Welcome, Winthinglings!
We're at chappie 22, 105 fudging reviews, a number around 26 faves and a number around 33 follows.
All I can say is, again, the biggest thank you.
The biggest thank you available.
There are no larger sizes in this range, please see apologies, especially those for late chapters.
Okie dokie lemon pokie, let's get going, shall we?
xXx
The party was not much of a party. There were no lollies, for one. Nor was there cake – something that, according to Kayla's memories, had to be present at a party for it to officially be a party. According to the criteria set up by the only-slightly-ten-year-old, the gathering I had been forced to attend was, in fact, not a party. And I agreed whole-heartedly – even the parties (which were more means to practice social etiquette) I had attended as a Being had been more interesting. Or maybe it was just me.
Leilani seemed to be enjoying herself, in any case. The strictly no-carb food platters and sugar-free drinks were what seemed to be the highlight of her experience, aside from showing me off to all the other attendees like a new toy.
"Oh, isn't she just darling?" she'd say, holding onto my shoulders and resting her head on mine, "and she's got the nicest manners, don't you, sweetheart?"
Refusing to play the role she'd set up for me, I looked at the ground, digging my heal into it. However, my anger was often misinterpreted for shyness.
"Oh, look at that, she's gone all shy," the other, older women would coo, "how are you, honey?"
I faked a smile by imagining all the ways I could kill them if I asked the Holmes brothers for assistance with the police and CCTV cameras. They'd never deny me, we'd just have to keep it secret from John.
After being demonstrated in front of all the guests, I managed to escape Leilani's grasp, hiding a shudder as I went over to stand by the flowered vine that was twined around a decorative corner fence. Her aura was just all- wrong. It wasn't black but it was a disgusting grey, more yellow than white. I straightened up in shock as I heard a faint 'ding' coming from within the folds of the puffy pink dress and turned around, taking out my phone and hoping that it was Mycroft or John or Sherlock or someone.
Darling, you don't look like you're having fun. Do you want to play a game?
JM
My heart grew cold and my lungs imitated a compressed balloon. Yet another star formed, revolving around whoever this 'JM' was. Breathing deeply, I shoved the past few text messages there, his manner of speaking, the Irish accent I imagined him with, the knowledge that if anyone was a sociopath, it was him, his knowledge of me, his ability to hack cameras and came up with a logical thought process to combat him with – play the game, don't let him know what you're thinking, don't let him see any weaknesses – as well as an aura.
My phone sounded again, the screen lighting up.
No? Shame. Maybe Sherlock will want to...
JM
I gripped my phone hard enough I thought it would break. Better it than me. Glancing around, I saw the extreme lack of care that was being generated about the young girl in the puffy pink dress that was the only minor at this 'party' they called. Making another reckless, self-sacrificing decision, I replied. I wasn't being very wise today.
No, I want to play. What are we playing?
- KR
His reply came with great speed.
Do you know Go Fish, darling?
JM
I fired off a reply and looked around before darting into the bushes that girt ((AN: With golden soil and wealth for toil, our home is girt by sea...)) the field the 'party' was being held in. I made my way through them, making sure to keep out of sight. I soon backtracked around to get to the road. A taxi pulled up alongside me and I looked through the front window to see JM, the irish man with the blackened aura sitting in the front seat.
Giving him a sweet smile, I hopped in the back seat, smoothing down my dress. My phone dinged. I switched on the screen.
Do you have an 8?
- KR
No. Go fish. Do you, darling?
JM
Noticing my attentions, he passed me a collection of cards from the front.
"I promise I didn't tamper with them," he told me with a grin, beginning to drive towards who-knows-where.
I fanned them out the way my brother had taught me, my eyes darting across the numbers in the corners. "No," I whispered and he grinned.
oOo
"Do you want more sugar?" Jim asked – he'd said to call him Jim and pretending he couldn't kill everyone I loved (I loved people already?) helped with the facade of calm – while passing me a scone. I took another sip of my tea, looking around at the sparingly decorated flat, and took it.
"It's perfect," I told him and his smile widened.
A few minutes passed. "Why am I here?" I asked suddenly. We'd abandoned our game in the taxi, quickly growing bored of being able to determine exactly which cards the other held. Now it was simply silence and chatter filling the time.
"Seb wanted me to tell you something. Something... important. About a certain state of being, if you may."
I choked a bit. Jim raised an eyebrow, taking another drink from his cup and gesturing for me to do the same. Instead, I put my tea down in the saucer, not trusting Kayla's hands. My wings moved tighter around me, taking up the weight of my injured, yet solidly attached, arm and easing the throbbing in my shoulder that I had attempted to ignore.
Seb was... "I believe you saw him before. He's terribly sorry about your arm, by the way, but it is a necessary precaution."
The Irish lilt was driving me insane, I could feel it unravelling my mind. I ignored the sickening tone of his voice – I had nothing against the Irish, just this one in particular and his darkness – instead focusing on what I had just learnt. 'Seb' was the guy from the building, the person that had murdered the man, the Being-gone-bad, the monster at the end of the book and Jim's... associate? Of course. As long as they do good to one group of people. I was certain that there was more than just Jim here.
"Oh, I do so adore watching the cogs in your brain tick over – it's incredibly fascinating, rather like your relationship with Sherlawk and Jawn. And Mycroft, too."
I'd long ago giving up at opening my eyes just to see his face leering back at me. Something was wrong. Was I drugged? No, it didn't feel the same. I documented my physical responses – the heightened senses, the difficulty breathing, the very audible sound of my heart pounding. I was panicking and I was a fool for not realising it before. Now that I was aware and more in control, I felt an excruciating pain in my arm. Oh. The bullet-wound.
"You alright there, darling? Oh, you're having a minor panic attack. That's okay, I would have been worried if you weren't. You do know what I can do to you, yes?"
I nodded, the world spinning. I knew very well what he could do to me. He could break me beyond repair because if he had Seb he already knew about Sherlock. It wouldn't take very much to push my already-unstable brother off the edge. I attempted to breathe and took a sip of tea, my vision steadying.
"Good. You're very clever, aren't you, darling."
It wasn't a question. And I didn't want to answer. This was the stupidest thing I'd ever done in my rather-long life.
xXx
8 on its side looks like an infinity sign, don't you think?
'Do you have forever?' 'No. Do you?' ... 'No.'
Who said I wasn't smart? *glares at mum* I'm joking, I'm joking. Sorry about the delay, I will unashamedly say that I am a fangirl and will willingly spend hours watching episodes of seasons. Blame Supernatural. And Sabriel, 'cause that ish is adorable. I'm not even meant to know who Gabriel is yet but I'm clever and put 'trickster' and 'lolly pop ring for Gabriel' together and came up with 'the trickster is Gabriel'.
I would love to spend a thousand words to tell each and every one of you how brilliant you are but that'd be cheating for chapter length. Y'all are more awesome than Something.
Catch you later,
LoS :D