point. But if the ghost phases through him a little, who cares? Lyre¡¯s been kind of wondering what that would feel like, anyway ¨C God, you can''t be thinking that. He blinks.


    Casper is so, so, so close. They''re as face-to-face as they can get, right now.


    "Well, that''s nice. How about this ¨C I think you''re really amazing, too."


    He grins, wide.


    "Super, even."


    "Oh ¨C" Lyre''s eyes get all wide and his pupils get round as Casper echoes back his sentiments to him, perhaps even more intensely. Then he bursts out into a little shower of giddy laughter, shoulders shaking as a hand shoots up to hover over his mouth.


    "Thank you!" He manages between giggles.


    "Mm," Casper hums, raising both his arms and ''resting'' them on Lyre''s shoulders, intertwining. It''s an absurdly absent-minded motion. Lyre is still laughing quietly when this happens ¨C mist settling around his neck. Lyre blinks, and the laughter trails off, and he looks into Casper''s own white, white eyes, and ¨C Lyre''s pupils expand again, like a cat''s.


    There''s a moment where Casper just looks at him, where Lyre just looks back, the eye contact less painful, if it¡¯s Casper, if it¡¯s Casper. And Casper pauses, before blurting out ¨C


    "You have really nice eyes."


    Oh ¡­ oh.


    "... You too," Lyre says, somewhat absent-mindedly, but honestly.


    "You really think so?" Casper says softly, tilting his head as he does so. "You''re a sweetheart."


    At this, Lyre''s face turns dark, dark pink, immediately. He breathes in sharply and for a second it sounds like he might just. Start crying. But he doesn''t! So, win? Probably ... ? With the smile that breaks onto his face, likely!


    "Thank you," He mumbles, sounding almost a little delirious. He feels a little delirious. Lyre isn''t sure what to do with all of these ¨C feelings, with bad ones he usually bottles them up, but these ones? They''re so, so good.


    He doesn''t want to hide them. They''re too good. So he lets them show, grinning wide. Lyre looks at Casper, and Casper looks at Lyre ¡­


    "You''re so good to me," Casper murmurs. "You''re so nice, to me. How''d I get so lucky."


    There it is. That look again, in Casper''s eyes. Hungry. Yes, that was the feeling. Lyre has put a name to it. Because he feels it too ¨C but there''s some part of him that knows that for the ghost, it''s much more intense, perhaps more than Lyre will ever feel ... but that''s okay.


    Lyre feels different things, in different ways, that''s all. More of a fondness, and more of a desperation, a want to carve a hole into Casper''s chest and curl up inside and be safe there. It''s different, yet the same. Different, yet ...


    "I think we both got lucky," Lyre murmurs. "I''m glad I went on that walk."


    "I''m glad I got lost," Casper finally admits. And it''s hushed, like it''s a forbidden thing to say. Like it''s, somehow, uniquely vulnerable. "I''d get lost over and over again if it meant that you''d find me." He whispers when he says that.


    "Would you?" He asks, sickly sweet.


    There''s a moment where his heart skips a beat. Where the adrenaline rises in his blood in a response akin to fear but ¨C not. Lyre knows that he''s safe. Trusts, that he''s safe, with Casper. Why wouldn''t he be? There''s no reason to be scared of anything, when they''re together.


    That rush, that thrill ¨C within safety, complete safety ¨C is ... addicting. Lyre stares Casper in those wide, white eyes, that stare back at him emptily, yet expectantly, and Lyre feels a chill run down his spine, and he doesn''t mind it.


    "I would," Lyre says. "I would, I promise."


    "I know you would," Casper murmurs, like he''s delirious. The ghost¡¯s arms, hands, shift from Lyre''s shoulders down to his waist. Holding it, holding him.


    To be entirely honest he half doesn''t know what''s happening at first he''s so enamored with Casper''s eyes. But then he feels the mist lift, and shift, and ¨C oh ... really? Lyre''s eyes go round and wide and he inhales sharply, feeling thin fur on the back of his neck stand on end.


    "I know you will." Casper¡¯s voice is low. And Lyre ¡­


    He swallows. Okay, Lyre. It''s fine. You''re okay. You''re safe. And he answers ¨C


    "Yeah."


    Lyre wants to be held, to be wanted, to be ... had. Even if physical touch wasn''t entirely an option, It would be ¨C enough, for the attempt to be made, to be surrounded by Casper''s presence ...


    He shifts closer, and breaks eye contact, but only to duck.


    If he could, Lyre would press himself entirely against Casper. But the rules of ghost-ism didn''t work that way, and so he has to mime, and so he ends up phasing into Casper''s core, just a little bit. Holding his head beneath the ghost''s chin, curling his body against Casper''s chest. There''s a low rumbling in his own.


    The ghost draws in a shuddering breath.


    "I don''t ever want to leave," Lyre murmurs. "I''ll be here. With you."


    "Oh, darling," Casper says. "I know," He says. "You will." As Lyre practically curls into him, Casper shifts to ''wrap'' his arms around him. It¡¯s chilling.


    It''s cold. It''s so cold, but Lyre is warm. He is so, so warm. His heart is overflowing with it, with emotion, with love. It''s all he feels, in that moment ¨C a daze, a haze of affection and honey-sweet words and love.


    ¡­ The rumbling gets louder. Lyre is purring.


    He makes himself smaller, curls against Casper further, although he can''t quite lean. Letting himself be at the complete mercy of a ghost he barely knows and yet knows so, so well.


    When he said, you can have me ¨C he meant it.