Young Writers Society

James stepped up onto the porch, his hair still wet from swimming in the lake. It hung heavily in the bun atop his head, occasionally dripping down his back on the walk over.

His filthy clothes were tucked under his arm as he knocked on the door. He didn't feel like fishing for his keys.

Hild opened the door. The words died mid-greeting as she paused, both brows raised as she stared in bweilderment at them.

"Sorry if we're a little later than expected," James spoke first. "We took a small detour."

"Quite a bit later than anticipated, yes," Hild replied slowly. She turned an investigative eye back and forth between them, before settling her gaze back on James.

James glanced back at Caspar, then back at Hild, deciding it didn't make sense to leave her in the dark.

"The body is buried," he said. "But the process of burial was quite messy, so we stopped by the lake to wash off, exchanging one stench for another."

With a small shrug, he offered her a small smile.

"It seemed preferable to showing up smelling like death," he said. "Though I do plan on showering regardless."

Lifting an arm, Caspar gave a loud whiff. "I don't think the lake smells that bad."

"That's because you like the lake, Caspar," James said without looking back at him.

"I'll agree," Hild said with a faint grin, "lake stench is superior to death stench." She stepped aside and swept an arm inward in silent invitation.

With a small bow of his head, James stepped inside. The first thing he noticed were all of the suitcases and bags sitting on the couch and the floor, all packed up. Larrel popped her head out of the kitchen, holding some cans of food. It looked like she was packing.

Stepping around her, Lyall emerged with a steaming pot in both hands and set it on the small dining table. Then tilted his nose up with an offended frown as he loudly sniffed the air.

"What the hell," he said when his eyes landed on the recently returned.

"We went to the lake," James said, spreading one arm to the side as if to announce their arrival. "So as to smell like lake, and not dead bodies. You're welcome."

Lyall still didn't look very pleased with this outcome. Predictably.

With a small roll of his eyes, James simply strolled through the living room, weaving around the suitcases on the floor.

"I'm going to shower," he said. "Calm down."

Lyall held up both hands in surrender. "Fine, good."

Wanting to make it quick, James made a bee-line for the bathroom.

After hurriedly - and thoroughly - scrubbing himself down and putting on a clean set of clothes, he stepped back out into the main room wish his wet hair tied loosely atop his head. It looked like Larrel had finished packing food already, and there was another bag that appeared in the living room. Larrel and Lyall were sitting on top of things on the couch, and Hild had taken the single chair, while Caspar seated himself at the table.

James waved to Caspar to get his attention.

"Your turn," he said.

Nodding his thanks, Caspar pushed himself to his feet and ducked into the kitchen.

Hild then drifted over to the dining half of the living room, quietly gesturing for James to sit with her. As she ladled a portion into one of two remaining bowls at the the table, she missed her brother's skeptical backward glance at them.

Ignoring Lyall, James offered Hild a small, warm smile, and he took the seat beside her.

"Thanks," James said, sliding the bowl towards himself. It smelled like some kind of vegetable lentil soup, and it was still hot enough to be very fragrant.

He took a small sip and looked to Hild curiously.

"Were you able to get what you needed back home?" James asked.

Hild inclined her head. "Yes. I packed what necessities I could think of, and..." She shrugged a shoulder. "...said my goodbyes." After a pause, she firmly added, "Temporary, mind you. I fully intend on coming back as soon as possible."

"Of course," James said with a small nod.

He filled his mouth with another spoonful. He realized upon doing so that he hadn't eaten since yesterday.

With her elbows on the table, Hild rested her chin on her folded hands. "Larrel set up our flight out of here. Barring any unexpected roadblocks or other delays, we'll leave before dawn."

James looked over to Larrel, giving her a grateful nod. She merely offered him a slightly goofy smile and nodded in return.

"I think you'll love our bush pilot," Larrel said. "He's a gigantic man. Massive. But has the personality of a golden retriever."

"Very personable sort," Lyall agreed as he sank down into the pile of bags on the couch.

"Did you meet him?" James asked Lyall.

"He's how I got into Curio," Lyall answered, a grin in his voice.

"Very promising," Hild said agreeably, turned a faint grin his way. "Save the full pitch for our friend Calder, though. He's not keen on heights."

Oooooooooh.

So that was why Calder kept trying to suggest something else besides flying.

"We'll be sure to instill in him the utmost confidence," Lyall said with a nod.

"Never have I had a pilot fly so smooth," Larrel said, like she was already working on the pitch. "Zero turbulence. Smooth sailing. And he made me laugh the whole way."

"Should we leave out the part about the missing eye?" Lyall asked conversationally.

"I don't see why it's relevant," Larrel said. "He's licensed, so clearly the people who passed him thought he was capable, and he's certainly proved it with a sustained career."

"We omit," Lyall concluded with another nod.

Still smiling with amusement, Hild turned back to James and asked, "You're alright with planes?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm used to it. Not that I know how to fly one, of course."

Hild hummed a laugh. "Good."

"Bo said he'd teach me how to fly a plane," Larrel interjected. "I think it was a real offer."

Lyall laughed at that and glanced over his shoulder at them. "How confident are you in her ability to learn on the job?"

James smirked at he made eye contact with his sister.

"50/50," he said.

"Hey!" Larrel objected.

"Either we make it just fine or we all crash and die," James said.

Hild giggled. "Only one way to find out."

"I'll have you know," Larrel said, lifting a finger. "That I'm an excellent learner. I am a licensed doctor! That took a lot of brainpower!"

"What potentially fatal thing will you be learning from?" Caspar's voice squeaked from the kitchen doorway.

Everyone fell silent for a split second as they all turned to look at him.

"Huh?" Larrel said. "Oh. We were just joking about how I'd do as a bush pilot with zero experience."

With a confused look, Caspar took the chair adjacent to James. "Okay..."

"Joking aside," Hild said, schooling her features, "we do need to discuss our travel plans. Such as, where we're even headed."

"Oh!" Caspar tilted his head toward James and answered simply, "The edge of the world."

She blinked slowly at him.

James hesitated.

"Right," he said slowly. "So, now that we're all in the same room again, it would do well for us to catch you up on what we know. I was able to get some information out of Constantine."

This only served to further confuse than clarify for Hild. "You were?"

James sighed, digging into his pockets. He pulled out Constantine's wallet and slid it across the table to her.

"I know a spell that allows me to speak with the dead," he said, trying to sound casual.

"What?!" Larrel spouted. "Where'd you learn that?"

"It doesn't matter how I learned it right now--"

"Um, yeah it does!" Larrel interrupted.

"And we know which," Hild furthered, "'edge of the world' we're going for, right? We're not just blindly flying out?"

"North," James said. "Was all I could get out of him. So at least we know which pole."

"Fantastic," she said flatly, "so we'll just search the entire northern hemisphere."

"Not all of it," Caspar tried assuring her. "We can probably narrow it down to...somewhere around the Atlantic." He paused. "Which. Still makes for a big radius, but it's something."

"If it's any assurance," James said with a forced smile. "He's seems pretty eager to find me. So maybe he'll find us before we find him."

Lyall stood and gave him an unconvinced look. "Assurance? No. I'd say that's more...disquieting. Unnerving." He rounded the couch to stand at the table by his sister. "Troubling, even."

James's smile faded, and he let out a long sigh, leaning back into his seat.

"Welcome to my life," he said.

With a wry snort, Lyall leaned his folded elbows on the back of Hild's chair. "I thought he wasn't out and about anymore. Not since the Age of Enlightenment, and since he failed to escape earlier in this past century."

Hild glanced off as she considered that too. "Did Constantine confirm that Ivar's out?"

"The opposite," Caspar answered, tone suddenly quite serious. "But that doesn't mean an actual escape isn't imminent. Even god-like spells like Eir's can erode, given enough time."

"I'd also like not having to run for my life forever," James mentioned a little more quietly, tapping his fingers against the table and idly observing his own hand.

"So you're saying... you want to end it for good?" Larrel asked slowly. "You want to kill him?"

There was a brief pause as James looked up, realizing everyone was watching him expectantly for an answer. Larrel looked sobered. Lyall studied him closely in that intrigued way of his. Hild's eyes were deeply sympathetic. Caspar looked like he wanted to say something, but opted instead for a tired, resigned silence.

"What else is there to do?" James asked honestly. "I seal him away for another hundred years and pass on the responsibility to someone else even less prepared than I? This has to end. Eir thought she could postpone it, by banishing him to the Below. But if I want to have any assurance of this world's future, uninfluenced by Ivar's chaos... then Ivar needs to be out of the picture."

"And what makes you think you'll succeed, where she didn't?" Lyall asked, blunt tone bordering challenging. "What makes you think you can kill a god?"

"He's probably the only one who can," Caspar firmly answered in James's stead. "It's worth a shot."

"And I'd like to not go in alone," James added softly. "That would be... what's different. This time."

"As we agreed," Hild said, offering him a warm smile.

James looked across the table, briefly meeting her eyes with a small smile of his own before he looked down at the table, suddenly self aware of everyone else watching.

"As we agreed," he echoed.

A short beat passed.

Caspar drummed his hands on the edge of the table. "We'll need to head for the coast first, probably, then find a way across the Atlantic."

James nodded.

"A shame we didn't lock up Ivar just north of Canada," he said. "But yes. We'll probably have to fly or go by boat."

He glanced at Caspar, remembering Caspar's aversion to planes.

"The former would be much, faster," he said.

Caspar nodded slowly and mumbled, "Of course."

"Something," Hild cut in, "we don't have to think of just yet. We've still got our first flight to catch, first thing in the morning."

"Ah, perfect," James said. "What time do we need to leave?"

"I think Larrel arranged for a 5 AM flight?" Lyall said, glancing her way for confirmation. "Which means we should be out of here by 4, 4:30 at the latest?"

"4," Larrel piped in. "I don't want to be late. Also I want to not feel rushed."

"We can put further plotting on hold, then," Hild said with a faint grin. "Get what sleep we can now."

"Sounds great to me!" Larrel said putting in ear plugs and immediately flopping over onto the couch. "Talk to you at 3am!"

With a dramatic eye roll then slump over the back of the chair, Lyall groaned loudly. Hild reached back and patted his arm, though not without a unamused stare into the middle distance.

"I'll sleep on the floor-" James started to say.

"No, you won't," Lyall quickly objected, popping upright to fix him with a stern look. "Healing spells or no, you still need to rest properly."

James opened his mouth to object, but then raised up his hands.

"If you insist," he said, not wanting to argue with Lyall, especially after their spat earlier.

Satisfied with James's answer, Lyall tiredly bumped his forehead to the back of Hild's head. "I'll take the floor," he mumbled.

"Your sacrifice will not be forgotten," she hummed.

"We'll just need to move the cot," he added.

James looked to the living room, currently filled with suitcases. There would barely be enough room for Lyall to sleep on the floor, nevermind bring the cot in.

He looked back to Lyall with a raised brow. Where were they going to move it? The cabin was tiny.

"That won't be necessary," Hild sighed in exasperation.

"You can just take my room," Caspar offered her.

Lifting his head at that, Lyall gestured to Caspar. "Good, thank you."

Hild huffed, but likewise gave Caspar an appreciative nod. "Honestly, the preferable option," she said, rising to her feet. "I'll see you gentlemen in the morning, then."

"There won't be any sun to see anything by," Lyall said grimly.

"Electricity," James said dryly, miming the flicking of a light switch.

"No. Sun," Lyall repeated emphatically.

"It'll be up by the time we get in the air," James said. "You'll get a great view of the sunrise."

Hild patted her brother's face on her way to the stairs. "The sunrises here are unmatched."

James looked down at the bowl of soup in front of him, having forgotten it was there. Wanting to go to sleep as soon as possible, he decided his attention was better given to finishing his food. He took a big scoop.

Adjacent to him, Caspar stared off at the window, looking lost in thought. Lyall pointedly tapping the pot in the middle of the table snapped him back to the present.

"May as well finish it," Lyall said as he turned to assess the living room floor.

Caspar only nodded quietly as he obliged.

Curiously, James watched Lyall in silence as he continued to consume his soup.

Lyall nudged aside the coffee table to make more room. Scanned the place, then grabbed a pillow from the chair by the fireplace and the blanket that was draped over the top. When that seemed insufficient to him, he padded around the couch, completely silent so as to not disturb Larrel, and began poking around in the small closet space under the stairs.

He re-emerged with a triumphant, "Ha!" and unfurled a sleeping bag in a cloud of dust. His moment of victory devolved into a quiet sneezing fit.

James glanced at Caspar, sharing brief eye contact. It seemed they both had the same thought.

Lyall was trying to make do, but he didn't have to sleep on the floor. There was still the recliner, as an option.

By the time Lyall had successfully set up on the floor, Caspar finished his second bowl of soup, leaving the pot empty. He set his bowl inside the pot. "I'll clean these in a sec," he murmured, then rose to his feet.

Raising his brows, James lifted up his bowl, slurping down the last of the broth, still quietly observing.

Stepping around the couch, Caspar stood with his hands set on his hips, looking down at where Lyall lay on the floor. Just quietly taking it in for a moment.

"Can I help you?" Lyall asked slowly. The couch blocked him from view.

Caspar was trying to bite back a grin. "You don't like making things easy, do you?"

Lyall huffed. "I think I'm being quite resourceful!"

"There are two perfectly good options that don't involve the floor," Caspar disagreed. "And one of them, I sure as hell won't fit in, so you might as well take it."

"And what's tha--"

Caspar was already kneeling down, and hoisted him up in both arms. With an indignant yelp, Lyall tried twisting out of his grasp the way offended cats do. It threw them a bit off-balance as Caspar straightened again, but he held firm as he carried the stubborn doctor over to the guest room.

"A straightforward answer would suffice!" Lyall said, eventually clinging to Caspar as if for dear life.

"Yeah, but this is easier than just arguing with you," Caspar hummed.

James had to suppress a laugh as he set his empty bowl down on the table.

These two...

They disappeared around the corner, Lyall muttering the whole way about 'the sheer audacity'. He finally ordered to be unhanded, to which Caspar replied with a pleasant, "Okay." The cot squeaked under a sudden, likely dropped weight. Excessive complaints about wounded dignity fell on deaf ears; Caspar just wished him a good night with a smile in his voice. Lyall begrudgingly bid him, "Night," and said nothing more as Caspar re-emerged into the living room.

While they were out of sight, James began to clear the table with a grin, gathering all of the bowls and taking them into the kitchen. He gave Caspar a small nod as he left the living room.

Caspar had offered to clean up, but James knew the man desparately needed sleep. Leaving Caspar to take care of that, James busied himself with quickly cleaning the dishes, leaving them in the drying rack in the sink so they'd be dry by the time they woke up.

His hair was still wet - as it usually was, sometimes a few hours after washing - but he let it down on his way out of the kitchen, shaking his head as he turned into the bedroom.

Just as he'd expected, he saw Lyall on his cot, back in his former blankets, curled towards the wall. There was something about his posture that still seemed indignant, like he was still having an argument in his mind despite Caspar having left the room many minutes ago.

Overhead, he could hear a few footsteps from Hild moving about the loft.

Closing the door behind him, James looked down at Lyall with a grin. He stopped at the edge of his bed, sitting as he took off his shoes.

"Lyall?" James whispered.

After a moment's delay, Lyall peeked over his shoulder at him. "Yes?"

James hesitated, looking at Lyall.

"Thanks," James said, offering a small smile, his brows drawing together. "For giving me another chance."

Lyall glanced off, silent, before facing the wall again. "Sleep well, James," was all he murmured in reply.

Well, Lyall never seemed the sort to have very genuine conversations, anyway. At least James gave it a shot.

With a small sigh, he laid down on his bed and rolled over, saying nothing.

Predictably, James's mind was too busy for him to fall asleep right away, but evidently, Lyall was tired enough from the long day that he fell asleep quickly. James knew the moment that Lyall finally fell completely quiet, and when James glanced over, he noticed Lyall was curled up on his side like he usually was in his pattern of sleep.

Maybe it was odd to have noted it already, but Lyall seemed to have three sleeping positions he cycled through at night: the side-facing fetal position, face-down on his stomach, and sprawled with all of his limbs out, always in the same directions.

He was just at the beginning of the cycle.

James rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to wait out the buzz of worried in his brain.

They were leaving Curio in the morning, but it still didn't feel soon enough.

Was this "Bo" really trustworthy? Could he be compromised? What if word already got out that the four of them were flying out, and one of Constantine's contacts was already close?

How long would they be running and fighting for their lives before they found Ivar? Would they even make it that far?

How many of them would he lose? Or would they all lose him?

He rubbed his eyes, trying not to let his mind go too far down that path. Now was not the time to give himself to despair.

Closing his eyes, he tried to think about something else. Anything else. But it felt like everything he had to draw from in his recent life events ended in violence and running. Over and over and over again.

Still searching, he found his mind landing on Hild.

Such a recent aquaintance, but... the moments he had spent with her had been pleasant. Like a breath of fresh air. A moment's peace.

Of course, he still didn't know her very well. And it would be far too presumptuous to assume she was going to stick around forever, but it did seem like she and Lyall, along with Caspar, were miraculously convinced to join him in facing Ivar - which, he honestly hadn't expected.

Caspar, James could understand, from what little he knew about Caspar's past with Eir, and what past he suspected Caspar had with Ivar.

But what was Lyall's motivation? Was it just to join his sister? To stay with his long lost friend?

And what of Hild?

It wasn't that James didn't think they had their own reasons for wanting Ivar gone, but with the stakes as high as they were...

James opened his eyes when he suddenly heard Hild's voice above him, drifting through the ceiling.

"There won't be as much sightseeing as you'd think," Hild was saying, her voice distinctly lacking in any Eloise Clark qualities. "My brother and I will be too busy trying to sort out this mess."

Hild was then quiet for a long moment. Probably now just listening. When she spoke again, her voice dropped to an inaudible volume for the most part. There was a lot of stopping short, as is cut off multiple times by the other end of the call, until she sternly said, "Please don't."

Another drawn out silence. Now a tinny voice James recognized as Ava's was just loud enough to hear, but not make out any clear words.

"It's a family matter," Hild eventually spoke up again. Then, a long moment after, softly conceded, "We are." Then was out of words, and her intense pacing overhead stopped.

It was unclear for a while if the phone call had ended, until Hild finally concluded, voice clear and steady, "I'll try to be back...I don't know when, but I will. Good night."

James felt like he shouldn't have heard any of that, and he found himself despising the thin walls of the cabin even more. Clearly, Hild had been hoping for that conversation to be private, and the fact that James heard any of it made his chest tight with regret.

Rolling over onto his side again, he furrowed his brows, unable to stop his mind from automatically filling in the blanks.

The only person Hild could've logically been talking to was Ava. Her now-former housemate.

James hadn't been present for that goodbye, and he didn't know how Hild chose to frame it, and how much she chose to tell, but she'd clearly said enough to drop the accent, and to let Ava know that she was in some sort of mess. It sounded like maybe she'd said it was between her and her brother, Lyall. Not entirely far from the truth.

James couldn't help but feel a small sting of guilt at being part of the reason - no, the main reason - that Hild was having to leave her whole life in Curio behind.

Hild would've had at least another ten good years before anyone started to notice how she didn't age. Instead her stay got cut short to three.

Too tired to think about all of the implications and what happened while he and Caspar were gone, James forced himself to think on the only thing that seemed to help him sleep these days. Even still, it didn't always work, but...

He pinched his eyes shut, trying to remember the distant memory as clearly as he could.

When he was a boy, his mother used to sing him lullabies to help him fall asleep.

If he focused very hard, it was like he could still hear her voice.

The note took him all until morning to write up. Caspar didn't want to leave any overcomplicated instructions on what to do with the cabin and the things inside. He just didn't have anybody to leave any of it with.

Hild descended, already dressed and prepared for the upcoming day of travel. Being an early riser was something she and her alter ego Eloise, the version of her that he was more familiar with, had well in common.

She paused in the middle of braiding back her hair when she caught sight of the note. Despite the intensely curious glint in her eyes, she silently moved on to the kitchen while Caspar folded the paper down the middle and left it on the table.

From the kitchen, Hild hummed with pleasant surprise. "You've already made a batch," she commented.

Though she couldn't see, Caspar raised his mug. "Fresh, just for you."

She leaned back and peered at him around the doorway. "Did you even try to sleep?"

"Yeah," he answered slowly, "the armchair just isn't comfortable enough for an entire night."

She pursed her lips in suspicion, but poured herself a cup of coffee instead of pressing for the truth.

The door to the bedroom cracked open silently, and James stepped out, fully dressed, with his backpack and shoes on. Gently closing the door behind him, he glanced back at Caspar, giving him a small nod of greeting.

Inclining his head, Caspar raised his mug again in acknowledgement.

"Excellent timing," Hild said, offering a faint smile as she took an adjacent chair. "Only two left, now."

James took a seat at the table closest to Hild, setting his bag at his feet.

"How'd you sleep?" Caspar asked, before downing the rest of his coffee.

"Sufficiently," James answered softly. "All things considered."

Caspr nodded. "That works."

James looked at Caspar closely, as if he were about to ask the same question in return. But instead, he looked Caspar up and down, and turned his attention to Hild.

"Did you just get up?" he asked.

Hild sat straighter and tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ears, almost self-consciously. "Yes," she answered, "and I figure we won't have time enough for me to better fix the disheveled look."

James's expression softened with a mix of amusement and affection, and he looked at Hild with a small smile.

"If this is you disheveled," he said. "Then you've set the standards for average quite high."

Hild's cheeks turned pink at that as she briefly glanced off. Tilting her chin up, she replied, tone playful, "You flatter. Desist, for my brother might hear you."

James's smile turned into a small smirk, and his own cheeks reddened as well. He looked over at the door, where Lyall was presumably still asleep behind it.

"Apologies," James said, like he was fighting at a slightly embarrassed smile.

The expression seemed unusual for the hunter, who normally seemed pretty hard to fluster.

"I'll reserve those compliments for when he's more reliably out of earshot, then," James said, more quietly.

Hild nodded in agreement, allowing herself a more full smile. "Smart man," she said approvingly. "Alongside our noble quest, I'll try plotting for ways to distract and redirect him. Create such opportunities."

James nodded slowly, in agreement.

"I will do my part in this as well," he said.

Looking between the two, things began. Clicking into place for him. Romance and things were clearly afoot, and honestly? Good for them.

Caspar drained the dredges of his coffee before adding, "This feels like I'm bearing witness to some nefarious scheme, and I should at least...turn around for deniability or something."

"Plug your ears," James suggested. "Or close your eyes."

"Sir, this is my house," Caspar retorted, without any real heat in it. He genuinely didn't want to impede on...whatever this was, though. Glancing over to the living room portion of the place, he decided that was as good an excuse as any and said, "I think I'll pack up the car while we wait."

James huffed.

"Alright," he said.

"Only because I want to," Caspar added for clarity. "Not because of..." He waved vaguely at them.

Brows raised, Hild hummed with amusement. "Thank you kindly."

With a conclusive nod, Caspar padded over to the other side of the couch to assess what would fit and where in the vehicle. Considering they all had to essentially carry their entire lives on their backs at this point, they all managed to pack fairly light.

Halfway into loading up the car as quietly as he could manage, Caspar wondered if the plane would be able to accommodate the weight of everything in addition to the weight of everyone. Part of him still hoped the plane route wouldn't pan out. Selfishly, probably. So much was at stake here, so he supposed he'd just have to close his eyes, pray nothing went wrong, and put his trust in whoever it was Larrel arranged their flight with.

With everything packed in, he closed the trunk door and took heavy steps up the front porch. He paused before ducking back inside, to glance out at the woods. Still dark without the morning sunlight. The trees were silhouettes against a lavender sky. Birds sang in the distance.

And then there was a loud, blaring, alarm. Caspar jumped, then peeked inside the door with bewilderment.

Larrel was sitting straight up on the couch, scrambling to find the source of the noise. James and Hild stared at her, looking mildly startled themselves. Lyall whipped open the guest bedroom door, bleary-eyed and hair completely mussed with sleep.

Finally, Larrel dug her hand into the couch and pulled out her phone, turning off the alarm.

And then there was silence.

As if nothing had occured, Larrel tucked her phone into her pocket and plucked her earplugs out, sitting back on the couch.

"Good morning, Caspar," she said, surprisingly chipper for presumably having just woke up.

Nodding dumbly, Caspar gave a small, two-fingered salute. He closed the door behind him as he stepped back inside.

"Norns," Lyall muttered, disappearing back into the guest room.

"I was about to come in there myself, anyhow," Hild called after him.

Her brother just grumbled louder and more incoherently.

"I'm going to go make some breakfast!" Larrel said, stretching her arms above her head. "Have you all eaten?"

"Not yet," Hild answered.

Caspar raised a hand. "I could eat."

They all eventually convened at the table, once eggs and bacon were served and Lyall was fully dressed and more ready for an early start. Caspar sliced and tossed the remaining fresh fruit into a bowl as well. Didn't want any of that to go to waste.

Collectively, it was actually a lot of food. For the better, Caspar decided. In silent amazement, he watched as James put away enough for three people once every one else had had their fill. No waste, indeed.

"Compliments to the chef," Lyall hummed, casting Larrel a grin, then checked the time. "With some time to spare, actually." And he disappeared into the kitchen without further ado.

"Time to use the toilet," Larrel said, sending James a meaningful look.

James stared at her from across the table.

There were three solid seconds where they merely stared at each other. Hild quietly looked about the room.

"After Lyall," James said simply.

Caspar huffed a laugh.

"A shame we only have one bathroom," Larrel added. "But then again, this place wasn't really designed for five people."

"Well, there is always an alternative," Caspar said, pointing his chin toward the door. "S'just not as private."

"Ohhhhh, right, right," she said.

"Did you get everything in the car, Caspar?" James asked, interrupting.

Trying to school his features, Caspar nodded. "I did."

"Excellent," Hild said quickly, thankful for the subject change.

"Did Lyall bring all of his things out from the room?" James asked.

"I did," Lyall called from the restroom, "last night." He reappeared, leaning on the doorway with a pleasant smile. "Which means Caspar put my things away before I got a chance to put myself together for the day."

Hild hummed. "A shame, truly. You're an utter mess."

"I mean, you could always run out and grab something quickly if you need it," Larrel called back.

"He'll be fine." Hild stacked the empty dishes, then brushed past her brother. "We're just travelling, anyway."

James got up from the table wordlessly, disappearing in the direction of the restroom.

"Ah yes," Larrel said. "I too, prioritize comfort over fashion when I travel."

Lyall grinned. "Sensible, of course--"

"Which isn't his brand," Hild said loudly from by the sink.

Lyall stared flatly at the wall past them.

"I mean. The man wears a silk bathrobe," Larrel said. "I kind of figured that already."

"I consider that comfort!" he said, feigning great indignance.

"Totally valid," Larrel said. "It's just a very bougie form of comfort."

Lyall sighed, then grinned again as he took the seat between Caspar and Larrel. "I'll concede. It's an acquired taste-- in that, it was acquired later in life. I'll have you all know, I have, and still can, live just fine with less."

Hild scoffed at that and added, "Not without your complaints, I'm sure." She paused in dish-scrubbing to glance over her shoulder at them. "I can't quite imagine you scraping by among the lower class."

Lyall scoffed, louder. "It was a time that preceded you."

"The fabled years of urban 'roughing it'," Hild mused, turning back to the dishes.

"Did you actually?" Larrel asked, tilting her head at Lyall.

Lyall nodded emphatically and laughed. "Yes! Hard as that may be to believe. It was before her father entered the picture." He leaned an elbow on the table. "Our mother worked as an under-paid seamstress, I lit lamps."

Folding his hands in his lap, Caspar listened intently as he stared at the grains of the table. He remembered hearing about this part of Lyall's life when they were first getting to know each other.

"Our mother, Astrid, married my father," Hild furthered. "Geoffrey. An established businessman."

Who brought financial wealth and comfort into their lives around Lyall's teen years. A source of tension between Lyall and Hild's father, if Caspar was recalling correctly.

Larrel looked between Hild and Lyall.

"Did something happen to your father?" Larrel asked Lyall.

Lyall shrugged. "He split early on. Must not have thought married life suited him."

Larrel nodded.

"So do you both get your long lives from your mom, then?" Larrel asked.

"Yes," Hild answered, while Lyall simultaneously joked, "That's the assumption."

"What about you and our dear boy Jamesy?" Lyall asked, folding his arms as he leaned forward.

Larrel snorted.

"Our mom was normal. Our dad was not," she said. "James absorbed all of the magic from our dad, I guess."

"Typical boys," Hild said breezily, "taking all the benefits."

Lyall laughed, but it felt the slightest bit forced.

"Well, he got the magic and I got all of the charisma and brains," Larrel said. "So I think I won out, actually."

"Definitely a win," Hild agreed, laughing.

Smiling wide, Larrel leaned back into her chair with a laugh of her own. As their laughter filled the room, James stepped back into view from the kitchen, curiously glancing between the two women before he interrupted.

"Alright. Are we ready to go?" he asked.

Hild flicked the water from her hands. "I suppose the dishes could air dry. So, I'd say we are."

"Quite," Lyall agreed. He glanced at the folded paper on the table, then just as quickly turned an easy smile toward Caspar. "Need a minute to say goodbye to the place? Mold and dust-ridden though it may be."

Caspar huffed a laugh as he scanned the room, then let his gaze settle on the runes in the corner. "I'm good, thank you."

Larrel got up from the table, hands on her hips.

"Then let's pile up in the car!" she said, already hurrying to the door.

And so they did.

Though he'd lived here for over five years, Caspar didn't spare the living room another glance as he locked the front door behind him. As everyone piled in the car, he decided:

"I might need to make like a two-minute stop on the way there, actually." Caspar looked in the rearview mirror to James, Larrel, and Lyall in the backseat. "Would that be alright?"

"Fine with me," Larrel chirped.

"Sure," James said.

"Where is it?" Lyall asked curiously.

Caspar put the car in reverse, and they slowly withdrew from the front porch like a boat drifting from its dock. "Just wanted to see a coworker real quick."

Officer Lin, his partner before his demotion. He wasn't actually sure if she would be up at this hour. And, when they dropped by, it didn't seem like she was.

Though closure would've been nice, Caspar guessed they didn't have to talk. He at the very least just wanted to leave the key to the cabin with her. She'd have an idea of what to do with it in his absence.

The drive through the woods at first felt like any other day. The hum of the car as it rode the quiet trail. For the most part, he was on autopilot, and silently said his goodbyes to the birds in the trees, and eventually to the houses of neighbors living on the edge of Curio.

The sky had turned powder blue, and the sun touched the tops of trees and buildings as they passed through downtown. At which point Caspar had to refer to Larrel for directions. He knew there was a hangar for flown-in mail and things, but didn't often get the chance to head that way.

What he assumed was their ride already sat outside on the makeshift runway, waiting for them. A white aircraft, with thick blue and orange strips painted along its sides, and the name 'Black Bee' printed in faded ink on the tail-end. Counting the windows, it looked large enough to comfortably accommodate them all, plus luggage. So that was a comfort.

As soon as he put the car in park, Larrel hopped out and met the pilot halfway as he emerged from inside the hangar.

He towered over Larrel, and wore a pair of aviator sunglasses. He had a brown bomber jacket and looked a bit like a stereotypical pilot. Perhaps he'd intentionally dressed the part.

The man's dark brown hair was a bit shaggy, reminiscent of the 90's, or some kind of surfer, and he had a full, well-kept beard that framed his broad smile.

"If it isn't my favorite passenger!" the man said with a cheerful wave.

Larrel met him at the base of the plane's boarding steps, where they collided in a half-hug.

"Good to see you, Bo!" Larrel said, pulling away.

"And you, Lillian," Bo said, turning his attention to the others. "Is this everyone?"

"The whole lot," Larrel said. "Brother. Caspar. The siblings. And all of our stuff."

"Ah, yes. Stuff," Bo said, already walking with her back to the car. "I'll help you load up."

The two of them walked over to the car, Larrel being quick to grab her suitcase out of James's hands, as he'd already started unloading.

"I haven't met you, yet," Bo said, turning to Hild, who had just set her bag on the ground. Bo extended a hand to shake. "The name's Bo."

She lightly took his hand and smiled politely. "Eloise. A pleasure to make the acquaintance of a revered pilot like yourself."

"Revered," Bo echoed, pulling his hand away. "Wow. You make me sound like I'm famous."

"Lillian and my brother both spoke very highly of you," Hild explained, her smile softening a bit.

Bo turned to look at Lyall.

"You know, somehow that doesn't surprise me," Bo said, shooting Lyall a wide grin.

With one bag slung over his shoulder, Lyall then stepped closer with an outstretched hand and a broad smile of his own. "Good sir, I don't know what you mean to imply."

Bo smacked Lyall's hand when he united them for a handshake, and then pulled Lyall in, giving him a hug. He patted Lyall's back twice before he let go.

"Good to see you, pal," Bo said. He then looked over Lyall's shoulder at Caspar.

"And you, sir," Bo said. "Must be Caspar, I assume."

After unloading the rest from the back of the car, Caspar nodded his confirmation with his eyes downcast. "You'd be right." He waved, feeling awkward, but said sincerely, "Good to meet you, Bo."

"You too," Bo said.

And before Bo could turn his attention to James, James already stood beside him, extending a hand. Bo was quick to meet it, giving a firm shake.

"Matthew," James said.

"My pleasure," Bo said with a nod, reaching down to pick up one of the suitcases now sitting outside of the car.

Well, Caspar thought the man was just going to grab one. Then he grabbed three. As if they weighed nothing.

Hauling them up in his arms, Bo turned and started walking towards the plane.

"Alright, let's get moving!" Bo said.

And with that, the rest of them piled in.

After a quick word with Bo, Caspar left his car beside the hangar. Then stalled a bit at the midway point between the hangar and the plane door.

Dread pressed in on his chest as he stared at the small windows.

Bo stood at the door, looking down at Caspar, as he was the last to come up.

"Ever been on a plane before?" Bo asked.

Caspar looked up at him and tried laughing it off a bit. "Uh, not really."

Bo tilted his head, offering a small smile.

"It can feel disorienting, for sure," Bo said. "But it's actually one of the safest ways to travel."

Was it?

Caspar glanced sideways at the wings of the plane. "...Alright."

Not wanting to force further prompting, he drew in a breath, braced himself, and stepped in.

Just as he entered, Bo held out two paper bags in front of him.

"If you need," Bo said.

Caspar mustered a weak smile as he accepted. "Thanks."

Once he took an aisle seat, he supposed it wasn't too unlike the interior of his old boat. Low ceiling and small roundish windows, but all...fine. Something he could adjust to.

Beside him, Lyall gave him an encouraging smile.

Bo disappeared in the front, and began hitting and checking a countless number of switches and buttons around him in the pilot's seat.

Eventually, the plane began rolling. It was a smooth start. Bo went through a short safety overview, then assumed an exaggerated weatherman voice as he gave a playful prediction of sunny skies ahead.

Caspar chanced a glimpse out the window past Lyall. Though he didn't consider himself a very religious person anymore, he silently pleaded to whatever forces might have been out there, that they make this trip alive.

Then, with the propellers running at immeasurable speeds, the plane careened down the short runway.

Eyes squeezed shut, Caspar gripped the arms of his seat. The pit of his stomach felt heavy as it felt like the plane was tipping, nose over tail. Was it supposed to be shaking this much, too? Or was that just him? It might've been just him.

Over the turbulence, Lyall gently reminded him, "Breathe, okay? This is part of it."

Yes. Right, breathing was good.

Caspar focused on counting between breaths as evenly as he could. At some point, he felt a hand rest warmly over his. In turn, he gripped it like a lifeline.

It felt like a short, horrible eternity before the plane leveled out again.

"And, voila!" Lyall said brightly. "We live!"

Caspar huffed a nervous laugh. "Great."

"Want to try opening your eyes--"

Caspar shook his head vehemently. "I'm good."

Lyall patted their clasped hands with his free one. "Not a problem," he said, humming a laugh. "But you're missing one hell of a view."

"Maybe later, then." If Caspar was feeling any braver.

Once he'd managed to steady his breathing, he worked up enough courage to at least look around the cabin of the plane. Two rows ahead, James and Hild sat together, heads turned to gaze out the window to her right. On the other side of the aisle to Caspar's left, Larrel had settled in for a small sleep, apparently. With her seat titled back, he glimpsed the clouds through the window past her.

Caspar exhaled slowly as he determinedly fixed his gaze on the sky. Breathed in again, and took in the way the sunrise brushed orange over the clouds. Breathed out, and had to admit. It was truly a remarkable view.

About... Maybe over two hundred years of living by this point? And there were still things he hadn't experienced. Flying was as terrifying as he'd always imagined. But now he knew it was doable.

A conversation about dragons played out in the back of his mind, like a scratchy, slightly broken recording on a tape player. A conversation with a kid, who wanted to know what it was like to touch the clouds, from the back of a winged creature. Caspar heard himself surmise the scenario out of the realm of possibility, but fun to imagine regardless.

Lyall eventually slipped from his grasp. Caspar awkwardly folded his hands together in his lap then, and looked askance.

The way sunlight fell across the seating inside the plane caught his eye. And he supposed he'd much prefer this to a dragon.

Lyall was maybe probably only a little bit eavesdropping on his sister and James. Just maybe. It started with comments on the sunrise, then veered onto other, vaguely related topics that weren't of great interest to him.

With Larrel fast asleep (not even fifteen minutes from take-off) and Caspar...otherwise incapacitated (fearing for his very life, the poor sod), Lyall was forced to keep himself busy. Which was actually hard, since they were stuck in the air for the next however-many-hours.

At some point, he caught mention of Hild's house mate, Ava. But it was also by then that she dropped her voice to a murmur. Whatever was said beyond that point, he couldn't catch over the noise of the plane. Drat.

He tried not to sigh aloud as he diverted his attention. As much as his shameless nosiness had really only behooved him (to his memory), and thus he developed few to no qualms with it, he figured it best that the plane was against him on this. His sister was a very private person by nature-- something, he acknowledged begrudgingly, that she had in common with James.

What did Lyall have against them as a...concept, collectively? He honestly wasn't sure. He just couldn't help but worry for his family. And he thought he had plenty reason to worry especially about Hild taking an interest in James in particular, given what Lyall knew (and didn't know!) about the man.

In the back pocket of the seat in front of him, there were some reading materials and a sudoku booklet with a piece of paper sticking out its top. Opening the puzzle book revealed a small note that read: "A little better than doing math."

Lyall chuckled as he flipped through for an empty grid to work on. When he lost interest in that, he took to wandering a little bit, before settling into the row in front of his sister and James. Backwards, to face them and thus strike up conversation.

Instead of shooing him away as he'd predicted, Hild gave him a pleasant smile and said, "Speak of the devil."

Lyall's face fell. "What? What were you saying about me? Good things, I hope?"

"But of course," Hild replied breezily. He never trusted her when she sounded so breezy.

Lyall frowned a bit. "Very well. While we're on the subject, we may as well expand and address all of our skill sets," he offered. "Roles and duties and whatnot."

His sister arched a brow. "Right now?"

"No better time than now."

"Wouldn't it be better to have that conversation with all of us?" James asked.

Lyall pursed his lips. "Okay, so there is a better time than now."

"Then we wouldn't have to have that conversation twice," James added.

Lyall feigned exasperation with a heavy sigh and roll of his eyes. "You and your ridiculous sensibility."

Hild shrugged a shoulder and cast James a quick grin. "I quite like that about him."

Ew. Definitely not the direction Lyall wanted this to go.

"I'm sure you can find something else to talk about, Lyall," James said. And it was difficult to tell if he was being condescending or if he was genuine.

"Of course I will," Lyall huffed. Folding his arms, he leaned on the back of his seat. "So, Jamesy. What was Bulgaria like in the 1880s for you? Or did you grow up elsewhere?"

James stared at him for a moment.

"Simple. Quiet. My parents had a farm," James said. "We lived in a rather remote area."

"Did you like that?" Lyall asked. "Simple, quiet life?"

"I did, while it lasted," James said. "There's something rewarding about living a quiet life and working with your hands."

Lyall nodded slowly. This tracked, with the general...vibe James gave off, and the kind of person that Lyall knew his sister was attracted to: the rugged, hard-working lower class. The less-than-glamorous lifestyles of such folks was something, at least in their earlier lives, that he was pretty sure his sister romanticized in that sort of rich-person way.

Nothing against either of them, of course, just an observation that Lyall was definitely going to hold onto.

"What was it like," he went on, "having a father with magic?"

"Ah," James said with a weak laugh. "Well. He, uh. Wasn't forthright about having it."

So, in a word: unremarkable.

"But aside from keeping his magic a secret," James added. "He was a good father."

Lyall nodded with a close-lipped smile. "That's nice to hear," he said sincerely.

"How did you discover you had magic?" Hild then asked.

"Aha," James said with a tense smile. "Well. That was... a less than pleasant memory. To make a long story short, my father was killed. My mother only managed to narrowly rescue my sister and I from the same fate. As you can imagine, many conversations were had in the following days and weeks explaining why our lives had suddenly changed."

Oh.

Hild's curious gaze likewise turned somber as she turned this over.

Lyall blinked hard, to shake off the image of a burning house seared into the back of his mind. "Witch hunters?" he asked quietly, though loathe to even make mention of the hateful profession.

"Yes," James said quietly.

"I'm so sorry," Hild murmured, voice soft with sympathy.

"It's an old wound," James said with a weak smile. "It's been decades, now. But, yes, that was our tumultuous introduction to our magical bloodline. Not the smoothest start, but... well, things turned out, eventually."

"Things usually do," Hild said. "Life can only be so cruel for so long."

It was hard to say if that was the common experience, since discovering magic nowadays was a far more rare occurance. But it certainly seemed to be the majority experience.

The only exception that immediately came to mind was Lyall's own daughter.

"I'm inclined to agree," James said with hesitant laughter. "Although our current situation is a bit..."

His eyes flicked forward, to the front of the plane, as if he were unsure what Bo might be able to hear, even when the pilot had a headset on.

"Inconvenient," James settled on, which was the understatement of the century.

Lyall hummed. "Suppose life or the universe or whatever thought it was high time we hit another road block." He drummed on the back of the seat and stood. "It won't stand for all the smooth sailing."

At that, the seatbelts-on light lit up again. It had only just gone off twenty minutes ago.

"Looks like we'll be hitting some turbulence," Bo spoke over the intercom. "Everybody in your seats, seatbelts on. Barf bags are in the seat pocket in front if you need them."

"Your timing is nothing if not poetic," James said dryly.

Lyall stared flatly at him, then shrugged, conceding, "Sure, that's on me. Should know better than to comment on things such as fate and luck."

"You always knew better," Hild countered smoothly. "You just never liked quitting while you were ahead."

With another breezy 'what can you do?' shrug, Lyall started for his own seat.

The plane suddenly dipped sideways when wind seemed to slam into its side. Unseated as he was and thus at the unsteady plane's mercy, Lyall lost his footing and careened back into Larrel's row instead. He caught hold of the seat in front of her before he could fall entirely on top of her.

Despite his efforts, it was enough to wake her.

Her eyes shot open and she jumped, only staying in her seat by virtue of her seatbelt - else she likely would've flown to the ceiling.

"WHO DIED?" she sputtered, gripping the sides of her seat only to look up at Lyall in confusion.

Lyall quickly righted himself. "No one's died--"

"Not yet," Caspar uttered in the row across from them.

"Just some turbulence," Lyall said reassuringly. "Just a little bit of wind--"

Another little bit of wind came up against the plane, tossing him down the aisle toward the rear of the plane.

"Lyall?" Bo called. "You alive back there?"

Larrel, now fully awake, now was leaning out of her seat, extending her hand to Lyall to take.

"Just come sit down," she said insistently, but there was worry in her eyes.

Lyall pressed himself back into the corner. "Yes, I plan to."

Another rumble went throughout the plane, less violent but just as troubling as the last.

Mkay, maybe this was more than some turbulence.

"Then hurry up, theater boy," Larrel said more forcefully.

Shaking dim stars from his vision, Lyall clasped her hand and the back of her seat to pull himself up. Larrel pulled him as well, yanking him into her row and down into the seat next to her. As soon as he landed into the chair with a thump, the plane rocked once more. Hand still practically death-gripping his arm, Larrel held him against the seat. One-handed, Lyall fumbled a moment with the seatlbelt.

When it had passed, she let go, but repeated anxiously in a way that was unhelpful: "Seatbelt, seatbelt, seatbelt!" over and over until it finally clasped securely around his waist.

Lyall then raised his hands placatingly. "Yes, good, I'm seated. See?"

Larrel frowned at him, seemingly unhappy at his response despite him being seated. But then she pointed out the window, her eyes fixed on something in the distance.

Just a minute ago, Lyall would've said the sky was clear. The sun had now disappeared from view completely. Stormy clouds whipped past the window, and the sky rumbled angrily.

"That looks like magic to me," Larrel whispered.

Leaning forward, Lyall peeked around her at the window. "Feels like it, too," he murmured back.

It wasn't a natural storm by any means. Those could appear unexpectedly, sure, but this one. It brought a darkness with it that pressed in on the heart. It was a spell laced with rage, which could be felt in the way the storm beat relentlessly on sides of the little plane.

Over the intercom, Bo's voice carried over them again, barely audible over the simultaneous rumble of thunder.

"Looks like we've gotten lucky and hit one of those 'unpredicted by scientists' kind of storms," Bo said calmly. "Unfortunately for us, it looks like we'll have to land early. Everybody hang in there. It's going to be a rocky ride."

Across the way, Lyall faintly caught Caspar's mumbling about wind. The man sat low in his seat, eyes shut tight and braced for the very worst.

Lyall might've lost all faith in the flight as well, had he no confidence in Bo's skills as a pilot. But Bo was certainly proving himself a steady presence in the face of a literal storm. That was reason enough to hold out some hope.

The plane dipped again, this time with intention as it began a steady descent. The storm continued to rage against the small vessel. With a small yelp, Caspar went completely rigid.

Mustering as much calm as he could, Lyall reached over and warmly held Caspar's arm. "It's fine, Bo's got this."

Up front, the pilot reached for all controls as he kept one hand firmly on the wheel. He was speaking rapidly, but Lyall couldn't hear anything as rain began to pelt the plane.

Lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a boom that rocked the plane.

Beside him, Larrel reached for the back poket of the seat in front of her. As the plane was rocking with the ever-increasing turbulence, Larrel pulled out the barf bag and barely pulled it to her mouth in time to catch her puke. With a grimace, Lyall brushed stray strands of hair from her face and slowly pat her back.

Outside through the clouds and rain, trees speedily came into view below. As did a line of water that cut through the forest. Which they were fast approaching.

Oh gods.

It was fine. Bo was still steady at the helm. They were fine--

Lyall almost missed it, but there was a faint, blue glow that slowly washed over the plane. When he recognized it as a defense spell, he only then caught James's uttering two rows ahead.

Lightning lit up the sky with an ear-splitting crack. The wing outside Larrel's window was gone.

The plane careened into the river. The water wrapped them in darkness.

Lyall forgot where he was. He was just sinking like a stone, suffocating at the bottom of the lake. Panicked, he clawed at the strap holding him down.

By the time the plane resurfaced, he was pressed into the back corner again. Breath short, and gaze fixed on the floor of the aisle.

It wasn't until the pilot came to meet him in the corner that he realized the plane had stopped moving. Bo pulled Lyall to his feet, and Lyall only partially processed what was being said to him. Something about water. Lots of water.

Before Lyall knew it, he had a poncho and a lifejacket on, and was being led to an open door out the side of the plane. Instead of steps, there was a large, blown-up slide leading down to a rocky shore.

The water was shallow, but the tides looked violent, just like the storm.

Someone had to push Lyall out the door. Well. He thought he was being pushed, but by the time he got down into the knee-deep freezing water, he was being lifted up.

Hastily carried to shore by Bo and now half-wet, Bo disappeared and Lyall was left on the rocky beach standing alongside Larrel, Caspar, James, and Hild, who were all getting pelted with the same unrelenting torrential rain as they stood in their massive, bright red emergency ponchos and their bright yellow life vests.

Unsteady on feet he couldn't quite feel anymore, Lyall dropped back to sit a moment. Clutching at his chest, he fought to slow his breaths.

Suddenly, Lyall heard a splash, and looked over to see Bo landing in the water in a large inflatable raft, that looked to be full of their cargo.

Their luggage was getting soaked, but... at least it wasn't stuck in the crashed plane.

Bo hauled the raft onto the shore, and both Caspar and James hurried to help. With their combined help, they were able to pull it with ease - lifting it once they began to hit the jagged rocks.

They dropped in front of the others with a thump.

"Alright," Bo shouted over the roar of the storm. "Grab what you can carry, but if it slows you down, it's better to leave it behind. We're on foot from here. There's a small port town a few miles up the coast that way."

He pointed, but Lyall couldn't see anything further than a few feet in front of him through the rain. Well. Walking even nowhere was better than just standing in out in the storm.

With shaking hands, he reached for his things. He didn't argue when Bo took the bag of medical tools for him.

Hild came alongside Lyall as they walked, her eyes glinting with concern. Her hand was cold when she took his, but it was a comfort all the same.

The sky grumbled and raged overhead. Conversation couldn't be had over the rain, but it was clear his sister had questions.

Once he regained his bearings, Lyall scanned their group.

Sadly, Caspar's fears were not entirely unfounded. He feared the worst, and of course it was the worst that they faced. He probably wouldn't set foot in another plane again. Lyall wouldn't blame him.

Larrel could tell the storm wasn't natural. Lyall wondered if Bo did too.

No one seemed too worse off from the unexpected landing, though-- a testament to their pilots instincts and no doubt the spell of protection that James cast over them. They were all just wet and cold. Exhaustion would likely set in later, when the adrenaline wore off.

For now, it helped carry them up the coast. All belongings in tow, as Bo lead the way.

By the time they found a paved road to follow, everyone was freezing to the bone. Whatever kind of rain this was, it was as cold as it could get. A few degrees colder, and it'd be sleet and snow.

Trudging into town, dissheveled, soaked, and exhausted, they finally made it to the front steps of a tiny little motel. Bo opened the door to the lobby first, letting everyone file into the lobby, knowing that they all looked like a spectacle. When Larrel was the last to hobble inside, Bo finally ducked his head and entered the room himself, already feeling crowded as everyone hovered at the edges of the room, dripping water all over the old, stained, matted carpet.

If Bo still made bets, he'd wager that this place probably had bed bugs, but he didn't want to plant that idea in anybody's brains after the hellish plane ride, crash, and hurricane hike they'd all been through. Bedbugs would just be the icing on the cake - if the day could be called a cake. It was more of a... really sad cake.

Bo couldn't think of a good food analogy, which was a true sign of his exhaustion, because normally he could always think of a food equivalent for everything.

There was a young woman at the front desk who looked more than surprised to see the state everyone was in.

Maybe it was the life-jackets, or the ponchos, or how wet everyone was. But when Bo walked up to the front desk and her eyes followed him, he realized some of her shock seemed to be fixated on his face.

Ah, yes. The classic, one-eyed man who looks intimidating moment. Bo couldn't do anything about his missing eye or the gnarly scars that took its place, but he did offer her a small, genuine smile, even if it was wearied.

"Long story," he said, and then paused as he raised a finger in the air in thought. "You know what. It's not that long actually. I was piloting a small plane when this storm came out of nowhere. We crash-landed and everyone's miraculously alright, but the plane's not. Contact got scrambled in the storm, so if you've all got a phone or... pay phones, if those are still a thing, I'm going to need to make some calls."

He glanced over his shoulder.

"After, uh, we get some rooms," he said.

"Are you sure you shouldn't be at a hospital?" the woman at the desk asked, looking them all over with deep concern.

"Is there one here?" Bo asked.

The woman hesitated.

"We have a small clinic," she said. "But it's closed. I could give the doctor a call, but I don't think we'd be able to transfer you to a larger hospital until the storm clears."

"Well, how about you give that doctor a call," Bo said with a small point of his finger. "And when they get here, they get here. 'Til then, we're all dying to get warm."

Still looking shaken, the lady nodded. "Right, right, sorry."

She began to shuffle with some papers behind the desk counter, pulling out some keys.

"We've only got three rooms open right now," she said as she gathered keys. "Queen beds in each."

"We'll make it work," Bo said quickly.

He looked over his shoulder and called to the others.

"Everybody find a roommate!" he said.

As he turned around, he briefly caught the woman's eye locked onto someone in their group. Based on the direction of it and where he remembered everyone was standing, it looked like she'd been watching James.

It was the briefest expression, and it entirely disappeared when Bo faced her fully, but... something felt off, in Bo's gut.

Maybe it'd just been a long and stressful day. But Bo's gut usually wasn't wrong.

Putting on a smile, Bo took the keys as the desk clerk walked him through the rest of the check-in process quickly. Not wanting to complicate things, he pulled out his credit card, deciding that the others could pay him back later if they felt the need. He just wanted them to get a chance to rest.

Turning around, he walked to the others, starting to hand out keys.

Larrel was the first to approach him with grabby hands, so he gave her one, noticing she'd attatched herself to Hild. Next, he handed a key to James, who looked like he'd hooked Caspar into rooming with him.

Turning to Lyall with a smile, Bo held up the key, then offered it to Lyall.

"Looks like it's us, buddy," he said. "Got your things?"

Bo didn't really know why he asked when he was holding half of Lyall's things anyway, but it just felt like a natural transitionary question.

Lyall lifted the bag he was left with and answered easily, "All one of them." Then accepted the key with an appreciative nod.

"Fantastic," Bo said, trying to sound as breezy as Lyall did. But he couldn't quite shake the feeling in his gut...

Something wasn't right, and he couldn't put his finger on it.

He turned around, noticing that the others had already begun to disappear around the halls, heading to their rooms quickly. Bo found himself opening his mouth to say something, but unprepared with anything to say, and he just watched as they were gone before he could stop them.

The woman at the desk looked like she was busying herself with some kind of crossword puzzle, but - again - Bo caught the briefest glance of hers his way.

It wasn't hostile, so to speak, but something just felt wrong. Bo knew what a curious glance looked like. He knew even what it looked like to have people regard him with a wary fear. But this was different. It felt like he was being watched.

But why? Did she not believe his story? Was she suspicious of them? He supposed it wasn't unreasonable to be, considering how bizzare it was, but that wasn't any reason to watch him like a hawk... was it?

Lyall was already on his way down the hall too. Over his shoulder, he asked, "Hey, you didn't catch if they have showers here, did you?"

"There's one in your room," the lady at the front desk answered for him.

"Excellent," Lyall said with a grin in his voice. He turned and walked backwards to extend a, "Thank you kindly, miss!" before stopping at their door.

Bo shook himself from his hesitation and hurried behind Lyall, catching up to him easily with his long strides. But just as Lyall fumbled with his key in his still-dripping hands, Bo set his hand on the door handle, blocking the lock.

Lyall looked up questioningly.

Bo's brows furrowed, and he sniffed once, then twice.

That... smelled like peanuts.

Or more particularly, C-4.

"Away from the door," Bo said, not waiting for Lyall to listen as he pulled Lyall away, grabbing his shoulders.

Lyall stumbled along. "Major tone shift there, what's going on?"

Bo turned Lyall around, keeping the smaller man in front of him as he pushed him ahead. But just as Bo tried to pick things up into a run, there was a loud boom from behind them.

Feeling a wave of heat push through the air, Bo was thrown forward with the force of the explosion, landing on top of Lyall, whom he managed not to crush when he caught himself.

Bo didn't know what kind of elaborate trap this was, but he knew it wasn't people looking for him. At least, it shouldn't be. The lady at the desk didn't seem to recognize him, but the others she'd regarded with the slightest hint of recognition.

When Larrel had reached out to him, she'd been vague in their need to leave Curio quickly, he'd had a feeling it wasn't for good reasons.

But people exploding public motel rooms? With a planned attack like this?

This wasn't just a stalker or some kind of mild criminal record they were trying to skirt. These guys had legitimate assassins - or something of the sort - trying to kill them.

If they'd left a bomb in this room, what about the others?

Bo leaned down as the gust of air flew over them, and the heat burned at his back through his clothes. When the force of the explosion was replaced with the burning flames that followed, Bo was quick to his feet, pulling Lyall up alongside him.

"We've gotta go," he said

"You think?!" Lyall retorted.

Yeah, yeah, no time for small talk. Bo pushed Lyall's back to get him moving and they began running back towards the lobby. Tripping up a bit on the way, Lyall eventually dug in his heels.

"No, wait!" He slipped around Bo and darted back for the hall.

"Lyall, it's on fire--!" Bo started to say, but just as he began to turn around, a different figure entered the hall ahead of him, opposite Lyall and the fire.

Blinking, Bo recognized the woman from the front desk, but instead of running in with worry, panic, or concern like any reasonable employee, there was a focused, crazed look in her eyes.

Ah. That explained the bad vibes.

Holding a morning star in her hand - quite the ancient weapon, mind you - she'd somehow aquired some simple body-armor in the brief few minute walk they'd been gone. Evidently, she'd been prepared for this moment.

Fortunately, Bo was prepared too. At least, prepared enough.

Lyall was going back for the others. For now, Bo would need to take care of this problem, or Lyall would have more to worry about than just the fire.

Pulling out his hand-gun he had hidden on his person, he didn't hesitate to shoot.

It connected, but it got caught in her bullet-proof vest, which didn't seem enough to stop her.

Lunging forward, Bo prepared to dodge the swing, seeing its course before it came. In that moment, he suddenly found himself grateful for all of the training he'd been put through in his early years just for this moment, despite the chaos of it all.

The morning star cleaved through the air as he weaved to the side. He knew he was a big target with a big blind spot, so he was intentional to spin around so she was always in his sights. Or at least, that had been his goal.

She seemed to quickly catch on. After the second missed swing, she lunged to his blind spot, disappearing.

But it was fine. He was prepared for this moment.

He spun around, swinging his leg. As luck would have it, his leg met hers, and he swept hers out from under her. Partially. It was enough to make her stumble, and he leaned into that immediately, coming in and gripping her weapon over her hands.

She was fast, and stronger than she'd looked, but in a contest of strength, he knew he was going to win.

That was, until her eyes turned a bright, glowing red and she muttered something creepy and cryptic in some weird language. Before his eyes, he watched as she began to grow in height and size, her formerly looser clothes growing taut around muscles that appeared where they once weren't.

"Okay," Bo said, not about to mess with this much longer. "Let's give it a rest."

Straining against her new strength, they both tried to wrestle the morning-star out of one another's hands until Bo decided this was a fight he was willing to lose, so long as he was working smarter and not harder.

Throwing more of his weight into the pull, he pushed her forward and then pulled her close rapidly, and the sudden movement threw her own body partially into the spiky prongs of the morningstar.

With a growl, she pulled herself away, and Bo pushed with her, letting her take the weapon.

But once his hands were free again, he grabbed his gun once more, and this time, aimed true.

It was gruesome when it went clear through her head, but it ended it quickly.

Until he caught sight of a shadow appearing around the corner again in the corner of his eye.

Ducking to the side on instinct, Bo narrowly dodged a bullet that flew through the air.

A man who bore some resemblance to the woman came around with a gun, his attention trained right on Bo.

With no cover between the two of them, it was essentially a shoot-out. Great.

Except this guy wasn't playing by rules, because he shot again, and again, and Bo knew he couldn't get lucky many more times before his dodging skills failed him.

On all fours on the ground, having narrowly avoided the last shot, Bo rolled and aimed.

The man cried out, grabbing his knee with one hand. He shot again, but having lost his balance, the bullet flew wide, going through one of the walls. Bo could only hope there wasn't an innocent person inside whatever room was behind it.

Bang!

Bang!

Two more bullets exchanged. One grazed Bo's arm. Finally, Bo landed a shot that hit the man's hand.

Finally dropping the gun, the man cried out, but didn't give up. Instead, he reached behind him, presumably to grab another weapon. But Bo was faster than the man's hands.

Bang!

And the man landed to the ground with a thump.

Heaving, Bo shook his head, trying to clear his head from the inhalation of smoke. He was starting to get light-headed, and he knew he needed to get out of this hallway, but he didn't know where any of the others were.

He ran to the body of the fallen man, searching him briefly. The man had a bandana around his neck, and Bo hastily untied it, taking it for himself. He pulled out his water bottle and wet it before tying it around his mouth.

Just as he turned around, about to run into the thick of the fire, he saw some of the fire clear away. Larrel and Hild dashed out into the lobby first, then Lyall followed with the fire on his heels.

Okay, they made it out miraculously. Bo wasn't going to question it.

That left James and Caspar, and anyone else in this burning building.

Bo went to the first door close to him, and went in to kick it down, but the door didn't even budge.

Ow. He tried again, but the door was locked, and when he knocked, he heard nothing inside.

Was no one else here?

Lyall ran past in frantic search of James and Caspar's room. He disappeared into a room with the door already open.

Bo hurried to Hild and Larrel's sides.

"Are you two okay?" he asked, running with them as they all hurried in Lyall's stead.

"The door was just locked," Hild answered hastily.

"Not mad about it!" Larrel said, her voice nearly cracking.

She broke into a sprint ahead of them, skidding into the open door with her backpack and suitcase thwipping around her.

Lyall met Bo at the door, and ushered him in. "He's out of it," he said, a panicked edge to his voice, "you need to carry him out."

Bo, not knowing who "he" was, had his answer pretty instantly when he looked at the floor and saw Caspar lying there unconscious.

James was sitting beside him, not looking much better with his skin pallid and shining from sweat. Bo noticed both James and Caspar had more pronounced blue veins creeping up their necks and faces, like some kind of infection or disease.

Poison was Bo's guess.

"Do we need to take you to a doc--" Bo started to say, then looked at Lyall, shaking his head at his own question.

"He's stable," James said weakly. "Just... still out."

Bo nodded, already maneuvering to scoop the big man up.

"Okay," Bo said, not sure when James got his doctoral degree but not in the state of mind to argue with him.

Picking Caspar up with a heave, Bo turned to look at the others.

"Someone should explain all of this to me when it's over," Bo said, walking out the door.

"It ain't over yet," Larrel said behind him. When Bo glanced over his shoulder, she was helping her brother along.

He looked unwell. But Bo kept his commentary to himself.

The Ashlunds grabbed what bags they could as they followed them out. Bo followed behind Larrel and James, who ended up leading them back into the lobby. Only James briefly glanced at the fallen bodies, but no one made mention of them in their haste to leave. As they passed through the lobby Bo realized part of what had been so unsettling: the two people he'd killed were the only two people on staff, and evidently, the only two people in the building. Unless someone was stuck in a room somewhere, hiding, it was just them.

Maybe Bo should call someone...

Too late.

The storm had settled into a regular downpour outside. The gravel lot out front was empty, and the motel sign was just a flashing red "M," and the rest of the lit up letters were dead. Maybe that should've been the first red flag. "M" for murder, or something like that. "M" for "move along."

In the eerie red light of the sign and the dim light of the only road lamp for miles, they stood at the edge of the partially paved road, looking down into the rest of the town.

It was a bit of a long walk to the docks, where the rest of the small town's buildings were condensed. The only things further out were this motel and a gas station they'd passed on the way in, but the station was closed and locked up.

"You know," Bo said, breaking the silence as the five of them stood in the rain (and Caspar remained in Bo's arms). "I should've been more vocal about how the lady at the desk gave me a bad feeling."

For a good few seconds, no one replied.

"Bad feeling, huh," Larrel said. "What tipped you off?"

"She looked at James funny," he said.

When he looked at Larrel, he realized everyone was looking at him.

He realized they all seemed to have the same look in their eyes - save James, who looked like he was in poison hell - that they didn't know how to even begin to explain their situation.

Well, at least Bo knew how to break the ice.

"So," he said, trying to make it humorous. "Who pissed off Zeus?"

For a second, everyone stared blankly at him. And then all eyes drifted to James.

"Wait, really?" Bo asked with a laugh.

"Well," James hesitated, clearly still not fully there. "It's... surprisingly not far from the truth. If a bit oversimplified."

"Like the real Zeus?" Bo asked. "Or--"

"Different guy," James interrupted. "Similar powers."

Bo blinked.

"Huh," he said, looking down at the unconscious man in his arms. He wondered when he should put Caspar down. Maybe not yet.

"Do you--?" Larrel started to ask, but then all of them simultaneously jumped when they heard another explosion behind them.

Bo whipped his head over his shoulder, watching the fire beginning to spread all throughout the poor, poor little motel building. The rain was still coming down, partially dousing the fire, but it was a fiery, smoking mess, and the smoke was starting to drift their way with its toxic stench.

So much destruction and death, just to... what, kill five people? Bo still didn't have all of the pieces together.

"Maybe we should get moving," Bo said.

"Apt observation," James said, and he was sounding more and more pained every time he spoke. Still pallid and sickly, the man adjusted his backpack on his back and began walking down the road before the rest of them, walking towards the town.

Seeing as they really didn't have any other options after their two subsequent near-death experiences, heading into the town really was their best shot. Bo just hoped there weren't any more traps or killers on the way waiting to murder them. It was still going to be a long walk regardless, and if poor Caspar was out for the whole thing, it was going to be an even longer walk for Bo. Caspar wasn't impossible to carry by any means, but if he had to carry Caspar for miles, he knew he was going to feel it later.

Everyone began to trudge behind James, who was setting them at a very slow pace. Bo couldn't help but wonder if he was going to stay on his feet or not at this rate, but he wasn't sure if he should ask. There were still a lot of unanswered questions, but no one seemed particularly eager to answer them or ready to explain anything yet. Bo wondered if they were simply at a loss for words (if it really was that complicated) or if it was more of a matter of trust.

Bo knew Larrel and Lyall both liked him well enough, and clearly trusted him to fly them out of Curio, but trusting him with personal matters was a whole 'nother deal.

Of course, those personal matters became personal to Bo once he was caught in the cross-fire. For that alone Bo felt like he had a right to know at least the basics of what was going on and what he'd been brought into.

Bo stepped up to the front, walking by James's side, Caspar still secure in his arms. (Yes, Bo was carrying him bridal style, but that was because any other way made Bo worry whatever poison was in the man's body might rush to his heart or head.)

"So," Bo said, breaking the tense silence. "What's this not-Zeus guy's name?"

James didn't look particularly thrilled to be engaged in conversation, but he also didn't look thrilled about anything on the regular, even from the moment Bo first met him. He couldn't blame him, though. If he was the reason they were in this mess, he probably felt guilty about it. Among other things. Like the poison.

Why didn't it affect James the same way it had Caspar? Now that Bo thought about it--

"Ivar," James answered, interrupting Bo's very important train of thought.

"Huh," Bo said. "I don't know any Ivars."

Apparently now was not the time for joking, though, because James didn't look amused at that.

The muddy gravel of old road's shoulder crunched under their feet loudly, even in the rain. There was an awkward pause as Bo expected James to say something more. Instead of expounding, though, James stared at Bo's arm.

"You're bleeding," James said plainly.

"What? Where?" Lyall piped up from behind them. "How bad is it?"

"Hm?" Bo said, looking down at his arm, even though he couldn't see it under Caspar. "Oh, look at that. Just a graze, though."

"You were shot at," James said. "Was that what happened in the hall?"

Bo laughed, even though it was far from funny.

"Yeah, there was a woman and a man who came in with weapons," Bo said. "The guy had a gun. The woman had, uh..."

He pursed his lips, wondering how he should go about describing it. He didn't want to be disrespectful, since she was still a person, but it was always difficult trying to balance coping with jokes and being too serious.

"She made herself get really big," he said, deciding to explain it like a five-year-old instead.

The confusion that ensued was palpable.

"Really...big?" Hild echoed flatly.

"Like, her muscles and height and all that," Bo said. "Happened in a few seconds, really. You could say, one moment, I was looking down at her. The next, we were eye to eyes."

James stared up at Bo particularly long, unblinking despite the rain coming down with a constant drip into their eyes.

Lyall coughed and sprang into step at Bo's other side. "Probably some form of shifting," he said dismissively. "Could we stop for a second? We need to address your wound."

"Shifting," Bo said, coming to a stop. "Like a werewolf or something?"

Lyall tilted his head sideways as he searched for the source of bleeding. "Or something."

"Left arm," Bo said casually. "I met a werewolf once. She was actually pretty nice. Apart from the whole 'awoo' full moon times. But she, uh, got the hang of it. After a while."

As he spoke, he walked a bit further from the road, laying Caspar out on the least muddy patch of ground he could find. It ended up being a spot of half-paved sidewalk that looked like an unfinished city project.

With Caspar out of the way, Bo lifted his arm and stuck it out for Lyall to see.

"It's a bummer about my jacket," Bo said. "It was real leather, you know."

A pause.

"Still is," Bo said. "It's just... now there's a big hole in it."

Setting down the multiple bags in his arms, Lyall dug through one full of medical supplies for gauze and antiseptic.

"It's a bit rainy for gauze, don't you think?" Bo said.

"It is," Lyall sighed. Standing now with just antiseptic in hand, he carefully held Bo's arm as he looked over the wound. "Okay, ready?"

Bo blinked.

"Sure," he said.

Lyall glanced up at him with a moment's hesitation, before slowly pouring the cleanser over Bo's wound.

Aha. Bo grit his teeth and pulled the corners of his lips back into something of a frown as he suppressed the urge to make some kind of awful noise.

"Aaand we're good," Lyall said as he closed the bottle and tossed it back in his bag. He re-examined the graze, before hovering a hand over it, blocking some of the rain. The smaller man seemed to debate with himself before saying, "I'm going to try to mend this. Should be...fine."

Bo blinked again.

Mend this. Did Lyall mean sewing it, or was he... referring to something else?

"You sound unsure," Bo said.

"Apologies," Lyall said, "I intended to sound more confident than that. I just haven't, ah, practiced this in awhile."

Okay. If they were openly talking about angry weather gods named Ivar, Bo was going to rip off the band-aid with this one.

"You're talking about spells, right?" Bo asked.

Lyall glanced up again. "...Would you be okay with that?"

Bo glanced back at the others.

They all looked like very vibrantly colored, sad, wet dogs in the rain. Ready to go home. Not that he knew where home was for them.

"Sure," he said again.

If it meant they got moving and into a dry space faster, he was down to try it.

Nodding, more to himself than anything, Lyall turned his focus back to Bo's arm. With his hand still hovering, he began muttering under his breath.

A soft light emitted from his palm, and the warmth could be felt in Bo's skin. Lyall's fingers darkened as what looked like a small flame lapped between them. When he drew away, the rain doused what light lingered on Bo's skin. The graze wound was closed up now, leaving some scarring in its wake.

Bo raised his eyebrows at the suddenly healed arm, and then flashed a small smile of wonder as he turned his arm over a few times and moved his hand.

"You know what this reminds me of," he said. "Is that one scene in that Rapunzel movie, where Rapunzel heals that guy with her magical hair. Except instead of your hair it's your hands."

Lyall, for his part, smiled with relief, and huffed a laugh. "Really? I feel like it has more of a 'burning bush' effect from that biblical cartoon."

"Prince of Egypt?" Bo asked. "That's a nice movie. Love the musical score."

"Are we good to keep moving now?" James asked from behind them.

With a slight grimace, Lyall clenched the hand he healed with. "Yes, of course."

Bo tilted his head, looking at Lyall's hand curiously.

"You okay?" he asked. "I don't know how this spell-casting stuff works."

Lyall nodded. "I'm alright. Glad to have helped." Then turned and gathered their things again.

Hm. Okay.

Bo turned to Caspar - who was the only thing in Bo's current load that he'd really put down. At present, he had, like, four bags on his back and spilling around his sides. All of their shoulder/back straps were overlapping. Bo very much felt like the bag keeper. Keeper of the bags.

And the Caspar.

Squatting down so he was lifting from his legs and not his back, Bo scooped Caspar up once more, tucking Caspar's head against Bo's chest so it was upright.

"There we go, big guy," Bo said with a grunt, adjusting the unconscious fellow in his arms. "Time for a walk: part two. Hope you had a nice nap."

Once again, they started walking down the road in the rain.

James and Larrel let the way, with both of them leaning on one another's shoulders. Lyall and Hild followed behind, carring all of the suitcases they could humanly hold, and Bo held up the back, with his new hopefully-not-dying friend.

"Stable" was the word James had used, but Bo didn't know what that meant in this context, really.

Was it poison? A sedative? Some kind of noxious gas? Smoke bomb? Was he coming back from this, or was Caspar in a coma? Maybe that was too dramatic to jump to that. Bo was just worried.

It really was one thing after another, today, wasn't it?

First, a literal plane crash. Then an explosion, and fighting for their lives.

Now they were hiking through the rain, and from the state of the weather and the roads, they were alone out here for miles.

That was, until the hazy lights of headlights were seen approaching ahead of them on the bumpy road.

Everyone's steps began to slow, and they drew away from the shoulder, not wanting to get splashed or hit by a driver. But there was no way to avoid the inevitable questioning looks.

Lyall swore under his breath. "What's our story if they stop?"

"Partial truths," Hild muttered back.

"Pretty sure the plane crash is still a good story," Bo said. "Literally would explain all of this."

"Right, good," Lyall agreed.

"Caspar got a concussion," Bo said, so everyone was on the same page. "James is suffering from internal bleeding. We need to get to a doctor's office with more resources."

The Ashlunds quietly echoed their agreements.

"But if we end up at a doctor's--" Larrel started to say, but stopped when the car began to slow down.

"I know that car," James said.

Hild squinted into the rain. "She didn't," was all she uttered.

The car came to a jerky halt. The driver, a woman with long dreadlocks and an olive fieldcoat, rolled down the window. As she opened her mouth to say something--

"You didn't!" Hild shouted at her with indignance.

"It's a good thing I did!" the driver yelled back defensively. She wheeled an arm out the window. "Get in! You guys look like hell."

"You guys sound like you know each other," Bo said. "That's enough for me."

He approached the side door and opened it with one arm, though managing that resulted in more of a propping it open with a finger, and then using his knee and foot to pull the rest of it open.

"In you go, Caspar," Bo said, sliding the fellow into the car, sitting him upright.

A kid in the front seat peered around to the back. "Is he even alive?"

"Still got a pulse!" Bo said, talking as he carefully propped Caspar up on the far side of the car against one of the doors. "Just unconscious."

He buckled Caspar in, and then set one of Caspar's bags by his feet, and the other one in Caspar's lap. They'd end up steadying him, even if it was extra weight.

"What's your name, aside from 'our savior?'" Bo asked as he pulled out of the vehicle.

"Shaniece," the kid answered. "My mom's Ava."

Bo stood outside the car, clearing the way for everyone else to quickly load up the car. They opened up the back trunk and began piling in all of their bags like the world's wettest and slipperiest game of tetris.

"My name's Andrei," Bo said. "Thanks for coming in clutch, Shaniece. And Ava. You both just saved us from the saddest hike in history."

"But of course!" Ava chirped back.

"One moment as I participate in the suitcase jenga," Bo said, lifting up a finger to dismiss himself as he hurried around the back. Larrel and Hild had already emptied their arms and were scrambling into the car. Hild went up front, squishing in with Shaniece, and Larrel and James squished in beside Caspar.

Bo came around back with Lyall, looking at the cramped trunk full of suitcases. He took off his backpack and the one bag of Lyall's he was still holding and looked to Lyall.

"You go get in, I'll make space," he said.

Lyal grimaced at the full trunk. "You sure? We may need to hold some of our stuff."

Bo paused, then handed Lyall his bag.

"Good idea," Bo said. He then shoved his small backpack between two suitcases, squishing them all together.

"Hope there's nothing too fragile in all of these," Bo said before he slammed the trunk shut.

With his bag in hand, Lyall waited at the side of the car. He swept an arm for Bo to enter first. It looked like it was going to be a everyone-sitting-on-top-of-each-other situation.

Larrel was squished in with her brother, and there was just enough space for Bo's hips to fit in on the remaining seat space. His legs were a little crushed between the seats, but it was a discomfort he was accustomed to, usually being bigger than most spaces were made for.

He looked at Lyall.

"There's probably just enough space for you on the floor. How about I hold your bag?" he said, extending his arms to take it again.

"This is acceptable," Lyall said, though his displeased expression said otherwise. He handed Bo his bag anyway.

Bo held the bag to the side to give Lyall space to climb over him. Shutting the door behind himself, Lyall set about to tucking himself into the space between Bo's and James's feet. Bo did what he could to tuck his legs to the side and make as much space as he could. He tucked the bag up into his lap and decided not to worry about the seatbelt, which he couldn't find, and probably wouldn't be able to move around and grab anyway.

Finally, they were all set in the car.

"Okay, where are we headed?" Bo asked, figuring that was the most pressing question, amongst all of the others he wanted to ask.

Ava started up the car. She hit some bushes as she slowly made a wide u-turn. "I haven't had a chance to find somewhere in town, so we'll have to go motel shopping once we're there."

"Are there other motels in town?" Bo asked.

"There should be at least one more." She pointed a thumb over her shoulder. "There was a reasonable place down that way, but they were closed. Renovations, I think they said."

Bo blinked hard.

"This other motel isn't doing renovations is it?" he asked.

Ava cast him a curious glance in the rearview mirror. "I don't think so?"

"You know what," Bo said. "I have a friend who might be in town, but my phone's dead. He might have a place. You got a cell?"

"Yeah," Ava answered as Shaniece reached back, holding the phone out for Bo.

Bo took it, trying not to get water all over the phone, even though he was soaked.

"You got, uh... a towel or something?" Bo asked. "Napkin...?"

"Um," Ava hummed. "Glovebox?"

So her daughter dug through, then was next holding out a roll of napkins from what looked like a fast food joint.

"Nice," Bo said. It would work.

He took the napkins and dried his hands and wrists, and re-dried the phone since it'd gotten a little wet from all the handling. Fortunately, though, it looked like Ava had it already unlocked, so he went straight to opening the phone app and went to dial.

"Moments like these," he said, typing out the number. "I am glad I forced myself to memorize phone numbers."

He held the phone up to his ear, wondering if there was even decent service with the rain storm in an area this far out. Guess they'd find out.

The phone rang a few times, but eventually, at like, the last second, it picked up.

"Hello?" Mickey's voice replied.

"This is Bo please don't hang up I'm not a scammer," Bo said quickly, his words running together. "My phone's dead and I'm using someone else's."

"Who killed your phone?" Mickey asked.

Ah, yes. Classic dad joke.

"Long story short, plane crashed. Crazy storm. Almost murdered. Explosion. Big boom. I have lots of friends with me and we're stuck with nowhere to go. Are you in Newport?"

"I just so happen to be," Mickey replied.

"Hallelujah," Bo said. "Would we be able to crash at your place for a night? I know it's last--"

"Bo, you don't even have to ask," Mickey said. "Where are you at right now?"

Bo leaned to look out the window, trying to spot a street sign, but he saw nothing.

Pulling the phone away from his ear, he looked up at Ava.

"Hey, Ava," he said. "Do you know what street we're on?"

Ava quickly glanced sideways. "Nnnnno," she answered slowly, "just that it's really torn up and awful."

"We're near a Newport," Shaniece offered.

Ok. So. That was not helpful. Alas.

Bo put the phone back to his ear.

"So, uh," Bo said.

"Have you passed anything coming in? You're on the road, right?" Mickey asked.

"Yeah," Bo said. "We passed a little gas station and a motel."

"Both closed down?" Mickey asked.

Bo squinted.

"Yyyyyes," he said.

"Why the hesita--"

"Long story, but yes," Bo said.

"Alright," Mickey answered. "Stay on the line and I'll direct you, then. I think I know where you are."

"That works. Thank you, again, Mickey. You're a life-saver," Bo said.

"Save your thank-you's for when you see me," Mickey said. "Just keep me up to date with what you see. We can catch up when you get here."

"Right. Right. Sounds good."

With the heat on high in the car, and Shaniece hunkered down on her lap, Hild warmed up very quickly. Still damp (an understatement, really), but definitely an improvement.

Glancing back, she took in everyone else's states-- Bo's likening them to 'sad, wet dogs' was apt. There wasn't even enough seating to accommodate them all; her brother ended up taking the floor between James and Bo. Something he normally would've complained about. Currently, he was preoccupied with tearing through his bag of supplies, and intensely flipping through a compendium (written in his own hand) of unnatural ailments.

Hild turned back to the dark road ahead. "Anything?" was all she could think to ask.

Lyall huffed, sounding impatient. "It could be a multitude of things, and the only cure-all in maybe-existance isn't anywhere near accessible. So, no."

"Since we're all stuck here like this," Ava spoke up, a slight tension in her casual tone, "for what I'm assuming will be awhile, would it be a terrible inconvenience to ask what the hell happened that lead up to this point?"

Hild tilted her head as she cast her friend a pointed look. "I'd like to know the same about you, actually. Considering this isn't your car, it's Calder's, and the fact that you knew almost exactly where to find us in the first place. All the while not even knowing where you yourself are right now."

"And," Ava went on, undeterred, "I'm sure your new pilot friend Andrei would also appreciate some deeper context. Because knowing you--" She jabbed a finger Hild's way. "--there are some important parts of this story he's missing." She waved a hand. "Right, Andrei? Tell her."

Swatting at Ava's hand, Hild hissed, "Hand on the wheel!"

"Yeah, it--" Bo pulled the phone away from his face for a moment. "It would be nice. I did get shot at, after all."

"Oh my God!" Ava sent Hild a wide-eyed glare. "You got him shot at?!"

Hild threw a hand with expaseration. "Right, like I planned for that!"

"I don't think anyone planned for it," Bo said. "But it did happen, yes. Fortunately, I only got grazed."

Ava looked downright horrified. "You got hit too?"

Lyall raised a hand from the floor. "He'll be fine, we fixed it." Then gestured to Bo. "Not that you owe us an explanation, of course, but I'm personally curious how you could immediately tell that the door was rigged."

"C4 has a smell," Bo said. "Didn't expect to smell it at a motel, of course."

Lyall just nodded with a quiet, "Huh."

"Moly alternatives?" Hild then flatly urged him.

"I'll let you know if I find any," he snapped back.

Ava made another face. "What? Like, weed?"

"What do you need weed for?" Bo asked.

"No!" Hild and her brother both yelled.

"Like--" Hild pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's a possible antidote Greek of antiquity."

"It never existed," Lyall muttered.

"It may have," Hild retorted. Then waved both hands, as if to shoo away the conversation altogether. "Alright." Turning a little to face both her friend and Bo, she said, "Questions. Anything you want to know-- important things-- we'll be completely honest with you. The floor is yours."

"You said some guy named Ivar wants to kill you guys and he's got, like, god-like power," Bo said. "Can I ask why he's after you guys?"

"He hates us," Lyall answered simply.

"It's... a little more complicated than that," James said, sounding worringly woozy.

Casting him a quick, concerned glance, Hild furthered, recounting what Caspar had told them decades ago, "He hates the human race. Especially those with the ability to cast any sort of spells."

Lyall pointed his chin to James. "Which makes him a big target."

"Okay so... who in the car uses magic?" Bo asked. "Show of hands."

James weakly raised his. With a begrudging huff, Lyall likewise raised a hand. As did Shaniece, which surprised Hild.

Ava batted her daughter's hand back down. "We don't know for sure," she said.

"I tracked them, didn't I?" Shan countered with an insulted frown.

Hild ever so slightly narrowed her gaze at the back of her head. "Did you now?"

Shaniece went quiet and sheepishly looked askance.

Ava sighed. "It was just something in the 'anyone can do it' category in...some book. So, to reiterate, we don't know about Shan for sure."

"Okay, wait, wait," Bo said, lifting up a hand as if to indicate everyone should slow down. "So, how many of you in this car are human?"

"We're all human," Larrel answered before anyone else. "But some of us are really old."

"And super powered," Shaniece added.

"By really old do you mean, like... well, what are we talking? A few extra decades? Centuries?" Bo asked.

"It's a range," Lyall said as he hastily paged through a different textbook. "Though I do believe the majority of us 'old folk' hail from the late 1800s."

"Wow." Ava slowly shook her head, uttering to herself, "This is...just wow."

Bo went quiet, and it was unclear if he believed them as he stared off into empty space with his brows furrowed.

Hild bit on her lip as she waited for anyone else to ask or just say anything. She couldn't tell how much of this Ava was buying either, despite confiding in her small pieces of the truth overtime back home.

"You're not... vampires," Bo said. "Are you?"

"Thank gods, no," Lyall said.

"You're like Dumbledore?" Ava asked. "Wizards with spells and stuff?"

James let out a groan at that.

"Hey, it's a fair question," Bo said.

"We don't use wands," James said, but judging on his pained expression Hild wondered if the groan had more to do with whatever poison was in his system than the implications of him being a 'wizard.'

"Okay, so it's like, verbal spellcasting?" Bo said. "Like dungeons and dragons kind of stuff?"

Lyall looked ready to argue. Then sighed, and settled for, "Sure, yes. Something like that."

"And you've lived this long because...?" Bo trailed off, like he didn't know how to finish the question.

"Your magic, right?" Ava finished. "Gives your, uh, souls? Life...forces? A sort of extra oopmh?"

"Dude, you got power-ups?" Bo asked. "Like in real life?"

It was Lyall's turn to look confused. "What?"

"It --sorry, video-game terminology," Bo said. "But anyway, your magic makes you live longer. That's the point, right?"

Lyall nodded. "That's the theory, anyway."

Ava pointed to Hild. "Because some of you can't use it?" Another pause. "Well, now I'm just confused again."

"Maybe its like... visible and invisible traits in the body, kind of thing," Bo said. "Some people can have the same thing going on it but it expresses itself in a different way?"

Ava raised both brows at that. "Okay, it makes more sense again."

"Like if I get a bug bite my skin will swell up, but some people just get bug bites and it gets red, or it doesn't really react at all," Bo went on. "Wish that were me."

He leaned forward and looked at Shan over the seat.

"So you could say," he said. "It's like they all got bit by a magic bug, just in their genes."

With her chin on resting Hild's shoulder, Shan nodded her understanding. "Okay."

"Okay," Bo repeated, and then he turned his attention back to Lyall at his feet.

"So this guy Ivar who wants to kill you," Bo said. "James is, what, the most 'magical' of all of you?"

"James is currently the biggest threat to Ivar's existence," Larrel answered instead. "Because he's probably the only one alive with enough skill and raw magical power who could stop him."

Bo blinked slowly at that with his singular eye.

"Stop him from... what?" Bo asked.

"Breaking free from some..." Lyall vaguely waved a hand. "...magical prison, and wiping the human race from existence entirely."

Bo blinked again, staring at Lyall blankly.

"This guy really is a comic book villain, isn't he?" Bo said flatly.

Shaniece snorted at that.

"Unfortunately," James muttered.

"So the people at that motel, they were his goonies?" Bo asked. "Oh, turn up here, Ava. A left at the light."

The car slowed as she obliged.

"That's certainly a way of putting it," Lyall mumbled, casting a glance Shan's way.

"I mean, I did see a chick grow like, two sizes larger," Bo said. "That was kind of unsettling. But I've seen weirder."

Shan's eyes went wide. "Like the Hulk?"

"Yeah, like she-hulk," Bo said. "Except not green. Probably because she wasn't radioactive."

Bo mimed briefly a small flexing motion, like he was imitating either the hulk or the woman he faced. Either way, it seemed like he was trying to keep it more comical, probably for Shan's sake.

"Anyway," Bo said, looking forward out the window, leaning over Lyall's head. "Oh, ok, ok. Look for a Lowell Street. We'll be taking a right onto it. Should be coming up in two miles."

"Lowell," Ava echoed quietly, scanning the road.

"It'll be a minute," Bo said. "Just giving a heads' up now."

He looked back to the others in the car.

"That sounds like that's the gist of what's going on," he said. "Unless there's anything you think we ought to know urgently."

"If you're out of questions at the moment," Hild agreed, "that's all for now."

Anything more was simply too much to bring up within earshot of a young one.

"Alright," Bo said. "I am now accepting questions."

"What happened to your eye?" Shaniece asked without missing a beat.

"Shan!" Ava squeaked, horrified once more.

Bo let out a loud, bellowing laugh.

"It's fine, Ava," Bo said with a wide smile. "Besides, everyone's always thinking it."

Leaning forward over Lyall's suitcase, Bo poked at the sewn-shut slit where an eye used to be, bringing it close for Shaniece to see.

"Usually I tell people I lost it in a fight with a bear," Bo said. "For some reason, no one ever seems to question it. Maybe I give off bear-fighter energy. Sometimes I'll tell people that I lost it and just leave it at that, full stop. It's even funnier if I act surprised like I didn't know my eye was missing. That always throws people off and sometimes it's just funny watching people backpedal for asking point-blank personal questions."

Giving Shaniece a big smile, Bo waggled his brows.

"But for you, Ms. Shaniece, I will give you the real story," he said. "But it's not as fun and glorious as fighting a bear. Are you ready for it?"

Quietly, Shaniece nodded and settled against Hild, her full attention turned to Bo in the back. Hild wrapped her in a hug, tilting her head to the rainy window as she listened too.

"When I was 26," Bo said. "I got into a really nasty motorcycle accident. I was clipped by a semi coming around a blind turn, and I was in a really remote area at the time, way out on the open road. It took a while for me to get help, and doctors kept telling me I was beyond lucky that the only thing I lost was my eye."

Leaning back into his seat, Bo offered Shan a small smile.

"I decided to put down the motorcycle and take up the airplane instead," Bo said. "And became one of the few pilots out there with monocular vision."

"Was it hard?" Shaniece asked. "Learning how to fly a plane?"

"It was more challenging," Bo said. "Having a visual disability. But I worked really hard, and now it comes pretty naturally."

Shan nodded again, then eventually offered, "Planes are cooler, anyway."

"And waaaaaaaay faster," Bo said. "And safer. Less traffic. Also better aerial views."

Bo closed his eye, folding his arms.

"And in my defense this last crash was my only plane crash on record and it's only because an angry magical villain created a crazy storm out of nowhere," he said.

"Where's your plane now?" Shan asked.

Bo looked at her with a small sigh, then he motioned with his finger something going down, making a "weeooooooooooo" noise. Then he mimicked a crash sound.

"May she rest in pieces," he said, patting a hand over his heart.

Shan made a sad, empathetic noise. "You going to get a new one?"

"If planes didn't cost an arm and a leg, I would," Bo said. "But they don't come cheap-- oh! Hey, Ava, looks like Lowell's coming up right here."

"Oh--"

The car slowed, haltingly, as Ava tapped on the brakes. A little too late, though, so they overshot.

"Sorry about that, my bad," Bo said. "Should've let you know sooner. Got distracted."

"No, it's good," Ava said quickly, fumbling with the gears once she brought the car to a full stop.

"No one's on the road, so I think you're good to back up, here," Bo said, turning his head on a swivel to check out the windows.

Hild watched closely as Ava twisted around and slowly reversed back toward Lowell Street.

"Haven't driven in this kind of rain before," Ava said sheepishly.

Hild hummed. "You're doing well." All things-- such as lack of driving experience overall-- considered. Something that she wasn't going to bring up, but that they all likely picked up on anyway.

No complaints, though. Ava's ridiculous boldness was their saving grace here, after all.

Lowell lead them into a small neighborhood that was stretched far and thin. Most driveways were just roughly stamped down paths by vehicles, and few houses were taller than one story.

Bo leaned forward a little now as he more attentively directed Ava through the neighborhood. Despite the empty road and far-spread houses, Ava kept a slow pace as she squinted out through the storm.

Hild looked back over her shoulder. Her brother had fallen worryingly quiet. He sat still bent over open books, head in his hand as he stared at the pages, and jaw tense.

Larrel looked just as worried. Squished between James and Caspar, her brows were pinched together tightly, and it was clear she was trying not to stare at her brother beside her, who'd planted his gaze on the ceiling of the car.

James's eyes were starting to look glassy, and even though they were all still soaked to the bone, there was a sickly shine to James's face, like it was slick with sweat.

The blue of Caspar's veins was a worrying, stark contrast to his sheet-white skin. Unable to hold himself up, he leaned limply against the door. His eyes were cracked just a little, looking like he was in a barely lucid state. Maybe not.

They turned off the gravel road onto a muddy path. A dusty sage green farmhouse with white trim and rails on the front porch came into view. The lawn was lush, with bunches of tall-growing trees roughly boxing the property.

On the front porch, a small figure with in a sunny yellow raincoat waited.

Ava, a little slower than was necessary, pulled up alongside an old-fashioned truck parked out front.

The figure in the yellow raincoat came running down the porch to them, making a bee-line for Bo. Briefly, they embraced before the figure pulled away to reveal the face of an older man with a greying goatee.

"Goodness, you're all soaked! You look terrible! Come inside, quickly, quickly!" he said, waving his arm in a hurry.

It was a harried, drenched-to-the-bone affair, switching from the car to the man's house. They set up James and Caspar in the living room, and left their things in the foyer to keep from tracking their mess too far into the nice house. Though exhaustion weighed heavily on all of them, Lyall and Larrel slipped into work mode as they set about with research and concocting some sort of solution with what limited resources they did have.

Once things settled, the kind man introduced himself as Mickey as he shed his raincoat. Then he gently prompted for them to do the same, and to warm up with tea and soup.

Accepting a cup of tea with heartfelt thanks, Lyall quietly (dare Hild say sheepishly?) requested permission to essentially raid Mickey's kitchen for ingredients. Promising to compensate the man for anything used, of course. Mickey gave his permission with a relaxed nod and, "Go ahead." So Lyall gulped his tea and dashed around the corner.

After changing into something dry, Hild offered to monitor James and Calder, that way Larrel could change too. With a look of relieved thanks, Larrel readily grabbed her things and left for one of the spare rooms.

In the dining area adjacent to the living room, Ava and Shan sat with Mickey and Bo. Shaniece tucked into a hot, clear-broth soup while the adults spoke with softened voices. The rain on the roof and windows drowned out their discussions.

Hild took a seat beside James. For a moment she debated taking his hand in hers, then eventually decided against it.

James was dried off and in dry clothes, now, but all that seemed to do was make the sweat on his skin more apparent. His skin was paling similar to Caspar's, and the dark blue and purple vein-like pattern she'd briefly seen on his neck was creeping up to his face. It was unsettling.

He turned his head ever so slightly, looking at her as he leaned his full weight on the back of the couch, with his head leaning over the top of it. When he met her eyes, he mustered up a small smile.

"You warming up?" he asked.

Tilting her head back to mirror him, Hild weakly smiled back. "Yes. Yourself?"

"I think I'm slowly regaining feeling in my toes," he said. "Hypothermia avoided."

"A little early to count this a rousing success," Hild hummed.

Without thinking too much about it this time (there was something in his small smile that compelled her to reach out), she took his hand in both of hers. Feigning intense focus, she vigorously rubbed warmth back into his skin.

James seemed to relax a little, his eyelids drooping.

"I normally... don't get this cold," he said quietly.

"It's probably the poison," Hild murmured back. "And the rain certainly didn't help either."

"How are you so warm?" he asked.

"I'm usually not," she said, glancing up with a slight grin. "So, that says quite a bit about this situation." Turning her eyes back down, she took his other hand and did the same.

James hummed, looking down at their hands.

"Larrel said your room locked you in?" he asked.

With a slight sigh, Hild nodded. "And there wasn't a window. Thank goodness your sister happened to be equipped to pick a lock."

"It does come in handy," James said. "I'm glad you got out before anything else happened."

Well. Yes. Now just holding his hand, she decided it really could've been worse (hard as that was to believe) as she quietly rubbed a thumb over the back of his still-cold hand.

It was then, of course, that her brother returned. His pace was urgent as he set out some of his equipment and things presumably from the kitchen on the coffee table.

Lyall muttered under his breath, then said aloud, "This is twice now within the course of one week that we've had to deal with some poison or other." He pointed accusingly to James. "Don't let it become a thing."

"I'll try not to," James said weakly, but there was no bite in his words.

Perching on an empty space on the coffee table, Lyall fell quiet again as he examined and fussed over Caspar.

"It could be hydra venom," Hild eventually said. "Though of course worse for wear, to put it lightly--" She cupped James's cheek as she closely studied his bleary eyes. "--James has been able to resist its affects to some degree. Whilst Calder, a larger man, is...worse off."

Lyall had his wrist pressed to Caspar's forehead as he considered the possibility. Then hummed and said, sounding slightly hopeful, "If that's the case, we may actually have somewhere to start."

--

Having had first-hand experience with hydra venom, Lyall was able to throw something together with just a few household items, and some strange plants and mystery substances he'd foraged himself and kept tucked away in his medical kit. Once she was dried off and changed, Larrel seamlessly provided support wherever needed.

Once their solution was well under way, Hild stepped back in order to more clearly catch Mickey up on their strange and complex situation. And to allow for any further questions from the rest of their newly-expanded group, while they were on the topic. Much like their trusted pilot, Mickey took everything in stride.

Ava and Shan had many questions locked and loaded, Hild knew. But Ava held onto those for now, in favor of getting some rest. Not-so-willingly, Shaniece followed her example, but insisted sleep was not a possibility at the moment. Bo likewise opted to stay up a little while longer. Mickey retired for the night, though, and softly wished them the greatest success as the doctors among them worked.

The storm still hadn't subsided by the time Lyall declared the solution complete and ready for use.

Hild tensely paced, watching intently as they injected the concoction into dark, icy veins.

Sitting on the floor by Caspar, Lyall had finally succumbed to sleep by then. Arms folded across his middle, and with his head tilted back against the larger man's shoulder.

It was only some hours later that the improvised remedy began to take affect.

Caspar finally began to rouse. Some life and color had at least returned to his face, and his eyes were alert. With a grimace, he tilted his head as he took in the living room with confusion. Any questions he may have had, he kept to himself when he took notice of Lyall's slumped, sleeping form. He, with great effort, loosely draped an arm around him instead.

Larrel stayed by her brother's side for most of the night. James was recovering faster than Caspar was, but once the poison began to clear from his system, he fell asleep from exhaustion. Larrel fell asleep sitting up on the couch by his feet.

Immense relief was a given. Hild was grateful to whatever forces may have been out there that spared the two.

That said, she found it hard to let all tension melt away as she slowly breathed it out. The rate at which literally everything went awry was severely alarming. Their pilot was without a plane, that motel had been thoroughly weaponized against them, they lost some luggage on the way since there was only so much they could carry as they fled, this was (as Lyall mentioned) the second time that at least one of them was stabbed with poison--

Perched in a window seat in the dining room, Hild watched the rain pelt the front porch outside. The winds had settled, granting them a calm morning, but the downpour persisted.

For someone trapped leagues below, Ivar had already managed to land a few blows, hard and fast. And they hadn't even begun their trek overseas. Maybe it was a little early to tell, but Hild felt they were in over their heads. For probably...the second time.

Tiptoing in from the kitchen across the way with steaming mugs in hand, Ava tried her best to enter without waking anyone. Hild sat straighter to make room and waved her friend over, and they sat drinking tea together in near silence as they waited on everyone else.

After silently considering her friend, Hild eventually said, "Not bad for your first try."

Ava looked at her. "Hm?"

"Driving."

Smiling with embarrassment, Ava dipped her head in thanks. "What can I say? I'm a natural."

Hild hummed a laugh. "Indeed." She sipped her tea. Chamomile, lightly sweetened with honey. Nice. "Shan was your map?"

Ava nodded. "The only reason why we made such good time."

The rain filled the next short silence.

Hild hesitated. "Thank you for coming," she said, sincere.

Ava grinned. "Against your express wishes?" She gave Hild's hand a quick, warm squeeze. "Anytime."

Hild smiled warmly back.

There was probably no hope of convincing Ava and Shaniece to head back home from here, away from danger, so she decided she ought not try. Yet.

Movement from the living room caught Hild's eye.

James was on his feet. With a long, fuzzy blanket pulled loosely around his shoulders and droopy eyes, he inched forward groggily, looking a little lost as he wandered their way. His hair had partially fallen out of the bun it'd been in the day prior, and many stray hairs hung around his face. It looked like he was trying to be quiet, so as not to wake his sister who was still presumably on the couch.

"You do not look ready to be up and at 'em," Ava said in greeting.

Blinking slowly, James turned to look at them, as if he were still processing their existence.

Instead of responding right away, he merely stared at Ava, squinting.

Ava leaned closer to Hild and slowly whispered, "Is he okay?"

Hild pressed her lips into a thin line. "The man was just poisoned. He likely needs a few more minutes."

Setting aside her tea, she met him halfway and guided him to the table with a hand on his shoulder. "She's right, you don't look quite ready to be up."

"Got tired of lying there awake," he mumbled sleepily.

Taking a seat across from them, Ava joined them. "So, god-slayer, hm?" she said conversationally. "I'll take it that...poisoning? Is just one of many occupational hazards?"

James, now seated in a chair that was being swallowed by his massive blanket as much as he was, looked at Ava with an expression that Hild could only call perplexed.

"...Sometimes," he said slowly.

Hild cleared her throat. "Probably not often." Though the trend of just this past week suggested otherwise. "Water?" she offered him, then looked to Ava. "There's water, right?"

Ava nodded. "Yeah."

James looked around, like he was about to get up an search for some. Maybe he'd heard it as a suggestion and not an offer. Hild gently pulled him back down to his seat.

"As in," she clarified, "'Would you like for me to grab you some?'"

"Oh," he said. "Sure."