A gritty gnome ranger/ illusionist in uptown NYC.

A magician's assistant with magic.

Comic-con

You know... I've always been a profiteer! Even before being a girl, of course. That's my gender. "Profiteer".

I know I'm pretty, and I'm one of the second role of the story. You know, kind of the "comic relief" added to the "love interest", as they say. But I'm not fond of my own role.

Yes, I know, I'm just lazy as hell, always tired and hungry. During war. I know it's something that makes me a funny character, but y'know, I don't want to be seen as the boring love interest of the Hero AND the comic relief. I had to tell it out loud, sorry. Because I'm strong, too!

So, I chose to change my own fate. You know what? He's not interesting at all, this freaking Hero! I'll stab him in the back. Because he makes me unhappy.

I guess he's lying on me 'cause I have always been by his side since we're kid. But... seriously, come on! A Hero just called "Hero"?! At least, the villain isn't called "Villain"!

His name is Naï. And gosh. That sounds sooo good compared to the other world-lover as the hero of the story.

I started dreaming of something those last days. Naï is handsome, charming, charismatic, strong, muscular, smart, and whatever other adjective you want. He is the perfect one. My fated one.

Naï's my soulmate... that's what I dreamed of.

So me, love-interest-girl-named-Hilda, have to make him fall for me. That's my duty. My Machiavellian scheme.

-

One night, I woke up and looked at all my comrades sleeping. I started walking on my toes, paying attention to not wake them up.

I'm in a story, so, the travel is not that long if I want to go somewhere else quickly. Honestly, I don't even know where Naï is, but here we go. Magic, script, and here we are.

​

As I walk in a vast plain, I hear something. Something beautiful. That is... violin. And as I turn my head, he appears in front of me.

Naï.

My eyes widen.

He's... ethereal.

My arms fall along my body. And... I'm not capable of moving anymore. I am... captivated.

The funny and complainer sides of my personnality disappeared at this moment. I've been trapped. I'm not the one who made him fall. He made me fall for him.

For minutes, I didn't move an inch, just listening to the melody. And when he finished, he raised up his head and laid down his eyes on me.

"... Are you... Hero's comrade? What are you even doing here?"

For seconds, I stayed uncapable of saying any words.

"Answer."

My heart pounds on my chest.

"You... You're beautiful..."

I didn't even answer his question! He will absolutely kill me!

But... I stay stupefied when I see him just raising his eyebrows. He looks... troubled. He doesn't even answer back.

"But, are you..."

I start going forward, directly walking in his direction.

I know it. It is my character arc. It's like I have wings. I can do anything.

"... as beautiful in the inside?"

I stop in front of him, putting my finger against his chest.

"Obviously not."

I can't help but smile at him.

"That's honest."

I step backward.

"I am Hero's comrade. My name is Hilda."

"I never asked."

"I heard you did."

"You lie."

I look at him for a second until I giggle.

My eyes cross his. I'm still smiling.

I would never have guessed I could approach him so easily. Is he really the bad guy Hero and us all thought he was?

I was coming here just to make him fall for me. Just to take advantage of things, as always. To be on the best side. The side of the winner... The side of the one who would value me the most.

But I couldn't even imagine that... I would be so attracted to him. That's so unbelievable.

Maybe I thought that, by coming here, I was going against the script. But maybe... I was just meant to meet him tonight.

If, after this fabulous meeting, he starts to love me, I know he'd be the kind of person who'll love and protect me whatever it costs.But I don't have to forget that I could be the only one paying attention to him. The only one to love him, failing to my own plan...

But I'm certain that, after all the people he killed... If he wasn't my fated one, he would never let me approach him like that. I have faith.

"Naï..."

Slowly, my hand comes closer of his.

"Will you allow me to stay here?"

Please, dear script...

May my hand reaches his own.

Thank you

Description: a tough, determined leader, with a clear, level head.

Setting: prehistoric times.

"There's nobody with a more punchable face than Harold."

"Harold... if he fell in a market, somebody would probably kick him for good measure."

"I don't wish death on the guy, but I wish he'd fuck off for a while."

These were the sentiments of residents of the Tower, a place both for cutting edge magical research and exploring ancient tomes on forgotten magics. There was plenty of information to be uncovered, prestige to be had, and... yadda yadda. Really, who gave two shits besides the pompous assholes that called themselves Tower Mages?

I'll never forget the lesson my mentor gave me when I was younger. He was viewed as a swindler and no-good mage, but he leaned in not two minutes after getting his ass beat in by thugs sent by the Tower to tell me, "Kid, there's a small secret when it comes to magic. You can literally make shit up and it'll usually work. Makes the guys who actually take it seriously really pissed off."

There was a part of me that wondered if nursing the wounds of this crazy young mage was worth it, but he offered to teach me magic as gratitude for my caring for him. The result? Well, I learned that magic was in everything, and that at its most foundational level, we were all magic. Even smaller than we could see or imagine, we were magic.

"What about the words of power?" I remember asking, and my mentor scoffed at me.

"Don't forget what I told you, Harold, it doesn't matter. What is magic?"

"Energy directed by intent."

"What is the Tower?"

"A load of shit," I said proudly at six. Twenty years later, my mentor was right: they were still a load of shit.

Unlike my mentor, wherever he went, I had no issue with using magic on the "innocent" mercenaries that were sent to "teach me a lesson." I didn't kill them of course, but...

One charged at me from behind while I walked down the street and I announced, "Bubble." The sound of his feet approaching came to a suddenly halt and I stood still as he collided with the invisible barrier that surrounded me.

I wasn't going to take any hits. I wasn't my mentor.

I turned to face the mercenary in question, a balding man with a scarred eye. He climbed to his feet and took a few steps back cautiously. When I opened my mouth, he must have assumed a spell was coming, because he made a run for it.

"... boo."

Maybe it's time I visit the Tower after all.

"Don't make us do this, please." Electorate Kala, elected leader of Humanity, begged the inter-dimensional aliens that were attacking Earth. "Don't..."

In High Earth Orbit, a city-destroying laser charged up, ready to blast through the venerable wall of debris below.

"I..." Electorate Kala slumped, her hand pushing the button and firing a simple electronic circuit.

"THIS IS AN AUTOMATED BROADCAST BY THE TERRA FIRMA SYSTEMS UNION GOVERNMENT. TO THE SCP CONTAINMENT FOUNDATION AND QUANTUM TEAM RESEARCH LABORATORIES, CODE BLACK HORIZONS HAS BEEN REMOVED. LAST STAND PROTOCOLS ARE IN EFFECT. YOU ARE ALLOWED TO USE EVERYTHING IN YOUR ARSENAL WITHOUT RESTRICTIONS, INCLUDING COLLATERAL DEATH OF CIVILIANS.

"TO THE CIVILIAN POPULATION OF THE TFSU, THE XK-BUNKER SYSTEM IS CLOSED. MAY SOME OF YOU SURVIVE THE ONCOMING WALL OF DEATH.

"TO THE SOURCE OF THE CODE BLACK HORIZONS AND LAST STAND PROTOCOL, THIS IS YOUR FAULT."

A nuclear device detonated in the distance, over a containment facility housing a single infamous anomaly. Every electronic device suddenly showed a picture of a man on a mountain and four pixels of some creature in the background, before instead switching to randomly flashing memetic kill agents. Every speaker played the deadliest assortment of audiocognitohazards that were known.

Scientists turned on creations who had been designed to not be, and all over... everywhere, death grasped the invading army.

A single tear dropped down Electorate Kala's cheek as the Earth not only burned, but died right under her feet. She closed her eyes, and let the end hit her.

SCP-682 Has been nuked, as per protocol.

SCP-096 has been shown, as per protocol.

SCP-048 has been unlocked, as per protocol.

SCP-008 has been dispensed, as per protocol.

SCP-963 has left Foundation property to become somebody else's problem.

SCP-076 has been given a target.

SCP-106 has been released.

SCP-8001 KATHULU has been summoned. Evra vesque Inumiki!!!

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We went back to the room with the florescent hum and the bugs which kept me company. I turned on the monitor to cycle through the feed.

"There!" Radhika pointed at the hazy figure on the screen as it walked towards the cemetery.

My blood ran cold.

"Are you sure it's her? How can you tell?"

"I don't know. But I know it's her."

"Ok. Stay here." I told her.

I had not not rewound the footage. It was live. The figure she pointed to was heading into the cemetery at that moment.

"Why should I stay?"

"Umm, so the scary ghosts won't bother you. I'll go check your gravestone out. See if it's been tampered with."

"Tampered?"

"To see if she messed around with it."

"Oh, ok. I'll stay." She said, sitting on my chair.

I changed the monitor feed to show footage from three days ago before heading out. She did not need to know her killer was here again. And that I was about to face her.

I opened the door of the dingy office, ignoring the ghosts that had hoped to catch me off guard completely, and headed to the cemetery.

And then had an idea.

I headed back to the ghosts before they wandered away.

"I know someone else you can scare." I said.

They looked at me, quizzically.

I continued, "I know sometimes, when the conditions are right, the living can see you as well. Like how I can see you."

One of them tilted their heads, a jerky motion that would have startled me because of how unnatural it was. But their unnatural tendencies were something I was very used to.

"Will those conditions be right tonight?" I asked.

The continued staring, more expectantly.

"There's a woman. A killer, potentially. She's here in the cemetery tonight." I started, and the ghost that had pointed to me with unhinged jaws earlier pointed at the direction of the woman who was entering the cemetery.

"Yes! Her. Well. I am going to go talk to her. And if things seem to take a turn for the worst, I want you all to come in. Scare her. Terrify her to the point she'll never set foot here again."

They continued staring, their ghostly faces impassive.

"Right. Wish me luck." I said to no one of them in particular before walking towards Radhika's gravestone.

The woman had just arrived, and was standing over the gravestone looking down at it. Her back was to me, and my heart was pounding faster than it had ever done in my life.

This was a bizarre predicament for me to put myself in.

But it was not fair to Radhika that her killer was here. At her final resting place, perversing the place with her presence. Not to mention the effect she being her would have on a child.

I happened to be someone who could do something about it. And I would.

"Excuse me." I called, and she jumped, turning to face me, wide-eyed and gasping.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm the caretaker. Sorry to startle you, but the automatic sprinklers usually go off at this time. Thought you ought to know." I lied.

"Huh? Oh."

"Was she your relative?" I asked, looking down at the gravestone.

"Huh, no. She... No, she wasn't."

"How'd she pass, if you don't mind me asking? I don't recall seeing anyone coming to her grave before."

She stared at me, as if sizing me up. My muscles started tensing.

"She... I... I killed her." She said, and I took a step back. I was expecting lies.

"Wh-what?"

"I was twelve. She was my neighbour. I... I don't know. I keep playing that scene over and over in my head. It's... I can't. I'm sorry." She started walking away, leaving me thoroughly confused.

I saw the shapes in the trees watching her movement. I shook my head at them, before running up to catch up with her.

"Hey, what do you mean?" I asked.

"Where do you get off? Mind your own goddamn business."

"Where do I get off? You just admitted to murder."

"Yeah, and I did my time for that. For more than a decade. I thought coming here would give me... Something. I don't know. This was a mistake. I came here yesterday, but wussed out. I came here today, and you decided to come talk to me. I don't know what I wanted to accomplish. I don't know what I thought this would accomplish."

"Why don't you talk to me about it."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Talking about things helps. And so you won't have to leave feeling like this didn't accomplish anything."

She stared at me, again.

"I'll pass," She said, walking away, "and next time, don't come up behind people like that."

I mentally slapped myself. I was not the best at social situations. There was a reason I worked the night shift and wanted to be with the company of the dead.

"You strangled her to death. Why?" I called.

That stopped her on her tracks.

"How do you know that?"

"I... Read the papers involving her death."

"No. You've been acting weird since the moment I met you. How do you know that and what the fuck do you want from me?" She turned to face me.

"Was it... Were you both playing? Did you take it too far?"

"Seriously, why do you care?"

"I want to understand how it happened."

"Why? Again, why do you care?"

"Because I don't want you to be here. At Radhika's final resting spot, tainting it with your presence. If you want to—"

"Who are you? Are you related to her?"

"No. But... She... It doesn't matter."

[Will continue later]

I disagree, on 2 fronts:

1. It's fiction, much like the idea of immortality or if the Sun is green:

There's 2 ways it can play out, depending on the ascribing of if immortality is REALLY worth it: the TRADITIONAL "I'm gonna live forever!" and the PHILOSOPHICAL "oh no... I'm gonna live forever? What have I done? standpoint.

Neither Claudia nor Louis in Interview With the Vampire were particularly elated to become vampires until AFTER learning of the consequences of their actions, no matter how attractive the idea of immortality was at face value.

2. Opportunities ARE created, but MC STILL turns them down. It's like the Uncle Ben quote: "With great power comes great responsibility". MC is presented opportunities that SEEM innocent on the surface, but have VERY malicious consequences that aren't disclosed.

Jinns AREN'T all like Will Smith, the late Robin Williams, Shaquille O'Neal, or Barbara Eden.

In fact, think of it like if Jeanie decided to become evil and WILLFULLY malicious and drop a car on Capt. Nelson if he wished a new car would drop out of the sky.

That's the gist of it, along with a jinn (or a djinn, a jinni, or a genie) being a trickster. 500 years of being in a lamp may give them SUCH a pain in the neck, but, in the least, so can they.

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Time is a circle. What has happened before will happen again. Thus has it always been, thus will it always be.

Lord Rizath the Deciever had lived for innumerable eons in a cycle that had begun so long ago that even he did not know how it started.

He'd gather an army of monsters and men, and scourge the world for decades. A hero would arise to challenge him, and ultimately defeat him. But as his body died, the lingering spark of his essence would escape his physical ruin, and implant itself into the hero.

Then he would whisper into the hero's mind, slowly corrupting him, until his thoughts were no more than an echo of Rizath's own. He'd drive them to flee into seclusion, preserving his new vessel's life with his dark power for a century or more, until both they and Rizath were forgotten by the world. Then he'd gather an army of monsters and men, and scourge the world for decades. And so on.

Rizath didn't like the part where he was always defeated, of course, but he'd learned to accept it. After all, despite being doomed to lose eventually, he got to spend far more time winning. And even in that final moment of crushing failure, he knew that time is a circle, and he'd be back on top soon enough.

Right up until that last time.

Perun Eagle-Eyes had smote Rizath with his ancient holy sword, little realizing he was striking down the very body that had struck down Rizath with that same holy sword, a few centuries earlier.

Rizath fell screaming in pain and rage, with white light streaming out of his eyes, his mouth, and a thousand cracks that formed all over his body. His deaths were always spectacular light shows, like that.

Amid that distracting display, a dull orange ember drifted up from his body, and floated slowly to the side, before arcing towards Perun, who was raising his blade to the sky in triumph.

Closer...a little closer...

Perun's famously keen eyes suddenly turned towards Rizath's ember of essence, when it was only inches away. Startled, the glowing mote that was Rizath used the last of his power to dart forward and down, aiming for his new home deep inside the hero's heart.

And Perun, apparently driven by some unknown instinct, dodged.

The incorporeal speck of Rizath's being sailed through empty air, then through the roof of the Royal Palace atop which Rizath and Perun had their final battle. Down he went, into the Royal Residence below, where a young man crouched in the center of a phalanx of guards, along with the rest of the Royal Family, who had hunkered down in their keep when Rizath assaulted the palace.

Rizath had no choice to but collide with him, and sink into his heart.

His horror at the deviation from what had seemed to be an unending cycle faded, however, when he realized where he was. It was not the heart he'd sought, not the heart of the one that had laid him low. But it was the heart of a prince.

/./././././

Prince Cameron leaned against the battlements atop the castle, and yawned. He'd gotten up an hour past midday, and after a hearty brunch he'd decided it was high time he made some very important decisions.

Should I go play cards with the young Duke of Westport's party, he mused, turning to look towards the west side of the city, where the game would be taking place at an aristocratic gambling den. Or should I slum it tonight, and go watch the pit fights down by the harbor?

He turned towards the east side of the city, where a very exclusive high-class brothel was located. Or....

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of galloping hooves in the courtyard. Cameron's brother Caelan, the heir to the throne, was riding out on his white destrier, flanked by a pair of royal guards. Cameron smirked. He was probably rushing off on some tedious errand their father had sent him on. As the heir, Caelan was often called upon to carry out certain royal duties in the king's name, to prepare him for his own eventual rule.

Colm, the second-oldest, also frequently had to perform such royal drudgery, just in case anything happened to both father and Caelan. Even Corey, the king's third son, had to shoulder some of the load, occasionally.

Thank the Divine I'm the fifth in line of five, Cameron thought, not for the first time. The King might think his youngest son was a lout, but the Queen doted on Cameron, and the old man had never been able to say no to his beloved wife.

As a result, Cameron got what he wanted, and could do as he liked. And best of all, no one expected anything from him.

Which is why, a part of him thought, They'd never suspect you were behind it, if hired brigands dressed as soldiers from Lothholm killed Corey and Ciaran while they were off on one of those stupid hunting trips of theirs.

He frowned thoughtfully, as he followed that line of thinking further. There'd be war with Lothholm, then -- father wouldn't want Caelan to go, but he'd insist, and the old man would relent, because he was a warrior in his youth. That idiot Colm always follows Caelan wherever he goes, so he'd ride off to war as well. Normally noblemen and royals aren't killed in battle, they're ransomed back to their homeland, but letters to the right people in Lothholm, telling them where the princes would be encamped, could take of that...

Then Cameron chuckled. Imagine doing that much work!

And for what? So he could become king, and have to do even more work? He shook his head, and produced a flask from inside his doublet, taking a long pull on the strong spirit therein. Best to keep his mind pleasantly sedated, rather than let it come up with more nonsense like that, he thought. He had far more important things to consider.

The whorehouse it is! he decided, after a few more moments of contemplation, and then he loped easily towards the stairs, to descend from the battlements.

Oh my god, i lovs the concept of having every day to analyze the new body and i lobe how you also thought of possibly having bad vision and or missing limbs

[poem]

I’d like to imagine characters and stories

but of course I must be the caretaker

and of course I must be the ghost of a young girl

and of course I must be her killer, visiting her grave which I tend in the shower and kitchen and gym.

The alarm blared, with unkind red digits flashing 6:00.

I slammed the button (already a good sign) and debated going back to sleep. I didn't NEED to get up this early, especially if I just worked from home... but it was supposed to be nice out today.

Begrudingly, I closed my eyes and sat up. It wasn't quite as smooth as I liked, but it wasn't bad. Now, time to settle in.

I open my eyes, staring directly at a mirror for this part of the morning routine.

I take a moment to try to process everything. Naked, since you really don't want to wake up in clothes far too small for you. Male. Late 20s. Caucasian, fair complexion. A bit short. Medium length brown hair, didn't look like it had ever been parted. A bit skinny, but not horrible. Brown eyes - and vision was good. Mole on left temple.

Alright, today had a chance to be a good day. Time to get moving.

First, a little bit of 'exercise'. Start with stretching. Learn these muscles, bones and tendons - I need to know what creaked and what was loose. Luckily, everything was accounted for: 2 arms, 2 legs, and the proper digits on each. Phantom limb syndrome sucked, so that was a huge relief. No hypermobility in this one - fingers and elbows stop where they're supposed to, cool. Right-handed? Good, feels natural.

Alright, time for the treadmill. Relatively natural gait today - a little short, but otherwise straightforward. Powerwalking and jogging feel fine. I think I hit the jackpot today.

Hmm... it's not all sunshine and rainbows... this body's a sweat factory. Time to clean it up.

As the shower came to temperature, I started brushing my teeth for the day. Sure, these teeth would be gone tomorrow - but finding the cavities and sensitive spots early on was useful, and I still didn't know where they WENT. Was I just borrowing someone else's body? Did they actively CHANGE, even though that's not a thing teeth do? What if, tomorrow, I woke up in this body, with these teeth forever? I might as well start taking care of them now. Nothing sensitive, so I flossed and used a good non-alcoholic mouthwash. (Not the one that can kill your sense of taste, that was a wakeup call a while back!)

Stop thinking about teeth. Move on.

I didn't have any fuzz - that was nice. Some people bemoaned not being able to grow a beard; for me, it was a luxury to not need to discover the contours of my face on the fly. No styptic pencil, no bandages, no makeup.

No makeup was a cause for celebration. I had an eye for it now, but it was still always a struggle figuring out what products worked for today's skin. What tone complemented nicely; how much was enough to not stand out as 'unkempt' but not too much. Women, frankly, had an unfair amount of socially-required upkeep, and being able to skip that? Wonderful.

Fingernails needed trimmed. It was nice when they were already at a good length. At least I didn't have to wonder tonight where the long fingernails would go.

On the shelf beside the shower, I'm grabbing most of the stuff from the left side. Slightly stronger body wash; trying to skip the anti-dandruff shampoo today.

Scrub-a-dub-dub, no surprises. I'm optimistic that I might even be productive today, as I towel off and walk to the guest bedroom. I kept calling it that, because even as crowded as it was, it felt too big to call it a 'closet' and too small to call it 'my personal department store'.

A quick date with a tape measure to validate a couple guesses, a quick visit to 'Menswear', and voila! I have clean underwear and jog pants.

I throw a strong coffee pod in the machine, grab a coffee cup and some creamer, and a yogurt from the mini fridge.

I slide into the desk chair, adjust it a bit shorter, and unlock my laptop. It's time for the most 'fun' part of the routine.

It's time to figure out who I am going to be today.

[removed]

"Well, here's my home. Make yourself comfortable. Or don't, I'm not your dad."

"Uh... thanks." The inside of the hut was comfier that you'd expect from a graveyard keeper's hut. I'd made sure it had plenty of comfortable things long before I got this old, and... I'd had a long time to gather stuff. "Nice place you got here."

"And I intend to keep it that way." I filled up and turned on the kettle, then sat down in one of my most comfortable chairs after moving it near Amanda. "That'll be a bit, unfortunately. But, we're up, so we might as well keep ourselves occupied until then."

"I'm not intruding on anything, right?"

"Course not. I invited you anyway." I put up my feet. "Now, if I may ask... who were your family? I don't remember seeing you before, so I don't imagine they were buried here."

"Uh, no. They're buried in... over by Westdam." I nodded, knowing full well that most of Westdam's corpses got redirected here.

"So... grandparents. Mom and dad. And then... did you have any siblings?" Amanda frowned.

"Do we have to talk about this? It's kind of not your business."

"I'm a mortician, it's my business to know about dead people. Don't wanna say, don't gotta." Amanda seemed to consider. If she didn't, it would be a little suspicious...

"I guess I can. It was... a really bad car crash a few months ago. They said it was a miracle I survived." She quickly changed the subject. "What about you?" I hadn't heard of any big car crashes recently, let alone ones that involved an entire family. Strike two. I shrugged.

"Don't got no family. Never had kids or a wife or whatever. Parents... well, I think my age says enough about them."

"Ah. Makes sense."

"Okay, one more question to satisfy an old man's curiosity."

"I really think that-"

"The water will be ready in two minutes. I'm just curious why you went to her grave."

"Huh?" I stood up, stretching before bending back over with a small grunt. Gosh that hurt.

"It's just a little strange, is all. Kid was... couldn't have been in fifth grade yet. You seem a little older than that, and it doesn't sound like you're related. But... then, if you were her teacher, I feel like you would have visited way earlier."

"Uh, no. I'm definitely not a teacher." I looked at her inquisitively.

"So... why did you head to her grave?" Amanda shifted uncomfortably, shrugging a bit.

"I mean... I just kinda did, I guess? Wasn't able to make the funeral, and I only now just got time."

"Huh. Ah... hmm. What was her name?"

"Umm... Ann... Annie?" Annabel. That was strike three for her. I couldn't deny that I was excited to be out of here after so long.

"Wasn't the funeral months ago...?" Amanda abruptly stood up.

"Look, I'm really sorry. I appreciate your generosity, but I really have to go." I grabbed her arm.

"Well, I'm sorry too." She tried to pull away, but my grip was deceptively strong.

"What?"

"Annabel told me you killed her. Rather nasty way too. Why would you strangle a kid?"

"I would never!"

"I saw the body, Amanda. I read the autopsy. No chemicals, but plenty of bruises on the neck."

"I'm... I'm pretty sure you need more sleep."

"I think you need to sleep. For much, much longer." I tapped her head, and Amanda slumped over. I grinned, my body dissolving as Amanda fell to the floor. For a few moments, there was just Amanda there.

After a bit, she got up, shaking her head a bit and grinning.

"This is much better," I said. "It's been forever since I got a new body. And such a young one too! I forgot how nice it is to be able to stretch properly!" I stood up, testing out my new body. She wasn't the first female I'd been in my line of work, but the first in a while. "Well... time to let Annabel know that she has been avenged. Maybe she'll stick around for a bit afterwards. I know I plan to."

"The thing about loving a Hero is, they always have to put the world first. But a Villain? A villain would watch the world burn to save someone they love!"

"Or for fun." You point out with a shrug. Once your darling set a hamburger joint on fire for wishing him a good day instead of a nice day.

Beverly wrinkles her nose. She insists on thinking her Beau did all his horrible deeds in her name. She calls them declarations of his love but you know it's just his own boredom. Travis smirks and you know he gets it.

"Just because Your Man doesn't take out an entire football stadium for you-" Beverly starts up again before there's a small eruption. We aren't supposed to talk about actual 'deeds' our villainous partners have done, but once in a while something slips out. Alex bangs the gavel, calling us all to order again.

"Ok, folks. Let's discuss. Beverly, while I see your point is valid, do you think that could be problematic? It makes it sound like you blame yourself for your boyfriends actions. And what do we say here in Vilain partners support group about blame?

"We are only responsible for the actions we take, not the crimes of our partners" we all intone rather dully. Beverly doesn't look convinced. Stuart places a hand on her shoulder. You're fairly sure he and Beverly are dating the same vilain, but the group rules prevent you from asking.

"I'm sure he does lots of world burning to make you smile. But even if you didn't date him, he would still be the same wild untamed man. You love him, and you don't really want that to change, do you?"

Beverly takes his hand and smiles brightly. "Of course. You're right Stu."

Since this is considered a break through, I clap with the rest of the room. Alex stands up.

"Ok, I think that wraps up for this week. For homework, I want everyone to come back with three legal things their partner has done to show us they care. Have a good week and remember, love your partner for who they are."

"Successful mission" I grin.

"You sure enjoy being a thief, huh?" Harleen giggles.

I give her a playful punch on the arm. "Does it count as stealing when we're retrieving stolen goods?"

"Least we got a cut" Farjoh chimes.

Everyone looks at him. "We didn't get a 'cut', this was simply our payment for the job" I state firmly.

"Dargo's right" Sprax concurs. "We're adventurers, available for hire, not bandits."

"Wait." Lariot leaps forward. "Something... something's wrong..."

"How can you tell?" Harleen walks next to him.

"I can sense it. I can hear the evil whispers." Lariot continues forward cautiously. The rest of us follow.

I spot something on the ground. I pick it up. "A tuft of fur. The softness and weight, along with the colouring, indicates this is from a deer. I see a bit of red. Must be blood." I glance at my team. "Someone been hunting here?"

"No. If it were a simple hunt, I wouldn't be so wary. The whispers are coming from the building." Lariot enters the sleeping quarters. A loud gasp grabs our attention. "You all need to see this!"

We all dash in. I almost collapse. On my bed, is blood. A lot of blood. I slowly walk over, examining it. "More tufts of fur. Soaked through completely." I look at the fur in my hand. "Someone brought a deer inside, cut into it, and covered my bed in its blood. They're sending a message." I turn to Lariot with terrified eyes. "Whoever did this... wants me dead."

"Dargo, please, don't panic." Lariot uses his calming voice. I focus on him. "You're safe. You're safe."

I whisper the words to myself. I smile. "Thank you. I needed that."

"We need a new base" Sprax declares.

I hang my head in shame. "I'm sorry..."

"Oh, don't worry, this is the third time this year! People are always trying to kill us! Lead the way, Sprax!" Harleen gets behind him, and he starts walking.

I know it's no use trying to separate myself, so I follow along, hoping I don't cause more trouble.

We spend a couple hours walking until we reach our destination. A slightly smaller area with its own 'training ring'. No building for sleeping, makeshift tents are set up instead. "Miss this one! This is really a good area to spread my wings!" Farjoh smirks, before becoming an eagle.

"We have several places around the city. When we get targeted, we move to another base. Here's our new location until we're found again." Sprax gestures Lariot and I to follow into the base proper.

I linger slightly, staring out at the city. "Someone's after me" I mumble. "This is why I don't make 'friends'." I follow the pair, contemplating what to do...

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

This story is a part of my series, A Thief's Honour. Please check it out!

I smiled to myself, tapping my shovel on the ground. The woman jumped up, startled, and spun around to face me. I tipped my cap slightly.

"Evening, miss. Little late to be out here, don't you think?" She breathed out a sigh of relief, turning towards me fully.

"Hah. Sorry, you startled me."

"No, my bad. I snuck up on you." I walked next to her, staring down at the grave. "Shame what happened to her. To go so young."

"It is, isn't it?" I nodded.

"Here, are you busy?" I thought for a second, then chuckled to myself. "Of course not. You're in a cemetery in the dead of night." I motioned with my hand. "Come on, I'll put on some hot chocolate."

"Uh, no, I think I'll-"

"Relax. We won't be long. Been a long time since anyone came to visit." She huffed.

"Like you said, though, it's really late."

"Indulge an old man, won't you?" The woman tilted her head. There wasn't a worst case scenario she could see. The old man, me, must be nearing 75, 80 years old.

"Fine. But you owe me one."

"Which is why I'm treating you to a fine cup of hot chocolate." We took our walk in near silence back to the hut I'd constructed over my... how many years of service was it, now? 300? 330? I used my shovel as a walking stick as I began my... interrogation, as I suppose it was.

"Why are you even up so late?" I glanced back at my companion, who'd been hanging a bit behind me.

"The ghosts keep me up sometimes. There's lots of them around, you know." Apparently satisfied in her assumption I was a bit off my rocker, the woman sped up to walk next to me. "If I may, who's grave was that you were visiting?"

"Her? I mean... I used to know her. It really is a shame she died the way she did."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Was it an unusual death?" The woman paused.

"Just... a kid being stupid, I think." She was hiding something, then. "Probably thought a few cleaning chemicals were colorful drinks." I nodded, hiding my suspicion better than she did, before waving my hand through the air.

"Never mind all that. What's your name? Why visit so late at night? How's your family?"

"I'm Amanda."

"Roy." Amanda nodded.

"My family is... gone, unfortunately. And I was busy all day, so I couldn't come until now." I snorted.

"Weird to be working until... what is it? 2, 3 AM?"

"You're up." I waved my hand in the air.

"I told you already, the ghosts kept me up! Besides, I work here! I'm allowed to be up whenever I want."

"Sure you are."

"Ah, here we are. Just let me... here's the darn key." I unlocked the door, walking in as Amanda followed me.

Kind of wondering if the spelling errors are yours or the character's.

Also wondering if you'd admit to it if they were yours :P

It’s a dubious honor. Thank you.

Yes, thanks! Lesson learned to not have characters with such similar names.

I never really liked this part of the job, but I suppose it had to be done.

I watch over a cemetery. I keep the graves neat, plant some flowers around lonely graves, and talk to the ghosts. Every good cemetery has ghosts. Sure, there's the odd person with unfinished business, and I'll help them out if I can. Sometimes they just need to sort things out by themselves before they move on, though.

But no, that wasn't most ghosts. Most of the ghosts in my cemetery just... weren't interested in moving on just yet. They were bored and wanted to wander around. I was always happy to chat with them. It was fascinating hearing their stories and such. Most ghosts can interact with things to a very limited degree, so I can even play catch with some of the younger ghosts.

One of those younger ghosts, actually... When her body had come in, I hadn't questioned it. Kids die... more than I like, but accidents happen. I was a little surprised when she became a ghost, and even more so when she seemed unable to move on. Essentially, ghosts are tied to this world by desires. Once all their desires are done, they can move on to their afterlives... whenever they want.

This kid, who didn't have a clue what puberty even was, couldn't move on. Even more curiously, she didn't have a clue why she could be stuck here. A mystery, to be sure, and one that I supposed I'd be willing to keep an eye out for. Maybe something would happen with her gravesite. It wouldn't be the first time.

...Except then someone did visit.

I'd been at the funeral. I make a point to be at every funeral for everybody who's going to be buried at my cemetery. It gives me an idea of friends, family, that sort of things. I like to give some trinkets or gift cards to the families of the deceased. Perhaps it's my conscious affecting me.

This woman wasn't someone I recognized. She walked in quickly, stealthily, quietly. She thought nobody noticed her, but... it's hard to hide from ghosts in a cemetery. Especially if you head straight to the grave of the person you killed. At least, according to the young girl.

She didn't look half bad, admittedly. It was about time something like this happened. I'd been waiting long enough for someone to show up that I'd feel no guilt towards.

<Fantasy>

Where A Heart Resides

Beatrix Acardi was the wife of a well regarded hunter north of Florence, who hunted only the rarest and finest of pelts to sell to wealthy merchants. Due to his frequent and long expeditions, few in the city could be surprised that she started to spend inappropriate amounts of time with another man.

Donato Gildo was this other man. He claimed he was a fisherman from the coastline who had managed to work his way into a successful enterprise, trading the freshest morsels with the nobles of Florence. "The most important thing," he oft said to those who asked how he managed this rise, "is to build more." His wealth bought him influence despite his 'condition'.

He was blind.

Donato walked with the assistance of servants, his eyes ever covered by the finest silk cloths he could buy. Despite this, he was deemed extravagantly handsome; the envy of men and the desire of women throughout the city.

Donato and Beatrix sat together on a sunny veranda, an artist of great renown sketching their likeness as they embraced as 'friends', though all knew it to be more. Ser Botticelli was just finishing the lines of Beatrix's almond-shaped eyes, bringing them into focus as a sharp contrast to the covered ones of her lover.

"My husband would be cross if he found you here with me," Beatrix breathed into Donato's ear.

"Wed me and leave him," Donato spoke in a tone as wishful as it was wistful.

"Nay, that is not the nature of us."

"I need not my eyes to see through your accismus," Donato rested his lips perilously close to her neck before he stood up, offering a florin for the artist to depart early, citing the scent of rain in the air. Beatrix led him inside as the wind started to pick up and had her servants bring them a treat.

"Pity of the weather," Beatrix said with a sigh as she took a piece of cake, layered with cream, merengue, and sponge bread. Donato added a dollop of honey to sweeten it further for her, "Would that we could bask in the sun all day."

"There is no bad weather," Donato claimed, "Only bad clothing. Without it you could free yourself of the burden of ruined wool and enjoy the rain."

"I would also be free of the burden of decency," Beatrix jested, patting him on the leg.

"I could send your servants away, and none would know," he lifted his hand and gave a wave. The servants in the room bowed and left them alone. Beatrix merely giggled and rested her head on his shoulder, drifting off to sleep as the honey worked its magic.

Donato rose from the seat and removed his blindfold, glowing red eyes lightly illuminating the quickly darkening room as the sun itself seemed to hide. He traced a finger along the beautiful human's cheek before leaving to observe the sketch that had been interrupted. The unseelie fae grinned, his mouth stretching inhumanly wide, as he looked at how fine a visage she was providing him.

Her husband, a descendant of one who had made a deal generations earlier, was none the wiser to his wife's affair for the time being. Donato was owed a hundred hearts, and every generation he took one from the family line. Often it was literal, but there were many opportunities where the heart need not be beating in someone's chest for it to be stolen. Ser Acardi truly loved Beatrix, and Beatrix loved him just as much.

"Ah, my dear Beatrix," he whispered into the gloom, walking out onto the balcony now that the rain was starting to come down. It washed away the sins of humanity, and it also washed away the prying eyes that might glimpse him as he observed all that humans had built before him, "One day all of this will be gone, and you forgotten." The man glided back inside, dripping from the rain, and loomed over his prize.

"But rest assured, when I take you from your husband, you will be mine forever," as he whispered, a faint purple spoke flowed from his lips and snaked its way through the air, down into her ear, "Your love for me will endure eternity. You need only thank me for it. When next we meet, thank me for giving you what your husband could not."

The Archfae laughed softly as he began to fade. Tomorrow he would return to hear the words he planted in her dreams. When her husband returned, he would feel the pain of his heart being torn from his chest. Unlike his ancestors, he would live with that pain for years to come. That pain would empower the unseelie for decades.

"Little and lasting..." he chuckled, and vanished.

--------------------------
WC: 799/800
r/TomesOfTheLitchKing
Notes:

>!Continuation of [SEUS] Sekihan and [SEUS] B'stilla!<

>!"Acardi" is derived from the Norman name Achard, a form of Ekkehard, and a precursor to (behindthename.com/name/acardi) Accardo!<

>!"Beatrix" - Probably from Viatrix, a feminine form of the Late Latin name Viator meaning "voyager, traveler". It was a common name amongst early Christians, and the spelling was altered by association with Latin beatus "blessed, happy" (behindthename.com/name/beatrix) and a precursor to "Beatrice"!<

>!"Donato" is from the Late Latin name Donatus meaning "given" (behindthename.com/name/donato)!<

>!"Gildo" is a masculinzed form of Gilda, meaning "payment, tribute, compensation"!<