Hello! Sorry it took me a while to update;I had a really bad slump, but I'm back! ... Well, for now, at least. If you're still here, thank you so much for staying with me, I really appreciate it, and I hope you enjoy the next installment (Be warned that it may take a bit before I hit a stride)!. Hong Kong won't be here as much this time because it's high time that I get some more plot going on here, but he's going to play a huge role starting... VERY soon.

As a warning, though, one thing about long hiatuses is that where this story was meant to go may completely change or be nonexistent from when it was last worked on, so for now we'll just have to wait and see where this leads us.

Enjoy!

xoxo,

TIA/Megumitan

If there was anything 'strange' that Lukas believed in, it was magic.

It wasn't strange in the sense that Lukas actually believed in magic, for Emil did too. And for a while, Emil wasn't too ashamed of it.

It was strange simply because magic is strange. Indescribable. Ethereal. Something that you couldn't believe in, so you looked at it with eyes wide open and declared it magic.

Magic was something that just was. And when it was lost, magic was something that just wasn't.

But whatever it was- beautiful, superstition, or one of those maudlin displays trucked around the streets on Saturday afternoons, Lukas believed in it with his whole heart.

Emil's step-brother was not one to cry when he was moved, but one could tell when he was touched by something. A stillness would surround the older boy upon sight of a 'magical object,' and a soft glow would appear on Lukas' cheeks. Emil often imagined a small breeze that run through Lukas' hair. It was like Lukas had absorbed the 'magic' itself.

And for a while, Emil could take it in, too.

He remembered those bucolic landscapes where he and Lukas would sit together in silence, watching specks of dandelions blow away into the heavens and letting the long grass tickle the back of their necks. To scare Emil a little, Lukas often told him that the tickling came from hungry baby trolls looking for a snack, which would make Emil shudder and hug his knees while Lukas chuckled to himself and turned his attention back to the sky. It was at this point that Emil was left to his own devices with the young trolls climbing up and down his spine.

Emil would be afraid. He would stomp his feet against the grass and pout, whining at Lukas to make the troll go away. The boy was not sure if that strange tickling sensation was truly the trolls or his small shudders of (unnecessary) panic, which only made it even worse. He'd look to Lukas for help, who would turn to face him with a small smirk, the meaning behind his dark eyes clouded in what Emil could only assume was the 'magic' at work again.

For that little while, Emil believed in it with all his heart.

But then Lukas would turn back towards the sky once more and let out a small chuckle.

"You're so gullible."

The 'magic' would drop dead onto the ground, and Emil would wake up with a start.

This was where the dreams ended. This was where possibilities, the past, and Emil's imagined future slipped away like that supposed 'magic' Lukas used to tease him with back when they were both young.

Before Emil had to pretend he wasn't.

And that? That was the very reason that he was now lying awake in bed, listening to the Bulgarian snore loudly into his pillow on the other side of the room.

Emil figured that in a few minutes that snoring would only get louder, thus prolonging his hours awake and shortening his hours of peaceful rest (or rather, as peaceful as it got in buildings like these). Given that Emil liked waking up early after having some decent hours of sleep, he decided to return to the window where he had positioned himself close to only a few hours before retiring to bed.

The boy quite liked being near the window, especially in the space surrounding it that remained free of sweaty clothes and dinner stains, and not to mention to strong smell of alcohol that permeated the entire room. He liked the fresh, cool air at night that he could only get from an opening towards civilization, when the city finally decided to live and let live and make a little room for the sky.

Naturally, the freedom of the skies back home was one of the things that Emil missed. Sure, there were the houses and shops and schools that frequented his hometown, but never had he seen here endless, vast wastelands where a single road to nowhere trailed away, or steep, mountainous backdrops filled with cracks and crevices to remind them all where the end of the world was.

It was funny. Mountains and roads were the very things that Emil let fade away before he came here, but when he needed a memory to remind him where he came from, these were the things he thought of.

These were the things that he would see outside the window during evenings like these.

Tonight was certainly no exception.

Soon, Emil found himself away from the window and far, far away from the tenement, magically landing upon the familiar tall grass he used to hide in all the time. He looked up and saw above him a starry fog, and he gazed at them for a while without longing, nor wishing, nor mourning, but with a sense of content that slowly settled over him. Not a thought was in his head, nor any troubles crinkling his brow.

He just was. And yet at the same time, he just wasn't. For what seemed like an eternity, there was Emil Stielsson, son of Stiel, whoever he was, in the state of being and not being as he was seated on the grass and beneath the stars.

Emil was feeling the magic that Lukas' pranks told him were silly little lies and he was enjoying every moment of it. At that very second, magic was real and he could feel it. No one and nothing, not even his younger self, could tell him otherwise.

Nothing, that is, but a quiet rustling next to him as a figure sat down next to him. Emil glanced towards the figure upon his arrival, instantly recognizing the scuffed black work shoes that Lukas used to wear all over town. It was him. It had to be him. It- what was he doing here, anyway?

His thoughtless, carefree state-of-being quickly shattered, turning into alertness. Was Lukas back to ruin the magic for him? Or was he-

Emil craned his neck and whipped around to face his new companion, only to freeze upon seeing the burning, golden eyes and choppy, dark hair of some poltergeist that (if Emil could recall) left him with a very aggravating afternoon just hours ago.

"Hey," said the poltergeist, and once more the magic was lost.

Instead, Emil found himself rubbing his lower back as he got up from the ground and back onto the chair he had apparently fallen off of. Magic was now beginning to look more like a burden.

The boy groaned and rubbed his eyes before looking back out the window, while his ears picked up the soft lilt of a woman giggling from below. Emil peeked over the window and down below, where he saw the angry Hungarian woman from across the street smile and wave up at him. He awkwardly waved back, a little more used to hearing the same young woman hurl insults every evening towards whom he now knew as Traian.

"Good to see you're still awake!" The woman called from below. "I was worried that you might fall out of the window!" A couple car horns blasted in the distance. Otherwise, New York seemed a bit more... still. It must have been four in the morning, Emil figured, or else he would have had more trouble understanding the woman's words.

Emil finally replied, "No, it's all right, Mis-"

"Elizabeta, dear, though I assume that idiot must have given away a bit too early with all that racket he makes at my door," the woman quickly corrected him, then added, "I like to just be Elizabeta, though... Hm... Oh! You can even call me Bözsi, too, if you feel like it. Even 'miss' makes me feel much too old!"

"Alright then, Elizabeta." Emil complied, slightly startled by the woman's interruption.

"Much better. Anyway, it's a bit worrisome to see you hanging out of there all the time, especially since you're high u- sorry, what is your name?"

"Emil."

"Thank you, Emil. As I was saying, I always see you hanging out of that window! It surprises me that you haven't fallen out yet—do you ever sleep in your own bed?"

"I like the window, I guess." Emil defended himself weakly. "It's the only place where I can get fresh air." The boy paused for a moment, trying to decide how much more he would reveal about the window's utmost significance to his life. "Reminds me of home," he eventually responded.

"Ah, I see! Where are you from?"

"Iceland," Emil said without hesitating, "I live somewhat close to Reykyavik."

"Oh!" Elizabeta said. She tapped her chin, looking as if she was thinking about something, then looked back up and asked, "The viking place, am I right?"

Emil objected to his homeland being referred to as "the viking place," but nodded anyway.

"I am good at this!" cheered Elizabeta. "My father once told me they say you have some incredible stories from where you're from, and that it's absolutely gorgeous! I'm absolutely jealous!"

"Thanks, I guess." Yet Emil didn't think "Icelandic stories" were that special. Such a sentiment was quickly detected by Elizabeta when she asked, "What, you don't like them very much?"

"It's not that," replied Emil with a shake of the head, "more like I'm probably to used to them, I guess."

"I see, I see," Elizabeta said with a nod, "That is understandable. Everyone lives differently, right?"

"Right."

A moment of awkward silence. Emil was beginning to realize that he wasn't very good at continuing conversations, especially when his conversational partner was several stories below him.

Elizabeta, thankfully, was.

"So... how long have you been here?" she asked him, lazily playing with her lip.

"A few months to half a year," replied Emil. "And you?"

"I don't remember, honestly," said Elizabeta, "Long enough to get used to here, but not long enough to forget where I came from, I would think—Both a good thing and a bad thing."

Emil was perplexed. "Why would it be a bad thing?"

"Well," Elizabeta quickly replied, "there are just too many people for our government to take care of, meaning even true Hungarians like my family aren't so lucky back home. I came here with my brother," she boasted, "He's a very hard-worker or otherwise we must bless us all."

As far as he could remember, Emil had never seen Elizabeta with another man besides Traian. So without thinking, he asked, "Does your brother live with you?"

The woman blinked a couple times, then sighed and shook her head sadly. "Not now, he does not. He went off with another Hungarian man out west for more work, he said. He... how do I say this? He likes to always be on his feet. Last I heard he was headed towards... I think it was called Ohill?"

"O...hill?"

"Yes, yes, something like th- wait, no, Ohio!" Elizabeta pronounced every syllable of this new word with care. "He said he was going to Ohio."

"Oh."

"I know, right? He's very smart, but I never know what he is thinking or if he is just getting lost. To make a point, if Ohio was worth going to why don't they write about it in letters? Or rather, why didn't my great-grandfather mention it in his letter?"

"Your great-grandfather was here?"

"Oh! I didn't mention, did I?" Elizabeta chuckled. "Yes, yes, my great-grandfather came to America to look for gold, and never came back since. Either he was very lucky and did not want to share or he was not very lucky. That is all I know of him, at least."

"I see." Emil took a deep breath and said, "I have a brother here also. Or... at least, I think I do." He figured that if Elizabeta was going to be open with him, it was only fair if he returned the favor.

Upon seeing Elizabeta's confused expression (or as much as he could tell from where he was standing), Emil hastily added, "We didn't come here at the same time."

However, Elizabeta was still perplexed. "Then how do you know he's here?"

"Well." Emil sighed, suddenly remembering that talking about his step-brother made him really uncomfortable. "He...Well. He's not the best person in the world, but he keeps his word when we need him to the most, I guess...But... But that doesn't mean he's not someone to worry about. So..." the boy shrugged. "That would be how I ended up here."

"O-ho, I understand now," Elizabeta responded with a laugh, "That's cute, that relationship you have there."

"I didn't mention a relationship."

"No, no, but from the way you talk of him I could see it," explained Elizabeta, "I just think it's cute that you would follow him around like that!"

"I'm not following him," replied Emil, now slightly indignant.

"No, no, I know, I was joking!" Elizabeta smiled and winked at him before continuing. "But truthfully, do you at least want to find him?"

Emil could feel something sink in his chest. He knew that Elizabeta probably didn't mean him to feel sad about anything, but he couldn't help himself. Something in the back of his mind was knocking, and he had to truly will himself to suppress it.

With mental effort, Emil pushed away whatever was bothering him and finally responded,"Well... yes... I suppose so."

"Hmm..." Elizabeta pretended to be deep in thought at first, but soon after she looked up towards Emil as a sly grin appeared on her face, which Emil was quick to address with a "What?"

"Have you... ever... met a..."

"What?"

"Have you happened to meet a man named Mr. Kirkland?"

"Mr. Kirkland?"

"Yes, Mr. Kirkland!" Elizabeta cried out. "He writes for papers here and he's sometimes a little grumpy, but he's a very nice man once you get to know him! He certainly helped me when my brother and I first came here!"

Upon hearing the word "grumpy," Emil grew a bit skeptical. Sure enough, Elizabeta had added that this Mr. Kirkland was only a "little grumpy," but he had also once heard that living in America was a "little difficult." Now he was in a cramped tenant, mismatched with three other men, jobless, and still sibling less in a life that was apparently only a "little difficult." "Little" didn't seem too "little" to Emil at all.

Nonetheless, Emil didn't want to completely discourage Elizabeta, so he decided upon asking, "How exactly would he help me?"

"Many ways!" she replied, clearly convinced that "Mr. Kirkland" was bound to be Emil's saving grace. "He also has other roundabout ways of doing it too-it's quite interesting to see the tricks and strings he pulls."

Emil was still unsure. "I suppose?"

Elizabeta smiled and shook her head. "You're a very doubtful kid, aren't you?"

Just as Emil was about to answer, Elizabeta said, "Well, I'm some who won't take no for answer, so I guess I'll have to take you to see him, then!"

"Wait, wh-"

"Tomorrow, even!" Elizabeta clapped her hands together and rubbed them mischievously. "And don't think you can hide from me up there in your room—a woman like me always has her ways!"

"Um... O-okay..." Something about Elizabeta's phrasing made Emil very uncomfortable, but by now it was much too late for Emil to consider pointing it out. He opted thus to let Elizabeta hold the reins and finish whatever she had to say—that is, if she did have anything else to say in the first place.

And she did.

"So, I'll be right at the door at ten in the morning, then- we'll see if we're lucky and we catch him, how about it?"

"S-sure?" Emil stammered. What was he getting himself into?

"Absolutely perfect! I'll see you tomorrow morning, but for now you should probably sleep. Also, I've had my share of fresh air, so I probably will too. Good night, dear!"

"Night!" Emil quietly called after Elizabeta as she walked back into her own building. When the door to Elizabeta's tenement looked completely closed, Emil pulled his head out of the window, stretching and yawning. The snoring in the room had become more tolerable (most likely due to how loud Elizabeta spoke to him to be sure he could hear her from up where he was). The mess in the room didn't seem too daunting, though by now it was probably because it was too dark to tell. Emil looked around the room sleepily, then sauntered back into his own bed and kicked the covers onto himself.

As his lids closed and his mind began to wander, Emil tried to puzzle out Elizabeta's eagerness, especially after being so used to her more belligerent side when she was arguing with Traian. Could he trust her? After all, he had only formally met her a few moments ago, and the last two people he had moments ago, namely a certain Romanian fiddler and a fire-eyed jerk, both had something about that was just a little... off. Emil was now a little too deep into his sleep to figure out what exactly put those two off of him, but he knew for sure that his gut instinct, tried and tested, tended to be right.

Whether it could get a read on things in the first place, however, was an entirely separate question; as far as Emil was concerned, Elizabeta seemed to be one of the people that took a very long time for one to figure out. Emil would have to credit his patience with his own step-brother's complexities if he should continue solved the enigma of Elizabeta Hedervary.

But instincts, formalities, and new "friends" aside, whatever was about to occur could only mean one thing for sure:

Tomorrow, or rather today, would be a long, long day. Emil's mind sensed this well enough, and before another thought could keep him awake he had fallen away from the realm of his tenement and back into the night.

Back into a magical world of dreams.