A/N: Howdy, y'all, Flamey Here. Sorry for the weird two-part format, I wasn't planning on having to use it till chapter 15 or 20, but here we are I suppose. Last chapter had quite the amount of hidden details and context over a whole bunch of characters, which gives us some breathing room for this chapter to just have fun. As always, I have to add a bit of info for our subplots. But after that, I promise this chapter will be a good one.
P.S. The language used in the first section of this chapter is not in fact gibberish, and is actually a language I made up, just like Quarkian as seen in the prior two chapters. The language itself, and the actual prayer it was spoken in, are both large parts of my Septarian headcanon. Their religion, Markatch (pronounced Mah-K-hatt), will be further explored as the series proceeds, just as the other two religions, Raknat (Raak-Gnat), and Yawhuism (Ya-Wa-He-Ism) are. Needless to say, I've spent far more time daydreaming about the SVTFOE expanded universe than I do writing about it. Sorry!
P.P.S I wanna make a distinction between Active and Passive musical cues. An active cue is music that is physically heard during the narrative, like a waltz or a marching band. While Passive music is music spliced in to enhance the experience for the reader, think of it like how movies add in music to add character to scenes.
P.P.P.S I'm an engineer with a minor in physics, not a microbiologist, sue me!
Anyway, here's wonderwall.
Unbroken Bonds
Chapter 6 Part Two
To Revel And Reconcile
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Sat in the rolling rural hills of Echo Creek, a solitary hut stood battered by the dewy air of the terrestrial morning. The lodge was situated in a shallow valley, whose heads flanked it on its east and west. While the position of the hut seemed counterproductive, as the sun was instrumental in its use, it was in fact expertly placed. Inside the house it was dim and still, the only source of light being a small flame, dancing along the braids of a saturated wick. It burned with just enough vigor to paint the room in a twilight of sorts. Not too dim to disrespect the treasured ornaments of the small abode, but not too bright as to overpower the soon to be visible sun. Its owner, who sat atop an ornate floor rug reclined on his heels, patiently waited for the first signs that the morning had begun.
The seconds passed by in silence before the windows of the cabin finally revealed their silent alarm. The windows themselves were designed to direct the sunlight to flow in a specific manner, and so once the rays of the early sun finally hit them, the interior of the hut was detailed by rolling strings of amber light. The owner, now notified that his dawn ceremony had begun, sat up off his heels and extinguished the small flame with the claws of his reptilian hands. With the interior now looked after by the grace of the sun, the man sat back on the rug, bowed his head, and began reciting his prayer.
"Atchmara," he said in a low voice. Raising a palm into the air, he showed it to both the windows before letting it rest on his leg. He did the same with his other hand, after which he closed his eyes and resumed his prayer.
"Slah, Kala, Atch slakk, slacm dla tulee meg masal dla ekker, atche sem slakk"
Drawing in a deep breath, he bent forward and fixed his hands in a triangle shape before him. He then kneeled over and bowed his head atop his hands, exhaling deeply before returning to his original state. He continued, "Sem k'tuleere; atche lamac mue. Chek tulee e'slacm k mue meg k mue chek. Meg chek slaccala, k e'dla muee atche."
He repeated the bowing gesture with the same inhaling and exhaling rhythms, yet this time taking a longer respite in his prostate position. "Slah Atch, slakk kala, sem'slacm mue blece smmala talatulee, meg atche, t'll." With the final word having rolled off his tongue, the man reclined yet again on his heels and basked in the silence of the room. Throughout his centuries of practice, his morning ceremony had become deeply engraved in his muscle memory. It was as if his body shut off for those few tranquil minutes, simply letting his subconscious mind perform the short pious gesture. Soon, as the minutes ticked by, he offered a curt head-bow before gently standing up, relighting the candle at the snap of his fingers. With his eyes now open, he pivoted on his heels and went to exit the hut, shielding his eyes from the blinding gaze of the terrestrial sun.
He had only ever been to Earth one or two times before the mission. It was a pretty pivotal place in understanding the ins and outs of the Mewman species after all, so a few quick voyages to the green planet were essential. Remarkably, everywhere he looked, he saw glimpses of Septarsis starting back at him. The rolling hills, the abundant flora, the seemingly boundless oceans too saturated to drink from. A small part of him wondered if, just like the Mewmans, he might have descended from a common ancestor derived from the primordial ponds of this world. But, at least for now, these questions weren't that important. While his mission here might have the same focus as the other ones, his current goal revolved around death, not life.
With that in mind, he sharpened his focus back on the task at hand. Knowing that his master had finished his morning prayer by now, he held up his palm to show a thin metal disk which promptly raised itself off his scales to float effortlessly in the air. Its surface gleamed with a dim blue glow until, finally, a hologrammed face emerged from the pulsing blue waves. "Master," the man bowed his head to show respect to his superior.
"What have you to say, Toffee?" the hologram asked.
"She accepted the alliance under a frivolous condition. Her and her army are running drills as we speak."
"That is good to hear," the man said through the device, his face rendered by blue polygons. "And how soon do you plan to stage the attack, a month was it you said?"
"It was," Toffee started, staring down at the town below from his alcove in the hills, "but I've accelerated our efforts. If no new troubles emerge, we are set for this Saturday."
"This Saturday…" His master fell quite as he pondered the new schedule, unsure of what to make of it. "A month allowed us time to coerce the other boy to our side, are you so sure that this plan of yours will come to fruition."
"No, I am not," Toffee replied emotionlessly, "In fact, I'm almost certain it won't. But nonetheless, I've come up with a new vector to use on the young Lucitor."
"And that is?" his master asked, intrigued by Toffee's idea.
"Madame Paratrix," Toffee said coldly, staring the hologram dead in the eyes. "Introduce her to the boy, and he'll be ready by the time the earthling is."
"Cleaver, very clever," his master chuckled, delighted as always to Toffee's knowing solutions. "I'll send for her retrieval during the king's court. I know not of her current condition, but if her dominion over the spirit is even half what it was a century ago, she should still serve us well."
"A sound plan," Toffee concluded.
"All thanks to you," the man asserted with a long smile. "I await your return this Sunday. Oh, and one last thing."
"Yes?" Toffee replied, awaiting his new instruction."
"That wretched sword, I yearn for it," the smile on the hologram's face washed away as a terrible snarl replaced it. "Bring it to me; a reprisal is in order."
"As you wish, lord Seth," Toffee said, bowing to his master before collecting the floating disk in his palm to stash in his belt pocket. This saturday, he menaced, reveling in the excitement of it, this saturday begins our plan centuries in the making.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Colder, I need it colder.
Marco's body shook with shivers as his hands grappled at his sides, holding his arms tight against his goose-bump ridden chest as the shower head blasted him with an onslaught of cold water. No matter how many times he would find himself here, the effect was always the same. Ice cold showers had become a tradition for him whenever he was feeling particularly vulnerable. Having started taking them during his sojourn in the icy tundras of the Neverzone, they helped him focus and block out any unwanted thoughts. And after that dream he had, he needed its help.
But yet, no matter how cold he made the shower go, his memories of the dream he had that night stayed glued to his psyche. Having always had the affinity for descriptive, near-prophetic dreams, visions from his past weren't all that new to him. But unlike all the others, this one felt real: eerily real. Almost like he was physically in the moment, and everywhere he was taken was in fact reality. From what he had learned from his ninth grade psychology teacher, every dream was supposed to have its meaning. No matter how weird or downright trippy they came off as, they were supposed to convey something specific about the person who dreamt them. Knowing this, and actively trusting it, only made him more concerned over the irregular dream.
"Babe, Marco. You ok in there?" Called an angelic feminine voice. The words made his shivers take a temporary respite before resuming under the torrent of cold water. To him, there was absolutely nothing in the universe more beautiful than her voice. That, or his hypothermia was starting to get at him.
"Y-yeah, I'm g-good," he tried keeping his chattering to a minimum, but it was still obvious in his voice that he was freezing.
"Ok, ok," she said in an unconvinced voice, "It's just… you've been in there for a while now."
"Uhh, just a bit of grooming, t-that's all." The sting of lying through his teeth dug deeper than the frozen rain pelting his skin, especially to her.
"Oh, well ok. Just makin' sure is all," the ring of her sweet voice echoed in his ears as the sounds of her footsteps gently faded into the buzz of his shower. The momentary warmth he had felt in Star's presence melted away as the chills of the bathroom returned to him. Deciding he'd had enough, he flipped off the shower's handle and fished his hand out around the glass sliding doors to retrieve his towel. He gave himself a few minutes to drip dry before fixing the towel around his waist, and stepping out of the cold confines of the bath. The air was much tamer outside of the glass prism, being a good fifteen degrees warmer outside than in. One of the luxuries of taking a cold shower was the fact that the bathroom's mirror wouldn't fog up from the humidity of the shower, which made it easier for Marco to stare at the utter mess that was his reflection.
"Jesus…" He mouthed to no one in particular. The last three days had been exceptionally bad to him, and his physical well being was clearly showing it. Aside from the two large, black bags hanging under his eyes, his cheeks were adorned with matching scrapes and bruises. A small reddish-purple notch renting the right-hand side of his forehead had gone particularly unnoticed by him until now, but now that saw it, he could feel its sting. Looking down at his hands, he noticed his cut up and caliced they were, exhausted from fist-fights and sword duels. He felt weak, especially after the shower, which had drained practically all of the energy he had left after waking up.
He entertained his thoughts in the back of his head as he moved for his partition of the bathroom mirror, sliding it open to run through the assortment of hygiene products. Ignoring them, he reached around the back of the sliding mirror and brushed his hand up and down its height, stopping only when he felt the small outline of a metal key hit his finger. Taking it in his hands, he leaned down under the counter and fitted it in the silver lock of a small drawer. Having unlocked the drawer, he double checked that the hallway door was locked before pulling the drawer open. Inside was an assortment of bottles and vials of several substances, all lined up and organized via a series of chalk outlines courtesy of his OCD. After searching its contents, he procured a small, translucent box from the back of the drawer. Inside said box was a few bandages, a rectangular device, and a box of hypodermic needles. Taking out the rectangular device in one hand, he used his other to carefully take a singular needle from the box. He attached it on the end of the device and removed the thin plastic cap, unearthing the needle to the cold air of the room.
Booting the device up, he relaxed his hand as he pressed his index finger onto the cold surface of the needle. He let it sit there for a moment as it collected a sample of his blood before slowly extracting the needle from his skin. As the small device analyzed his sample, he retrieved a bandage from the container, and wrapped it around the small hole left by the needle. The device made quick work of his blood, and after a while, it spat out a singular message on its small, square screen, "miR-150-5p PARTIAL-DENATURATION DETECTED. DOSAGE: 260mg ."
Reaching back into the small drawer, he retrieved a short, red caped bottle which he opened easily. A small inscription on the cap read in faded letters, 'Alkyltransferase'. Taking a singular pill out from its confines, he plopped it in his mouth and swallowed it down with ease. "No wonder I feel like shit," he breathed, propping himself up on the white polished countertop of the bathroom sink.
Three days without his meds usually wasn't much to worry about, at least it usually wasn't. There were times he went weeks on Mewni without so much as a headache, the longest being his time stuck with River during Toffee's return. It didn't take long for him to realize the one variable that set apart this adventure and all the rest: the magic dimension. Having never been inside a webular hold, and also taking into account the fact that he was probably the first human in thousands of years to do so, it wasn't out of the question that such a place would sport a radioactivity many times stronger than that of Mewni.
Fortunately for him, whenever he had a problem, the feds were always ten steps ahead of him in fixing it. It was apparent from the beginning that compared to Earth, Mewni and its respective subspace were absolutely brimming with radioactivity. Edmund had briefly explained to him why it was so toxic, something about an abundance of 'Partially Formed Ananons' and 'Quasi-Webular Transfer Events'. Despite how interesting webular physics seemed to him, every time someone tried to explain it to him, the details simply flew over his head undisturbed. It's why his true fascination stuck with psychology, at least that stuff makes sense.
As a response to the hostility of Mewni's subspace, Dr. Woods and her team went full Resident Evil and developed what was for all intents and purposes a virus. However, instead of being used as a vector of transmission for malicious RNA, the pseudo-virus was simply a way to inject a person's cells with Alkyltransferase, a cellular macro protein used to correct genetic material. Radiation, especially gamma radiation, has the hapless tendency to absolutely decimate DNA, which to the laymen, is quintessentially in the workings of organic beings. The Alkyltransferase counteracts the effects of the radiation, which after being ingested, makes quick work of the body in about eight hours.
They really went the extra mile when they developed the MRPU, otherwise known as the 'MicroRNA Processing Unit', which analyzes the free RNA in one's blood. The specific strain, miR-150-5p, is especially fragile, and denatures easily. It also just so happens to be a prime indicator of ovarian cancer, but seeing as Marco wasn't all that at risk of contracting such a condition, they settled with it as an indicator of radiation poisoning.
Having corrected his health, Marco placed his pharmaceuticals back in their drawer in their respective places. Closing it, he fiddled with the small silver key before it finally let in and slid out of the lock. No matter how many times he went through the whole charade, the key always proved to be an annoyance. With that having said, he fixed the key back under the tap behind the mirror, and left the bath the same way he found it. Entering through the door that led to his domicile, he closed the threshold behind him and shed off his towel, unveiling his natural form. And so, the moment he did, a small giggle sounded off from behind him.
With a face redder than crimson, he slowly turned his head to lock eyes with a blond girl, who sported an ear-to-ear grin. He froze as if he were caught in headlights, unable to react as his mind proceeded the raw data he took in. Finally, after what felt like an hour his body unlocked and he sprang into action. His left hand immediately ducked to cover his lower torso, as his right foot scampered back in search of his discarded towel. Having located said towel with his foot, he gripped it with his toes and flung it in the air for his spare hand to catch. His hands worked in unison as they sloppily redressed him, all the while yelping nonsense at a still beady-eyed Star.
"STAR!" He finally managed to yell legibly, "Why are you in my room?"
"Oh please, calm down, loverboy," she scoffed while climbing off his bedside. "Nothing I haven't seen before."
"Nothing you haven't what?" He refraised as he shot her an aghast look.
"Or, more like… nothing I haven't felt before, if you catch my drift, rrrrrarr" she purred, stepping up to him to lean against his chest. Despite him flinching backwards at the feel of her touch, she reaffirmed her position, pressing closer against his side while running a hand seductively down his ice-cold chest.
"You gotta stop hanging out with Janna," Marco chuckled to himself as he dipped down to plant a peck on her flowing hair, something he found himself repeatedly doing. "She's like… corrupting you with her ability to freak me out."
"Mhhh, I think that's a good thing," she mouthed, leaning her head into the crook of his neck. She had no intention of it to begin with, but as soon as her lips brushed against his neck, she was filled with the need for them to do it again. She parted her lips and gave his neck a long lick, absolutely loving the slightly salty tang of his skin. Reasonability was lost to her as she latched onto him, raining down an array of amorous affections. "Ok, ok, down girl," Marco jested as Star continued with her strange ministrations. It took some effort, but he managed to pry the affectionate girl off him. The rejection on her face was apparent, and almost made him feel bad for breaking up whatever it was she was doing. "Can't be walking around with any 'love-marks' from whatever it was you were just doing."
Immediately, Star snapped back to reality. To her, the past few seconds were just a fuzzy haze. She wasn't sure what Marco was talking about, maybe he was back to being overly careful around her. But yet, she shook off her confusion and refocused on the reason she was waiting for him. Having noticed Marco approaching his dresser, she turned around to give him some privacy. "Oh, by the way, when you were in the shower, my mom called."
"Oh," Marco said through the muffle of the shirt he was putting on, "What did she have to say? She was fine last night with you staying over, right?"
"Yeah, no, it wasn't about that," she replied, fighting the urge not to peek at what she assumed was a still half-naked Marco. "It was actually about tonight."
"And what might that be?" Marco said with genuine interest.
"The noble assembly. My mom said Edmund already told you about it?"
"Ooooohh, yeah, yeah my bad," replied Marco, who was too busy putting on a pair of sweatpants to kick himself over forgetting the ball. "Well, all he really told me was that there's going to be some big ball with all the people that ran Mewni. Just to, like, acclimate them to Echo Creek."
"A ball!?" Star said with a mix of confusion and excitement. "Nobody said nothing about a ball!"
"Isn't that all a ball is?" Marco reasoned, "a bunch of really important people in one area."
"Oh, Marco," Star sighed, turning around to face her now fully-dressed boyfriend. "Innocent, sweat, dumb Marco. Never change," she approached him and cupped his cheek with her palm before raising up on her tippy toes to kiss him gently. "You still have so much to learn about royal stuff."
"It was a joke Star, and you don't have to keep calling me stupid," he said, kissing her back while brushing a stray strand of hair from her eyes.
"Oh, and about last night," Marco fought down the rising butterflies in his stomach as he prepared to ask Star a rather burning question of his. "Do you think that, in the future- Well, if the opportunity ever presented itself for us to, umm."
"Yes, Marco," Star saved him from his stutters with a content smile. "We can do that again whenever you like, as much as you like."
"Wait, really?" Again it was his turn to be shocked by his partner's words; the faint buzz of approval vibrating through his veins.
"Yeah, of course. What, you think I didn't enjoy it too, dummy?" Star replied.
"I just, I didn't know girls liked doing that stuff," the moment the words came out of his mouth, he realized how stupid they were.
"You think girls don't like doing sexy stuff?" She fixed him with a serious stare before playfully hitting his arm, "Marco, that's like, our main MO half the time. Jeez, Earth girls must be soooo boring."
With a giggle, she brushed past him on her way towards the door, making sure to throw just a hint of sashay into her step. The thought that once she left the room she wouldn't see him until nightfall delivered her a mix of sadness and excitement. On one hand, they had stayed side-by-side for nearly three days now, and the idea of having to abandon him to return home wasn't a comforting one. Yet, on the other hand, the thought of Marco, dressed up in a suit, greeting her as they met at the assembly, balanced her out with joy. Furthermore, she knew she would eventually have to part ways with Marco, even if it was only for a few hours. And despite all the absolutely terrible, world shattering events of the past few days, her time with him had been out of this world.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Emund awkwardly stood with his arms raised up in both directions and a bored expression on his face. A team of headset-donned workers wearing matching white coveralls swarmed around him as they worked to piece together his suit. For him, it was mildly infuriating that he was taking orders from a bunch of grease monkeys, especially ones who had almost no idea what they were preparing him for.
"Where's the strap?" a worker said as he fitted a white boot to Edmund's foot.
"Use your eyes, Bill, it's there" said another worker in response as he tightened Edmund's gloves.
"Not on his right foot, dumbass, you forgot'em."
The entire process of suiting up for the cavern investigation was maddening for the young physicist. For starters, he could have easily thrown on the pseudo-protective suit they had fitted him with on his own. It was nothing more than a thin polycarbon full-body covering with a pair of common lab boots and gloves to match. Except, knowing the program, they probably cost twenty thousand a pop or something or the other. During his ride there, they had insisted that the 'professionals' were the best fit to 'secure his safety', but after seeing how said 'professionals' performed, he was actually starting to grow concerned over what should be a totally safe operation.
"Allright, that's good," Edmund finally said as he shook the bickering men off his leg.
"Sir, we haven't finished lacin' up your boots," said one worker who held a metal strap in his hand.
"No, no I'm good, thank you for the assistance," Edmund tried to hide the vexation in his voice as bid the workers a farewell and exited the suiting room. The full scale of the complex came into view as he passed out of the twin zipper doors, with all the glistening tarp structures scattered around the small taco shop. They didn't have much time to set up the camp, just a handful of hours as they raced against the clock to secure the well. There was a medical tent, a mobile lab, a small array of brakes and an outdoor canteen with a stockpile of MREs. Comfort wasn't in the budget, so the scientists stationed overnight spent their sleep atop camping pads and thin linens. Not that heat was a problem, in fact it was the opposite. A day's work under the Californian summer in what was in all practicality a sauna suit inspired quite the flow of perspiration, which made air fresheners a must in the barracks.
Fortunately for Edmund, his life was far too hectic to be cooped up in a small tent city. He only had just under an hour to check out the cavern before his presence would be needed elsewhere, hence his annoyance with the slow suiting up process. As he strolled past huddled groups of scientists and workers pitching and tearing down tents and machinery, his eyes focused on the two large tarps draped over the side of a small hill just behind the restaurant. The glare of summer sun was already wearing away his stamina, making sweat bead up on his forehead as his eyewear fogged up from his hurried breaths. When he reached the tarp-doors, he slid between them and stepped into the cool shade of the burrows. After his eyes adjusted to the dim LEDs that lit up the cave, he started down the steep decline into the heart of the cave. The rocky path soon gave way to a shallow puddle of a thick, black ether as he descended further into the cave. By the time he reached the flat basin at the bottom of the slope, he was knee deep in the dark liquid, which clung to wherever it touched his plastic coverall.
"Edmund, Edmund, 'aye Edmund!" His attention was stolen by a voice as he turned to face its origin. There, wadding towards him in the ether, was a short, mud-ridden man holding a clipboard under his arm. Starting towards the man, he met him halfway across the cavern. They were both panting after having drudged through the thick liquid pooled on the floor, which was exceptionally difficult to move through.
"What's up, Cameron?" Edmund shook Cameron's hand before taking the clipboard from under his arm. It was safely secured in a plastic ziplock bag, which with gloves proved quite the challenge to open. Flipping through its pages, he gleaned over the charts and illegible scribbles before stowing the board back into the bag and hooking it onto his coverall's belt.
"Up? What's up is my step count, man. This stuff is hell to walk through." The two made their way to the center of the cavern where there stood a small, circular wall made of crumbling bricks.
"That's all that's left of it?" Edmund asked.
"When the hold erupted it tore the poor thing to shreds."
Edmund bent down to examine the remains of the small well. The stones had stayed relatively intact, the wooden top, however, wasn't as fortunate. From the one other time he had seen the thing, he remembered it as an old stone medieval well with a rickety wooden housing, which now nowhere to be seen. The two metal spikes fusing the wooden top and stone basin were still in place, each with a small square of ripped wood attached to them, but for the most part the well had been reduced to a glorified stone circle. As he looked around the room, he started piecing together a probable series of events that followed the cleaving.
"So I'm guessing," he started, pacing around the crumbling structure, "When the hold collapsed, the heat from the particulates turning to ash blasted a fuckton of matter out of the well, ripping apart the roof and painting the room black while doing so."
"Damn Sherlock Holmes over here," Cameron laughed as he joined Edmund's side, "You got a degree in identifyin' the obvious?"
"You guys find any wood chips?" Edmund asked, ignoring Cameron's statement. "I don't know why we didn't do it before, but if I can get my hands on some of the wood from the roofing, we can date it to try and get a more accurate picture for the neo-humans."
"Ya got those two squares on the well, dont'cha," Cameron said. "Why'd ya never date it in the first place."
"Because we had other priorities…" Edmund answered as he pulled the wooden hinge off the well. It took some effort, with the combination of the ether and his gloves making any kind of grip something impossible. Taking the plastic bag, he sealed the wooden block and discarded the clipboard into the black sludge, where it slowly sank until it was completely consumed by the mass.
"The hell man?" Cameron protested as Edmund hooked the plastic bag to his coverall's belt.
"Saw it, read it, know it," Edmund said. He pulled up the press of his glove and checked his watch, sighing as his time in the cavern was coming to a close.
"Listen man, duty calls. Take this-" he unlatched the bag from his belt and handed it to Cameron, "-get it carbon dated. Unless it's a Quarkian tree, if it is, then date it with Thorium."
"Yes sir…" Cameron said with a hint of despondency in his voice.
"What," Edmund turned around to face his friend, whose face was mostly hidden through his fogged-up helmet.
"It's you man. Ever since you went to work for Haverford, you've changed." Cameron let out a heavy sigh before staring Edmund dead in the eyes. Even through the haze, his notions were still clear. "It's like you see us as drones: guys you can boss around instead of, ya know… your guys."
"Cameron, I'm your boss, I'm supposed to boss you around, that's my job."
"Oh, so the moment you got that letter, you just leveled up then, huh?" Cameron's voice started growing rasher and more aggressive as he stepped up closer to Edmund.
"Just because you're upset that I got the letter and you didn't doesn't mean I think any less of you guys." Edmund stepped up closer in response to Cameron's assertion, now with just a handful of inches separating them. "What I'm here to do is observe, record and accelerate your work. And so if that means talking to you as if you work for me, which, coincidentally, you actually do, then that's what I'm gonna."
"Yeah, and fuck all, too," Cameron tore away from Edmund's stare and paced away through the thick ether. He stopped after just a handful of feet and turned around to stare down at him with an angry frown distorted by his visor. "You only got that promotion 'cause you're smart, and you're only smart 'cause you were fucking stupid!"
As he watched his old friend stomp angrily through the cumbersome ether, Edmund started feeling that all-too-familiar shiver of guilt again. Cameron wasn't the first of his scientists to go berserk on him, and he was sure he wouldn't be the last. As he walked back towards the slope that bridges the cavern and the outside world, he pulled up his vizor, dug into his coverall pocket and pulled out his pack of Newport cigarettes. He tore a glove off with his teeth and used his newly freed hand to pluck a cigarette out and plant it between his lips. He held his unearthed watch up to the end of the bud and clenched his hand, not flinching as a small tift of fire lit up the end of the cigarette
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
It wasn't everyday Marco had the privilege of riding in a full-stretch limousine, especially one as detailed as this. His family, while relatively well off due to his father being a well respected physician, never really bothered with many luxuries. Setting aside the few ornate decorations they would pull out during family gatherings and the like, they lived well below their means. Whenever they could they made sure to purchase their novelties in thrift stores or other discount ventures, making sure to haggle their way into a good deal. Marco for one didn't mind this at all. For him, even at a young age the thought of buying gaunt objects just to flaunt that you have more money than someone else felt childish. Having been raised in a Catholic household, they made sure to give away just as much as they were blessed with, and thankfully, their blessings weren't few and far between.
Yet, when it came to clothing, his family's ideology seemed to fall back. For casual attire they weren't big spenders, but whenever it came to formal clothing they made sure to show some effort. 'You can tell the value of a man by two ways, mijo' his father would say before any slightly fancy gathering, 'The respect he's willing to show to others, and the clip he wears on his tie'. Obviously, it was easy for him to agree with his father. Formal attire was meant to gauge just how much you cared for a certain event, and how far you were willing to go to show others that you respected them and their ventures. With that being said, it was no surprise that throughout his life, he always had an ample supply of dress pants, undershirts and suit jackets to draw from whenever he needed them. He had ties, belts, even a few pocket squares stashed in the upper draws of his dresser. Everything and anything one would need for a fancy occasion.
Marco glanced down at his wrist codex, '19:33' it read. The codex, while not fully matching the attire of the rest of his outfit, was a must. It was a small gift he received from the Butterfly program the night before Star arrived. From the outside it looked no different from one of your run-of-the-mill smart watches, but aside from serving as a wrist watch, it also had an array of other useful features. It kept track of his vitals, knew his location even without internet access, could send and receive messages, and also had a miniature pin prick for blood analysis as well as a small removable vial of tranexamic acid if he ever found himself bleeding profusely. Needless to say, throughout all his multi-dimensional adventures, it proved to be a reliable and robust ally. And even though he was almost certain he wouldn't need it, it didn't hurt to bring it along.
Having been picked up around seven, he reasoned they couldn't be far from their destination. The ride had been particularly quiet. Not that quiet wasn't desirable, quite the opposite in fact. For the past few months, the Diaz household had been a maze of loud noises and foul smells as everyone got used to Mariposa's presence. And having been lucky enough to set up a babysitter on such short notice, the car ride offered his two exhausted parents their first real slice of tranquility in what felt like ages.
While his parents took the time to explore the inside of the limousine, searching every nook and cranny trying to find any hidden secrets, Marco chose to do something completely different. It gave him time to get lost in his thoughts, to spend some quality time with his consciousness and no one else. Ever since Star left that morning, he'd been keeping himself busy with community work, opting to join in on the cleanup seeing as, much like Calvin, he considered himself a 'strong, capable man'. Either way, setting aside the time he spent in the shower, he hadn't allotted much to figuring out just what in the hell was wrong with him. It's just one thing after another, he thought, never a dull moment.
He occasionally glanced outside the tinted window behind him to check where they were. Slowly but surely, their surroundings had morphed from suburban flats, to urban sprawl, and now rural forests and homes. He had already expected the location of the assembly was on the outskirts of the perimeter, most likely in the direction of San Diago seeing as the feds were famously lazy and wouldn't dare stray far from their base in Alpine. He knew they were getting close when the stop-and-start traffic they merged with in Echo Creek started again, signaling they had reunited to society. From what he had been told, he was expecting a pretty big turnout. Every level of nobility, from the lower guilds to the former monarchs had been chauffeured to the assembly, and for those unaware, Mewni was crazy about its nobility. His parents for one were ecstatic to rub shoulders with even more royals, yet for Marco, it was just another Tuesday night.
"Marco, how do we look, any creases? I'm wearing my Armani, does it look nice?"
"You look perfect, mom," Marco didn't even bother looking away from the window. He was certain his parents were presentable, he didn't need to double check.
"Oh my, this is just so exciting, Rafeal. I feel terrible for leaving Mari all alone," Angie turned to face her husband, who was busy combing his hair to perfection.
"She is not alone, mi amor, I trust Racheal completely." The day Mariposa came home from the hospital, his parents made sure to find someone willing to babysit in the case of an emergency. Their first choice came out to be a young lady named Racheal. Being around Marco's age, he was able to vouch for her, despite there only having been a handful of instances where they've exchanged words. However, caring for a newborn isn't too difficult when it's just them. They usually stay in one spot, and are known to be very vocal about any and all problems.
"Ooh, Marco, do you know if there's going to be any dancing? You know, your father and I actually took some couples slow dancing classes at the Y, and we are just thrilled to try out our 'moves', right hun?" She elbowed her husband gently, who in response did a little shuffle in his seat.
"We'll see when we get there, I'm not so sure myself."
It wasn't five minutes before a bright structure made itself known in the distance, buzzing with nobles and similar limousines. By now, twilight was the law of the land, and the lights of the approaching radiated high into the sky, painting the horizon in a multi-color hue. Even from behind stained glass, it was a mesmerizing sight. To their credit, the program did an amazing job with the time they were given. It was like Edmund always said, they were indeed the 'only functioning bureaucracy'.
As their limo slowed to a stop for the final time, a set of starboard automatic doors sailed open to reveal a spotlit red carpet, busy with nobles dressed in all varieties of attire. From the base of the door, a small staircase extended to aid its passengers in their egress out of the cab. One by one, the family sorted their way out of the limo and onto the lively carpet, mixing into the sea of black suits and colored gowns. Just a head, the beaming red carpet merged into a wide set of chiseled stone stairs, flanked on each side by elaborate banisters of winding stone and floral decorations. The stairway led up to what seemed like an entire castle from their perspective, a towering array of brick and stone decorated with looming stained glass windows and exterior walkways. It was almost impossible to think such an immense structure was raised in just a day and a half. "Cheaters", Marco mumbled under his breath, knowing full well the feds used more than brick and mortar to build the lot.
"Oh my goodness, Dear, it's massive," Angie said in otherworldly astonishment. "It's even bigger than the hotel we went to in Morocco!"
"Yes, my love, it certainly is," Rafeal had a hard time pulling his eyes off the looming building.
It took them a while to navigate their way to the entrance, as the growing crowd made it difficult to diffuse through, especially throughout the stairs. Where the stairs ended, a massive great arch took its place, with two solid wooden doors that were fortunately already propped open. As they passed beneath it, the still air of the Californian night was replaced by an atmosphere of music and talk, all flowing like a melody from every corner of the estate. Just ahead of them was the main concourse, a structure capable of being a behemoth of a construction on its own. Their flanks were covered by two twin hallways, which presumably wrapped around the entire perimeter of the estate. A sea of passerbyers flowed around them as the family of three stood in shock, with Marco even being rather impressed. To him, everything looked extremely authentic, indistinguishable from buildings on Mewni and the like. He had to admit, they did a fine job.
"Shall we proceed then?" His mother said in a fake-posh accent, which made the rest of her family chuckle in delight.
The moment they entered the concourse, a fresh wave of magical smells filled their noses, whispering sweet promises of unrivaled delicacies. From out of nowhere, a well dressed man approached them, carrying a wide dish stacked with bubbling refreshments. "Sylvaner, my friends," he asked, presenting the tray on one hand before them.
"Oh, my. Yes, thank you," Angie said with a wide smile, taking a glass alongside Rafael. Instead of moving along, the well dressed man slowly moved the tray in front of Marco, beaconing him to grab a glass. "And you, sir?"
They did a damn fine job, he smiled to himself. Again, against his reservations, he reached out and cupped the closest glass to him, nodding towards the man who trotted off to serve more guests. He didn't even bother glancing up at his parents, who he knew most likely sported matching smiles. "My baby's all grown up," he cringed as he heard his mother whisper those words to his father, knowing both of them were probably bubbling with emotion over a single wine glass.
"Now just how in the blazings are we going to find Mr and Mrs Butterfly: this place is just too damn big!" Angie said with exasperation, trying to peer over the flowing crowd.
"Mi amor, language," Rafael said in a whispered tone, causing Angie to gasp at her own words.
"Oh, will you two grow up," Marco said, casting an unamused scowl in the general direction of his parents. True to his mothers word, the heart of the building had been flooded with a sea of homogeneous guests, impenetrable as it was vast. With his scant knowledge of the Mewman first-estate, paired with the mob before him, it was easy to say they were surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of nobles. The realization stung as much as it was uplifting. On one hand, it was a blatant miracle that not only did the Mewmans seem to survive the merge, but so did most of their belongings too. On the other hand, the chances of finding Star and her parents were quite literally a thousand to one.
"Why don't you just try your cellular phones," his father said, sipping lightly on his drink in hand.
"I've been texting her for the past half hour but I'm getting left on 'delivered'," Marco said as he rummaged around his pockets, fighting against the fabric of his clothes in a battle for the custody of his phone. "The geniuses in-charge of the cellular towers probably repaired the newer-gen without servicing the older ones. And since they gave the Mewmans flip-phones…"
"...Their phones are useless," Angie finished, not even bothering to fish out her phone from her purse.
"I mean, why even-"
"-Give us these damn things if they don't work, UUGGHH!"
Marco perked up at the faint remark and spun around on his heels, peering through his vigilant eyes for a familiar tuft of gold hair. Low and behold, separated by a handful of idling nobles was a blonde woman, angrily rapping her finger against her flip-phone with a look of pure vexation. Beside her were an equally recognizable pair, both dressed in what looked like their royal court attire and wearing matching looks of exhaustion. "Uuuhh, think I found 'em" Marco said with a faint chuckle, watching Star abruptly stuff her phone back into her purse before crossing her arms in defeat.
"Hah, what are the odds!" His father said in a deep roar, placing a hand around his wife's hip as they prepared to make their appearance.
"I'll take a contrivance whenever I'm given one, that's for sure," Marco quipped, the irony not being lost to him. As they slowly marched past the few stationary nobles, he couldn't help but notice two vacancies in the Butterfly entourage. Both Eclipsa and Globgore were nowhere to be seen, let alone Meteora's clunky baby carriage. It was a continuing trend that the two latter-day Butterflies weren't present, be it by their own choice or by necessity. A part of him worried that the strife between Moon and Eclipsa was still ongoing, as it most likely should have been. The entire situation was just too awkward and fresh to fully understand. Saturday had been such a clusterfuck of betrayals and out-of-the-blue twists that most of it hadn't processed for him. Even now, he was astounded that Star, being as temperamental as she was, was even putting up with her mother. And after seeing their full blown yelling match, and River's subsequential peace treaty, he was certain that whatever feelings the three had for each other hadn't been fully resolved.
With a quick shake of his head he dismissed the ugly thoughts from his consciousness. He had a mission that night, as did everyone else in the auditorium, and he couldn't risk Star and Moon blowing up at each other again. Right now his sole objective was on building bridges between the Mewmans and the feds, and seeing as the Mewmans weren't going anywhere any time soon, it was pretty important to build those bridges sturdy.
"Howdy do, neighborino?" He called out with a hand raised in the air, catching the attention of all three Butterflys. The very second Star noticed him, her face practically exploded with glee, a wide megawatt smile overtaking her sour grin. Her arms released her sides and found their way around Marco's, squeezing him tight while rocking back and forth on her heels.
"Marco!" She cheered, emphasizing the 'M' and 'O' in her signature way of greeting him. Backing off to let him breathe, she took the opportunity to admire his ensemble. For whatever reason, she had been holding out hope he would show up clad in his prince outfit he had worn to her song-day performance. Despite how much of a disaster that day had turned out, the thought of him in his white suit with their twin epaulets sent chills to all corners of her body. Fortunately, what he did happen to wear wasn't half bad either. To start he had brushed his hair back and out of his eyes, which to her surprise was actually a good look. His collar was reigned in by a matte black bowtie, which sat just a little below that sat a vest, over which was a two button blazer matching in coller. When it came to Earth's formal attire, she had little to no knowledge of what looked good and what didn't. But even without that, she could tell that he looked absolutely stellar.
"Hey, so good to see you. You look… you look fabulous," he stammered out in response, caught off guard by how beautiful she looked in her dress. At first glance, he was confused as to why she wasn't in her court attire just like her parents were. Nonetheless, she looked stunning. She had on an electric blue ball gown that hung from thin straps stationed on her shoulders. The entire upper body of the dress was engraved with thousands of jewels, which slowly faded in numbers the further down the dress they went. Her hair was bound together in an expansive french braid, which did its part to amplify her look that much more. All in all, she looked fantastic, even more so than she did daily.
"Can you figure out what the heck is wrong with this thing?" Star produced the phone from her pocket, shoving it in his general direction like it had a foul odor. "I've been trying to send you messages all DAY, but I don't think any of them went through?"
"Uuuhh, yeah we'll get it all sorted out. Mister and misses Butterfly, good evening," Marco turned his attention from his girlfriend to her parents, offering a hand and shaking both of theirs respectively.
"Mister Butterfly?" River spat out the words as if they were poison, "Have you forgotten our names so soon, my boy?"
Laughing alongside the former king, Marco levied himself from the center of the group to allow his parents to greet the pair. For such an quirky and sometimes down-right absurd couple, he had to admire just how social his parents were. Within seconds they were already locked in deep conversation with their Mewman counterparts, asking about how their day had gone and indulging in other forms of small talk. He could also tell that the Butterflies genuinely enjoyed chatting with them as well. After having lived with them for roughly seven months, he learned how to pick up on the subtle cues the two monarchs gave off whenever they were exhausted with the people they were talking to. And fortunately for him, both Moon and River seemed engrossed in what his simple Earth parents had to say.
"So, can you fix it?" Star asked from his side, her attention clearly still captured by the flip phone.
"Star I'm sure it doesn't have to be 'fixed', at least not physically. My parents couldn't get through to your parents' phones either, it's probably got something to do with the data towers needing to be repaired." He slipped the phone into his pant pocket for safe keeping, knowing that, being the Marco he was, he'd end up losing it before they even found a place to sit.
"Oh, ok, good," she said, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, "Soooooo, how quickly can your guys get it working!"
"Star, com'on, let's not focus on that right now," He side-stepped closer to her, threading an arm around her waist to hold her close. "Right now, all we have to worry about is making sure everyone here is comfortable with each other. There'll be plenty of time to worry about phones and whether or not our messages are going through after tonight, ok?"
"I'll take your word for it, wild man," she sighed contently, leaning over to plant a moderately long kiss on his cheek.
"You better hope I have fun tonight, Diaz, or it's your ass, ya hear?" She made sure to say her final statements in a whisper as to go unnoticed by her parents.
"Affirmative, butterbutt," he joked back, booping her nose, "Now all we gotta do is figure out where to s-"
"Sit I may presume?"
Letting go of Star's waist to turn around, he was met with yet another blond Mewman, this one being of the male variety. Marco barely had the time to render the stranger before Star jumped up from beside him and engrossed the man in a hug. "Calvin!" She shouted, swaying back and forth as she aggressively greeted her cousin.
"Is that how you greet people at a gala?" Calvin asked in a mix of surprise and hilarity. "Do that to Aunt Faye and she'd half collapse from shock!"
"Why do ya think I do it, bro?" She asked, hitting Calvin's shoulder, who promptly hit her back.
"How is it that we keep running into everyone? There's got to be thousands of people here and I just so happened to bump into you and Star!" Marco extended a hand to Calvin, who readily accepted it with a rather firm grip.
"That's the magic of Mewni, I'm afraid," Calvin started in his smooth voice, "It's never hard to bump into family, cause we're all related!"
The two cousins promptly bursted into twin fits of laughter, garnering the attention of several nearby nobles, not that they cared. Marco for one was slightly apprehensive about laughing at such a joke, not fully knowing whether the subject was viewed the same way on Mewni as it was on Earth. "What, did they forget to invent jokes here, Marco?" Calvin noticed his strange silence through his own bursts of laughter.
"See, this," Star moved closer to her cousin and aggressively threw an arm around his shoulder. "This is why you're ma' favorite cousin, CalCal."
"And you mine," he said as he picked Star's hand off his shoulder. "As I was about to say, I noticed you lot from our table and came over to invite you to it. That is, if you're up for the challenge that is 'a dinner with the Johansens'."
"Can you even call it a dinner without the Johansens?" Star quipped back, glancing between her cousin and boyfriend.
"Considering the fact that, based on empirical data, every Johansen dinner I've been to has almost doubled as my funeral, then yes, yes you can." The response elicited a chuckle and an eye roll from Calvin and Star respectively.
"Then you've been attending the wrong dinners, my friend," Calvin said theatrically. With a quick wave of his arm, he garnered the attention of the rest of the group, "aunt Moon, uncle River, Marco's family, if you would follow me please."
Drawn momentarily from their dialog, the now group of seven trailed their way past growing bubbles of guests. Marco was able to pick out a few recognizable faces from the crowd: The Spiderbites, The Eldorados, The Corebolds, even some newly christened knights. The longer he spent ogling at the crowd around him, the more he noticed the wide variety of looks they were garnering, specifically ones directed at Moon. A majority of them were as expected, looks of awe and surprise at their former Queen making an appearance. But it was just as obvious that some had developed a rabid distaste for her, flashing their group rancid looks.
"So, Calvin," Marco approached the young man at his side, making sure not to bump into the oversized-dresses surrounding them. "How bad was the merge over in Johansen? Besides what I've been told by Star's parents and some of my friends, I'm still kinda in the dark about what happened to the rest of Mewni?"
"Oh, it was a story alright," he said, chuckling at the memory. "To start, I wasn't actually in the Johansen castle when things went wayward. In fact, I wasn't even living there, not for some time now. About eight months ago I took up a mission from my father, Duke Brundsworth, to weed out a potential informant in Reinsburg. It was a favor he was called to fulfill by the city's suzerain, my uncle-in-law Cristof, and seeing as I had just finished an apprenticeship under one of my father's ministers, he thought me ready for the challenge. It was actually going rather well, I had made a decent dent in the investigation befor- Oh, sorry, excuse me. Mind us, coming through - anywho, what was I saying?"
"You were working to expose an informant in Reinsburg," Marco replied as they brushed past several disturbed nobles.
"Ah, yes. As I was saying, I had picked up a lead that the informant was using a narrow mountain passage to run messages back to his lord. It was a rumor, but seeing as there was little else to go off, I planned to set up camp on the trail to try and intercept the mole on one of his runs. I was about three days into the operation when I encountered something truly bizarre. I was enjoying my cup of morning tea when several dozen beasts clad in iron leaped their way over the mountain I was stationed on. Truth be told, I nearly soiled myself out of fear at the spectacle. I'm sure anyone would've in my position, all I had in my possession was a sword and a small paring knife. Fortunately, being the lucky cunt I am, the monsters failed to notice me and started off in a south, southeastern bearing. At that point, I decided that the threat posed by the Reinsberg insurgent couldn't possibly compare to the threat posed by these new beasts, and so I sorted together my belongings, mounted my horse and set off in the same direction as the iron giants had."
"Aaand did you ever catch these 'iron giants'?" Marco asked, the description of the so called beasts ringing several bells in his head.
"I'm afraid not, as fast as my mount was, the damn juggernauts were faster. I followed their footsteps for about an hour, maybe too, before I reached the outskirts of Akken. It was absolutely sweltering at the time so I made a stop at a local tavern to collect my bearings. By the time I was back on the road, I noticed what looked like a second sun off in the horizon, not too far away from Butterfly. And not twenty seconds later, my horse and I were standing before a large white building with the title 'Macy's' plastered in bold red letters."
"Things were pretty chaotic for the next few hours. When I tried navigating my way back to Akken, I soon realized that Akken no longer existed. It was then I was promptly intercepted by several armored men and escorted into the back of a large metal transport, and just a short ride later did I arrive at a campus packed with what was easily tens of thousands of Mewmans. They sorted us into camps and provided us with food and water, though limited. As time went on the camps grew more and more crowded, and the people became more and more restless. They had confiscated my sword on the account of several fights breaking out in the camps, but they had failed to take my knife from me. As the conditions of the campus deteriorated, I made a decision to flee during the last few minutes of sunlight. Without a lantern, I was practically stranded in the debris of what later I learned to be Echo Creek. Fortunately, lady luck struck again, and I ran into a large transport packed with nobles, all set to be dropped off at their respective territories. Things went on pretty easily after that. I was reunited several hours later with my family, and for the first time in days did I receive the luxury of falling asleep in a warm, dry bed."
"God damn," Marco said, his mind racing with various questions, especially ones concerning the community center camps. By the time Calvin had finished his monologue they had arrived at the Johansens tables, complete with the copious amounts of plates and blonde-haired bulks one would expect. The very instant they were in the royal's line of sight, a large, long haired man dressed in a bright red and black mantle shot up from his seat, wearing a menacingly eager grin.
"Mein Bruder! Oh, dich noch einmal zu sehen, ist ein Geschenk," the man bellowed in a hefty roar as he approached River.
"Das Gefühl beruht auf Gegenseitigkeit, Bruder!" The two men swept one another up in a monstrous hug, patting each other on the back with a thunderous clap. The rest of the Johansens followed suit in greeting their blue haired in-laws, all eager to express their physical tidings. Just like before, the contrast between Moon's apprehension and Star's eagerness when faced with greeting their relatives was pretty darn hilarious to Marco, who was lucky enough to be spared having to suffer under the Johansens affection. Stepping back to where his parents stood, the three Diazs waited patiently for the two royal families to properly welcome each other.
"Calvin, wer sind diese drei Bürger, mit denen du reist?" A young girl beside Calvin shot the Diazs what can only be described as an interesting look.
"These are the Diazs, Kathryn, friends with the Butterflys. And please, English if you wouldn't mind," Calvin replied to what Marco could only assume was his sister.
"And their status?" Kathryn asked, a note of venom in her voice.
"Nevermind their status, Kat," Calvin said in a tired tone, throwing an arm around Kathryn's shoulder to steer her away from the Diazs.
"Marco, deer," Angie scooted closer to her son, "Who are all these people?"
"They're the Johansens, Star's dad's family," he answered back in a whisper. "They're royalty, so, ya know, beware."
"And they're… German?" His parents asked in unison, confused as always when it came to Mewman affairs.
"Apparently?" Marco said in a tone just as confused as his parents were, "I mean, if they speak English, is it that hard to believe that they speak German as well?"
"Marco, my boy, come here!" Rivers' voice shattered their hushed conversation, focusing the attention of the table on the three out-of-place earthlings. With everyone's eyes pointed at him, Marco crossed the short distance between his family and River to stand face to face with the Johansen king.
"Richard, meet Marco Diaz. Accomplished warrior, knight, scholar, and most impressive of all, my good friend!" As if he was presenting him, River pressed Marco forward under the gaze of the towering king. The difference between the two brothers' heights was staggering. Unlike River's short stature, Richard's easily surpassed six foot, if not seven. His stare was like a harsh gale, digging into his skin, making him feel meeker than he really was. As the seconds dragged on, beads of sweat began accumulating on Marco's forehead, and his grin became shaky and uneven.
"A friend of River's…" The king placed a firm hand on Marco's shoulder, his iron tight grip digging into his deltoids. Richard let out a long sigh as he continued to analyze Marco, his eyes sharp and astute, like he was peering directly into his soul.
"... Is a friend of mine!" Without warning, the king pulled Marco into a tight hug, pressing the poor boy against him with a force that could almost rival that of Star's. Just as he was about to faint from suffocation, the mountain of a man released him. "Becoming chums with a Johansen is no easy feat, especially if your last name isn't Johansen! HAAHAAHAA! Come, sit, all of you, sit! Join us."
Wobbling back to his parents, he pulled out a chair and plopped himself against its silk cushions. It didn't take long for Star to find a seat directly beside him, wearing a look of worry as she eyed the red-faced boy up and down. "Welllll," She started, putting on a forced smile, "at least they aren't trying to push us into pits of lava this time, right?"
"Jesus, Star, no wonder your hugs are so damn strong," he wheezed as he tried in vain to catch his breath. "It's all that crazy Johansen strength!"
"Yeah, we sure are huggers alright," she giggled, relieved to see the red leave her boyfriend's face. "And hey, this time we get to sit at the adult table! WoopWoop!"
"Hey, were you listening to Calvin's story?" Marco scooted closer to Star to speak in a whisper. "Did you hear what he said about the community center?"
"Uuuh, no, not really," she admitted, leaning in to speak in to whisper as well. "Whadd'he say?"
"Nothing good, that's for sure," he started as he pieced together a mental image based on the short description Calvin had given him. "The way he described it made it sound like a damn internment camp. Very little food, fights, overcrowding, and I'm guessing muddy as all hell too. If the people kept in the camps didn't die from the merge, I'm sure disease will finish the job."
"Wait, Calvin was at the camps? Since when?" The look of curiosity slowly melted away from Star's face, replaced by a vulgar stare.
"He told me not long after the merge he was thrown into the back of some transport and thrown into the community center. And that was just Saturday, god knows how much worse the conditions have gotten since then."
"Or, maybe they've gotten better," she said, her optimism shining through the metaphorical clouds of their conversation.
"One can only hope." He tried pushing the sour images of what he could only assume the camps looked like out of his psyche, but ultimately, they wouldn't budge. There's nothing you can do about it now, Diaz, he thought, trying to convince his stubborn mind. Maybe she's right, maybe things have gotten better. Honestly, who would know. They did drop off a good amount of rations and other supplies yesterday, just maybe…
"Marco."
"Yeah, Star?" Turning to face his girlfriend, he couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of Star holding out two empty wine glasses in his direction. "Drinks?"
"If you wouldn't mind," She said in an exaggerated girly tone, obviously trying to play the 'girlfriend' card to not have to get up and get her own drink.
"Yeah, I'm on it." Fixing the cuffs of his undershirt, Marco stole the two empty glasses from her hands and started off into the crowded abyss. Probably shoulda asked the Johansens where they found their drinks, he thought to himself, his hand gearing up to slap his forehead before he realized what a mess that would make with the glass and all.
He went on absentmindedly trailing the sides of the hall, stopping occasionally to gaze through the trenches between the various guests for any sign of a refreshment station. "Still nothing? Where the hell is this thi-"
A sudden prick at the back of his head caught him midway through his sentence, followed by a familiar wetness he was all too used to. Using his free fingers, he felt through his once-nicely combed hair for the cause of the anomaly, his skilled digits finding the source within seconds. Identifying the projectile as a small, wet clump of paper, he spun around on his heels to locate the source of it. "Who the fuck is shooting spitballs?" he whispered under his breath, scanning the nearby crowd for any sign of the perpetrator. After finding nothing other than a strangely out of place pair of green and aqua blue umbrellas, he gave up on his search and continued on in his original direction. "How do these things follow me everywhere I g-"
A second, identical prick sounded off against the back of his head, followed by the same feeling of a slimy sphere being lodged in his hair. Now knowing full well that there was someone trailing him, he spun around in a quick fury, almost forgetting to dislodge the spitball from his hair. Collecting himself, he noticed the same pair of umbrellas directly behind him, as well as a noticeable giggling coming from the other side of them. The pieces of the puzzle lined up in his head as he marched off in the direction of the colored umbrellas, dead set on scooby-dooing the identity of the two perps. Setting the glasses down on a nearby table, he levied his hands to tear the umbrellas away from their owners, only for them to retract at the last second, revealing just who was behind them.
"Losing your cool so soon, Diaz?" The smug Filipino girl taunted him, holstering her umbrella over her shoulder.
"Yeah, dude. Normally it takes us, like, three just to get your attention," the blonde haired girl shifted her weight onto her umbrella, using it almost like a cane. "Umbrellas were a nice touch, right?"
"And I wonder why I'm so paranoid," Marco said with a blank expression, his head hanging low.
"Oh, come on, Diaz. Lemme see that smile! Show me that smile, you can do it." Janna approached the young latino with an outstretched finger, trying to forcefully imprint a grin on the obviously reluctant boy.
"Aye, aye. Yame! Yame!" He shouted the command through his steadily growing smile, swatting at Janna's outstretched digit as if it was a fly. "Hands off the Marco, you know the drill."
"Rules were made to be broken, Diaz," she said with her iconic smirk, leaning in to flick his forehead before returning to Jackie's side.
"Sooo, how'd you two wind up here anyhow?" Marco asked, silently praying it had nothing to do with Janna's kleptomaniac compulsions.
"Dont'cha mean us four," a voice called out from behind the two girls, followed by various noises of chewing.
"No way, Ferg?" Just as the words left Marco's mouth, Furgeson pushed through the gap between Jackie and Janna, holding an enormous cup in one hand, and a drumstick in the other.
"Do not forget me as well!" a second, noticeably taller teen popped out from behind Ferguson, his afro having already been visible over head of his shorter friend. As Marco moved in to shake his friend's hands, the two flanked him in a duel-hug. "It has felt like a forever since we have seen you!"
"Yeah, it… kinda has," A tinge of guilt crept up Marco's cheek as he withdrew from the hug. Even though he saw all four of them not less than five days ago, it seriously felt like an eternity since they were all in the same room. A painful thought crossed his mind right at that moment, one that almost elicited a reaction from him. The only things left that make you human, setting aside your family, are standing just a handful of feet before you.
"So, like I was saying, how'd you guys end up here?"
"Uuuh, we were invited. I thought that'd be pretty obvious," Janna said, staring him down with a disappointed glare.
"Janna, no offense, but with you nothing is obvious," Marco snapped back with equal vacancy.
"None taken, wild man," said sneered, a cheeky grin plastered across her face. Luckily, the pet name went over the heads of the other three, an extremely lucky outcome for Marco, who was viciously fighting down the crimson blush crawling up his neck.
"You guys snag a table yet?" He asked, changing the subject.
"Yeah, just us and our parents though, and maybe some tens if Jackie gets her way," Janna leaned over to elbow her blonde haired friend, who was clearly caught off guard by the comment.
"And if we get our way too," Ferguson peeped up from Janna's side, forcing her to step back in faux-disgust.
"Yeah, and if I had my way, you two would be playing cards with Ghislaine," she said bluntly.
Watching from the sidelines as the conversation progressively fell further off course, Marco remembered why he had run into them in the first place. "Hey, can you guys point me in the direction of wherever the hell all the food is? Star wanted me to grab her a drink, and so far I've just been walking around awkwardly…"
"They're up at the entrance, can't miss it," Jackie said, "Kinda surprised you didn't notice it when you were walking in."
"Ehh, I was busy looking for something else," Marco said with a chuckle, "now if you wouldn't mind, I got a lady waiting on me, and from what I know about her, she's not the patient type."
"No worries, man," Furgeson said, slapping Marco's back with his massive paw. "When things start to settle down, I'll shoot you a text. This is the first night of my life where I get to drink, and I'ma make sure I do it with my buds."
"Loser," Janna whispered into Jackie's ear, just loud enough for the subject of the remark to hear it.
"10-4 bro, see you around!" He called from over his shoulder, having scurried off to avoid the fresh argument between his two friends. Despite his convictions, the thought of spending the night with his friends was pretty damn intriguing. They were a handful: constantly bickering with each other as if they were mortal enemies. But they were still his friends, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized just how lucky he was to have them.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"I still don't get how you guys pulled this off?" Haverford leaned over the catwalk railing, scanning the convulsing crowd below him. "It took us twelve months to build the fucking CalTech service bay, and you guys whipped this up in under fourty-eight hours."
"That's why you pay us the big bucks, sir," Edmund joined his superior at his side, a cigarette in one hand, and a box of Newports in the other. "Smoke?"
"Nah, I'm a chew kind of guy," Haverford said as he reached into his pocket to pull out a small tin of Grizzly, shaking it a few times before stowing it back in his blazer. "And only on special occasions at that; wife's orders."
"Yeah, I'm tryin' to lean off these things too. I'm getting rad-blasted on a daily basis, I don't need more cancer than I'm already destined for, right!" The two howled with laughter as they cheered their drinks, their joviality being lost to the guests below.
"I'll drink to that," laughed Haverford, pulling out a small handkerchief from his pocket to spit out his tobacco to make room for his drink. "Everything comes with a price to pay. Phenomenal cosmic powers, itty-bitty life expectancy."
Edmund had to fight the urge to spit out his drink as the joke hit him, memories of his favorite childhood film flashing through his crammed psyche. "Couldn't have said it better sir."
"Easy on the drinks, commando. We've still got a job to do." Leaning over, Haverford rested his glass on the perforated floor of the catwalk. He pulled up his shirt collar to reveal his codex, pressing down on the side button, he spoke into it. "Lieutenant, update?"
"No gecks in sight, no Solarians neither," a coarse voice responded through the wristwatch.
"Has Clancy's company returned yet?"
"Yeah, they finished their scoutin' a few minutes ago, nothin' outa the ordinary."
"Keep me posted," he finished as he turned the crown of the codex, flashing through different notifications and status updates. "You're carrying, right?"
"Always," Edmund replied as he patted down the breast pocket of his blazer, which sounded off with a metallic *clink*.
"Sterol rounds?" Haverford shot him a glance, which Edmund nodded at.
"And S-NEC too, in case it's a joint attack."
"Do we even know if he's on-world right now?" Haverford returned his gaze to the crowd below, making out several faces from the sea of nobles.
"Nope, but better to be safe than take chances. Whether he's here or not, he still poses a risk."
"A risk we can't respond to unprovoked, understood," Haverford turned away from the balcony to fix Edmund with a second, more serious stare. "We might know very little about them, but our advantage is that they know nothing about us. Until he makes himself known, we can't risk exposing ourselves."
"Believe me sir, I'm fully aware," Edmund let out a long sigh as he flicked his cigarette but onto the catwalk floor, making the choice not to replace it with another one. "I'm just worried about the kid is all."
"Who isn't," Haverford's tone shifted from serious to more gentle and sincere, going so far as to place a hand on his younger employee's shoulder. "If there's one thing that's true about this shit show, it's that he's one hell of a good kid. I don't think we could've picked a better caretaker than him, and I'll tell you what, he's surpassed every expectation I've had of him. We all love the boy, and that's what makes our job so painful. You said it yourself, I chose you lot because you're effective, capable, able, whatever the hell you wanna call it. But most importantly, I chose you in particular because you're able to make those tough choices."
"Toffee's got his eyes set on Diaz, and from what we know about him, he doesn't half-ass a job. It isn't a matter of if, or how. It's a matter of when. And when the time comes, we won't have any other choice than to trade lives, even his." The two were locked in a tense eye contact, which was only broken by a slow nod from Edmund.
"Understood, sir," he croaked back, raising his drink up to his mouth to draw a sip from.
"Good, good." Stepping back from the railing, Haverford picked his drink back up and turned to face his lead scientist. "I've got a speech to prep. Go check on the perimeter and meet back up here at 21:00."
"Aye-aye sir," he replied, watching his boss stoll out of sight. "Aye-aye".
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
As the night went on, Marco could progressively feel the stress falling off his overworked shoulders. Whether it was the trace amounts of alcohol in his blood, or the fact that the Johansens were just so inexplicably hospitable, he didn't know. All he knew was that things were going swimmingly, and much to his delight, Star was having just as good of a time as he was.
Speaking of Star, he found himself routinely visiting the auditorium's entrance to retrieve more and more things for her. Not that he minded, not at all. He was just happy to be spending time with her. It was something about her smile, or the way she laughed, or the way she fixed him with that one look that sent chills all the way down to his toes, or all of those things combined that made her such a delight to be with. Nevertheless, the girl certainly took after her father. I mean, where the hell does it all go, he thought to himself as he loaded up her plate with more butter chicken, a food she had instantly fallen in love with. He'd seen her put down a lot of food before, but almost never with such ferocity, like being with the Johansens allowed her to achieve her full eating potential. She must have one hell of a metabolism if she can eat that much and still stay in perfect shape.
"Marcooo!"
Recognizing the voice instantly, he set Star's plate down on a nearby surface and turned to face a some-what red faced Jackie, holding a drink in one hand and a small piece of bread in the other. "What's up my man? Having too much fun with your Mewman butt-buddies to hang with us?" She sloppily threw an arm around his shoulder, taking a long sip from her drink at the same time.
"Jackie, what are yo- *sniff*, Are you drunk!" he said in a stalwart whisper, trying to back away from his slightly inebriated friend. "Jackie, this is supposed to be, like, a classy thing, what in the fuck were you thinking!"
"Reeeeelax, bro, I'm not the only one who's enjoying herself. And seriously, man, you've seen me drunk-drunk, and this isn't anything close to that." Standing up straight, she placed her drink down beside Star's plate and whipped her mouth with a napkin, battling down a burp at the same time. "Anyway, like I was saying, you forgot to come visit us!"
"You guys never sent me that text," Marco rebutted her claim as nicely as he could, trying not to create any potential problems.
"Ooooohh, you see, that… That explains it," Jackie mumbled as she reached for her drink, gulping the remainder of its contents down with ease before staring at the now empty glass. "Aww, empty."
"Yeah, how about no more drinks for you, alright," Marco snatched the glass from her hands and tossed it into a nearby trash receptacle, happy to hear it shatter as it made contact with the contents of the bin. "I mean, how on earth did your parents even let you drink this much."
"Bro, my parents are total push-overs, you know," she said through a fit of nasally laughter.
"Now that I'm thinkin' about it, man, I think Janna's right. I gotta start putting down some moves on these royal boys, don'tcha think?" Jackie touted as she leaned back on a nearby chair and started scanning the horizon, completely missing the look of delirium on her friend's face.
"I'm sorry, back it up, back it up!" Marco stepped into Jackie's line of sight, placing two hands on her shoulders to pull her up off the chair. "What are you talking about, Jackie? You're in a relationship!"
"I am?" she replied as she plucked his hands off her shoulders. "Last I heard I'm single and ready to mingle, man."
"Does the name 'Chloe" ring a bell?" He asked in an engrossingly condescending tone.
"Yeah, it does," she snapped back, her face scrunching up into a never seen before scowl. The look caught him off guard, and using his better judgment he promptly stepped back to give her some space.
"Jackie, I…" he started, his words failing him. Instead of speaking, he reached over and pulled out two chairs in their relative area, sitting down in one and motioning for Jackie to sit in the other. As the two sat in silence, Marco finally built up the nerve to speak. "Do you wanna talk about it?"
"Yeah, yeah…" Her look of vexation slowly morphed into a meek visage, covered in part by her flowing blond hair. He hadn't noticed it before, but the familiar blue stripe down the side of her hair was gone, replaced by the same golden shade of the rest of her hair. "It… Happened Saturday, and… It… It actually goes back a lot further."
"Jackie," he fixed her with a comforting look as he leaned in closer, "if you're not ready, we don-"
"No, no, I can do this," she let out a long breath as she pulled her hair back behind her piercing-bare ears. "A few months ago I… wasn't doing too well. I didn't go out much, didn't talk to a lot of people, I just… disconnected from the rest of the world."
"Ohh god," Marco whispered, lowering his head into his hands. It was exactly what he didn't want to hear. "Jackie, did… was that because of me?"
"..." Silence followed his question, with only the sounds of Jackie shifting around in her seat echoing through their conversation. "Y… Yeah, kinda man."
"Jackie, I am so, so sorr-"
"No, no, listen man, it's in the past," She reached over and placed a hesitant hand on his back. As he levied his head from his hands, he forced himself to look over at his ex, using every bit of his strength to steady his nerves. You are one fucking asshole, boy, a voice echoed in the back of his mind. A monster, just like she said you were. You always have been, and always will be.
"Just cause it's in the past doesn't mean it never happened," Marco mouthed, thoughts going beyond the situation with Jackie plaguing his mind.
"Look, dude. What happened between us, it was rough. I didn't take it well, and my girls kinda noticed it. They told me… that… maybe I just wasn't meant for guys, that I should try out the fairer sex. They helped me convince the feds to let me go study abroad, and taking their advice, I started dating my roommate, Chloe." Her voice had fallen steady and even, her lips flowing with ease as her eyes fixated on a distant object.
"It was… different, very different. I mean, I felt something, I swore I did. Like, other than her, you're the only person I've dated, so I'm not experienced, not really, but… You know, time went on, and I guess we started to get really close. And when my term was coming to an end, she asked if she could come to America with me."
"Oh, yeah, how'd you guys manage that?" The question had bounced around his mind a few times, but never with enough importance for him to ask.
"Well, to be honest bro, after you left things started getting, what's a good word… boring," she said blankly. "No Mewmans, no magic, no rampages. Just normalcy I guess. That's probably why he let me leave in the first place, and I guess that's why he let me come back with Chloe. There just wasn't a reason to say no."
"Then, one day, everything changed, well, sort of. They never briefed Chloe about the program or any of the magic crap, so when you two just randomly showed up, the feds got all uptight. They didn't want to deport her on the spot, so they just kinda built this fake world around us, that was until they slipped up, and we ran into you at Brittas. Things got super dicey after that, and they basically put us on house arrest, which really freaked her out."
"I can only imagine," Marco said in a whisper, receiving a nod in response from Jackie.
"It was only for a few days, so it wasn't all that bad. Although, things between us had gotten pretty weird. We weren't talking as much, and, I don't know, I guess something in me just wasn't feeling it any more. And then, you know, Saturday came and…"
"The merge?" he asked, filling in where her silence left off.
"Yeah, the merge," she affirmed. "We were on that bench just hanging out when it happened. She went nuts, straight nuts, man, crying and everything. It wasn't five minutes before we were in the back of some uhaul barrelling out into the countryside. We just sat there, in silence, and then when the back doors finally opened, they took her out, put a bag on her head, and… that was it."
"Wait, wait what, they just took her?"
"I don't know man, I don't know what in the hell happened. We didn't even talk to each other during the ride, we were on such thin ice with one another that I guess things were just too far gone to talk about. That was the last I saw of her. They told me they sent her back to France, but I haven't gotten any texts, messages, letters, fucking carrier pidgeons, nothing. Just silence."
"Jackie, that sounds… I, I can't even," he was at a loss for words again, his mouth too dumbfounded to formulate anything legible.
"I don't know, man. Things weren't going well anyways, there just wasn't… I didn't… I don't know, I just don't know." Marco could only watch as she spiraled down into quietude, a string of 'I don't know's trailing off into the abyss of silence. Not knowing what else to do, he simply stepped back as his body rolled into action. Standing up, he reached over and gripped Jackie by her shoulders, pulling her up to his level and wrapping her in an embrace. She shuddered a few times, before she buried her head in his shoulder to let out a muffled onslaught of sobs. The fact that he had done this, that his reckless, ignorant actions had done left a wound searing with pain.
They stood there like that as time ticked by, her sobs slowly fading off as the wetness of her tears soaked through his suit jacket. "I am so… sorry, Jackie," his voice was mono-tone and dry, unable to express emotion at the moment.
Finally, having collected herself Jackie found her way out of his arms. Using her shaking hands, she wiped the remnants of her tears from her eyes and used them to fix him with a steady stare. "Marco, you… Look, all I want to do is forget about what happened, move on, just… start living again. We can sort everything else out later, just, I need to forget about this, ok?"
"Absolutely," he sounded back, not daring to oppose her request.
"Good, now, as I was saying, *sniff*," she started, running her fingers through her hair to rough out any imperfections. "Maybe all I need is a little distraction, you think you could help me with that?"
"Eeeeeehhh," Marco took a nervous half step back, too terrified to say anything. Did she just ask me to do what I think she just asked me to do, he thought, not knowing how to respond. "Jackie, I would do absolutely anything to help you, but, I mean, I'm with Star an-"
"What!" she screamed, a shaky smile pushing away the frown that had once dominated her lips. "Not you, retard, I mean be my wingman!"
"Oooh, that, yeah that seems a little more doable," he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head as his eyes stayed glued to his shoes. "Sooo, who we shoppin' for today? Male, female…?"
"I-I don't know, just," she stopped to think over her request, "Hot, ok, I want someone hot, like him!"
Following her line of sight, he was filled with a mixture of surprise and hilarity as his eyes landed on none other than Calvin, who was currently preoccupied speaking with Katheryn. "That guy, that guy'll do nicely."
"You don't say," he denied his body's request to burst out in a fit of laughter, instead using his few brain cells to formulate a response. "That's Star's cousin, ya know."
"Really?! That's perfect! You know him, you can introduce us!" Glee sprang up to encompass her face, wiping away the ashes of her emotional thunderstorm.
"Well, I don't really 'know him', I mean. Ahhh, you know what, fuck it, follow me." Making sure not to forget Star's plate, the pair slid through the gaps of the buffet tables, entering the territory of the ballroom floor. Things had definitely settled down since their arrival, and to Jackie's point, it was obvious that inebriation was becoming progressively more common amongst the guests. A part of him was slightly embarrassed that even after a year and a half there were still some blatant Mewman norms he hadn't picked up on yet. But nonetheless, he took it as a good sign, seeing as the noble clearly felt comfortable enough to lower their guard and enjoy themselves.
As they encroached on the conversing siblings, Marco prepared himself mentally for what he anticipated to be a snotty 'hello' from Kathryn. After having spent the past hour and a half with the young Johansen, her glaring elitist charisma had been set on full display on him. A part of him was somewhat relieved he didn't know German, seeing as every few minutes she'd lean over to her table mate and whisper what he could only assume was a not so pleasant remark. Despite the many, many kind-natured nobles he had the pleasure of meeting during his various sojourns on Mewni, the first estate was still riddled with aristocratic snobs. And while he may have come accustomed to such delightful people, he expected Jackie hadn't.
"Hey, Calvin!" he called over the many voices around them, having just barely caught the two's attention. "I've got someone I'd like you to meet."
"Oh, and who may this be," Calvin eyed Jackie as he set his drink down, all while wearing a genuine smile.
"Eine hure, nehme ich an," Kathryn spat out, stepping back as Calvin stepped forward.
"Gleich wieder bei dir, Schlampe," Jackie said through a courteous smile, clearly betraying whatever she had just said as Kathryn sprang up in disgust.
"You absolute flea ridden twa-"
"Aaaand that's enough of you, thank you very much," Calvin clasped a hand over his sister's ardent mouth, silencing her as he spun her around and out of their periphery. Sitting her down beside their father, he cleared his throat and turned to face a smiling Jackie and a face-palming Marco.
"Helluva introduction that was," Calvin laughed, running a hand through his combed up hair. "Ahh, sorry, where are my manners? Calvin Echard Johansen, Viscount of Hammerstadt if you care about all that royal tosh."
"Jackie Lynn-Thomas, Baroness of the board, mistress of the waves," she said cooly, extending a dainty hand with a coy expression plastered on her face.
"Now that's a title worthy of respect if I've ever heard one," laughed Calvin as he shook her hand, "and here I thought Earth had no sense of humor. Suppose it's just Marco here who lost his."
"Lost his? I don't think he ever had one!"
"You two are comedic geniuses," Marco rolled his eyes as he downed the rest of his drink, half-pleased to see Jackie smiling, even if it was at his negligible expense. "Allright, you two get acquainted real quick; I've gotta go drop off Star's plate and I'll be rrrrriight back." Meaning to step away, a loud *clunk* stopped him in his tracks, followed by a progressive dimming of the concourse's lights. A swift hush fell upon the crowd as ceiling bound spotlights centered on a stage flanking the rear of the hall. As the stage's crimson red curtains slowly parted, a sole figure emerged from them. Stepping out from between them and across the stage, the faint hum of electric motors produced a solitary podium before the man from the floorboards, on which a microphone laid ready for use. And as the curtains were drawn back to their starting position, the man cleared his throat and spoke.
"From what I understand," the man started, whose strong and solemn voice Marco immediately recognized as Haverford's, "tonight's festivities and culinary delights, both amongst our hosts and guests, are currently being enjoyed. And out of respect for such things, I'll try and make this quick."
"For starters, allow me to introduce myself. Many of you may have already had the pleasure of meeting me, and many of you have also enjoyed the pleasure of not meeting me," he paused as a mutual chuckle sounded out from the crowd. "But for those of you whom I have not made acquaintance with, my name is Andrew Keith Haversford, Executive Director of The Webular Sciences under the charter of the Central Intelligence Agency, as well as the Managing Director of the infamous 'Butterfly Program'. A program that, as of June thirteenth, or the eleventh of Qork under the New Mewman calendar, has claimed a new objective. For the past eighteen months, and before that some four decades, we have dedicated ourselves to the pursuit and oversight of the many unknowns of this universe. But, as many of you may be familiar with, a certain anomaly made us rethink said objective."
"No longer is our goal that of cementing the presence of humanity across the many subspaces our universe holds, but rather, our intent is to offer aid and support to the inhabitants of said subspaces. Now while that may be an entirely vague goal, let me rephrase it. Under my command, the sole intent of my program is to care for and support the Mewman population currently inhabiting our beloved world. This objective is not founded under the guise of debt or future repayment, but under the universal drive we possess to help our fellow man, or in this case, Mewman. And while we know not the forces that led to your arrival on our humble planet, nor the method that we may return you to yours, our dedication to you will be unwavering, no matter what turmoil, god forbid, may arise." His thunderous voice was succeeded by equally enthusiastic applause, topped with a variety of hollers in multiple languages. As the commotion died down, a man emerged from the crowd near the front of the stage, carrying what appeared to be a wine glass. As he approached the podium, the man handed the glass to Haverford, who promptly raised it into the air for the crowd to see.
"Now, forgive me if I'm mistaken, but I've been informed that the nobility of Mewni oft enjoy the festivity of dancing. Is such a statement… accurate?" The question solicited a wave of cheers from the stirring crowd, whose growing anticipation was exceedingly visible.
"Well, seeing as I've taken enough of your time already, I'd enjoy the absolute pleasure of inviting all parties to the floor to revel in a ballet of song and dance!" Tipping the drink back, Haverford drank to a mix of applause and excitement as the guests swarmed to the center of the concourse. While the lights flared back on, the chamber orchestra swelled with melody, which supplied the forming couples on the dance floor with the music they so dearly desired.
Active Musical Cue: Frühlingsstimmen - Strauss.
A fluttery and jovial tone filed out from the orchestra's pit, encouraging the newly paired couples to waltz at an equally convivial pace. He soon found himself sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the moving crowd, especially seeing as he was still carrying around Star's plate of chicken. And as if on cue, he felt a finger gently tapping against his shoulder, silently ordering him to turn around.
"Is that my chicken?" Star asked, her hip cocked with a content smile on her lips.
"Yawohl," he chirped back with a smile, handing her the plate of chicken which she promptly discarded on the table.
"Too late, not hungry," she yapped, reaching out to grab his hand from his side. "You're gonna have to earn your tip the old fashion way, buddy."
"And that is?" he asked as Star started off in the direction of the illuminated floor.
"By dancing, duh!" She shouted over the crowd, tugging on his arm with a playful amount of strength. After just a few steps Star stopped abruptly and spun around to face Marco, catching him off guard as she snagged his other hand. As they stood there motionless with their arms raised in anticipation, he realized she was waiting on him to make the first move, and that he did. Giving in to the music's flow, he fell in sync with the crowd's waltz, simply letting his body move and sway without any intentional input. As his muscles covered for him in the dancing department, he let his gaze fall on the beautiful woman before him, who in the dimmer light of the concourse seemed to radiate an irresistible beauty. The faint shimmer of her dresses' gemstones and glow of her pearlescent earrings gave him a pristine view of her face, with her half-lidded blue eyes and crimson red lips that always seemed to send shivers down his spine. All in all, the moment felt surreal.
"What's with the stare?" she asked him in a whisper as he twirled her around on her toes.
"What, aren't we supposed to be looking at each other?"
"Yeah, but your eyes are like… twinkling," she said in his ear as he pulled her in before flinging her out to the end of his arm.
"That's 'cause I'm staring at a sta-"
"Nuhnuhnuhnuh," she released his hand to press a finger against his lips, "no cheesy comments, mister, save it for after I've had the time of my life."
"Yeah, and my toes are having the time of their life being stepped on right now," he teased, smiling from ear to ear as he saw Star frown in disdain.
"Will you talk to me like I'm your girlfriend, please?" She slid her hand back down his arm to take his hand in hers, leaving a tingly feeling wherever she touched him.
"Fine, but only because you asked nicely," he leaned in and placed a quick kiss on the tip of her nose, before promptly stepping back to twirl her around. As he recollected her in his arms, he was smitten by the look of pure joy encompassing her face, making his knees wobble if only for a moment. "Mhmhmmm, I've been waiting, like, a year to dance with you again, buster," she started, pausing to catch her breath as they continued to glide across the dance floor, "and you are definitely making the wait worth it."
"Really?" He said in astonishment, noticing how Star was inching closer to him as they stepped back and forth across the floor. "I didn't think I was any good, especially back then."
"Trust me, Marco, you're plenty good," she said in a huff, relieved to hear the song's rhythm begin to slow. She took the opportunity to lay her head against his chest as the distance between them closed completely. She felt a sudden wave of tranquility as she pressed up against him, not knowing whether it was from the way they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle or his cologne. Why she was feeling fatigued in the first place, it was anyone's guess, but as the moment lingered, she closed her eyes and focused on enjoying the moment to the fullest.
"What's the matter, sleepyhead, can't keep up with the master?" He said with just a tinge of ego, his words betraying his want for Star to remain as close as she was.
"Don't get cocky, buddy," she warned him, opening her eyes briefly to stare at him with an unamused glare.
"Thank you, Star, for all of this," his words shifted from prideful to sincere as he leaned over to plant a loving kiss atop her golden mane, which in addition to the music they were dancing to, made Star swell with emotion. "Really, despite all the teasing, this is seriously awesome."
"Why are you thanking me?" She asked, lifting her begrudging head off his chest to gaze at him with loving eyes. "I should be the one thanking you."
"How 'bout we both just thank each other."
"I'd be up for that," she replied as she rose up on her toes to press her lips against his. And as her attention was momentarily stolen away by a familiar pair of teens, both sporting golden blonde hair, she blinked away the fatigue in her eyes and stared her partner down with a serious gaze.
"Warmup round's over Diaz, just lemme know when you need a break."
"Oh you're on, Butterbutt!"
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"Eclipsa? Eclipsa? Are you there?" Moon's turbulent voice sounded out from the phone's speakers, breaking the calm vigil of the midnight air. The audio quality of the old flip phone was nothing compared to that of her compact, although in this instance, that may have been an advantage,
"Yes, Moon. *cough* *cough* I'm here alright," she said through faux-coughs, setting the call to speaker-mode as she placed the phone down on the desk before her.
"Ah, good. I half expected these bloody things not to work, but it seems the humans managed to fix whatever technology they rely on."
"Yes, yes, that's *cough* good to hear, darling," she looked back at her husband on their shared bed, who was cradling Meteora as she slept soundly through the buzzing of her phone. Seeing him flash her a thumbs up, she returned her gaze to the piles of papers strewn across her desk. An amalgamation of maps, book pages and old runic depictions which she was busy skimming through.
"Anywho, I was calling to inform you that we're on our way home. Are you feeling any worse since we left? It wouldn't be any trouble to request an Earth doctor to examine you."
"Oh, heavens no, dear, that's not *sniffle*, necessary, not at all," she replied as she wrote down translations between the lines of quarkian text.
"Well, if your condition worsens, do let me know, will you?"
"Of course, Moon, I will," hearing the repeated beeping from the phone, she flipped it shut as to not awaken Meteora. "Dear, is she still sleeping?"
"Yes, like a rock in fact. You get that from your momma, don't you my little sweet," Globgor booped his daughter's sleeping nose, smiling as her unconscious hand rose up to swat his claw away.
"Would you like to trade again? I haven't found anything pertaining to Solarians thus far, maybe you'll have better luck."
"I might but what even is there more to know?" Her husband slowly rose from their bed and trotted over to her side, shrinking down to kiss her cheek before enlarging to his normal stature. "We know she's out there, and we know what she's capable of. What's the point in searching for 'if's if we already know what is?"
"Because our lives, the life of your daughter, may depend on it," she said in a low whisper as she gently received the sleeping infant into her arms. "Never before have we been so vulnerable to an attack, my dear. I despise it."
"And so do I, but just… keep in mind that she's as weak as us. Mina has no army, no powers, nothing. And so long as she's alone, we have the upper hand."
"But what if she's not alone," Eclipsa eyed her husband with a nervous glare, "such things can't be so easily assumed, dearest."
"And yet for the sake of our sanity we must," he reached over and pulled Meteroa's blanket further over her sleeping form. "Go, get some rest, my love. I'll finish translating these and we'll read over them tomorrow."
"I'll try, though we both know rest won't come easy," she rocked her daughter in her arms as she looked up at her husband. "All I've ever wanted is this family, always and forever."
"As do I, my love. As do I"
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Wow, that took an embarrassingly long amount of time, now didn't it? The past few chapters have been a whole lotta dialog, and believe me, it ain't easy, nor is it what I've been looking forward to. Hopefully I'll be able to churn out 1,000 words a day, which sounds easy, but it ain't. Next chapter should be like, half the size of this one if things go to plan, so fingers crossed for that!
