Unhappy Fate

Abigail and Sam arrived at The Stardrop Saloon before their teammates, which meant the two got a chance to chat alone for a while. "So, what do you think the surprise was? Maru wanted Sebastian out of the house for so long!" Abigail wondered aloud.

Sam shrugged guiltily. "I didn't get any more details," he confessed, squinting at the cue ball to better aim his shot. "Everyone knows I can't keep secrets well, so for the sake of the mission, I asked Maru not to tell me." The pole connected with the white ball, which hit the striped orb next to the one he intended. "The less I knew, the better!"

The amethyst-haired woman smiled knowingly. The blond skater was a terrible liar, that was for sure. How could Sebastian ever have doubted the two of them? Sam would not have been able to keep such an important secret from anyone, especially his best friend. Abigail wondered how tonight would go. Would things get awkward with Sebastian? And, if not... what was she going to do about Sam? Should she attempt to pursue a relationship? While Abigail enjoyed his company and the way she felt around him - she did not want to settle down without the chance to explore what else the world had to offer. Then again, having someone with whom to share that adventure sounded like an appealing option as well. She sighed at her own indecision. The women questioned whether or not she should even be the one to make the first move. What if he rejected her?

Suddenly, Abigail was starting to understand why Sebastian never said anything to her. Dwelling on the potential catastrophic fallout was nerve-wracking. Did she dare...? "Hey, Sam," Abigail said, getting the blond's attention. "What do you think of me..." She could feel her heart start to race from the anxiety clutching her chest and her resolve immediately dissipated. Oh, fuck. "...teors?" she finished, cringing at her own cowardice.

Sam straightened up from leaning over the pool table and looked at her quizzically. "What do I think of meteors?" he repeated, clearly confused by the sudden question on space rocks. His brown eyes scanned Abigail, as if looking for a hint to her true intentions. He shrugged. "I mean, anything that's been in outer space is pretty cool," he said. "But unless they've got aliens inside, at the end of the day they're just big rocks."

"Since you asked a question, I think it's my turn," Sam proclaimed.

"Uh, sure..." Abigail fidgeted, trying to apprehend what the young man might possibly ask her.

The spiky-haired blond paused a moment, a pensive look on his face. "Other than the obvious pancakes, waffles, and miscellaneous breakfast foods, can you think of alternative uses for maple syrup?"

Definitely not the kind of question she expected. "Why do you ask?"

The skater sighed. "Well, I really like maple bars, but I don't always wanna put forth all the effort of making them, so I wondered what else I could slather with the stuff for a lazy man's fix."

Abigail laughed. Of course Sam was thinking of food. She tried to think of recipes in which her mother used the sweet amber liquid. "Uh... Well, I've seen my mom use it in salmon glazes. I've put some on my eggs every once and a while, but you said no breakfast food..." Then Abigail suddenly remembered something. "OH! Don't tell, because it's the secret ingredient, but my mom also puts a little bit of it in her mashed potatoes."

Sam looked at her, dumbfounded. "What?! Mashed potatoes." He angled his head away from her, as if Abigail had said something offensive. "You're pulling my leg."

"It's true!" the woman insisted. "Just a little bit for a more complex flavor," she informed her friend, holding her thumb and forefinger in a way to demonstrate a small measurement. "I'll have you try some for a taste test."

He looked doubtful, but shrugged. "Anything for you, Abi," Sam replied with a reluctant grin.

"I'll convert you, just you wait," Abigail vowed confidently.

Their conversation then came to a grinding halt as the heavy scent of tobacco wafted into the room well before either of them caught sight of Sebastian. Abigail's nose crinkled, "Sebastian, what the hell happened? Did you just smoke an entire pack in solitary confinement?" she demanded as he entered the room. "I thought you were tapering off!"

"Too much at once..." Sebastian said cryptically. "Too much change all at once..."

"It must have been one helluva surprise, fam," Sam chimed in, though inconspicuously keeping his distance. "What happened?"

Sebastian's dark eyes turned toward his best friend. "My cave... has windows now," he muttered, barely perceptive above the noise of the bar. "The sun has infiltrated my room."

"Oh, shit. That's practically a death sentence for the local vampire," Abigail said facetiously. Her eyebrows furrowed, "But seriously, what's the problem with that? Didn't you complain about the lack of light in your room all the time?"

She was right, of course. Sebastian had griped about living in a windowless hole in the ground for years. Sam intervened, knowing that could not be all of it. "What else happened, fam?"

"Maru is an evil scientist," the odorous male groaned. "She tricked me and now I have matching curtains! And they made me choose where I wanted to sit for the Friday family meal. Only nowhere but the corner felt right!" Sebastian continued mumbling under his breath about sashimi.

Something was definitely off with their friend, Abigail and Sam realized simultaneously. The two made eye contact across the room, miming various ideas to help their distressed companion, but none seemed suitable. Perhaps they should just try to get things moving along as a distraction? The spiky-haired blond stuck his head out toward the main room of the bar and summoned Violet. "Hey, Violet! You coming or not?" Sam shouted. "We have a title to win!" he added teasingly. Maybe the spirit of competition would snap Sebastian out of it.

Violet strode across The Stardrop Saloon, ready to let Abigail's skill carry them to victory once again. As soon as she got within twenty feet of the game room, however, she abruptly came to a halt as if she had hit a wall. The farmer grumbled to herself, taking a deep breath before grabbing her maple cue. "Let's get this over with," the pastel-haired woman sighed miserably.

So it appeared that neither Sebastian nor Violet wanted to be there, but the reasons were a bit unclear to Abigail and Sam. Did something happen with Violet, too? Were they fighting for some reason? Or did she detest the strong scent of tobacco the hoodie-wearing man emitted that much? After observing for a while, that seemed to be a likely answer. When it was not her turn, Violet would go back to the bar and attempt to chat up Shane. Only someone truly desperate would do that, Abigail thought. The guy was such anti-social grump.

The other three kept their distance from Sebastian for the most part, though Violet certainly much further than Sam and Abigail. The two eyed each other, silently lamenting the backslide in progress compared to last week. About half-way through the game, Sebastian seemed to finally calm down and get into his usual groove. He and Abigail were still in a gridlock, sinking in their respective balls each turn. Sam and Violet's performances also mimicked the prior match. It might come down to the 8-ball again. Or, so he thought.

It was then that Sebastian also noted Violet's frequent absences. His dark eyes scanned the room to find her next to the fireplace with... Shane, was it? Or maybe Sean? He was one of Sam's co-workers and related to the Jas kid that Vincent played with somehow. A young uncle maybe?

As he watched the two interact, Violet's laughter rang out and Shane returned the gesture with a smile. For some reason, it made Sebastian feel... sad. No, it wasn't sadness he felt. What was this emotion? Bah. It didn't matter. What had that guy said that was so funny anyway? Violet leaned closer to Shane as the spoke at one point, holding her cue stick loosely in her hand off to the side. Was she flirting with him? Sebastian felt like something had just sucked the air right out of him.

"It's your turn, Violet!" Abigail called over to her partner. The dark-haired player turned immediately so he would not be caught staring. The farmer gave Sebastian a wide berth as she passed him toward the green velvet table. She seemed anxious to make her shot quickly. Violet did not take any time at all choosing her shot and leaned over the table to take it without hesitation. The purple-striped 12-ball went into the pocket with a clack, but Violet did not smile or celebrate. She had already turned her back to walk toward the fire place. Back to him.

Sebastian wondered what he did wrong that Violet was suddenly so disinterested in speaking to him - or even looking his direction for that matter. "I think it's because you're a walking smoke signal right now," Abigail's voice stated from behind him, noticing her friend's distress. The young man turned to see his ex-love interest smiling sympathetically at him. She grimaced, "Last time Violet and I hung out, we had some girl talk and... just so you know, smoking is a deal-breaker for her."

The black-clad male growled, "Why can't she just get over it like everyone else? You guys still hang out with me." Abigail's cerulean eyes glanced over at Violet, too, as she said, "She's lost some loved ones because of it, Sebastian. So I think it's more than something to 'get over' in her experience." The amethyst-haired woman faced her friend now, "And I did defend your case to her when I informed her you've already been tapering off. Then this happened!" She gestured at Sebastian as a whole.

He shot back a defensive look, "What did I do now?" he spat.

Abigail rolled her eyes, "You reek like you just smoked an entire pack in a tiny, unventilated room before you came in here." She crossed her arms, "Sam and I have a long history with you, so we're not going to just drop you like a hot rock, but other people don't know you like we do. Besides, it's different for her. It's not a theoretical loss she's being reminded of like it is with us."

"With us?"

Sam entered the conversation, "We're worried about you, fam," he admitted. "And while we don't wanna nag, we care. You made some great progress so far and today was just a stressful day." The blond shrugged, "Just roll with it and try again. No judgment."

"Why the fuck does it matter whether or not I just smoke once a day or quit?" Sebastian replied angrily. "I make sure to go outside so no one else gets 'hurt' or whatever," he said, clearly frustrated.

"'Cause one of these days..." his best friend responded, putting his arm around Sebastian's shoulders. "We wanna be old badasses with you and we can't very well do that if you're in the ground, bud. How are we going to go on our 50-year reunion tour if we don't have our synth player?"

Sebastian sighed, worn by his friends' obnoxious persistence. "I don't see why you all are worked up over one slip-up. I'll go back to once a day tomorrow." He glanced over at Violet again, still across from Shane. Though, now Emily had joined the conversation.

"To be fair, we weren't making a big deal out of it, just avoiding your stank," Abigail chuckled. "It's someone else's opinion you seem to care an awful lot about."

He sighed, glancing at his yellowing flesh where he held his cigarettes between his fingers. Why did he care so much that Violet was avoiding him? "I needed to take the edge off, just for today..." he said, rubbing the skin as if it would remove the stain.

"Might I suggest Joja Cola as an alternative?" Sam flashed a dorky smile and offered him a can on the spot.

"Never in a million years will I drink that trash."

Abigail gave Sebastian a look, "That's where you draw the line?" she asked quizzically. "You're so weird, Sebastian."

Sebastian smiled slightly, glad that his friends still stood by him after all the drama he had caused lately. "And yet, you two still choose hang out with me," he countered, approaching the pool table to inspect the work cut out for him. He was more grateful for his friends than he let on. "Now whose turn is it?"

"Yours. Now quit stalling!" Abigail complained, poking at him with her cue pole.

The recently-fallen champion quickly made his shot successfully and Abigail did the same. Sam, unsurprisingly, did not. Violet came back to the game when called, and once again sank a shot without pausing to find out whether or not she made it. Sebastian found it both annoying and impressive that she was a better competitor when she was being so aloof with him.

It was just down to one ball for the girls. There was little to be done if Abigail made her shot, but Sebastian did his best to make it harder for the girls. It was not enough, however. The amethyst-haired player connected with the yellow-striped 9-ball and it fell into the pocket with a loud clack. "The time has come, magic 8-ball," she announced to her foe, leveling her eyes with the orb to best plan her attack. Ceremoniously, Abigail lined up the cue and thrust the pole, connecting with the white ball. The black 8-ball disappeared into the designated hole, sealing the second straight victory for the girls.

"VICTORY!" Abigail shouted for the entirety of The Stardrop Saloon to hear. "You know, if Violet plays better when she doesn't overthink things, you can come in here as smelly as you want," she teased Sebastian. He gave a weak laugh at the joke, but his heart sank when he stole a look over at the fireplace to find Violet missing. Shane, who incidentally made eye contact with Sebastian, sighed in annoyance and jutted his chin toward the door. So she left... Sebastian realized.

Violet had gone home early once her team's victory had been decided. While it was rude, her head throbbed with a mind-splitting headache and she desperately needed to lie down and rest. The farmer had never been entirely sure what caused the pain when she encountered the smell of tobacco smoke. Violet remembered getting small headaches as a girl when she visited her grandparents and they were unable to play outside, but it was never so intense until years later. Was she genuinely allergic or was her body's reaction more psychological? Personally, Violet did not care at the moment. She wanted to curl up into bed and pass out, just to escape the pain.

Luckily, Shane had humored her enough to keep a conversation going so she could stay away from the worst of the smell. Though, that wasn't without some nudging from Emily. Either way, Violet could appreciate that once his gruff exterior had been breached, Shane was a sociable guy. He certainly had his own troubles with alcohol, that much was sure, but the frothy liquid in his pint did not physically pain Violet.

As the farmer walked home alone, she sighed. It was such a shame, she thought, that Sebastian's smoking habit was not quite as on the way out as Abigail suggested. Violet like hanging out with him and he had never smoked in her presence before. In fact, he had not lit up at all when he came to stay with her, Violet had noticed. But the way the odor practically rolled off of him this evening made her think twice about her feelings. The young woman knew she could not go through that kind of loss again - and more immediately, she could not deal with these headaches on a daily basis. No, a relationship with Sebastian would never work like this, she told herself decisively. I can't expect people to change for me, it's not fair. She just hoped they could find a way to stay friends. Violet would miss their conversations.

When Violet arrived home, she found Bruno alone. Alex must have come by to pick up Dusty earlier that evening. She did a quick scan of the area to make sure no one was around. Human or shadow creature. After unlocking her door, she immediately stripped down to her underwear and left the clothes on the porch for now. The woman did not want to bring any trace of the noxious scent inside if she could help it. Violet headed directly for the bathroom to shower for the second time that day. She wanted to get the smell out of her hair and the rest of her body as well. From prior experience, she knew only then would the headache begin to subside. When she was done, Violet realized she had forgotten to return Robin's missing axe and the shirt Maru gave her. It was too late to go back now. The pain had already taken a great deal of energy from her, anyway. So once she hit the pillow, Violet was out like a light.

Elliott returned home later than usual that night. He and Leah had a lot to discuss once Violet left, after all. The author did not want to foist all of his sorrows on a young woman with whom he had recently become acquainted. But his dearest friend lent a sympathetic shoulder to cry upon in his darkest hour. As he removed the gaudily decorated card stock from the inner pocket of his overcoat once again, Elliott shuddered.

Howard & Jane Montmorency

Request the Honor of Your Company

at the Marriage of Their Son

Edmund Montmorency to Cassandra DuBois

This 27th of Winter, 6:00 PM Sharp

Former Dinner and Gala to Follow

at the Montmorency Estate

Black Tie Attire

RSVP by Fall 28th

Name: Elliott Montmorency

Plus 1?: Yes_ No_

P.S. Elliott, my love, I know this must be difficult for you, but I do hope you will attend. I miss you, my darling son.

- Mama

Oh, how the expert calligraphy mocked his sorrows! The brutal portrait of reality rendered him speechless, even when he handed the invitation to Leah across the table at The Stardrop Saloon. The red-head had covered her mouth as she gasped. "Oh, Elliott..." she moaned miserably, knowing what this meant to her best friend. "I'm so sorry." Elliott rested his head upon her shoulder for most the evening after that, nursing his wine and reminiscing days gone by that would never be again, while Leah stroked his head soothingly.

Elliott knew, deep down, that this was bound to happen eventually. It was his unhappy fate to endure. Even his own mother evoked familial obligation to bear witness to the marriage of his former lover to his younger brother.

The author told his friends in the most respectable social circles that his disinheritance was due of his choice in career, but that was not the truth. It was a mere farce fabricated to spare the honor of the family name. No, the truth was far more scandalous and while it was not his doing, Elliott must be the one to pay the price. The poet sighed once again. "I suppose my love was not enough for you, my dear," he whispered to the embossed letter, as he tucked it away in his desk drawer. The silky-maned man did not have the heart to commit to anything this evening. Instead, he poured himself another glass of wine and stepped outside to gaze at the waning moon. "Even your affections change each evening," Elliott lamented at the lovely disk in the sky. "I know I cannot hope to ever hold Cassandra again, but..." the melancholy man trailed off, his sleeve wet with tears as he buried his face in the crook of his arm. "Why did it have to be Edmund?"

The old sailor had bunked down for the night, but was unable to sleep. The sound of the sea did not lull him to drift into dreamland, as it usually did. Willy sighed, perhaps it was his age getting to him. Old people did not need to sleep as much, right? Or maybe it was his fisherman's sense telling him to get a line in the water as soon as possible. Grumbling, the bearded man climbed out of bed and grabbed his new pole. As he descended the ladder into the shop, Willy spied Elliott on the beach in front of his little shack. "Awful late for that," the fisherman mumbled. While the young man used a lot of big words he did not understand, Elliott was of the next generation of fishermen. In that way they were kin, and Willy never left kin out high and dry in their time of need. Heck, he still helped his niece with her sm- Well, that was neither here nor there.

Willy slung his pole over his shoulder and marched up toward the beach. "Ahoy, matey!" he called in greeting to the poet. The sailor was not worried about waking neighbors on the beach, it was only the two of them who dared tempt their mistress the sea.

Elliott seemed stunned to see Willy at such a late hour, but the older man could tell that his friend had been crying. Must be a woman. They always caused troubles like that. "Join me for a late-night fish?" Willy asked, donning his cap. "I've gotta feelin' in me ol' bones. Now's a good time t'be castin'."

After a moment of contemplation, Elliott nodded in agreement, with as much of a smile as he could muster given his current mental state. "Why, yes, Willy. That is a capital idea." The young man retreated into his cottage quickly to grab his pole.

The two walked back to the pier and each cast their lines in silence. Willy could appreciate a pal who knew when to clam up so not to scare the fish. It had been a least half an hour with no luck when the fisherman finally spoke, "Woman?" he asked simply.

Caught off-guard, Elliott jumped slightly, bobbing his line. "Ah, yes," he confessed, somewhat embarrassed that his fishing partner found him so easily predictable. "The most beautiful I had ever laid eyes upon."

Willy nodded. He had known the allure of a beauty every so often, but that hadn't happened in years. "I knew a few in me day," the sailor replied with a chuckle. "But none of 'em so temptin' as the sea."

"She is breath-taking, is she not?" Elliott concurred, his gaze fixed upon the dark horizon. "I could stare at the waves all day, if it were not for mortal needs." After a few moments of silence, he then added, "But I am afraid I cannot handle such a fickle love. I require more reciprocity from the object of my affection." He turned his head toward Willy, "I am not as strong as you it seems, dear friend."

The old fisherman chortled, as his bobber disappeared under the water. "Ha! Far easier to let 'em go than t'keep reeling 'em in, me pappy used'a say."

Elliott, meanwhile, did not have a fish on the line and thought it best to reel in his own so as to not disturb Willy's battle. It seemed like a big one from the way the fisherman strained to pull the creature in from the depths. Sure enough, after about ten minutes of struggle, Willy breached the largest halibut that the author had ever seen - about three feet in length, and a hefty weight at that.

The fisherman grinned like a kid in a candy store. "Hoho! This'un's gonna be great eatin.'" Elliott quickly offered a hand getting the enormous fish inside the shop and between the two of them, the fish was dumped into the well under the floor so it could be kept fresh until the sailor was prepared to butcher it. Willy was already listing off different ways of cooking the fish under his breath, but that would have to wait until morning.

"Thank you for the invitation," Elliott said appreciatively, feeling quite exhausted from their efforts. "And for your words of wisdom."

The old sailor shrugged, not quite knowing what it was he did or said that the young man found so helpful. "And thank ya for gettin' this beast in 'ere. I'll be bringin' ya some fillets in the mornin.'"

The author thanked his friend for his kindness and headed back toward his cottage to sleep. Elliott's heart had finally ached enough that it he now felt dull to the pain for a while. Now his body needed rest.