Soul Eater is the property of Atsushi Ookubo. I only own Tovenaar and Ellsbeth...and no real hope for the future :/

Chapter 4 – The Glass Heart

Lord Spirit Albarn's Townhouse– London, England

February 20th, 1801.

On the third day of Her Adventure in the Dreamlands (as Maka mirthfully chose to call it) she came to a very important realization: she was in love. She certainly didn't mean to be, and had never gone looking for such a situation to occur, but there was no way to deny her current state of affairs and the earnest charm of the man of – and in – her dreams. Yet now that she was awake, there were important matters to consider. Some had answers...and the others did not.

Firstly, she was fairly sure she could keep her own heart unfathomed, as the dream was far more interested in revealing Rein and Ellsbeth's romance than their own. This worked well to her advantage, as she could glean unguarded moments from Soul – like his rampant jealousy when they had discussed Lord Wesley...

Secondly, there was the matter of who Soul was. He did not speak like some gutter urchin Stein had selected for his innate cunning and intelligence. He was also educated, and although he had eschewed most "noble" conversational topics, he had proven himself adept at turning the conversation whenever she had purposefully steered them into those arenas. He was adept at the verbal and social gymnastics all the ton was conversant in. So if Maka had to guess, she would wager he was minor gentry, perhaps even at Lord Ford's level?

Of course, all suppositions led her directly to the third (and very important) quandary: why was Soul working for Stein? Her godfather had proven himself a bonafide magician, as no mere conjurer of the stage could own items of true and powerful magic, as well as call and command items with no wires or assistants. So for Soul to be working with Stein, did it not stand to reason that he, himself, must have some sort of affinity for magic? She had caught a fleeting impression of something when she had focused her utmost attention upon him – but then she had been so focused on his relationship with her father that she could not fully decipher anything else. And, truthfully, most of the time Soul read like her Father, as if they had erected a great wall to confound all who might trespass. Yet by the presence and strength of the wall she could derive a measure of their power, for no one else had this ability to counter her strange skill when she tried her best to observe.

It was a puzzle, indeed. It was almost as pressing as the fourth quandary, and to her maiden heart the most important. Did Soul return her affections? Was there hope? Oh the terrible irony if she had turned down the most eligible bachelor of the realm – Wesley's father was the Duke of -, after all – just to be denied by a shopboy. Yet rank had never mattered to her the way it had to her peers, and she knew her feelings for Soul were far more serious than her pride.

That was why she was currently sitting in her father's townhouse, waiting for him to emerge from his study. She fidgeted, going over her course of action as she waited. First, she would open with a query about Stein, and tease him about never introducing her to her Godfather. Then, a reminder about the Ring, for she truly did not wish to imprison her father. What she had told Soul was absolutely correct: she wanted his pain to cease, and only as a distant, secondary consideration did she consider her own prospects. Besides, if all went well, there would be a chance of her attaining happiness with the one man who she found truly honorable in his attitude towards her father's misadventures. Then, coyly, she would turn the conversation to Stein's assistant-

Her planning was halted by a strange sound coming from her father's library. At first it was so faint she ignored it in favor of her thoughts, but in a moment of total silence it forced itself upon her attention. It was a woman's voice, coming from her father's study.

"...not done, Spirit...must change...can't hold..."

Our heroine drew in a deep breath of pure, unmitigated rage. Her licentious father was entertaining women here? In his study? This she would not stand for. Exhaling sharply, Maka strode to the door of the study and thrust them open, prepared to vent her rage upon her father and thoroughly humiliate her father's unwelcome guest.

Upon throwing open the doors, however, she was not prepared to find her father the only one in the room. How could this be? Yet no matter how hard her eyes scoured all the nooks and crannies of the room, there was no one else there. It was a fortunate thing that her father was just as surprised as she, and that it took them both a moment to adjust. "Papa? I'm sorry to...interrupt, I merely- that is to say, I-"

"My darling! You have come to visit your papa! Oh, dearheart, it has been far too long! Come into my arms!"

There was no other recourse. Maka allowed herself to be engulfed in her effusive father's embrace, shifting uncomfortably when his hold ran the danger of crushing the air out of her lungs. While his raptures went on overheard, Maka reflected on the strange voice. She had heard something, of that she was sure. Yet there was clearly no one here, now. Oddly enough, the voice was familiar, now that she thought of it. Her father couldn't possibly be a mimic, could he?

"Papa...I grow weak-"

He drew back hastily, knowing that in his ardor he had overpowered his daughter a time or two in her youth. "Oh, my sincerest apologies, dearest!" He smiled so widely there were tears in his eyes. "It's just been so long since you have come to see me, my dear girl!"

Maka had to fight back a wince. There was a good reason for her absence, yet there was always a smidgeon of guilt – her father was a calm, charming man around everyone except her. It was embarrassing to see such a man turn into a groveling puppy when he was in her presence! It was even harder to affect her mask of nonchalance when she could feel the love pouring off him in waves. "Yes, well, I thought to rectify that. Also, I had a question for you papa. Well...two, actually." She snuck one last glance around the room before she continued. "There wasn't anyone...here, was there? Before I came in? I thought I heard a voice...although I could be mistaken." A sly glance upwards proved her hypothesis – Spirit's face had turned to stone. Faster than she could blink he had pulled up his walls, and he was now utterly unreadable to her – both on a superficial level and with the use of her talents as an 'empath.' So there was someone here - but where were they now?

"No, my darling. As you can see, I was alone. Perhaps you heard some of the servants downstairs? They do so like to sing." With a determined hand on her back he led her to his desk, where he sat upon the table itself, legs crossed like a little boy. Maka sighed. The topic was changed in such a way that she could not return to it...and her father really did know exactly what to do to try her temper.

"Did you have another query, dearest?"

Mysterious visitors could wait. Now was the time to prepare her best performance...! "Oh, yes. Papa?" Maka made sure to batt her eyelashes only three times. Any more would have been coquettish. "Why have you never taken me to meet my godfather? I met him the other day, and found him quite charming-"

Making a noise that sounded alarmingly like a death-rattle, Spirit fell backwards off the desk.

Maka stood up from her velvet-lined chair. "Papa?" Well that was a telling reaction. Terror was emanating from him like a strong wind. Yet why make a man her godfather if he was frightened of the man? Consequently, Maka made her mind to give Mr. Stein a large hug next she saw him. Clearly the man was someone who she would get along with for the foreseeable future.

"Maka? How did- when did- stay away from that terrible, terrible man!"

His edict would have held more weight had he not been cowering like a child behind his desk as he said it. Fighting down the urge to giggle, Maka brushed off her skirts. "Oh, Papa, you take your jokes so far. Mr. Stein was nothing but propriety and kindness. We had a lovely conversation, and I think he will be very helpful to me in the future!"

Lord Albarn shot to his feet and pointed dramatically at his daughter. "And? And? Something else must have occurred! Things always go wrong – always go badly whenever that man is involved! Were you hurt? Were you frightened? Did anything explode? Did you die?"

Well really now. That was taking it a step too far. Perhaps there was some truth in his statements – shattered glass was a very little like an explosion, especially when it housed a magical, alchemical creation – but certainly no one had stopped breathing.

"Papa, I am perfectly all right, as you can see. Certainly no one died. That is just silly."

Lord Albarn let out a long, suffering sigh. Before he could recoup, however, his daughter went on that attack.

"He has promised to help me find...well, the ring we spoke of earlier. I just wanted to make sure you were still agreeable to our bargain? It is a serious matter, and I would not wish to...well. If I find it, will you wear it?" Even before she finished speaking, her father's walls were back up. She had hoped to glean something from him, but that looked to impossible.

"Of course. If you find it, I will wear it. I gave my word, Maka."

There was a tension between them that Maka hated. Yet in the guarded rigidity of his stance, she finally was able to catch a glimpse of something true, something behind the wall – secrets. The silence was full of painful secrets, and it was only when she was in a position to finally find the Ring that she was no longer sure it would help at all...

"I – I see. All right, then. I had worried...well, when even my godfather's assistant seemed to think the Ring of Fidelity a cruel punishment-"

"Stein's...assistant?" The air between them was changing yet again. No longer thick and stagnant, it was now almost charged with energy.

"Y-yes. The one minding the shoppe? Tall, with unusually colored hair and eyes?" Maka knew she must tread carefully. There was a dangerous energy in the room, and while she would (as a matter of course) ignore any of her father's commands she did not agree with, this was unexpectedly nervewracking. Clearly, he knew Soul, and had no idea that she did. "Do...do you know him?"

"Stay away from him."

Maka bit down her shocked inhale. She had never known her father to exhibit this cold rage. For a fleeting moment, she was nervous. Yet then she remembered the warmth of Soul's crooked smile, and his condemnation of her father's actions. She knew Soul was dangerous, she was not naïve. Above all, however, there was a warmth in him, tempered by the shadowy wall he chose to hide behind. She wanted to trust in that more than she wanted to fear him!

It was with this in mind that Maka adopted a careless facade. She knew her father, and it would not do to betray any interest she harbored about Soul. "Papa? Don't you think you are overreacting? Stein's assistant has nothing to do with me. He simply overheard my conversation with my godfather about the Ring." When her father's dangerous expression did not waver, Maka played her devious trump card, knowing she would have to apologize to Soul in her dream tonight. She sighed dramatically. "You don't honestly think a shopboy would have designs upon me? Even he has heard of your despicable ways. He paid me no notice until he heard whose daughter I was – and then he looked down upon me!" Maka effected a tearful look. "If even the working class see fit to judge me because of your actions...how will men of the ton treat me? Oh, my life is too sad to bear..."

Maka disliked acting like this, but it was undeniably useful. Within a heartbeat, her father was at her side, fussing over her like a society lady. Oh, of course Maka would find a suitable husband! She was far too beautiful and intelligent to ignore! Added to these charms were her nobility, bearing, kindness, calm demeanor, hair, lips, eyes... As her father went on in his raptures, Maka closed her ears to the ridiculousness coming out of his mouth, and tried to listen for what he was actually saying. He harbored deep dislike – if not outright hatred – towards Soul. She needed to know why!

So, she focused all her energy on the heart beat behind her father's wall, and listened.

I will never let that Soul Eater claim my daughter.

Maka's heart thumped painfully in her breast. There had been such dedication and power in her father's mantra- and while she did not know precisely what a Soul Eater was, she knew it was something dangerous and terrible. Yet her father had felt her still in his arms, and peered into her wide-eyed face. Such reflections would have to wait until later, or in the dream when she could ask Soul what it...he was.

"Darling? Are you all right?"

It took effort to smile her usual smile, but she did it. "Perfectly, Papa. Now, let's leave all that unpleasantness behind us...why don't we return to my godfather? Perhaps about how you met...?"

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The Village- Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Winter, 1418

Unlike the previous nights, this dream was insistent. It tugged them implacably through the winter air, past hanging branches heavy with snow. There was no time to talk, the urgency of the dream was such that their personal concerns fell away. There was only time to lace their fingers together before they were compelled to watch, experience, learn.

The exigency of the dream faded when a cloaked figured came into view, surrounded by a gaggle of women, all smiling coquettishly.

"Mr. Tovenaar! What brings you out today? It's been so long since you've visited the village-"

The women fell silent when the he turned them, revealing that he was in actuality a she. Maka's eyes widened at the unguarded anger on many of the women's faces. This went deeper than simple disappointment, or even embarrassment. These women detested Ellsbeth, and it was because.-

That bitch how dare she take Tovenaar away from us? How can she follow him like a shadow? She's in the way, she's trouble, she's different. She must be a witch, to spell his eyes away from us-!

Maka's grip on Soul's hand tightened uncomfortably. The townswomen's thoughts were vitriolic and powerful; it had been a long time since she had read someone's thoughts so accurately. Yet their hatred was a more immediate concern.

"Excuse me, good ladies. I am not Tovenaar. I merely run an errand for him. Would you like me to pass on a message to him?"

Her speech was better, but still halted at times. Soul was willing to wager that she had not been here a full year yet, although the rhythm of her speech could be affected by her anger. Soul was no empath, but he could see the dark energy roiling at her shoulders, indicative of her attempts to hold back. He was sure Maka was dealing with the full brunt of this display, so he pressed her hand in support.

For a long, tense moment it looked as if the townswomen would throw caution to the winds and tell Ellsbeth just what they thought of her. Yet some inner prudence bade them hold their tongue, and so with an ungracious nod they bid their farewells. Ellsbeth watched them go with a curious expression on her face, one that was equal parts anger, disappointment and despondency. Maka understood this was not the first time this had happened, and when she whispered her suspicions to Soul, he nodded in agreement.

Then, without taking a single step, they found themselves in quite a different environment – a warm, dry hut that was filled with ornately bound books and skeins of yarn, unidentifiable herbs hanging from the rafters along with strings of brightly colored paper, and jars of animal organs alongside the fruit preserves sitting on the shelves. This was a new way of traveling for both of them, and it took them both a moment to orient themselves. Yet understanding was immediate – this was Tovenaar's home. As Soul looked around, he was struck by how harmoniously the arcane and domestic aspects of the cabin combined – here was a man of magical talents that had not turned his back on a normal life. The thought made him glance over at Maka, and his heart swelled in hope. Perhaps a life with her wasn't impossible, after all? She was brave, kind, and intelligent, and he would be as strong as he needed to be to keep her from the dangers associated with his occupation...and his abilities. Maybe these dreams were the key to obtaining that elusive happiness he had longed for with increasing urgency since he had met her?

The door flew open, allowing the snow and wind to swirl into the home. Ellsbeth thrust the hood away from her face as she shut the door carefully behind her. "Rein! I have brought the supplies!"

Tovenaar's voice carried through the closed door to their left. "Excellent. Thank you, Ellsbeth. Will you bring them with you? After you take a moment to warm up, of course."

Ellsbeth smiled as she gently laid her basket down and hung her cloak on the post by the door. She took a moment to slip off her leather boots, and began humming quietly. Ellsbeth's happiness was infectious; Maka's heart was lighter just watching her. She barely had to concentrate to experience Ellsbeth's peace and contentment – she loved everything about this cottage, this work, her new life. Yet most of all-

Ellsbeth swept past them and Maka lost the connection when Soul pulled her close to him to avoid a collision. Not that they could touch – they had already experimented the previous night, and they passed through whatever or whomever they tried to touch. Still, it was a disconcerting experience, and Maka smiled her thanks. Before he could do anything other than smile in return, Ellsbeth opened the door and they scurried after her.

"Good evening, Ellsbeth."

"Good evening. How goes your work? Are you close?"

Tovenaar looked up from the table, and Maka almost didn't recognize him. He was wearing a thick pair of goggles which seemed to wrap entirely around his head. Only the tufts of his red hair and the lips that curved into a gentle, signature smile were familiar.

"I should think we are close, yes. Did you bring the herbs?"

Ellseth indicated the basket on her hip yet made no move to place the basket on the table. Upon closer inspection, it was easy to see why: the table was absolutely full of clutter, and there was no space to put it. She pointedly looked at the mess and Tovenaar chuckled.

"Yes, yes, I will clean soon. But here, all we need to do is to add-" Here, the dream stopped translating his speech. Maka glanced at Soul with worry in her eyes, but Soul squeezed her hand reassuringly. Leaning close, he whispered his hypothesis – the dream did not want anyone to recreate Tovenaar's work, so perhaps it would leave out certain details? This made sense to Maka, and was proven when Tovenaar and Ellsbeth finished their concoction.

"So, how do we know it works?"

Tovenaar smiled as he pulled off his eye protection. "Truthfully, the only way to know is to try it. I suppose we will have to speak with the mayor about using it on prisoners, first. He is a kind man, and will see that a truth serum is far more humane than torture."

"But what if it doesn't work? Could not one of us try it first to see?"

Tovenaar's bright eyes were suddenly guarded. Maka's heart twisted for him, as she understood – if Ellsbeth wasn't here, he would have tried it on his own. More than any of his craft secrets, he was worried that he would announce his love for her...and be rejected. Or, worse than rejected, pitied. "We could, but it is not advisable. In this business there are many dangerous secrets, and I am not sure what I would tell you. Even more importantly, your secrets are your own, and I have no desire to wrest secrets from a lady." The last was said with a twinkle in his eye, but Ellsbeth was not assuaged. Before he could remove the cup from her presence, she daringly dipped her finger in it, and sucked the liquid from it. Her eyes flashed at his bewildered stare.

"I realize you know many dangerous things, Rein, and I understand why you cannot test this. But I have no secrets from you. All that I know is yours. So, please, ask me. We will test it here."

His face was so guarded and still, and only Maka could feel the terror and excitement whirling in his heart. This was why he truly loved her – her courage, her passion, and her inability to back down from the matters that left him trembling. There was a light shining deep within her that drew him to her, and it was instances like these that left him humbled.

"What is your name?"

"Ellsbeth Bingen."

"How old are you?"

"19."

"Why are you here?"

She hesitated slightly, but before she could help herself she blurted out: "Because my father died, and they would have killed me too."

Now it was Tovenaar's turn to pause. He was nearly certain it worked, although Ellsbeth showed no sign of surprise or dismay. Perhaps she merely trusted him? He was forced to continue, although he had no desire to cause her pain. He remembered what his sister had told him about the spiteful women in town, most of which viewed Ellsbeth as a threat. He was not entirely blind, and he knew it was because she was close to him. She would possess many more friends and be in a far more secure settlement if she had not accepted his offer. Perhaps that would be an appropriate alternative, even though he was sure he already knew the answer.

"Then why are you here with me, acting as my assistant?"

She froze, eyes wide and worried. Then she responded, closing her eyes as she did. "Because you are wonderful. Because every day I am happy to work with you, and learn from you, and see you. You are...the best part of my life, and I do not care who hates me if I am able to see you for one more day." By the end of her confession she was shaking in her effort to stop her lips. There was clearly no more need to continue the experiment, as she was overcome by her confession. So it was to her shock that Tovenaar dipped a finger into the serum as well, bringing it slowly to his lips.

"Ask me, Ellsbeth. We will be equal in all things."

Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she did as he commanded. "What is your name?"

"Rein Tovenaar."

"How old are you?"

"34."

A small, sad smile. "Why did you choose me to be your assistant?"

He reached for her hands before he responded. "Because I have never met anyone like you – your courage, your intelligence, your beauty, your smile...I love you, Ellsbeth. I want to be with you all the days of my life." He brought her hands to his chest, his eyes burning brighter than ever before.

For a long moment Ellsbeth could only stare in wonder at her hands, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against his chest. Eventually, she wound her fingers around his and pulled them back to her. Shyly, she tilted her head down so that he might not see the color creeping over her cheeks.

"Then perhaps...perhaps you must kiss me, Rein."

He needed no further encouragement. Carefully he freed his hands so that he could tangle them into her hair, and gently pull her close to him. He angled her face towards his, sweeping his thumbs over her cheekbones before he leaned in to touch his lips to hers.

Soul averted his eyes out of modesty. He was not a prudish man, but deemed it rude to watch such a heartfelt embrace, especially when he had been privy to other emotional moments in their lives. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure what the attitude towards sex and marriage was in this century, and he certainly was not going to watch anything sordid. He glanced over at Maka, feeling her grip on his hand tighten. What he saw surprised him – she was not only watching the fervent couple's kiss, her eyes were wide and practically sparkling with animation. It was only then that he remembered she was an empath, and would no doubt be influenced by the lovers' emotions...

He made a decision swiftly. Although the dream had not faded away on its own, he had to remove Maka from the immediate vicinity...if only to protect her propriety. He steadily ignored the fact that the joy she radiated made it difficult not to give in and kiss her. So he tugged her out of the work room, not relaxing until he had relocated her to the other side of Tovenaar's home. Only then did he allow himself to look at her.

"Are you all right?"

Her cheeks were lightly flushed, but the unnatural sheen was fading from her eyes. It took her longer than he would have liked to respond. "I...I think so. I'm sorry, it was just so strong. They love each other so much..." She trailed off when she looked at him directly, seeing more than just concern in his beautiful eyes. Perhaps her empathy was growing stronger, or he was more affected by the dream than he let on, but she could almost taste the strong feeling in his breast. That she could sense it shocked her, almost as much as the existence of it. Hope flooded through her, and it was only her inborn sense of righteousness that kept her from forcing her way in to his heart to see the secrets he kept there. After all, it wouldn't mean anything if he didn't tell her...

The dream had made her bold. She stepped close to him, placing her hand on his chest. It was nearly the same as between Ellsbeth and Tovenaar, and Soul's nostrils flared, seeing the connection. "I can feel it, Soul. I won't look, but I know it's there." She paused as she noticed the split second of panic flash over his face. She was not entirely sure what it meant, so she continued. "So, in the interest of equality, I will tell you that I believe... I feel the same." The enormity of her confession suddenly struck her, and she pulled her hands away, blushing a deep crimson. Unable to face him she spun around, clutching her elbows and breathing deeply in an attempt to keep from panicking.

I feel the same. Maka's words echoed through his mind until he thought he might go mad from joy. Logically he knew there was a reason he simply could not profess his own love for her, but in that moment it was lost. So a few moments later, without knowing how he got there, he found himself holding her close to his chest, wondering at the soft slide of her hair between his fingers, and if she could hear his heart pounding against his chest.

"Soul? I-"

"Shhh, love. Just- just for a moment. Don't worry." She wriggled in his arms and for a worrisome moment he thought she may be trying to get free. She proved him wrong when she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling their faces so close that their cheeks touched. This was a level of intimacy that Soul had not expected, particularly when he realized he could feel the exhalations of her breath on his ear. The power of the dream was merging with the swell of their emotions, and Soul suddenly found it quite difficult to pull away from her. He tried reminding himself of Lord Albarn's seductions and the way they had hurt her, but all attempts were proving in vain when it came to the woman in his arms. He knew his fate was sealed when she pulled back just enough to gain a clear view of his face. There was no need to barricade his heart from her abilities – his love for her was superficially apparent. From the blossoming warmth in her own eyes, she knew all.

It was time to deviate from Stein's careful plan of woo'ing and winning. "Maka, there's I need to tell you. I'm not who you think I am. Truthfully, I-"

Maka laid her fingers upon his lips. Her guilt at having downplayed her affections for him to her father had taken hold, and she saw the opportunity not only to learn more, but to make her apologies. "Perhaps I already know – I spoke to my father earlier, and I used my...talents on him, and he thought you a soul-eater." She looked up at him, trusting and innocent. "Is that what you are? What is that?"

This was the moment it would all fall apart. This was the terrible secret that had denied him his heritage, and most of his earthly happiness. It was what he had tried so hard to forget, but would now dash any hope for her love...when he told her, would she run? Faint? Scream? Or would she merely turn from him, knowing in her heart that he was a monster?

"Soul?" He had turned to stone in her arms, and a chill crept up her spine. She had assumed the term to be a nickname of some sort, and had assured herself it wasn't truly what it sounded like. Now, faced with Soul's reaction, she wondered if she had been terribly naïve.

"It is...a talent, one could say. A little like your empathy. But it is much darker, and much more dangerous. Let me try to explain...sometimes, when people die, their souls do not travel with them. They stay behind as ghosts, and depending on whether the person was evil, or simply powerful, they can become demons as well. In those cases, I am called to...dispatch those souls. But only the evil ones, Maka. Never those that choose to ascend."

Maka blinked, stunned. Whatever she had expected...it had not been this. "Do you...eat the souls?"

"Yes." The air between them was as fragile as glass, and a single wrong move threatened to shatter it entirely. Yet she had not pulled away, although her hands had dropped from his neck to his chest.

"Can you eat the souls of the living? Or only the dead?"

He closed his eyes so that he would not see her rejection. "If they are close enough to death, then yes. Healthy, normal people no. Never. I swear to you."

"This is why you were so lonely. Why your barrier is so strong. Why-" The power of her father's barrier sprang to mind, and the implication overpowered her. While she doubted her father to be a soul-eater as well - judging by his hatred for them - he must have an ability of his own. There was no other explanation. To be acquainted with Soul and Stein, and protect himself the way he could...? The shock caused her to pull back, rubbing her hands together in thought. Too late she realized how her action appeared to Soul, who watched her with dimming eyes. She could feel the despair seeping from his heart; he thought she had rejected him!

"Soul, I-"

"I understand. I merely wish I could change this."

"Soul, no! I just need a moment-"

Yet there was no more time. Without warning, the grey haze swirled from their ankles to their eyes and before she could finish, they awoke.

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I am fudging the concept of soul eating a little bit, but as I've already removed his role as a weapon, I'm hoping that's ok...and technically (as far as I can recall) don't the enemies have to be either mortally wounded or dead to give up their souls? So maybe there is no fudging at all. Tra la laaaa!

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Ellsbeth's last name comes from the lovely Hildegard von Bingen, who was an early Great in music history. If you want to know what good music from the 12th century sounds like, look that lady up.

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Also, just as a point of reference – Black*Star, Tsubaki, Kid, Liz, and Patti will (at this point) probably not be featured in this fic. In the beginning I wanted to include them (or at the least BS and Tsubaki) but I figured out fairly quickly that would stretch this tale past the 7 chapter mark that I wanted. If ever I somehow obtain more time than I currently possess, maybe I could write them in a sequel (haha). As for now, sorry :/

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I will try my best to get the next three chapters up as timely as possible. School started up a few days ago, however, so no (real) promises. I will try! Only two more chapters plus an epilogue to go!

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R&R!