Author's Note: Once again, thank you so very much for your lovely reviews. I'm glad you all can enjoy my words. When you guys enjoy them, I enjoy writing just a little more. It's a fun circle of life. :3
So, to answer a question, this takes place right after the Apprentice arc. This story took the first episode, followed it, and then changed the storyline of the second – obviously. So, there's been no Terra, Brother Blood, Trigon, or Brotherhood of Evil. Nor will there be in this story.
*chuckles* Okay, this story is labeled romance. I did warn ya'll about that in the very first chapter. It's not just romance between Robin and Starfire, but also Slade and Mary as we go into further flashbacks – more with Slade and Mary than the young love. So… Yeah, there's gonna be romance. Aheh… :3
And I'm so glad ya'll love fluff, because I've got some for you. Previous chapter was all angst and now this chapter …
Hehehehe.
On with the story!
Chapter Eleven
Nostalgic Romp
Robin's thoughts were deep as he made the trek to the haunt. He didn't notice the lively city that bustled on the Saturday night. He didn't notice the noise and laughter as people went about their activities. He just kept his head down and watched his boots take each step closer – hopefully closer to some kind of answer, to something that would bring light into his cobwebbed world.
He didn't notice that he was seeking answers from a man he hadn't ever imagined he'd seek anything from – someone who wasn't supposed to have the answers, yet had them all.
This time when he reached the haunt, Robin punched in the code himself without waiting for Slade to answer the door. He walked up the familiar steps, unaware how they were becoming something of a second nature to him – only three visits and something about this place already seemed normal to him. He walked into the combined living room and kitchen area, closing the door behind himself.
The first thing that he noticed was the gentle aroma of pasta. His stomach responded happily to it and he couldn't hold back the flush of heat that flashed against his cheeks. What the heck was wrong with him, expecting food from Slade?
"Oh, good, you're hungry," came Slade's voice from the kitchen. Robin winced slightly, feeling extremely foolish now. Just how loud was his stomach? He pulled his sunglasses off and shoved them into his pocket.
"I guess…" mumbled Robin, slowly walking into the room towards the kitchen; curling his arms around his offending abdomen.
"Your rather lucid stomach attests otherwise, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, yeah," growled Robin, blushing harder; stopping once he reached the countertop. "Just so you know, I wasn't expecting dinner."
"But you came hungry."
"Not on purpose!" snapped Robin, his face far more heated than his tone. His face burned even more as the man chuckled deeply. Feeling absurdly like a petulant child, Robin folded his arms and turned his head away with a light huff. This only created more chuckles and further flushed cheeks.
"Well," began Slade in a drawl, turning around to face the stove. "Whether or not you came hungry on purpose, it doesn't change the fact that you did and that I'm more than pleased to have dinner with you."
The tense feeling of his folded arms slowly loosened as Robin lifted his head to look at Slade; those words penetrating his heart deeper than he thought possible. The man's back was to him as he worked at the stovetop. He was dishing out hot curly pasta noodles into a serving dish. Then, he turned off the heat to a pot and lifted it over the serving dish, pouring a thick, creamy alfredo sauce into the pasta.
With a clatter, Slade placed the pot back onto the stovetop and began to mix the pasta around in the serving dish. Then, Slade grabbed a grater and block of parmesan cheese before he grated a heavy amount over the pasta.
Robin watched the man work in silence. His head was still spinning over the fact that Raven knew about everything. He was still trying to understand the enigma that stood in front of him. Every time Robin thought he was beginning to put together the image of this man, he did something that completely threw everything out the door. Even the small things, like cooking pasta, altered the ever changing image that was Slade.
One would think that stability in an image would bring more peace, but somehow Robin was finding peace in the fact that what he had once thought was wrong. This man was supposed to be his father – who would want an evil criminal for a father? The first image that he had built inside his mind had been a complete evil criminal mastermind that had been bordering on a psychopathic nature. One thing Robin knew beyond a shadow of a doubt – Slade was anything but evil and psychopathic.
Slade was a mystery, the enigma of all enigmas. He was intelligent and extremely witty, overflowing with dry humor. He was also frightening authoritative, a man that demanded the respect that he deserved and beware to anyone that attempted otherwise. Slade also hid the pain he was feeling deep inside his heart – the only window of such things resided within his unbending crystal eye.
All these things Robin was unearthing; revealing treasures that he hadn't thought possible. How they sparkled before his eyes; glimmering in the light and opening before him as a remarkable potential for new possibilities.
A smile was gently pulling at Robin's lips without his knowledge.
"Dinner is served," said Slade, after the final dishing of the delectable pasta. He handed Robin the plate, not before he grated even more cheese on the top. He did the same to his plate and motioned Robin towards the table. He followed the man, feeling the warmth of the plate heat up his fingers. He enjoyed the sensation.
They sat down and pleasantries were exchanged through the meal. The conversation was light and Robin enjoyed that. He wasn't sure what it was. Perhaps it was the fact that some of the burden over his heart had lifted since he told Raven what was going on. Or perhaps he was just getting used to the man. Whatever the answer was, the tenseness inside Robin's chest had begun to untangle.
"You seemed to be in a pleasant mood tonight," commented Slade lightly, near the end of the meal. Robin ducked his head and simply did what came natural to his teenage mind – he shrugged. In the which, Slade responded by rolling his eye and shaking his head.
"It's been okay," said Robin in a quiet voice.
"Has it?"
"Well, considering…" muttered Robin, thinking about the rest of his team members. Almost instantly, his content mood faded away. A vague thought crossed his mind that he must be more moody than the average teenage girl going through puberty. He internally growled at such a thought.
Because of his deep thoughts, Robin was unaware of the scrutinizing eye that he was under.
"You know, this calls for something," said Slade, slapping the table surface with both his hands. Robin flinched slightly, shocked by the sudden movement by the man. Slade had stood up and nearly bounded into the kitchen. Robin frowned as he watched the man whip open cabinets in the mad search for something.
"What something?" asked Robin, slowly standing up from the table and leaving his dishes there. As he made his way towards the middle countertop, he watched the man whirl around and smile broadly with a slight glint inside his single crystal eye. Robin unconsciously leaned back, a bit unnerved by that look.
"Hot chocolate."
Robin couldn't help but startle at this; that declaration the very last thing he expected Slade to say.
"Wh–what?"
"You're not deaf, lad," smirked Slade, his blond eyebrows bouncing in his sly grin. "I said hot chocolate."
"Okay, yeah…" muttered Robin, giving Slade a wary look. "But what are you talking about?"
"I'm saying we should make some hot chocolate."
Robin stared at the smirking man, his mouth slowly opening in bewilderment. Hot chocolate? Was the man going senile at an early age? Why was he acting as if such a suggestion was the cure all to everything?
Robin raised an eyebrow.
"What happened to 'too much sugar'll spike your blood sugar'?"
There was a low chuckle, along with a shake of the head.
"You're questioning chocolate? Are you not your mother's son?"
"I'm just saying…" muttered Robin. He frowned as those words hit him. "Hey, what does that have to do with anything?"
"If Mary were here, she'd be appalled by your hesitancy of hot chocolate," said Slade, his tone almost haughty. "Chocolate was Mary's world."
Robin flustered.
"Geez, Slade, I'm not—I was just—You're the one—"
Robin cut off at the end, letting out an exaggerated exasperated noise. It was quickly followed by more chuckles from Slade.
"A lesson to be learned, Robin," said Slade, leaning onto the countertop opposite to Robin to look directly into his eyes. A serious light entered that single crystal eye, yet a tug of the man's lips threatened to lift his mouth into a deviously mischievous smile.
"Don't fight against a good thing."
The smile spread even further as he pulled away from the counter. With a exaggerated flourish, Slade opened the fridge and pulled out a gallon of milk; placing it onto the surface of the counter. Then, he grabbed a can of whipped cream and placed it next to the milk. Robin had a hard time holding back the smile that was so contagious. That crystal eye seemed to be glittering with life.
Soon, two mugs found their way into the stash of items that continued to collect on the countertop. As well as two spoons, two chocolate bars, a container of hot chocolate mixture, a wooden spoon, and a metal pot.
Fresh water found its way into the pot and straight to the stovetop, with the fire quickly turned up high. A moment later, a cutting board and a knife were placed in front of Robin.
"Why don't you chop up one of these chocolate bars?" said Slade, unwrapping the bar before placing it onto the plastic cutting board. The light glittered even more inside that single eye as he smiled. "The whole thing."
"Is there something I should know?" asked Robin, walking around the counter and taking the bar; beginning to chop the chocolate.
"Such as?"
"Such as the Wilson family having a chocolate addiction or something?"
Slade stopped measuring the hot chocolate mixture to look over at Robin with a raised eyebrow; an amused look spreading his features completely.
"Addiction?" drawled Slade coyly. "I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, please," said Robin, stopping his chopping. "You can't hide it."
"Hide what, exactly?"
The red can of whipped cream was casually picked up.
"You're almost giddy over the fact that we're making hot chocolate. It's almost unnerving."
There was the sound of clinking as the red can was shaken.
"Is that so?"
The red lid was popped.
"Yeah, it's weird. I can't imagine anything stranger—"
The unmistakable sound of whipped cream being poured from the can broke Robin's speaking. Mostly because the whipped cream had been directed at Robin's face. Cool cream flooded over the bridge of his nose and spread down his cheeks.
He blinked; thoroughly startled.
Slade pulled back, his smirk of great amusement ever so heavy across his features. He leaned his head back and deposited a healthy amount of whipped cream into his mouth. With a smug look, he wiped the stray cream from his upper lip as he watched Robin's stone reaction of shock to all this.
"You need to lighten up, lad."
Robin blinked again. He slowly lifted his hand to his face and touched the dollop of cream on his nose; still completely stunned by what had just happened.
Slade… had sprayed whipped cream into his face…
And into his own mouth!
It took only a moment for Robin to remove the cream from his face. There was a brief second where he planned to wipe it onto a paper towel, but it was quickly replaced with the side of his soul that wanted to join in the fun. It was then that Robin felt something unlock inside his chest. With a smirk of his own, the handful of cream when into his mouth. He wiped the edges of his lips with the back of his hand.
It was fun.
Everything to that moment felt fun.
He had been so uptight during the recent months with his determination to rid his city of Slade that he hadn't had anytime to let himself loose; to let himself be what he was – a teenager. Sure, he did things with his friends sometimes, but as the pressure and danger of Slade kept building up, Robin had spent less and less time with his friends and more time doing his all to rid the city of the threat.
But at that moment, a part of Robin's body began to relax.
"You missed a spot."
"Huh?"
The sound of moving whipped cream was the first warning, before Robin found himself with another face full of cool cream.
"Hey!"
There was deep laughter as Robin quickly cleaned his face off; once again putting the majority of the cream into his mouth. After he swallowed the sweet cream, he voiced his protests.
"Would you stop that?"
"No."
Robin gasped as his underarm was grabbed and he pulled closer to Slade. The can of whipped cream poised over his face before Robin had a chance to protest this. He quickly struggled against the man. The sound of rushing whipped cream told him he failed. Robin felt the cool texture of the cream land on the side of his cheek near his ear. The can fizzled out for a moment, which was quickly rectified by the quick clinking sound of a shaking can. A strangled cry escaped Robin as he tried to pull away again.
However, more cream met his other ear.
There was a low, yet breaking pitch of a boyish shriek whose voice was still developing.
This only created mature male laughter; the sounds deep and smooth in its mirth. At that moment, all wise thought processes vanished from Robin's mind. In a quick swoop, he swiped away some of the cream from off his face and did everything in his power to land it on his 'attacker's' face. He felt the cream land its mark.
A battle ensued.
Through the quick three minutes that the fight was engaged, Robin had to admit he held his ground pretty good, considering he wasn't wielding a 'weapon' of his own. Cream found its way into areas that Robin hadn't known could be reached. He did everything he could to throw whatever cream landed on him right back at the man; all the way, not fully aware of the laughter that was escaping his mouth.
He was, however, greatly appalled at the pitch his voice reached in his shriek of surprise when Slade pulled the back of his shirt and sprayed a healthy amount within.
It took Robin a moment of spastic convulsions before he managed to get the cream out of his shirt. There was a gentle splat as it landed on the floor. He put a hand on his chest for a moment as he breathed in deeply. He was lucky for the moment of reprieve from the can of cream. Slowly, he looked over at Slade. The man had cream smeared over half of his face; spreading downwards over his exposed neck. Spatters and smears decorated his dark vest and tie. There was even decoration on the black eye patch – not looking so black any more.
Robin knew at that moment he must look ten times worse.
Staring at the man covered in whipped cream, Robin felt strangely amused by it all. There was a light smile spreading through Slade's face; an almost sheepish, yet fiery expression. Something broke inside Robin and he couldn't hold back any more.
He laughed.
The laughter was so deep from inside that he doubled over, clutching his stomach tightly as he clenched his eyes closed; the laughter spilling endlessly from his mouth. A stitch bit into his side after a few long moments that Robin stumbled to lean against the countertop. Soon, his laughter was joined by lower laughter, the voice deep with age.
For a brief second within the moment, Robin felt the strangeness of it all. Here he was, laughing hysterically with Slade. It was such an unusual moment in time; something that seemed so impossible a mere week ago – even inconceivable. No one would've ever imagined a moment of playfulness between Robin and Slade.
But it had happened and the even stranger part of it all – Robin was enjoying it.
Soon, the laughter faded away into heavy breathing. Robin was still clutching at the stitch in his side. But the smile that was so wide on his face wouldn't fade away. He looked up at Slade, who had a very similar look on his face.
"You have cream all over you," said Slade, his heavy chuckles flooding over his voice.
"Right back at you," smirked Robin.
"You're a complete mess."
"I'm not the only one."
There was a pause, before the kitchen once again filled with soft laughter. A hand dropped onto Robin's shoulder; there was a brief squeeze.
"Come, let's try to get some of this whipped cream into our hot chocolate," said Slade through his chuckles. He turned and there was a quick moment where his hand passed over Robin's head; lightly ruffling the raven black hair there.
It was such a gentle touch.
The water had begun to bubble and boil since the two of them had been a bit 'busy', so Slade removed the water from the heat and onto a hot pad. While he scooped a few spoonfuls into the pan, Robin went back to chopping up the chocolate bar until it was finely shredded. Slade stirred the hot chocolate for a few moments before he grabbed the milk and poured a generous amount into the mixture. As he set the gallon aside, his eye lit up.
"Oh, almost forgot."
Robin looked up to watch the man go back to the fridge. He put the milk back inside and withdrew a bottle of caramel topping. The look of mischief on the man's face was very funny to Robin.
"Caramel, too?" asked Robin, surprised by its appearance.
"Oh, yes," said Slade with a decided nod, squeezing the bottle over the pan; the amber cream color streaming from the bottle into the hot chocolate mixture.
There was also a gentle squeezing of Robin's heart as a bout of nostalgia gripped him.
After Slade was finished, he quickly put it back into the fridge and continued to stir the hot chocolate. Robin had to admit, it smelled very delicious. Then, Slade poured the hot chocolate into the two mugs, with a little some leftover inside the pan afterwards. Then, Slade grabbed the other chocolate bar and unwrapped it. He broke the bar in half and the following half into smaller pieces. He plopped the broken pieces into a mug and did the same thing with the following half.
"Now, for the final touch," said Slade, brandishing the red can of whipped cream again. Robin smiled, but that didn't stop him from leaning away from the man in case he got another crazy idea in his head. Luckily, however, whipped cream was only sprayed generously on top of the hot chocolate. Soon after, half of the chocolate shavings was sprinkled onto each mountain of whipped cream until it was all gone. Robin was handed a spoon.
"It is complete," said Slade, his tone completely calm in the pure mocking of the event. Robin let out a chuckle before he pulled the warm mug towards himself and dipped his spoon inside. It was a bit tricky, and Robin ended up leaning down, but he managed to get a nice spoonful of the chocolate liquid and cream into his mouth.
It was delicious.
The only sounds that lifted through the kitchen were the unashamed slurpings. A flood of emotions were flowing over Robin as he remained quiet. This reminded him of his mother all too much. There had been a few times when Mary has decided she wanted hot chocolate and from that a whole event would come forth. It seemed so familiar to Robin; the chocolate pieces inside, the caramel, the whipped cream battle, the shavings on top – each piece built the events of the past.
Had Slade done this with Mary before Robin had been born? Had the tradition started long before Robin had even been conceived? Had Slade and Mary been a family before Robin had ever laid eyes on his mother?
The kitchen seemed to open into an unknown, non-existent memory – a memory of longing, of wishing, and of desire. Robin could almost see it unfold before his eyes, the room shimmering as his mind and imagination created a wish. Even the sound of laughter filled his ears.
A moment like this, yet with all three of them. Laughter spilling abundantly forth from each as the sounds of canned whipped cream being sprayed were strong. The trilling, lilting laughter of Mary, her voice lifted in her gentle accent; Slade's own deep laughter, perfectly true in its smoothness and melding ever so complete with hers; then, the laughter of Richard, childlike, yet determined to prove its approaching manhood – all three tracks combining into the perfect harmony of voices.
The soundtrack of being a family.
The scene gently disappeared from Robin's sight. He wasn't aware that he was trembling; thoroughly overwhelmed in the vision of his vivid imagination. It was truly 'what could've been', there was no doubt. It wasn't something that should've affected him so badly, though. The image was literally choking him to death in its grip over his heart. He had long done this many, many times through the years – wishing and imagining scenes of what could've been.
But what startled Robin so earth-shatteringly at that moment was the fact that Slade seemed to so easily slip into the imagery of his mind, as if the man belonged there in the image of a family.
"Robin, what's wrong?"
Robin looked up at Slade to see the man looking down at him with a concerned eye. Robin shook his head and gazed at his mug, which was halfway full.
"It's nothing," said Robin in a low voice.
"I keep telling you that you're a bad liar," said Slade. "You should try something different."
Robin's stomach lurched as he heard those words. It reminded him of his encroaching lies that he had been surrounding himself with; every last feeling crashing back down on top of him. There might be times where he could briefly forget the mess that he had found and created for himself, but it didn't mean that he could escape from it. Telling Raven didn't clear the doubt that his friends still had.
Somehow, his stomach soured at that thought.
The whipped cream on his face was beginning to dry and become sticky, but Robin didn't care. He looked down into his mug, not really seeing the contents there. Just thinking about having any more of the sweet drink made him feel sick to his stomach.
A gentle, warm hand gripped his underarm. Without another word, Robin felt himself being led to the kitchen sink. The water was turned on and a white rag was wetted down beneath the flush of water. Then, the warm, wet rag was applied to his face, gently beginning to wipe away the residue of cream on his skin.
Robin glanced up at the man who still had cream all over him as well. There was a soft smile that was tugging at the side of the man's lips; threatening to lift the entirety of his face into a full smile.
"You'll be a sticky mess if we don't get rid of this."
"You, too," whispered Robin.
"I can live with it."
Robin didn't say anything more as the man worked at cleaning his face and parts of his hair. A few times Slade washed the rag before continuing with his cleaning. Robin remained silent during it all. He didn't try to stop the man. Slade seemed too determined in his work at the moment.
Once again, Robin was thoroughly overwhelmed by his senses. There was such warmth that emanated from this man in front of him, yet every part of Robin's mind remembered that this was the very same man that he had fought so viciously before to take down.
Yet, here was that same man, gently cleaning whipped cream from his face, hair, and shirt – the very same cream that he had sprayed at Robin in a playful romp.
The contrast was certainly startling, but as Robin continued to be exposed to this man, the more he saw the true nature that was Slade and not the persona that the old criminal had shown forth for his purposes.
How strange that he was beginning to find that man just slightly tolerable.
"Well, that should do for now," said Slade with one final wipe over Robin's nose.
There was a moment of silence between the two of them. Then, there was a sigh before the sound of water ran from the sink. Robin watched quietly as Slade wiped the cream from his face, neck, and vest. Robin just stood there, as if every part of his body no longer wished to decide things for itself. It wanted answers; it wanted relief; it wanted peace; and ever so strangely, it wanted to stand near this man – so many things did it desire, but things that Robin couldn't supply, it seemed.
With that same gentle touch, Slade pulled Robin away from the sink.
"Why don't we sit down? You have some questions, correct?" asked Slade, gesturing towards the couch. Robin only nodded in response. Slade continued after another moment, "Well, then. We can just talk for awhile."
Robin remained quiet as he sat down in the middle of the couch. He didn't notice Slade raising an eyebrow at him. But he did notice when the man sat down next to him; startling him out of his stupor of mind. For a moment, Robin's brain seemed to shut down. He wasn't really uncomfortable with the man touching him – like taking him by the arm earlier. But this close proximity was something new.
And yet, it wasn't completely displeasing to him.
"You may ask whatever you wish," said Slade in a low voice. "I shall do my best to give you the answers you deserve."
Robin didn't look over at the man, too aware of the physical closeness at that moment. Robin could feel the man's warmth near his arm. It was something he was used to with the Titans – there wasn't a moment that went by without someone being shoved into someone else in playfulness or even in petty quarrels. But the closeness to an adult – especially said adult being Slade – was very new to Robin.
Or rather, nostalgic.
So strange being so close to an adult who was supposed to mean something to him. How many years had it been since he had felt something like this? It created far too many conflicting feelings inside Robin's heart and mind – the emotional side warring against his logical side.
But… what should he ask? There were a thousand questions inside his mind and at the same just an endless blank of white. What his mind demanded answers to, his heart just couldn't handle at that moment.
'What was the real reason you didn't confront Mama?'
'Why did you go towards a life of crime?'
'Why do you need those chips?'
'What's your purpose?'
'What was so important that you wouldn't do everything to get back the woman you loved?'
'Why?'
'I just don't understand.'
The many questions seemed meaningless at that moment to Robin's heart. He didn't want to know right now. He didn't want to hear the excuses or some horrible, twisted tale. He just couldn't bear it; not after what happened with Raven. He felt tired – tired of it all. There was only one thing his heart wanted answers to; one thing he wanted his memory to be refreshed of – that someone that he missed dearly.
Mama…
"What… was Mama like when you met her?" whispered Robin, letting himself call her by name. His hands clenched inside his lap for a moment. He felt Slade stiffen and look over at him. Robin found himself turning his head upward towards the man sitting next to him; his eyes connecting to Slade's single one. There was a large expression of surprise flooding through Slade's face as he looked down at Robin. Then, after another moment, the man's face softened. He took a deep breath as his entire body loosened.
"She was the most beautiful person I have ever had the privilege of meeting. Both inside and out."
As those words sunk deep into Robin's heart, his mind fell into peace. He knew at that moment as he watched the light soften inside Slade's eye: he had asked the right question. He turned slightly on the couch to face the man; taking in every emotion that flitted across Slade's face. The man looked out over the room, obviously lost in the act of drawing on memories of the past.
"She was vibrant, so full of life," continued Slade, his voice lifting as a smile of remembrance entered his expression; yet there was a glimmer of light and emotion inside his eye. "There was never a moment where she didn't smile. She always managed to brighten everything around her."
Slade turned his gaze back at Robin, a slight wryness entering his gentle smile.
"But she was also fiery and mischievous. There was never a dull moment around her. She loved music and there was rarely a moment when she wasn't humming or singing."
Robin smiled, remembering those facts to be true. He was glad that it seemed as if that they both knew the same beautiful woman. Time hadn't changed too much. He was quiet as he listened to Slade talk about all the small things about Mary – those tiny things that one would take for granted in life.
Minutes melded into hours ever so easily. The nighttime slipped into the early morning as Slade's smooth, low voice continued to articulate with eloquence the memories and moments of a missed wife and a missed mother. An unfamiliar, gentle sensation sifted through Robin's soul. It was one of peaceful nostalgia. There was no pain in the words spoken; there was no deep longing – only of sweet joy. It was a rarity that Robin could remember his mother without the pain and the resentment of her being taken away from him prematurely. Every word that Slade formed merely brought a contented feeling inside Robin's heart – something he hadn't felt in years.
The stories, the moments, the smiles, the tears – all these things seemed to wrap around Robin in a warm embrace in the form of Slade's voice.
He wasn't even aware of the time when he slipped away into contented slumber, lulled by the man's smooth voice.
….….…
Next Time: Chapter Twelve: Tides of Change – A year has passed for Slade and the time has quickly molded him into the shadow of the man he would become in later years. With the transfer of Major Wintergreen, Slade is put in charge over the two hundred member medical base. With another transfer, Slade and company find themselves in the rich city of Gotham City, New York.
Author's Notes: So, apparently all we fanfictioners of Dick Grayson's past seemed to have overlooked something – me included until I researched it. Apparently, there's a difference between the Gypsy languages (many dialects) and Romanian, which is a Latin language and one of Romania. The Gypsy languages have multiple dialects, which the base of them are called Romani – who made their homes in many countries. However, whenever we as fanfictioners attempt to 'go back to the past' with Dick's heritage, we use Romanian because that's what shows up in Google Translate. Gypsy heritage is different than Romanian heritage.
Well, this completely threw a wrench into my plans. So, to fix that, I'll make something clear now. Within my story of Warped Identity, Mary is of Gypsy descent; however, her family is from the country of Romania, making use of her native language of Romanian.
Who knew? I hadn't realized. I prefer it when my facts are straight, which at this point I'm pretty sure since I studied it for awhile. But then again, you never know… *shakes head*
Oh, thank my dear friend, because I watched her making hot chocolate over Skype and a terribly fun and entertaining idea was born, which snowballed me being able to finish these chapters finally. :3 Man, this chapter was fun.
I can't tell you when exactly the next chapter is coming. I haven't finished it, but I'm working on it. I do hope sometime next week, but we'll see – no promises quite yet.
Thanks for reading! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^
